A/N: Just something that popped into my head with enough form to type it up. Let me know what you think.
Chapter 1: Mr. Dumbledore
There is a soft knock at the door. This must be the Headmaster. I walk down the hall and open the front door. A tall, very old man stands before me, wearing what looks to be a long purple dress.
"Mr Dumbledore, I presume?" I hold out my hand.
"Ah, Yes. You must be Harry." He shakes my hand. His rings touch my fingers, a huge amount of information flows into me head.
This man is 114 years old, he's worn one of these rings since he was 8 and the other has been in his possession for only a few years less, but is older than even him. 400 years old, this one has been carried by many wizards, it produces a magical shield to stop spells.
"Please, come in." I step back and point him into the living room.
"Are your Aunt and Uncle not home?" He asks, sitting down on the sofa.
"After receiving your reply, I suggested that they spend the day elsewhere, they have an aversion to magical things. Speaking of which, that ring you wear, the shielding one, it's quite fantastic." He looks somewhat surprised as he idly touches the ring.
"Fascinating. I see that your letter was not unfounded. How is it that you knew to write to me? From what you told me, your Aunt wouldn't have given you my name." He frowns slightly, clearly not entirely happy with the situation.
"There is a box of my parents things in the loft, including their will, written by one Albus Dumbledore." I hand him the will from the coffee table, he reads it before watching me for a while.
"How much can you divine from this alone?" He asks.
This is the original copy." I say. "Someone not quite human handled it briefly, a Goblin, but I'm not quite sure what that means. His fingers were rough and he would have handled precious metals a lot."
"It would have only been in his possession for a short time." Dumbledore marvels. "His interaction with the will would have been mere minutes to make a copy."
"I felt every spot on it. Every millimetre I went over, looking for something, anything to connect me to my parents. A tiny spot on the back, something I couldn't see with my eyes, unlocked this piece of information. I think it may have been a piece of skin."
"After all these years?" He raises a white eyebrow. "The parchment has been made to be unaffected by time, perhaps this is why."
"I assume he is, or was, a banker of sorts. With the metals, it must be coins?" He nods as I speak. "The only other things in the box were photographs and, what could only be, two wands."
"You have not touched them?" He asks.
"One of the only pieces of advice that Petunia has ever given me. 'Be careful what you touch.' after she found out what I could do. I liked to look at antiques."
"I'm sure you could have a bright future in antiques dealing." He smiles.
"I had considered it, before I learned about magic. I didn't touch the wands, I wanted someone knowledgeable to be there. I once found a lamp that had been used by a man to beat his wife until she died." I pause for a moment. "It's a blessing and a curse."
"I am truly sorry you had to witness that at such a young age." He looks distraught. "Perhaps holding the wands may not be such a good idea?"
"I seem to react, or get a stronger reaction from, magical things. The ring you wear, the shield, I can tell you that it was exactly 400 years old when you knocked on the door. The woman that crafted and made it magical was named Annabelle Lovegood. She took four weeks to complete it and 17 people have used it. You purchased it from a non-magical man named George Alvis in Spain on your 17th birthday. A man whom you were close to named Gellert tried it on, but it didn't fit him correctly. Thousands of spells have splashed off of the shield through it's life, a few particularly nasty ones from Gellert actually." I laugh softly. "It's odd how those we hold closest can turn on us." His eyes seem to tear up a bit.
Magic, I suspect." I smile. "You've been the longest owner of that ring, your life is imprinted onto it. Non-magicals don't leave such heavy or deep imprints, sometimes I can feel where a wizard has walked in the supermarket."
"Truly amazing." He blinks as I stand up.
"The wands are in the loft, I haven't moved them."
"Lead the way." He follows me to the stairs.
"Could I ask what happened to Gellert?" I say quietly. "I understand there were wars."
"He, as many before him, fell prey to the sickness of dark magic." He exhales. "It corrupts one's mind with promises of power. He did a great many things in his pursuit of power, many died to his hand and followers. Much like Voldemort, there will always be the avid worshippers."
"The loft is up there." I point to the hatch, eager to change the subject. "I can't actually reach it myself." I say sheepishly. "Do you mind?" He laughs softly.
"Not to worry." He reaches up and pulls the cord, extending the steps down for us. "Does you ability work on living things?" He asks as we climb.
"Not generally." I duck my head under a beam. "Non-magical humans don't work. I got something from you, but it felt as if you were holding back somehow, blocking me out." I pull the chain to turn the light on.
"Interesting." He stands be my side before the cardboard box. "I was the one to retrieve these possessions, the house was all but destroyed, this was all that remained."
"I know." I say simply.
I crouch down and retrieve the two cloth wrapped wands.
"Would you prefer your Mother's or Father's first?" Dumbledore asks.
"It's going to be unpleasant either way, You carry a wand all day, every day for years. Add to it the fact they are not mere objects, but part of a person, my parents too." I place both wands on the floor in front of me. "I think one experience will be more than enough." I lay my hands on the wands simultaneously and promptly pass out.
Bright lights. The sheet I lay on, whilst washed, has had 13 people die on it. The pillow is brand new. I sit up sharply. A hospital, full of … wizards.
"Harry." I quickly look to my left, Dumbledore is standing there. A friendly face. "How are you feeling?"
"Like a hippogryph just ran over my head." I say without a seconds thought. "Whatever that means." Dumbledore chuckles.
"Young James would often say the same thing when he woke up on a hospital bed." He smiles.
"Speaking of the bed, the sheets hold horrible stories." His eyes widen slightly.
"I hadn't thought it would be an issue, forgive me." He says quickly. I wave him off.
"It's fine. Where are we?"
"After you touched the wands, you fell into a coma like state. I waited for 10 minutes before bringing you here, Saint Mungos Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries." He says, waving an arm around the room.
"A nice ring to it." I laugh. I looked down at my hospital gown. It's … empty. "This things." I tug at the fabric. "Where did it come from?" It's like a void.
"The Healer conjured it as you arrived."
"A branch of magic called transfiguration. It allows the wizard to alter the form of one thing to another. Conjuration is a very complex practice of it. I had thought that you would react badly to a pre-existing gown, but it seems this one has unsettled you just as much."
"It's just a new experience." I say. "It's history starts mere minutes ago. Do we have to stay here?"
"Already forming a dislike to hospitals?" He smiles genially. "I thought it best to not give your name, although I do believe your scar may have gave that away somewhat."
"I suppose so." I idly rub the lightning bolt. "The wands. So many spells have passed through them. They've taken lives and defended them, the wonder and anger behind each one. Learning new spells and watching them unfold before their eyes."
"If I may ask, How much did you learn?"
"It's still processing, but the words are all there along with what the spells do. I can feel the kind of people they were." I smile sadly. "I only wish I'd had the chance to really know them." I shake my head. "Where are my clothes now? It'll be interesting to see where they've travelled without me."
"Just on the side table." He points over my shoulder. My hand touches my t-shirt and my clothes jump onto my body.
"That was unpleasant." I say, making Dumbledore laugh.
"It can be a bit jarring from time to time." He agrees. I lower my feet to the floor and stand up. I look down at my feet, they've given me shoes.
"I never did like shoes." I sit back down on the bed and remove my shoes and socks. "So much to learn through the soles of my feet." I set my bare feet on the floor and wriggle my toes. A huge building with some kind of lattice magical bubble around it. Thousands of lives have come to be and ended inside these halls. Death at every turn as well as life. Families ending and starting. Jokes played on friends, pimples to be removed, hair to be fixed or replaced.
"Harry." I turn to look at Dumbledore, he's frowning slightly.
"It's just a lot to take in." I stand up properly. "A magical building." I look around. "You said you could take me to get the items listed in my letter?"
"Ah, Yes. Diagon Alley. Perhaps some food first? I've been told you had exhausted yourself." My stomach grumbles as I nod. "I've heard that the tuna sandwiches here are worth the trip." He begins to lead me through the hallway.
Lots of moaning and groaning from the current visitors and patients. Animals running and flying around, not something I'd expect to see in a hospital. Wizards.
"Are some of these people?" I duck to avoid a black bird flying at my head.
"Perhaps you could tell me." Dumbledore says mischievously.
"I haven't touched them, that's unfair." I watch as a dog runs away from a man in a white robe. "That person was a man, but a dog too."
"A rare talent that we refer to as an 'Animagus'." He says as we enter the lift. "Between you and I, your father could turn into a stag." He says quietly. "One should register with the Ministry of course, but some slip through the net." He winks. I grin.
"The wands sort of … spoke to me." I say. "Normally I just learn about things, but these seemed …"
"Alive?" He suggests.
"Yeah." I nod. "They told me the story, rather than me just knowing it." I wade through the information. "You really do use them for everything, don't you?"
"Most things do require a wand. Cleaning, cooking sometimes. Certain people enjoy the mundane methods of doing things, others prefer to use magic for even the simplest of tasks. Why do you ask?" He looks down at me.
"Who is Peter Pettigrew?"