This is something I wrote like ages ago and didn't post for some reason. Featuring a hypothetical meeting between Allen and Dumbledore. Hope you like XD

Disclaimer: OK eveyone together now. 1 2 3 NOW: Seasnakey doesn't own, Hoshino Katsura does... Is that clear enough?! Sniff, I'll go cry in my corner now.

(btw just in case if you didn't notice yet, this isn't a part of my angst series... I think)

2 years before the events of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's stone.

Dumbledore doesn't know what possessed him to go outside that night. Perhaps it was because he needed fresh air or that he felt that something was wrong.

Or a fated meeting.

But regardless, it was a star-filled winter night.

He was crossing the bridge that led to Hagrids hut when he heard it. The strange hurring (A/N dunno what it is) sound he associated with muggle world machines.

He saw strange ball-shaped things coming towards him. Five of them. The things were flying above the gorge (the one showed numerously in PoA) and they were fast. He briefly contemplated running but realized that it would be futile. He heard numerous gunshots and felt the bridge give away below him. He wasn't worried about the fall, he wasn't called a great wizard for nothing. He was more worried about the debris.

He was about to draw his wand when he felt his back collide with something soft, yet firm, warm, yet cold.

Then everything went white. For a moment that was the only thing he saw.

Soon Dumbledore felt stone beneath his feet. He heard five, almost simultaneous explosions, when he opened his eyes. He didn't know when he'd closed them.

He was standing a safe distance away from the edge of the now broken bridge. A brief damage assessment revealed that the gap was pretty much in the middle of the entire bridge. A three-meter jump to get to the other side. Nothing too extensive to fix.

Dumbledore lifted his curious gaze to his saviour. The figure was wearing a brown, tattered cape that whirled around with the wind. Under the cape was a dress shirt full of holes, gloves, ripped black pants and battered combat boots. Covering his head was a cap and it appeared that most of his face was covered in bandages. In addition to the scarf around his head and neck.

One eye, almost silver in colour, was looking at him from that face, the other was covered with bandages. The visible eye was neutral at the first glance but Dumbledore soon realized that the three meters wasn't a distance long enough to prevent him from getting lost in the river of emotions and experiences the gaze held.

The figure realized that holding eye-contact wasn't clever. He broke the spell.

"Are you alright?" He asked. The voice of the stranger was a mixture of a young boy and something Dumbledore didn't know. It had a disused and a tired quality to it. He didn't appear to be cold at all.

Speaking of cold, Dumbledore felt like he was freezing. And that he still hadn't answered. He calmed himself.

"Yes, I'm fine. Would you like to come inside? You must be cold." Dumbledore suggested. He wanted to know more. Of the strange ball shaped things and his saviour.

There was hesitation in that silver eye.

"I guess I could. It is a rather cold night." He didn't sound very convincing. It was as if he just noticed how cold it really was.

Then Dumbledore remembered the irrelevant little gap between them.

"Excuse me, I'll mend the bridge for you-" He started.

"There is no need to." The melodic voice said. The owner of the voice tensed and jumped the three-meter distance like it was nothing. After a graceful landing Dumbledore waved his wand and muttered a few words. After the bridge fixed itself, Dumbledore turned his eyes to the boy who was looking curiously at his wand. He smiled warmly and left towards the castle. The boy followed him with almost soundless steps.


They entered the castle in silence. Albus was not in need of a light and it appeared that his guest wasn't disturbed by the darkness. They headed to the headmasters office, since there was the most privacy. The office was perfectly lit so both of them blinked to get used to the light. Albus sat down and gestured his guest to do the same. They stared each other for a while.

"Welcome to Hogwards, school for witchcraft and wizardry. I am the Headmaster professor Albus Dumbledore. May I ask you name?"

"You can call me Kal if you want." The newly named Kal answered.

"Judging from your answer, it's not your real name, is it?"

"No, it's not but I haven't used my real name for ages and I don't feel the need to start now."

Albus hummed thoughtfully for a moment and decided to get to business. "What were those things? I believe that you were responsible for the white light?

A dry chuckle. "Yes it was me. As to what you saw, those were akuma. Living weapons created from the souls of the departed."

"It sounds like they were brought back to life to me."

"So they say," Kals eye appeared to be smiling," but in reality they are only brought back to kill others. The souls are bind to the metal body for eternity unless someone like me who has a specific kind of weapon, releases them. It is a terrible weight.

Kal fell quiet for a second. He was looking somewhere past Albus. He seemed to be lost in memories. He shrugged and continued.

"There used to be a man who could bring the souls back. He just needed sadness to bring them back, to imprison them to eternal enslavement."

"Or that's how it used to be. That man is no longer among the living ones. Nowadays the akumas are remnants of what used to be. New ones can't be made because he was the only one who was capable of reaching behind the veil of death. His other allies, the Noah family, were also destroyed."

Albus digested the information he'd just received. The thought sounded absurd.

"How were they destroyed? And those things cause noise when they blow up, doesn't it cause a commotion with civilians?" Dumbledore was getting even more curious.

"These days I can take care of them pretty discreetly since the numbers are so few and there is no longer someone who controls them. But when He, the Earl was alive, we wore black coats with silver ornaments, we were an organisation of great power. They called us exorcists. We made ourselves targets for the akuma. There were a lot more of them too. We searched for Innocence, a substance made by God to use in battle against the Earl. We searched for people who were compatible with it. Many died and only few survived. But they are long gone now. But that was a century ago. The only thing that remains is a section in the Vatican, they take care of the last akumas."

"Are you saying that you are hundred years old?"

"Heh, I know it doesn't show in my face." His eye shone in the way only old people could.

Albus could only trust him. "Why do you cover yourself?" He boldly asked.

He was rewarded with a free laugh as Kal roused from his soft seat and took off his cap. He unbind his scarf, revealing silvery white hair, uneven ends almost reaching his elbows. He eased the bandages from his face. His skin was almost transparently pale. In the left side of his face was a black scar that started from his forehead across his eye, ending on his jawbone. Albus was distinctly reminded of the young Harry who would arrive to Hogwards in a few years.


Albus also noted that under the covers was a very expressive face. It was almost feminine but still held a clear manly quality. The only thing that that was out of place in that face was the wary and tired expression. He wasn't relaxed, he just appeared to be.

"As you said yourself, your face does not match your age. But your hair does." Albus remarked with a wide smile. An expression of deep irony twisted Kal's face.

"Now, that's a rather interesting feat since it has been white since I was 12." They both blinked and laughed heartily.

"I trust it has something to do with that scar you have?" Albus stated his thoughts and silence reined the room again.

"You're a quick one, aren't you? Yes, that is indeed the case. I made a mistake and I'm still paying the price. The scar is a curse but thanks to it, I can tell the difference between a human and an akuma. Normally it would be impossible."

"Is it connected with your age?"

"I believe so. Normally exorcists like me, whose body is a weapon, die much sooner. Perhaps, instead of going to hell, I'll pay for my sins in this world so that I may reside in heaven after I've finished my punishment."

"Or then you are doomed to live forever." Albus concluded. Kal smiled a broken smile that hurt to look at.

"I don't know. I think of that when there are no akuma left in this world." A shrug. "But tell me: has there been a some kind of war here a while ago? This place has dark memories and I know of the commotion 8 years ago in here Britain." 'It smells like blood' was left unsaid.

"You connected them quite easily. Did you suspect something supernatural" A nod. "I thought so."

And so he proceeded to tell all about Voldemort and his rein of terror. By the time they were ready the false dawn was rising and a comfortable silence had descended.

"He's going to come back, isn't he? That Voldy gyu." Albus had no intention of correcting Kal. He didn't know what he'd seen but it just might be a little bigger than the threat Voldemort presented.

"Yes. It's inevitable. And the young Harry has to fight." He sighed "I wish it wouldn't be this way…" He trailed off. The weight of everything suddenly felt heavier. He felt desperate, something he hadn't truly felt for years. Apparently it was on his face too since Kal was looking overly compassionate.

"Those who have to do it rarely want to. They just have to. Fate is rarely kind to us lowlifes. We just have to live with it. Close your eyes for a moment." Albus did so.

He saw white light behind his eyelids and for a moment he felt like he was floating. Physically and mentally. It disappeared and he found himself sitting again. Kal was smiling.

"You look like you've actually slept this night. That's good. Now, I believe, you have a breakfast to attend to and I have a journey to continue. And yes, you people can stop pretending now" He added, clearly towards the paintings. Fake yawns and nervous laughs were his answer. He sighed, obviously irritated by their need to keep charades.

"Why not eat with us?" Albus felt like he should give his guest compensation. For what, he didn't know.

"It's bound to raise questions from everyone. Not only my presence, also my tendency of inhaling food many times my body weight."

"How does someone like you even survive in this world?" Albus stated incredulously. "I'll ask a house elf to bring you food." He was at the door. "You can also sleep if you want. I doubt you'll be here when I return?"

Albus only heard a "we'll see" before he closed the door.


The paintings were all watching curiously at the creature who vacated the office. Kal jumped up from the chair and stretched. His back cracked after being in the same position for so long. A louder crack was heard when a house elf appeared with a tray-full of food. For a few moments Kal just watched the elf with something unreadable blinking in his eyes. The he took the tray and politely asked the elf to bring five more trays, "for starters", he added.

He laughed at the stunned faces of the ex-principals. "Should I have told Albus that I haven't actually eaten for a couple of years now?"

"Isn't that quite an inhuman thing to say?" Phineas Nigellus piped up. "Are you even one?"

"I know that I used to be. Although now it's a little different." He grinned mischievously. "Besides, that depends on your definition of a human." He started devouring food as more arrived. The result was 19 trays of food cleared.

"Did you even taste that?" The paintings exclaimed.

"That is for me to know and you to wonder." He carefully wrapped himself again and placed the cap back. The cape was secured around his neck. He lifted his left hand and muttered something. His body became transparent and lost some of its human characteristics. A black-and-white mask formed on the face. The creature went through the window and flew to the sky. A little before lunch Albus returned to find a note on his table. Written on it (with letters youngsters these days called 'ancient') was: I'll come for a visit later, perhaps in a couple years. I'm interested in how your war will go. If there'll be akumas, trust me, I will be there.

Albus smiled and burned the note. It was time for lunch.

The paintings decided not to mention the fact that the visitor had had a left hand with fingers sharp as scalpels.

The other professors were wondering why Dumbledore was smiling even more than usually. Then they decided that they didn't want to know.

And Kal… lets just say that his stomach didn't bother him for a couple of months.

Aaaand that's it! For some reason I'm tempted to turn this into a fic but if you know me then... not that good idea. but if someone is interested in doing this with me or spurring from this then be my guest, just let me know before you do.

Now darlings, REVIEW! I will be happy if you do.