Albus Dumbledore – Uncovered
by Linda Corner
We all know the man. Even the most uninformed of us will have had him as a Professor of Transfiguration or Headmaster of Hogwarts. Those of us who are fans of Chocolate Frog cards will know a couple more details about his defeat of Grindelwald and his achievements in alchemy. Those of us involved in politics will be aware of his active role in the Wizengamot, working with many of his colleagues to assume a Light agenda in Britain – successfully so, despite the many setbacks presented by Dark Lord Potter and his pressure group. With such a man there seems to be a great many things to know – for example, did you know that Albus Dumbledore is the first recorded wizard to have had an academic text published while he was still attending Hogwarts? – and yet no matter how much one learns about him, one never learns about him. Because who is Dumbledore, anyway, and why is he such an important part of our lives? Most significantly, however, is the question of should he be so important? Recently sources have been leaked to the Daily Prophet about the man's past that I don't think you'll be expecting... Though, let's be honest, we all knew that nobody could be as perfect as Dumbledore seems to be.
The first reports that we received were centred around Dumbledore's powers as headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. As headmaster, it is Dumbledore's duty to create a balanced curriculum (which is approved by the Board of Governors), and to protect his students. Obviously he has other responsibilities, but this is the role of the headmaster in its simplest form. We have reason to believe that Dumbledore is failing in both of these aspects.
When we first received information on Dumbledore's questionable behaviour (the real scandal, readers, which will be revealed to you in due time), we wanted to do some digging. The first place we went to was the Hogwarts Board of Governors, knowing that they would work closely with the man. Many of them seemed just as enamoured with the man as the rest of the country is, but a few were willing to anonymously reveal to us that they frequently have to turn away curriculums due to them being too biased towards the Light. As disappointed as I was to learn this, I was not surprised. With Dumbledore's activities in the Wizengamot, it is not hard to believe that he wants to bring politics into his headmaster role, indoctrinating his beliefs into the malleable minds of our children.
This already having weighed on the conscience of these poor souls, fearful of speaking out against the admired man, they had something else to tell us, of the most alarming nature. According to these anonymous Governors, it is said that while it is fortunately uncommon, there will occasionally be a student who confides in the staff about living in an abusive home. As you can imagine, these children see Hogwarts as a safe haven from their lives of abuse, but towards the summer dread returning home.
It might seem natural to us that the best course of action would be to relocate these children to a safer home – find kind hearted wizarding families to take them in, or allow them to stay at Hogwarts over the summer (as there is almost always members of staff still present, preparing for the coming year). Not to one Albus Dumbledore; a man with the staunchest belief in love, reportedly cannot comprehend how one's own family could be abusive, and so disregards these children as over exaggerating or lying, repeatedly sending them back to their abusive families each summer.
Terrible news indeed, readers, and I am sure that you are already disturbed to the extreme from my reports. I wish as much as you do that they were untrue, but I am equally unwilling to silence the troubled voices that these reports have come from. But prepare yourselves – there is worse to come. We may at this point be questioning Dumbledore's ability to empathise, despite him seeming such a grandfatherly character. Well, readers, from an anonymous source we have uncovered information on an illicit love affair with none other than Gellert Grindelwald in his youth.
That's right – Albus Dumbledore had a love affair with Gellert Grindelwald.
To find out more about this affair, we spoke Lord Potter, who worked closely with Dumbledore to defeat the terrorist. We asked if Lord Potter knew of this affair, to which he answered us:
"Yes. I was never told directly, but it was obvious; Dumbledore may well still have had feelings for him, may now still have feelings for him."
This is a confirmation as any that Dumbledore had close ties to Grindelwald in his youth. Lord Potter has always been a preacher of the truth, despite being naturally biased to Dark, and certainly would not be expected to lie about such an accusation. Lord Potter had more to say on the matter:
"It's tragic, really. It was difficult for him to fight against his ex-lover at all, I'm sure, but it always felt off. I know Dumbledore well, he's a very powerful man; do you not think that he would have had the power to kill Grindelwald?"
I told Lord Potter that I agreed, Dumbledore should have been able to kill Grindelwald.
"It's often assumed that my parents were killed by supporters by Grindelwald, and I assume this too, and so I had a very personal tie to the fight. I, along with hundreds and hundreds of families across Europe, wanted justice. Grindelwald was the cause of so much death and destruction, so much pain, he deserved to die. But where is he now? In a prison, because his ex-lover did not have it in him to kill him. That, to me, is the most tragic part of this affair. That it has affected Dumbledore's idea of justice."
It was amazing to see such a powerful figure as Dark Lord Potter talk about his own past, his own wish for justice, and this gives us perhaps a stronger idea of just how significant news of this affair is. We are all shocked to discover that Dumbledore could be so terrible as to love a man who surely had already established his ideals for terrorising Europe. But the issue is bigger than that – because of Dumbledore's perverted interest in this murderer, Grindelwald is sat alive in a prison cell, with no thought given to those that had lost so much during his war.
Ignatius was incredibly disturbed by what he was reading. He knew that he should not have picked up the paper in the first place, should not have turned to this page, but he was burning with curiosity. Corner was right – he did not know much about Dumbledore, despite how close he was to the man. But this was ridiculous. It was surely a load of garbage. Propaganda for the upcoming war; Lord Potter even was quoted, it must be Dark propaganda...
Not that The Daily Prophet was known for Dark leanings.
The accusations just did not seem right to him. Dumbledore was a kind hearted man, a father or even grandfather figure to everybody he knew, he genuinely cared about the people... But Ignatius could not dispute the information he had been given either.
On cue, the fire turned a bright green and Dumbledore stepped through the threshold of the fireplace.
"Ignatius, my good friend!" Dumbledore cheerfully greeted, acting as if he had not just walked into somebody's home invited. "How are you faring?"
Ignatius blanched. How could Dumbledore be so casual after such horrific allegations had been made against him? "Have you not read today's edition of The Prophet?" he asked, astounded.
Dumbledore laughed. "Why of course I have! It is important to stay on top of things in these times."
"But... these accusations against you, they're absolutely horrific!" Ignatius floundered. If he had been the victim of such media abuse he would be hiding away in his home refusing to speak to anybody but his wife, not making merry visits to his friends.
"Ah, they are indeed," Dumbledore agreed, still seeming unfazed. "Fortunately for me, it does not matter what the papers say about me. Well, it does a bit. But the people who truly matter at the very least know that it's a great ton of rubbish, don't they? So what have I to worry about?"
Ignatius gave an internal sigh of relief. So it truly was all just lies. Dumbledore's casual manner was suddenly comforting – the innocent have nothing to fear, naturally. He no longer had to worry about the issues presented, he could push them out of his mind now.
"How is dear Lucretia, my friend? I see that she is otherwise occupied this morning," Dumbledore commented with a warm smile.
"She's very well, thank you. She has taken the day to meet with her sister, and so left early this morning," he answered, happy to fall back on easier topics.
"I am pleased to hear it," Dumbledore smiled. "It is too rare these days that we spend good time with our families. I dare say it has been a while since you have visited your parents?"
"Ah," Ignatius looked down at his feet. "You do have an uncanny ability to sense these things, Albus. Yes, perhaps I was a bit too sharp with them last time we spoke. It is difficult, though, to return under such circumstances."
"Yes, yes, I understand," Dumbledore nodded sympathetically. "We cannot always make time for our families, as much as we would like to."
"Lucretia, I think, is worried about the war."
Dumbledore suddenly looked worn. "Indeed, I am not surprised. We all are, in our own way."
"It will be okay though. These... these villains," Ignatius said, unsure of how exactly to describe the enemy that he truly knew little about. "We can stop them, can we not?"
"Of course, my dear friend," Dumbledore reassured. "With love and determination, we will do right by magical Britain."
"If we infiltrate the Light, we can end the war before it has even started. There are silent, discreet ways of finding these people and giving them unsuspicious deaths. Dumbledore, even, if we're clever enough about it," Voldemort was arguing, a maniacal glint in his eye.
"It would be far more beneficial for us to go above these people though. The public are not going to view us favourably–"
"The public won't know," Voldemort interrupted.
"Nobody will view us favourably if we end up killing the opposition while they aren't looking – it just isn't honourable! There are international organisations to deal with, whose favour we need, and we will not keep this favour if all of our opposition just happen to die." Harry finished, gritting his teeth.
"Ridiculous. I have no care for international bodies, and they won't know, do you have no trust in my power? It can be done so that no suspicion may be turned on us, if carried out properly. It is incredibly easy to spot anyone with a Light affiliation, it's in their aura, and over time we can make a list and slowly reduce their numbers, especially the ones involved with Dumbledore–"
"You want to purge every bloody Light witch and wizard in the country?!" Harry exclaimed, astounded. "Are you mad?"
Voldemort seethed. "They are filth upon earth and they are in our way. The public will see less and less of them, and it may even begin to be associated with illness, and slowly they will be put off using the magic at all, and we will over time be left with no opposition, and any remaining opposition will be low in morale."
Harry gaped at the man. "You cannot wipe out all Light magic users! Have you paid no attention to what I've said about the magical balance? We can't bloody just shift it the other way – we have to be equal! Equality is not gained by psychologically manipulating innocent people into using a magic that they are not comfortable with!"
"It's the most efficient way of winning the war!" Voldemort countered, his voice taking on a hissing quality.
"It's just not moral! If you allow me to go to an international level –"
"Sod your international politics, it's utterly useless!"
"It would be more efficient and more moral to speak to global Lights and to try to convince them that Dumbledore's war is a war against magic, putting us all in danger, then Dumbledore won't get a chance to retaliate with violence, it's far more efficient and far more moral!"
"There is no way that any Light magic user is going to listen to you, you're a Dark Lord, they wouldn't trust you with the time of day. These people are enemies to us, and they know it just as well as we do. There's no point in negotiating, we just need to get into the thick of fighting before they do."
"But the war will cost both them and us lives! They can be reasoned with, we just need to find a way to fight the Light politically."
"We've been fighting the Light politically for decades and it has not been working; now, when Dumbledore, a respected Light figure worldwide, wants to make moves against it, trying to keep peace is a complete waste of time."
The meeting had started an hour ago, but it seemed that they had reached an impasse with this issue. While Harry and Voldemort were unrelentingly pushing their ideas back and forth, Lin and Abraxas Malfoy were sat between them, looking rather like they were watching a game of tennis. At the start of the meeting, they had both been in a comfortable enough position to make suggestions and contribute to the discussion, but at this point they were far too intimidated to even think about doing so, and so kept silent as the two Dark Lords waged a verbal war against each other. Harry felt bad at the back of his mind, usually putting in an effort to make his followers feel respected, but he knew that Lin would not take it personally, and Harry had far more important things to worry about. Voldemort was being completely intransigent, refusing even the slightest compromise or even bothering to listen to Harry. When he had reached his limit, Harry interrupted Voldemort mid-sentence.
"Lin, Malfoy, you will leave us," he bit out in a tone that did not allow for disobedience, feeling his magic scratching at his insides.
The two followers did as they were told, closing the door firmly behind them, and leaving Harry alone with Voldemort.
"You dare order about my follower?" Voldemort growled, already worked up from the debate.
"I assure you, Lord Voldemort, it was only in your best interests. I wouldn't want one of your followers to witness any further embarrassment on your part this evening," Harry sneered in return, striding purposefully back to the table, by this point covered in unorganised parchment.
Voldemort seemed to inflate, ready to bite back venomously, but Harry spoke before he could.
"You need to get a fucking grip over yourself; all this terrorist madness about killing all potential opposition just to get the war over with quicker. You're as bad as the muggles." Voldemort's eyes flashed dangerously, but Harry continued. "The worst part of it is, it isn't even decent military tactic. You're not thinking about the war, you're thinking about yourself. You feel increasingly out of control, and you don't know how to get it back, and so you're desperately reaching for more in your plan to commit genocide of Light magic users. But I will not stand for it. Your personal issues should have no role in this war, and certainly should not be the cause of so many innocent deaths."
"I am the one allowing my personal issues to interfere with the war?" Voldemort retorted, deridingly. "I have no issue with control; I have far more control than you could ever dream of. And here you are, trying to relate yourself to me. You've seen similarity in our childhoods, you think that your issues will be present in me, and so you're displacing them onto me in the hopes that finally, after living for so longwithout parents to relate to, you can relate to me. It's pathetic, the way you're letting your own emotions interfere with your perception of my behaviour, and you have the nerve to suggest that I'm the one letting my problems distract from the war? Look at yourself, you're a mess."
Harry felt bile in his throat. "How dare you bring my parents into this; you are constantly trying to psychologically manipulate everyone around you for you to step over them, quietly ignoring your own psychological issues." He strode over to where Voldemort was stood. "Because of emotions, I was able to deal with my problems decades ago. I no longer need to relate to anybody. You, on the other hand, are lacking, because not once in your life have you allowed yourself to even admit that your problems exist. Forgive me, Voldemort," he spat, snaking his fingers around the man's wrist to pry his hand from where it was gripping the back of one of Harry's chairs, "for using my own experience, my own wisdom, to see the warning signs in you."
"Of course," Voldemort seethed. He snatched his hand away from Harry's, and pushed him away, only to approach him again. "How foolish of me not to realise that really emotions just clear everything up, rather than distracting from the issue at its basest form. I cannot believe how long I have gone thinking that not filling my mind with petty wonderings over what people think of me and how damaged I must be from my past, and how right you are to make such assumptions of me!" Voldemort shot his hand to grab Harry's arm but Harry was quicker, dodging the attack and starting to move around the other man. "No. I will not take responsibility for your issues, Potter; muggles and Light magic users are filth upon the earth, and I am only doing a favour for the wizarding world by cleansing our society of them."
Harry laughed harshly still circling Voldemort predatorily, until Voldemort began to move with him. "I cannot believe that you don't see how perverse your mind actually is; nobody who isn't damaged lusts after the genocide of half of his own people like you do. You are constantly controlled by your emotions, by your past, and you can't even tell because you're always trying to repress it. Your very soul has been physically harmed by your inability to heal from your past! You have two fucking horcruxes; that is not sane." The two were moving in a dance-like manner, at points getting close enough to touch and then suddenly repelling each other once again. Harry could feel his magic jumping in and out of his core, licking the air to taste Voldemort's equally active magic, reporting back excitedly to Harry.
"My horcruxes give me everything that every pathetic being alive has ever wished for – immortality. I am a god among you pathetic beings! The very fact that I had the power to create a horcrux places me above every person who walks this earth! I am stronger than you will ever be because I cannot die."
Voldemort was almost pressed against Harry at his point, using the closeness to talk down onto him, a smug look on his face and a powerful glint in his eyes. Harry, for his part, was sickened further.
"You are disgusting," he hissed, placing his hand firmly on Voldemort's chest, slowly tracing down before violently pushing the man away further. "You are human, just like every person around you, and have no right to lord over the population just because you were stupid enough to split your soul in some child's dream of living forever. Realising that your time on earth is limited is a part of growing up, and your inability to grasp this is just further evidence of your stunted maturity."
"Do you really expect me to put up with this shit from you?" Voldemort ground out, pinning Harry against the wall with his whole body.
"I expect you to deal with your own shit, to be frank," Harry retorted, grabbing his neck with one hand and shoulder with the other, swinging them around so that the position was reversed. He could feel the heat of anger in his body, nearly shaking from it, overpowering him and his senses.
A small growl rose from the back of Voldemort's throat, finding himself unable to push Harry off him this time. The two were unmoving for a moment, and Harry could feel their chests heaving heavily against each other, proof of the exertion that they had not realised. The eye contact that they had developed had not yet broken, and Harry noted that Voldemort's pupils were slightly diluted from the argument, wondering if his were the same. There was also a hint of fear, and suddenly Harry felt guilty holding him down, when he had already acknowledged that Voldemort clearly had issues with control. Perhaps there was something to the argument that he needed more control himself, if he was to help Voldemort with his problems. Not that he should have to do such a thing, but somebody needed to be the adult.
"How about we compromise, hm?" Harry asked carefully, not yet removing himself. "I will go to the Light. I will attempt to make a diplomatic approach, and this will be our Plan A. Meanwhile, you place your people in positions of power; government and education. They can start to subtly work on unravelling Dumbledore's propaganda on the public. We will try our hardest to make this a war of cunning and political manoeuvres. You're the Heir of Slytherin, I'm sure you can handle that." He stepped away.
Voldemort said nothing, opting instead to leave the room in silence. Harry knew that this meant a reluctant agreement to the terms; Voldemort did not like to be ordered around, but Harry was no different. They would just have to learn to cope with the fact that over the coming months, maybe even years, they will not always be the one giving the orders.
Just under a month had passed, with the Dark working on their communications and publishing articles to the public. It had become obvious, by this point, that there was an internal war waging in wizarding Britain, though no person had been harmed. To Harry's great relief, the media had so far not come to the rescue of the Light; most conservative forces in the media seemed to favour the idea of restoring old magical traditions, despite the Light still in theory representing the status quo. Harry had spent a lot of this time preparing for his meeting with the European Light Associates. They were a strong influence, equal to that of the Eurpoean Convention of Dark Magic on a continental scale, and more so within Britain. If Harry could get through to them, explain the risk to global magic, then maybe the war could end before it had properly started. They did, however, have a reputation for being incredibly biased towards Dark magic users, as many Lights tended to be.
As Harry stepped into the building for his meeting, he immediately felt uncomfortable. He had expected to feel as such, naturally, but the reality of it was far stronger. The building itself was nice enough; the walls were light and clean, adorned with tasteful artwork and hangings, and the furniture was comfortable and welcoming. The aura was what was upsetting Harry's stomach. The place was saturated with Light magic, oozing off every surface and filling Harry's lungs, a suffocating tightness around him putting him immediately on guard. Light environments always were this way. The Lights themselves could sense him, too, and tensed in response. He could feel, rather see, the sudden tension that took over the room as he stepped in; his own magic was whirling possessively and protectively around him, sending an entirely unintentional message of hostility. This was why negotiating with the Light was always so difficult. While in a neutral environment, Harry's magic could reach out to people and appeal to their own magic, seducing the magical cores in the room into considering his points, but in a Light environment such as this his magic repelled the people around him. The woman who led him into the meeting room made no eye contact, and shrugged off Harry's attempts at conversation.
In the smaller room, the intensity of his intrusion was stronger still, and some of the members of the group physically shifted uncomfortably.
"Good afternoon," Harry greeted politely, making a small bow. "Lord Potter, here to discuss the concerns I have over Albus Dumbledore, a man who is arguably answerable first and foremost to your organisation."
"Do come in, Lord Potter," beckoned a French wizard. "Please sit down. My name is Alban Pascal; we have been anticipating your arrival. We are eager to listen to your views in order to form closer ties with the Dark."
Yeah right, Harry thought sarcastically as he took his seat; the Light had never been particularly accommodating of the Dark, and he much doubted they intended to start so suddenly.
"We do wonder, though, why you did not take this matter to the International Confederation of Wizards," Pascal continued.
"The International Confederation does not much care for these matters," Harry responded. "Though it is of great importance to my country and in my opinion to the world, I doubt that I would be able to convince the Supreme Mugwump of its importance."
"I see. Well, do continue, please."
"Dumbledore wants to wage an all-out war against Dark magic, and is taking steps further than his usual political moves. It is said that he has been working on building up a Light magic army in order to defeat the Dark. I understand that you all having Light cores yourself, you may not immediately frown at this. However, my concern lies in the effect that this will have on the global balance of magic. Do your recall why the Supreme Mugwump is always a Light wizard?"
The people sat around the table shook their heads.
"It was long ago, of course. But we all know that centuries earlier to the society which we now live in, the Dark wizards had a stronger balance of power. Their power grew over time, until finally they decided that they did not need Light wizards. One particularly nasty character wanted to get rid of them. They did so, by revealing them to the muggle world, and they started being hunted. This one act shifted the balance of magic completely out. People's magic started to weaken, there was an increase in the birth of squibs worldwide; the magical community went into chaos. Eventually, this was solved by the overthrowing of the Dark leadership. The Light replaced them, with the thoughts that the Light wizards would never repeat such a disastrous event. But people have forgotten, and this is the exact same thing that Dumbledore wants to do. I know that it is not your responsibility to look after the Dark. But with all the power you have, you can prevent the unbalance of magic as Dumbledore is intending to create. You can stop our communities falling into disarray and panic."
The table sat in silence for a moment, and Harry could tell already that he had lost. They did not believe him, and worst of all, they did not care.
"Do you have any evidence of this 'Light army' you say Dumbledore is forming?" one of the wizards asked.
"There is no documented evidence – of course there isn't – but there are numerous eyewitness accounts of Dumbledore speaking to large groups of people, stirring discontent and spreading lies about the Dark. Everything Dumbledore has ever done in politics would lead one to believe that he intends to wipe out Dark magic."
"And you say that he intends to threaten the lives of Dark magic users?" another asked.
"Yes."
"Has any Dark wizard or witch yet been harmed?"
"No, not yet," Harry admitted, "but it would be too late to try to prevent it once it had already started! This is going to happen if left alone, is it so much to ask that you prevent it?" he argued desperately.
"I know Dumbledore well," said a German man. "He is a good man. All Dumbledore has ever wanted is for muggles and muggleborns to feel welcome in this society; if he is doing that by reducing the power of those who would discriminate against anything muggle, why should we try to stop him?"
Many of the members nodded, agreeing.
"Because Dark magic users are people!" Harry exclaimed. "They deserve to be treated with respect just as much, and it is still murder when people try to kill us!"
They did not look convinced, and Harry felt anger rise up inside him. They don't even see me as a person, do they? He thought bitterly to himself.
"Dumbledore has spilt no magical blood," Pascal spoke up again. "We will not consider taking action until he does; your petty fears are of no concern to us."
Rage.
Harry swiftly stood from his chair and marched from the room, paying no mind as the people around him cowered from his snapping magic.
He apparated directly into Voldemort's meeting room, where he was addressing his followers.
"The Light do not care for our lives," he proclaimed venomously to the other Dark Lord. "We will not be the first to draw blood, but as soon as the first drop spills we will have no choice but respond according to this disregard for our rights. If it is war that they want, it is war that they will have."
The predatory grin that appeared on Voldemort's features only fuelled the fire raging in Harry's heart.
Gaunt Shack was exactly as Voldemort remembered it; the very building being strangled by nettles, the walls concave and many tiles having been torn off by the sharp wind. As he approached, boots squelching in the wet moss, he felt within him the same anxiety that he had felt when he had first visited. The surrounding trees felt like they were drinking his oxygen instead of providing it, towering over him and casting his mind in shadows. The door was hanging off its hinges, the dead snake still stubbornly attached; a grotesque symbol of pride in the Gaunt line. Stepping in, he was assaulted by the smell of the rotting food – was this reality or his memory of it? He would have thought that decades later any food would have been devoured by hungry rodents, and indeed a thin rat ran past his feet as the thought crossed his mind. The floor itself was slippery with grime, and the cobwebs above him acted almost as a replacement for the tiles that were no longer present on the roof. On the table Voldemort saw the single candle that had lit up his meeting with his uncle, but Morfin was no present. He is dead, Voldemort reminded himself. And yet suddenly he could hear the hissed words echoing in his head, or in the room, he could not tell.
'That whore Merope, dirtying the family name'
And suddenly Voldemort wanted to drain the filthy blood from his body
'Running off with some muggle, surely planning to create some dirty little illegitimate'
It did not matter to him, not anymore
'That slut, that filthy slut'
The voices stopped. Instead, chilling silence. In the corner of the room, Voldemort noticed a movement, and there stood Merope Gaunt. Her lank, dirty hair seemed to weigh her head down, and her eyes were closed while she muttered to herself.
'Why do they hate the muggles?' she seemed to whimper sadly. 'They're so charming and superior, the way the hold themselves. Why can't I be like them? I have just as much magic as them, I'm a useless witch, and I don't even have the beauty of muggles'
Voldemort stepped back in disgust at this image of his mother. Self-hatred welled inside him as he thought of being descended from somebody who had such repulsive beliefs. And yet he had to remind himself that this was not a true image; he had no memory of his own of his mother, and the ones he took from Morfin never presented her saying such things. But he knew that if his mind had created her, it surely was not far off her likeness, and he certainly would not be surprised to discover she had said those very words.
I hate muggles, he thought to himself, I hate them and I know I hate them, and I don't need to like them, they're filth... And I care far too much about them. They should be naught but dirt beneath my shoes, how have I developed such a burning hatred? It's almost embarrassing
Her eyes snapped open.
Instead of the muddy brown that he had seen from his uncle's memories, he was being stared at by bright green eyes, unblinking.
'How could I hate muggles when they allowed me to create something as beautiful as you, my precious Tom?'