Waiting for Harry
Disclaimer: Ahh, how sad it is that my intials are not JKR
Author's Note: This story came to me while watching PS on Christmas Eve Day. It is set during PS, just before Harry comes to the Mirror of Erised for the third time. From Dumbledore's POV.
He couldn't stand to look.
At first he had been curious, having been away from the mirror for some time, he wondered if the deepest desire of his heart had changed since he had last looked into it as a headstrong young wizard over a hundred years ago. Back then it had shown him, Albus Dumbledore, achieving peace once and for all, and celebrating by relaxing in his favorite overstuffed armchair, eating sherbert lemons.
But that was not what it showed now.
In a way, it saddened Albus to know that he had lost some of his youthful idealism, his dreams of achieving peace for the wizarding world. But with age comes inevitable disillusionment, even for a man as immersed in childhood as the Headmaster of a young wizard's school. He had finally realized that there would always be an evil witch or wizard ready to rise up and destroy the fragile calm of prosperity.
But no amount of youthful idealism could have prepared him for what the mirror revealed.
So now, he stood in a far corner of the abandoned classroom, working to keep his eyes averted from the mirror. Anything to avoid seeing that.
He realized his feelings for her had changed from the moment she walked into the school as the new Transfigurations Professor, Deputy Headmistress, and Head of Gryfindor, all in her first year as a teacher. She had proved her self a skillful, adept, and cool-headed associate. And over the years, they had developed a strong friendship that ran deeper than most people suspected.
But Albus loved her. Not as a mere friend. No, he loved Minerva McGonagall more than life itself. The frequent times when he had been forced to leave the school in her capable hands to travel, either to a Ministry Meeting or on some crucial errand, had worn him to a frazzle at being separated from her.
At least he had been able to look into the mirror when no one else was around. It would have to been hard to explain why he just stood there staring into the mirror for four hours straight, his soul tied to the scene like his hand was attached to his arm.
He had looked into the mirror to see himself sitting next to her. They were sitting on the comfy red couch in his living room. Curled next to each other, with the light of a romantic fire reflecting in their eyes. The Dumbledore in the mirror had his arms around Minerva, and Albus felt himself growing sick with jealousy. But then his attention focused on the objects occupying the end table next the couch. There were dozens of photos of happy young people, smiling and waving back him, all of them with features that were characteristic of the two people on the couch. Albus had a suspicion of who these handsome young people might be, a suspicion that was confirmed by a picture of a Minerva and Albus of thirty years ago cradling a black haired, blue eyed bundle in a purple baby blanket. These were their children. The family he had longed for, but cruel fate, and the constant threat of kidnapping had kept him from achieving.
Suddenly, a flash of light from the happy couple on the couch brought his focus back to them. Minerva was stroking Albus's face, and her wedding band had reflected the fire light. Hypnotized, Albus had begrudgingly peeled himself from the mirror four hours later.
That was why he so carefully avoided the mirror now.
Ah, here comes Harry… He thought as the door swung mysteriously open, seemingly of its own free will.