Blindside by Metempsychosis

The light from the torches flickered across the alabaster walls, bringing warm relief to the otherwise darkened dormitory. The dark red carpet and the rich colored tapestries were deepened by the night, shadows from the flames licking across the fabric that would flash into sharp clarity with every bright strike of the summer storm. Thunder rolled through the abandoned rooms, echoing against the walls and making the sound seem more sinister in essence. There were no signs of the children who had once filled these rooms, and soon would again; the beds were made to perfect standards, the ledges were dusted and even the wrappers from their sweets had been magiced away by the House Elves. The wind that rattled the dormitory windows caused an eerie sound without the sounds of laughter and stories of the day to mask it, the rain loud without any jokes and rumors to distract from the soft plinking.

There was little that could bring out how truly lonely Hogwarts Castle was without her students than a summer storm, a discovery Albus Dumbledore had come across shortly after he began his tenure as Headmaster. As a teacher, he had often left the school grounds before the storms settled in, but as Headmaster his duties to the castle kept him there through the worst of them. His first year as Headmaster had been difficult, as he learned to cope with the overwhelming emptiness Hogwarts seemed to embody during those short months. It was midway through his second year that he began conversing with the portraits for company, and overtime befriended more than enough to keep himself aware of the goings on within Hogwarts even when school was in session.

It hadn't taken long for Albus to secure ways to appear omnipotent when it came to the comings and goings at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and while many of these ways were in fact quite simple, the greatest of them came from the guidance he found in the Book of Founders, left behind for each Headmaster to peruse at leisure. Armando Dippet had been quite fond of the window monitoring spell, which allowed Headmasters to catch a glimpse of what had passed various windows throughout the castle within three hours. Albus preferred to use this only when he needed specific information about an incident, as it did have several unreliable factors, particularly where time was involved. The Book of Founders contained hundreds of hidden spells and secrets to help aid Headmasters past and present in managing the school and keeping track of its occupants, but not even it had contained any information about the Chamber of Secrets.
It had been four years since young Harry had managed to rescue Miss Weasley from the Chamber's depths and call upon Fawkes and the Sword of Gryffindor to defeat what Albus was now certain had been Voldemort's earliest Horcrux, a truly remarkable feat for a twelve year old child. It had taken a great deal of will that day, as Harry stood in his office covered in ink, blood and grime, pale and wide-eyed with the thrill of success and the memory of fear, to act as though he had expected nothing less. To behave as though the slaying of a forty-foot Basilisk was simply commonplace and that Harry was naturally fine with it. He had told himself it would make the boy stronger, if his feats were not undermined with fear for his welfare. Albus had deliberately sowed that reckless abandonment Harry had in regard to his own life, needing the boy to feel beholden to the Wizarding World and disinterested in himself as a person, should the prophesy ever come to light. That was what he had told himself, and though he did not like it, the fate of the Wizarding World was too great a price for the happiness of one child.

Albus was often forced to see how horribly wrong it was, to expect so much of the boy and return so little, and occasionally a sense of fear would build in his chest that perhaps he was pushing Harry too hard and too far. This summer had been perhaps the most pensive Albus had endured in many years, before and after Voldemort's first rise to power, because this summer had left him questioning himself greatly. He had paced his way to the Gryffindor Common Room more times than he could count, sat on Harry's bed and wondered what in Merlin's name he was doing to the child, if it was too late to change the circumstances, or if trying to change them may be worse than letting things go. The memory of Harry tearing apart his office chilled him to the bone in a way he would never show openly, to Harry or anyone else. In that moment, Albus saw the unfairness of the past sixteen years thrown into sharp, agonizing relief, and his blood had run cold with the thought that any lesser man would have turned on him by now. After all that Harry had gone through, all that had been asked of him, Harry had never displayed true violence until that day, which had forced Albus to realize he could very well be crafting in Harry a new Dark Lord, rather than a savior. Not that Albus didn't believe in the boy, but you could only ask so much of someone before they started to break, before the pressure becomes too much and they either crumble beneath it or rebel against it entirely. What was being asked of Harry was more than most grown men could hope to stand up against, and though Harry had the makings of a soldier, that was no indication even he could cope with all of this. Thinking back over Harry's years at Hogwarts, his life with the Dursley's, Albus had no choice but to accept the fact he had gone about everything the wrong way. He thought he cared about the boy, but his actions in the past spoke to another story entirely. He had brought Harry up to face against a man who had been studying Dark magic since before Harry was even a thought in his parent's minds, and he had done it dishonestly.

Frowning, Albus rose and went to the window just as the room rumbled with the thunder in a way that must have shaken the walls of the houses in Hogsmeade for it to be so loud within the castle walls. Staring out over the grounds as they flashed before him under the sheet lightning, Albus asked the air around him the question that had been running through his head since he began going over how he had managed Harry's years at Hogwarts thus far, as though hoping the castle itself may answer him. "How do you ask a little boy to save the world?" The windows rattled and the thunder rolled again as Albus continued to speak to himself. "I did the right thing, guiding him this way. Letting it appear as though all his fights, all his struggles, were mysteries to unravel and challenges to face. Better he learn the arts of war on his own merits, than to train him formally. Surely its less intimidating, to fight with ones friends than to endure an Aurors training at eleven? Twelve?"

Sighing softly, Albus crossed his arms and knew, deep in his heart, that there was no right answer to this. There was no right way to train a child to take on the weight of the world - the weight of mistakes made by others - and ask him to fix it all. It seemed like a sorry justification, even if it was true, and the worst part of it all was knowing this year, he would once again have to ask too much of Harry.

Glancing down as the lightning licked the Astronomy Tower, Albus gazed at the blackened twist of his hand and found himself thinking of the other man whom he was asking so much of in this war. Once again Albus regretted the promise he made to Severus that day, to keep the best part of his spy a secret not only from the world, but from the one child who could potentially heal the scars on his heart. He knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that if anyone could forgive and absolve Severus, it was the boy who bore such striking resemblance to the person hidden in the deepest corners of Severus' heart and memory. He knew, of course, that Severus despised how much Harry resembled James, but he also knew that what made Severus the most upset was Lily's eyes gazing out at him every time he looked at the boy, forcing him to face the dangerous truth that Harry was more than James Potter's son - a truth Severus couldn't bear to accept. If he could somehow find a way to bring those two together, to force them to see the true heart of the other, Albus was certain they would find a way to heal one another. Harry had more than just his mother's eyes - he had her great heart, as well. Lily's capacity for love and forgiveness was something Harry had not only inherited, but doubled in his own right. Albus felt certain that if Harry knew the truth of Severus' deflection, he would forgive the man his mistake and understand the pain Severus felt, especially now with the circumstances of Sirius Black's death to be considered. Furthermore, Albus felt certain that if Severus learned the truth about Harry, and came to understand who the boy truly was, that forgiveness would actually mean something to him - would, in fact, be able to heal him. In turn, Severus could guide Harry and teach him to Occlude properly if this animosity between them were brought to an end.

Unfortunately, like Harry, Severus had a task that was much to large for a single man, and was just as displeased. Naturally, Severus had not destroyed his office, but his abject horror about this entire situation was entirely too hard to ignore, no matter how well the man worked to hide it. Everything was already set in motion, and changing anything now could put Severus' very life on the line - which was not something Albus was willing to accept. It was another similarity between Severus and Harry that neither of them realized, the reluctant willingness to perform the most daunting of tasks and the power to do it well. If only he could make them see each other truly, before everything reached a head. It would do his conscience well if he could find a way to bring his two most important warriors to an understanding that could heal their souls.

Lightning flashed again, and for the briefest moment Albus saw Hagrid as he came out of the forest, covering his head with what looked like a very large piece of bark. A blink of memory later, and suddenly Albus had a most brilliant idea. It would be risky, but he believed he could find a way around the risks and protect both Harry and Severus this summer - as well as ensure they both got plenty of time to see a bit of the real man beneath the masks. Smiling softly at his inspiration, Albus patted the window ledge and turned to leave the Gryffindor boys dormitory, the plans around the risks already formulating in his mind.