“Today?” Harry asked.

“Yes, today, Harry.” Sirius said. “You know he will not rest until both you and Dumbledore are in the darkness of a grave. You will need a teacher, and none of us can teach quite like Dumbledore could. The Dark Lord’s influence is being stretched across the continent, and you are the only one with hope of opposing him. The hope of the wizarding world rests upon your shoulders, Harry. You must go.”

Harry turned around to look at Dumbledore. “What will I be learning?” He asked. He stared into his eyes, ignoring the probing that was now entering his mind once more. He never gave up, it seemed. But it would not be Harry who would be read this time.

Dumbledore’s attempted read failed, no doubt finding the empty void that Harry had presented. “Many things, Harry. Knowledge that all wizards should know, and knowledge that most wizards would not. How to fight against the forces of Voldemort. How to one day defeat him.” He said. If Harry’s occlumency surprised him, he did not show it.

He began walking, heading off into the forest. Harry followed. “Wait.” Sirius called.

Harry turned back as a familiar figure drew close. “You’ll need someone to look after you while at Hogwarts. I saw you play with the elf a few months ago. Would you like to keep him?”

As he finished Harry saw Kreacher arrive, still dressed in a tablecloth like always. But there was something in his eyes that caught Harry’s attention. A thin ray of hope, bright as the sun. “Kreacher!” Harry called. “I’ll be going to Hogwarts. Would you like to go with me?” He asked.

Such a simple question, but Kreacher looked as if he had been offered a fortune in gold. “Of course! Yes, yes, Kreacher will go. Kreacher will, when are we leaving?” He asked.

Dumbledore spoke up. “Go to Hogwarts, Kreacher. I will be taking young Harry here for a walk before we go. We will see you there.” He said.

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Kreacher nodded. “Of course, of course. Kreacher will go, Kreacher poof!” He disappeared with a puff of smoke. Harry blinked. Sirius had his mouth open. Harry gave a wave as he followed Dumbledore. Sirius waved back, a smile replacing his shocked expression.

“Goodbye, Harry!” He called. Harry returned his goodbyes, and kept on waving until he passed out of sight.

“When did you learn occlumency?” Dumbledore asked.

“A few weeks ago, Professor Snape taught me. But that wasn’t all.” Harry looked into his eyes again, those twinkling blue eyes. Dumbledore was caught off guard, so it wasn’t much of a challenge. Still, his chest swelled as he read the headmaster’s thoughts. Well, not so much thoughts as images.

For a moment he saw the world through Dumbledore’s eyes. A clearing beneath a vast forest with a single boy standing before him. The boy was a child, almost five but not quite. There was a peculiar glow in his eyes, speaking of maturity beyond his years. A strong boy, already more powerful than most wizards. A match for any auror.

As he stared the image began shifting, the boy’s emerald green eyes becoming ruby red. Still handsome, but his features changed. He became taller, posture confident and face masked in a grin. Voldemort, but not quite. A name floated into his head. Riddle. Tom Marvolo Riddle. The image blurred, and he was Harry Potter again.

Harry felt a snap as he was driven out of Dumbledore’s mind, and the elder wizard stared at him. “Has anyone taught you that spying on another’s mind without permission is an invasion of privacy?” He asked.

Harry smiled. “Yes, of course. You, professor.” He replied.

Dumbledore chuckled at the comment. “I suppose I wasn’t the best of examples. Though I must ask, what are you?” Harry’s expression became emotionless.

His eyes began glowing again, the bright green shining through his pupils. “What am I, who I am, is a question for you to answer, old man. I do not know how I came here, only that I am here.”

Dumbledore stared at him with an intense glare. Harry finally saw the full power of those eyes. That old and weathered face had no smile for him. His eyes bore no twinkle, but seemed to freeze Harry as he met his gaze. Dumbledore’s power seemed to radiate off of him in waves, an aura Harry could not match. “Who you are is of no importance.” Dumbledore decided.

“I do not know what you have done with the boy, but he is a boy no longer. I only ask you to join me, to fight Voldemort.” His voice was quiet, but Harry could not have heard a thousand trumpets more clearly.

Magnus tilted his head. “I am no hero, and I do not imagine myself ever being one.”

Dumbledore’s eyebrows raised. “But I must admit, I like the boy. If I must, I will defend him.” Magnus continued.

“And the dark lord?” Dumbledore asked.

“My vengeance will be on the death eaters. But if he gets in the way, or harms those I care for. He will die.” Magnus had a voice that was flat, so filled with certainty Harry did not doubt a word of his statement. If he had promised to make him immortal on the next day with that voice, Harry would have believed him.

Dumbledore gave a slow nod. “That will have to be enough.” He conceded.

“Indeed.” Magnus said, a smile crossing his lips. “It will be.”