Harry landed in the headmaster's office with a soft thud and, as Luna would put it, a nargle-infested head.

Sirius was dead. The last living person Harry could call family was dead, killed by his own demented relative because he was grandstanding…

...because Harry had led him into a trap. Led them all into a trap.

He collapsed into a chair opposite the enormous desk of the office. Of course it was a trap, because he hadn't practiced Occlumency enough and Voldemort had twisted his mind like a kitten with a ball of yarn. Of course it was a trap, because he was the foolish Gryffindor, and he didn't listen to Hermione when she warned him. Of course it was a trap-

The door to the office swept open, and Dumbledore wearily walked in.

Of course it was a trap, because Dumbledore had secreted himself away all goddamn year!

Harry glared at the headmaster, his wounds and fatigue forgotten in the face of the man who he had trusted for years, but failed him so completely and utterly this year.

The man in question slowly worked his way around the great desk before sitting in the ornate chair behind it, looking tired but still calm, still so damn immovable. Blue eyes peered over half-moon spectacles at Harry, their normal twinkle long gone.

Harry tensed as Dumbledore opened his mouth. There was nothing he could say, no platitude about love or forgiveness, no apology, no words of 'sacrifices for the greater good'. Harry glared at him steadily, fists clenched on the armrests, turning the skin white and letting the words 'I must not tell lies' shine in ghastly contrast on the back of his hand.

Dumbledore stopped, looking at the words, and hesitated.

It didn't still his rage, but the look on the headmaster's face did stop it in its tracks briefly. To Harry's knowledge, Dumbledore had never once hesitated in the five years he'd known him. He'd been confident, mysterious, calm, controlled, gleeful, saddened or even angry, but Harry had never known him to actually hesitate.

Dumbledore stared at the scar on Harry's hand for a moment. Then a minute. Finally, he abruptly stood, and walked to a small wood and glass cabinet on the far side of the room. A wave of his wand unlocked and opened it to reveal several glass bottles and glasses. The elderly man retrieved a dusty, small bottle and two glasses and walked back to the desk, sitting down heavily. With another wave of the wand, the bottle was uncorked, and a measure of amber liquid that reflected the firelight more than it should have was poured into each glass.

Harry looked at the headmaster and started to ask a question, but the words died in his throat as the headmaster removed his spectacles, folded them carefully, and placed them on the desk. Then, with somber grace, he did the same with his hat, showing a crown of frizzy white hair that, he noted with faint amusement, looked rather like Hermione's.

A glance at the headmaster's eyes stopped all comparison between the old statesman and Harry's bookish friend. Hermione's brown eyes flicked and sparked with life and fervor and a burning desire to see the world better than it was. But Dumbledore's eyes, in that moment, had no twinkle, no gleam, no spark that pushed outward, but instead a depth that drew you in. They carried a depth of feeling that left Harry lightheaded.

Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster, Defeater of Grindlewald, and Leader of the Light, picked up his glass and raised it high, never breaking eye contact with Harry.

"...To lost family." he intoned haltingly, as if the words pained him.

Harry's anger drained away to be swiftly replaced by shock, as he realized that the former Supreme Mugwump of the wizarding world had tears in his eyes.

Realizing the headmaster hadn't moved, Harry gingerly took his own glass. Before he could think, he mumbled the words, "...gone, but not forgotten."

Dumbledore gave him a sad smile, gently knocked his glass against Harry's and then downed the shot of liquor. Harry followed suit, and was surprised by the powerful warmth that flooded through him, easing his pains slightly.

"A very, very old brandy, this. Redtail Reserve. Only twenty bottles were ever made, and of those only seven are still around, mostly due to the fact that this brandy was crafted over the course of twenty years, with tears of the pheonix imbued within."

Harry's eyes widened despite himself as he looked down at his glass in surprise. "You are one of forty seven people living to have tasted it. Another thing to make you distinct among so many others." Dumbledore chuckled at his reaction, before slowly trailing off.

After a moment, he spoke again. "...I don't believe I ever told you of my childhood, did I Harry?"

Harry shook his head mutely, not trusting his words at the moment. Dumbledore nodded and gazed off to the side into the fireplace. "...When I was a young man, my sister Arianna, only six years old at the time, was attacked by three muggle boys." he said at length. "The attack left her injured, in body, mind and magic. She became prone to fits, and her magic would spasm as well. My father pursued vengeance on the boys, and was sent to Azkaban for being a muggle-hater."

Harry's eyes widened as Dumbledore continued. "We struggled for some years, and I went off to Hogwarts. My brother Aberforth followed me some years later. Arianna stayed home, with our mother Kendra. She was an astonishing woman Harry." the headmaster espoused, smiling wistfully. "Despite every difficulty and trouble she would always have kind words, always seek to aid us and ensure we were fed and sheltered. For years she took care of Arianna… until one day, a burst of Arianna's wild magic killed her."

"I had just graduated. I was full of life and vigor, eager to see the world, to become a powerful mage of legend… and then I received the call that Arianna needed to be taken care of. My brother was only fifteen at the time, and could not take care of her on his own. To my shame, I found it an unwelcome burden." he said quietly, eyes bright.

Harry could only listen, enraptured. "While at Hogwarts, I had found another who shared my ambitions. We had plans, such incredible plans to change the world. And he convinced me that my sister could wait, that we could return and cure her later with the knowledge we would find." he scoffed. "What a fool I was. But I was blinded by my own lust for recognition and fame… and love for this friend of mine. We were… close."

Harry could only blink at that revelation before Dumbledore continued. "The summer after my mother's death, I had returned to the family home, only to be confronted by Aberforth. He had never approved of my friend, and made this fact quite clear. My friend insulted him, I said unkind words, and a duel erupted. For a good ten minutes we fought, and frankly I don't know who was on who's side…"

Dumbledore's hands trembled on his glass, making it briefly rattle on the table. "Arianna… sweet, innocent Arianna, who never once in her life had hurt anyone intentionally, ran out to stop us. A distraction in the middle of a storm of spellfire, and when she stepped in to stop us…"

Dumbledore trailed off. Harry found himself on the edge of his seat, bewildered at the headmaster's sudden outpouring of information. "She died… and to this day, neither I nor my brother know who cast the spell that killed her."

The illustrious wizard has never looked so old. With a trembling hand he flicked his wand, pouring another glass for himself and Harry. He downed it immediately, and seemed to gain control of himself. "After that, I left, my brother estranged and my lover gone. For a time I wandered the world, learning, trying to find a meaning… and a way to atone."

"Eventually, I discovered a love of teaching. I became the Transfiguration professor of Hogwarts. Over time, I began to fall in love with the castle all over again, relishing every Sorting, every success, every prank and every silly love story between the students. I knew, then and there, that I had found my life's calling." he said with a fond smile.

The smile faded moments later. "But a war brewed across the channel, in Europe. A muggle war like none had ever seen, worse than even the Great War that had wracked the continent scant years before. And to my own heartbreak, the one leading the wizarding opposition was none other than my lover, Gellert Grindlewald."

Harry's jaw dropped open and Dumbledore chuckled mirthlessly. "I know. I wish I could say that he was different at one time… but if I must be honest, and I most assuredly must, his darkness was building even in our Hogwarts days. It was a terrible thing, Harry, to see someone I had loved, and still did to some extent, fall so utterly to the dark. And so… I did nothing."

Dumbledore hung his head. "For years, as thousands upon thousands died, I did nothing, though I knew I could confront him, could get close, and possible defeat the leader of the enemy forces… but I was afraid. I was terrified… that he might know who killed Arianna. That he might tell me." Dumbledore palmed his face. "You must understand, even decades later it was still a terrible wound in me. It drove me and haunted me, pushed me to become one of the most knowledgeable and powerful wizards that ever lived. And the idea that I would finally know held all my vaunted Gryffindor courage at bay."

Harry sipped at his glass, glad to have the fortification as he listened. "In 1945, I could not ignore him. My students were in danger, and that I could not allow. I… would prefer not to speak of the details. Suffice it to say that I won by the slimmest of margins. To this day, he is locked inside Nurmengard, the prison he had built himself. I could not bring myself to kill him, no matter how grave his crimes."

"And thus, my life changed. I became the vaunted 'Defeater of Grindlewald', the 'Leader of the Light'. A mere twenty years later I was headmaster of Hogwarts. Soon after that, when it was my school that had taught the country's leaders, I was given the title of Chief Warlock. Then, as my international acclaim grew over the years, I became Supreme Mugwump."

Dumbledore finally looked back at Harry. "I had everything I had ever wanted. Knowledge, power, influence, respect and admiration across the world. The Dumbledore name would forever be in the history books."

He took a deep breath. "It is the greatest curse I have ever received."

Harry looked at him in confusion, but couldn't help but think on how his status as the 'Boy-Who-Lived' had affected his life…

"Ah, yes. I see you have a grasp on it Harry." Dumbledore sighed. "I'm sure you do. Now Harry, keeping this in mind, I want to tell you my greatest secret. One that may ruin your image of me. And if at the end, you wish to rant, rave, strike me even, I will offer no resistance."

Harry's anger rekindled slightly at that, and he could only give a curt nod. Dumbledore nodded back.

"My secret, Mister Potter, is that I… am a schoolteacher."

Harry blinked. "...What?"

"I am a schoolteacher, Harry. In my heart of hearts, underneath my colorful robes, pointy hat and twinkling eyes, I am a schoolteacher."

"What does that have to do with anything? What does that have to do with SIRIUS!?" Harry snarled, unable to believe this man was wasting his time with his usual bullshit.

"It has to do with everything Harry. You know this feeling. You've experienced it every year. You are not the 'Boy-Who-Lived', you are not the youngest seeker in a century, or the Triwizard Champion, or the Slayer of Slytherin's Monster. What are you?"

Harry's brow furrowed, then rose in shock as it came to him. "I'm… just Harry."

"Indeed. Just Harry." Dumbledore nodded. "Just a young man thrown into circumstance beyond his control. An extraordinary young man, but a young man all the same."

He sighed as he leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his beard. "And I am just a schoolteacher that has had titles, accolades and responsibilities piled upon me for so long I don't actually remember what it's like not to have them."

Harry glared. "And that's an excuse?"

"On the contrary, Harry, it's the reason I have failed so utterly." Dumbledore said miserably. "When the war against Voldemort started, I was the immediate choice to fight against him. All looked to me, Harry, because if I had beaten the last Dark Lord, surely I could defeat this one. And so I made the most foolish decision of my life… I became a general."

He snorted. "Me, a beloved schoolteacher with a quick wand hand, leading the entirety of our armed response. Madness, Harry! Utter madness! But what could I do? Turn it down? I remembered how it felt when I had turned away from Grindlewald's acts of terror, the thousands that had died. That was unacceptable. Give command to another? None would accept leadership over the 'Leader of the Light', none who were on our side, at least. I tried to discover another way, Harry, but in the end, my status propelled me to a position I had no business being in. And I proved my foolishness the moment I insisted we did not use lethal spells."

Dumbledore sighed. "I have no idea if I have killed in my life, Harry, due to the mystery of my sister… but I could not kill the opposition, not when I had once taught them, seen them in the halls of my school laughing and smiling."

Dumbledore held his head in his hands, elbows on the desk. "I could not do it Harry. How could I kill my children? And because the war was placed in the hands of a schoolteacher, a pacifist at that… we nearly lost. We were close to the end… when a miracle happened. A prophecy, and then an unstoppable curse returned..."

"Prophecy? The one that broke…"

"Indeed, but since I was the first to hear it, that is hardly a trouble." Dumbledore said, clearing his throat.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives…"

Harry paled, and began to tremble. Dumbledore wordlessly refilled his glass, to which Harry nodded thankfully. "S-so… so one of us has to die?"

"No."

Harry blinked. "What?"

"No, Harry. Or, perhaps more specifically, you do not have to die." Dumbledore said firmly. "Divination is an incredibly imprecise art, my boy. How many prophecy orbs did you see in the Department of Mysteries?"

Harry thought back to the massive shelves that had lined the hall. "Hundreds. Thousands."

"Precisely. Now, what if I told you that many of those prophecies had been there for hundreds of years?"

Harry's eyes widened. "You mean…"

"Exactly, Harry! This prophecy may be, as you young people say, 'totally bogus!' Or at the very least, utterly unrelated to your, or even anyone in this century!"

Harry couldn't help but snicker, if only out of relief… then frowned. "But, professor, I match it perfectly, and I've fought Voldemort so many times…"

"Indeed Harry, but consider this… you are hardly the only one to be born 'as the seventh month dies'. Neville Longbottom also matches this description, as do several students that have come before you. And keep in mind, assuming this prophecy does refer to Voldemort and not some future Dark Lord, a Muggle could defeat him! Tom has not lived in the Muggle world for over fifty years, there is no end of things that could be 'the power he knows not'. Goodness, the power he knows not could be traffic laws, and he could step out onto the street and be hit by a Muggle lorry! And what does 'vanquish' mean in this instance? Have you not bested him repeatedly? The prophecy is so utterly vague as to be meaningless!"

"But then why try to guard it?! What made it worth risking the lives of the Order?" Harry exclaimed angrily.

"Because, Harry, while we do not believe in the prophecy, Voldemort does. He's only heard half, and it's of a supposed person who may defeat him! And so long as he didn't know the specifics, he was worried to act openly, which kept him from escalating the conflict. One of my more subtle plans, though not without risk."

"And you didn't talk to me because he could possibly see through my scar connection…"

"Precisely, Harry. If he had discovered the ruse then it all would have been lost. But I could have, and should have, done more to protect you and inform you…" he sighs. "And now the gamble is ended, and we have lost as much as we have won." He sighed, leaning back. "And I, a schoolteacher, am put at the helm again. And you, a young man not even sixteen, have the hopes of so many on your shoulders." The old man chuckled ruefully. "What a pair we make."

Harry sat there for a while, staring across at Dumbledore. "...I'm still angry at you, professor."

"Good. I deserve it." Dumbledore sighed. "Perhaps it will finally teach me that I am fallible, as all men are."

Harry sat, deep in thought for several minutes. "...Professor?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"What are you going to do?"

"I am going to do something that most men of my caliber find hard to do Harry. I intend to change."

"Change? How so, sir?"

"Firstly, if you are willing, you shall not return to the Dursleys. You may stay here at Hogwarts, and the staff and I will train you as I should have done during the Triwizard debacle."

Harry's eyes widened, unable to process the fact that he would finally, FINALLY be free of the Dursleys.

"Secondly, over the summer I will share every scrap of information, no matter how small on the man known as Tom Riddle. I will teach you proper Occlumency at the same time, so that you need not worry about him possessing you once more."

Harry let out a ragged breath of relief, remembering the horrific pain he'd felt in the Ministry of Magic's atrium.

"Thirdly, I believe I have a hunch as to how Voldemort's spirit clings to this earth. At the end of the summer and through the next school year, you and I will work together to rid him of this protection so he may be finally and fully dealt with."

"Fourthly, I will turn over the operations side of the Order of the Pheonix to Alistair Moody…" Dumbledore closed his eyes. "As much as it pains me… I think that the time for second chances has long passed. I cannot allow my own feelings and weaknesses to condemn thousands."

"Finally, when school resumes, I will ensure that this castle is safe. For too long I have turned from my responsibilities to these children, and I have thus allowed evil to fester here. Several changes will need to be made… but the time for that will come."

He stood, and the tired old man was replaced by Albus Dumbledore, Defeater of Grindlewald. "Harry, I have done you great harm. My actions have cost you the last of your family, however indirectly. I don't dare ask your forgiveness, for I have not earned it. But I swear upon my magic, I will do my utmost to try."

The room surged with a pulse of magnificent energy as the wizard's oath took effect. Dumbledore smiled at the dumbfounded teen. "Now, Harry, let us see you to the infirmary. I expect you and your friends will be some time in recovering, but you shall all pull through."

He leads Harry down the stairs and through the hall. As they reach the infirmary, Dumbledore smiles. "Harry. One more thing."

"Yes sir?"

"You have lost so much, that is undeniable, and the hurt will linger for some time. But please, learn from this old man's foolishness, and know that you do not have to face it alone."

As the headmaster threw the doors to the infirmary open and Harry saw his friends, injured but alive and recovering, he felt the last of his rage ebb away.

He was angry, no doubts there… but there were more worthy targets for that anger than Dumbledore. The Ministry, the Death Eaters, Voldemort.

He'd cry for Sirius, but he still had family. He would live.