How do you keep a promise you can't remember?

The wizarding world was based on illusion. It was able to conceal the truths the Muggle world shone so honestly. It allowed features to be hidden by glamours, allowed wizards to be disguised by Polyjuice, and allowed memories to be erased. Fifteen years ago, it had allowed an old wizard to forget his regrets.

Albus Dumbledore stood within his office, his blue eyes affixed to the twirling assortment of glass objects on his desk. A few of the trinkets whirled, others flashed, but none of them held his interest. His gaze drifted from one trinket to another as he regarded them blankly from above half moon glasses. Finally, his eyes settled on a small brown jewelry box nestled safely next to a golden gadget.

On this very night, Lily and James Potter's stories had come to an end and a legend had been born. The Boy Who Lived had emerged, simultaneously victorious and orphaned. His parent's bodies had been taken, buried quickly and quietly in Godric's Hollow even as the town celebrated Voldemort's apparent demise. They were empty celebrations as far as Albus was concerned, Voldemort would return.

The wizened wizard shook his head, his long beard scrapping across his ridiculously colored robes. Lily Potter was dead. All that was left of the young woman he had watched blossom into a fiery and brave witch was an orphaned boy, a bitter man and an empty promise. He could still hear Harry's broken cries and Severus' own hoarse expressions of grief, as they had each mourned for Lily Potter.

What tormented Albus Dumbledore most was the empty promise. In the last weeks of her life, Lily Potter had asked Dumbledore for a promise that would carry past her death. It had come as a great surprise to the almost omniscient Albus Dumbledore. The promise had been conditioned on a remote possibility, one that he had never expected the need to abide by. Unforeseeable events had changed everything and Albus Dumbledore found himself unable to predict a new course. Amongst her requests, Lily Potter had explicitly requested that her son not be left to his aunt's distinct form of care. Dumbledore had given her his word.

"I've come to bring Harry to his aunt and uncle. They're the only family he has left now."

Hours had passed since that moment, yet he could still hear his own voice echo through his memory as he betrayed his promise to Lily Potter. He could almost imagine Lily's face at hearing his words, the look of betrayal softened by the tears in her eyes, the question clear in her eyes - How could you?

For a cheerless moment sorrow flashed across Dumbledore's visage, further dimming the twinkling in his eyes. A few hours ago, he had held Lily Potter's orphaned son within his crinkled hands, the son she had entrusted to him. Dumbledore had gazed upon his small face and been acutely reminded of both the mother and father. He had seen the child's mother in the soft curve of his cheek, had imagined the two large emerald eyes that were hidden by the dark lashes of the sleeping child. Dumbledore had gazed at the dark hair that framed the boy's soft pale face and denied his mother's wishes. Harry Potter had been laid gently on his Aunt's doorstep, a letter as the only indication of the boy's origins. The child had slept on, not knowing he was special, not knowing he was famous, not knowing he would be awoken in a few hours' time, not knowing that he could have been dearly loved if things had been different. A pang of regret momentarily shook Dumbledore as he remembered the boy's peaceful face, the boy's long fingers curled around his blanket. Albus had stared at those fingers for a long honest moment as he questioned his decision to leave the boy with his aunt.

A child whom had been loved so dearly for the first year of his life would cease to be cherished. Lily Potter had died for her son, she had meant him to live above all else, he told himself. The child would be safer this way, protected by his mother's blood sacrifice. Dumbledore reminded himself adamantly that there was no guarantee that the boy would have been happy in another home. Unwilling to risk the boy's life on the mere possibility of happiness, Albus told himself that he knew of no one that would have been able to love Harry as he deserved. His eyes darkened at the lie.

The greatest wizard in the world, whom had defeated Grindelwald and seen so many horrors throughout his years, was close to breaking over the loss of love in the life of a single child. Perhaps it had been one child too many.

For a man whom had lived so long and had made such difficult choices, Albus found himself surprised to be so tormented by one that seemed so small and uncertain. But Lily Potter had seemed so convinced of her request. Her emerald green eyes had lit up as she spoke about her son's future even as they filled with sorrow at the realization that she would not be alive to witness it. Distantly he thought he heard the crashing of glass as Severus Snape took out his sorrow on glass vials and potions supplies. The thought effectively broke him from his reverie as a cold wave of regret flooded his chest. As he shifted his head to listen more closely he realized it was a fallacy, he could not hear the dungeons from his office anymore than he could change Harry's fate.

He knew then what needed to be done. He straightened his spine and his resolve, suddenly appearing far younger than his years. His indecision was proof of it, he would be tempted to go back and collect the child. If given the opportunity he would go back to take the child to another home, one that was far more dangerous for Harry, a home that would have held none of his mother's blood protection. There was nothing to be done for it, he had to strip himself of the choice. Recklessly, he snatched the brown box from his desk, upsetting several gadgets and trinkets. Turning, his gaze swept his office before stopping at his bookshelf.

He hoped that the damage could be mitigated someday, but he knew it would never be erased. Slowly he reached for a large tome book and removed it from the shelf. He had to protect the boy, even if the boy would one day scorn him for it. Placing the brown box on the shelf, he replaced the book, effectively hiding it from view. Thus the moment of indecision passed and Harry Potter's fate was sealed. Shaking himself of his own ghosts, Albus Dumbledore decided that Lily's good intentions would only hinder her son's future.

Albus Percival Dumbledore raised his wand and pointed it towards his own temple.

"Obliviate" the whispered spell drifted through the air stripping the wizard of his promise to Lily Potter. It was the only way he could look Severus in the eye, it was the only way he could pretend he had not done Harry Potter a great injustice. The twinkle returned to his blue eyes. Albus Percival Dumbledore had obliviated himself. It only took a moment for his mind to compensate for the sudden memory loss.

Recovered he stared blissfully at the colorful glass trinkets, not knowing that one day Harry Potter's anger would destroy them.