Guardianship

Harry nodded. "The goblins at Gringotts, they said you have my key, and you're the one who gave me the invisibility cloak, right? Were you close to my parents, sir?"

"Indeed I was, Harry. I knew your mother and father very well. They were brave and kind people who loved you very much."

"Then, sir, were you the one who sent me to live with my Aunt Petunia?"

The Headmaster paused, but only for a moment. "I did."

"May I ask why, sir?"

"You may. The first reason is quite simple. You are quite famous in our world, Harry, and I thought it would be to your benefit to grow up away from all that."

"I respectfully disagree, sir."

"Oh?"

"My relatives, sir, they're muggles."

The man's lips quirked upward, a bit. "I am aware."

"Well, sir, they don't like magic, much. In fact, they don't like it at all...and they don't like me either."

The man frowned. "I am saddened to hear that, Harry."

"And I bring this up, sir, because I was wondering if there's any way I could stay here, at Hogwarts, instead of returning to Surrey. I know they'd be happy to see me gone."

His scar was burning now. Tom hated his relatives, yes, but he liked the freedom he had there. If Harry stayed at Hogwarts, someone would be keeping an eye on them, which would no doubt put a damper on Tom's plans. Harry didn't want that, but still...the prospect of never seeing the Dursleys, the locks on his door, or that horrible cupboard again was too tempting to resist.

Meanwhile, Professor Dumbledore sighed sadly. "I am afraid, Harry, that Hagrid is the only one who remains on Hogwarts grounds during the holidays."

"Then can I live with Hagrid?"

His scar burned even more.

"Well, Harry, this brings us to the second reason I sent you to live with your Aunt and Uncle. Your mother's sacrifice protects you to this day, as you saw with Professor Quirrell. Now, this protection also extends to your Aunt's house in Little Whinging, I'm afraid."

"How so, sir?"

"They are called blood wards, Harry, yet another piece of incredibly complex and fantastic magic. The gist of it, though, is that Voldemort and his followers cannot reach you while you reside in Number 4 Privet Drive."

Well, that explains a lot. "I see, sir."

"You must understand, Harry, that your safety is my first priority...which is why I sent you to live with your relatives in the first place - but this also means that I need to know if you at any point believe yourself to be unsafe with your Aunt and Uncle," the elderly man said pointedly.

Harry nodded slowly. "I understand sir. But you have...nothing to worry about."

"I'm glad to hear it. But Harry, should you truly require refuge, know that all you need do is ask. Help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it."

Harry nodded. "I will keep that in mind, sir. Thank you, for answering my questions."

"Oh, not at all, Harry. I have quite enjoyed our little chat."

"But sir, there's just one more thing..."

"Yes, Harry?"

"The Stone...it wasn't here for protection, was it? It was bait."

The man's face became very grave. "Oh? And how did you come by this knowledge, may I ask?"

"It's not really so mysterious, sir. My understanding is that the Stone's been around for a very long time, but it only just got here, right?"

"That is correct."

"Well, if the Stone was moved, clearly someone was after it, and you had to have known that, right sir?"

"That is correct as well."

"Well, then why not hide it somewhere inconspicuous, then? I bet there are loads of places in the castle much harder to find than that room in the third floor corridor...which you happened to advertise at the welcoming feast. You knew Lord Voldemort wanted the Stone, sir, didn't you? And you figured if both me and the Stone were here, at Hogwarts, he wouldn't be able to resist. Right?"

"My, Harry, you truly are the prodigy everyone claims you to be, aren't you?"

"I don't know, sir. Looking back, it all seems pretty obvious."

Professor Dumbledore sighed. "These things usually do, in retrospect. I fear I owe you an apology, Harry. Because, I was aware of the possibility that danger might find you here at Hogwarts, this year. I never meant for you to go seek it out, but it appears I underestimated you."

"It's alright, sir. I think I probably would have done the same in your position."

"Oh?"

"Well, there were four main possible outcomes, right? The first is that I would survive, and Voldemort would get the stone. The second is that I would survive, and Voldemort wouldn't get the stone. Another is that I wouldn't survive, and Voldemort wouldn't get the stone. The last is that I wouldn't survive and Voldemort would still get the stone. No matter what the outcome was, you'd have your proof that Voldemort's still around, and the last outcome is the only one that would be truly disadvantageous for you, isn't it? But for Voldemort, he really only would have considered himself successful if he'd gotten the stone. So no matter what, Voldemort reveals himself, and three times out of four, you win, but Voldemort only wins two times out of four. You clearly were the cleverer one in all of this, Professor."

Professor Dumbledore was staring at him with an unreadable expression on his face. He was getting a lot of those, today.

"I assure you, Harry, that I would never consider your death to be a 'win', as you say."

Harry shrugged. "That's very nice of you sir, but I wouldn't hold it against you if you did."

The elderly man chuckled softly, sounding very old and tired, this time.

"Anyway sir, I actually have one last question."

"Just the one?"

Harry nodded. "I've been wondering, how did I get the Stone out of the Mirror?"

"Ah, now, I'm glad you asked me that. It was one of my more brilliant ideas, and between you and me, that's saying something. You see, only one who wanted to find the Stone – find it, but not use it – would be able to get it, otherwise they'd just see themselves making gold or drinking the Elixir of Life. My brain surprises even me sometimes." He smiled to himself, as though thinking about some old joke he remembered telling long ago. "Now, enough questions. I suggest you make a start on these sweets. Ah! Bertie Bott's Every-Flavour Beans! I was unfortunate enough in my youth to come across a vomit-flavoured one, and since then I'm afraid I've rather lost my liking for them – but I think I'll be safe with a nice toffee, don't you?"

....

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