14 June 1992, Hogwarts
Albus Dumbledore sat in his chair, pondering on the happenings of the previous year. With the students gone, the castle was oddly quiet, with only ghosts, elves, and the portraits keeping him company.
His plans with the Philosopher's Stone were a resounding success. The confirmation of Lord Voldemort's survival was very valuable, and so was having an active participant to a true prophecy. Neville Longbottom had no idea of his true value, that until the prophecy is fulfilled, fate itself will move mountains for his survival. And in the case, he wasn't cooperative, or if the prophecy would obviously not end in his victory, breaking the prophecy and using it as fuel for a ritual could be very beneficial for Albus in the long run, as regrettable as that might be.
The boy arrived exactly as he predicted. He was arrogant, and spoilt, but fairly talented, at least for a normal wizard. And Albus Dumbledore was nothing but a normal wizard.
His tranquillity was interrupted by a visually livid woman flooing to his office. He had been waiting for this meeting and dreading it at the same time. This woman could indivertibly ruin many of his plans, just out of stubbornness.
The visitor was tall, thin, and bony. She was wearing her customary stuffed vulture hat and was carrying her red handbag. The witch looked surprisingly formidable despite her age and was a terror in the Wizengamot session. It was Augusta Longbottom, the grandmother of the boy who lived. Honestly, Albus preferred to call him the child of the prophecy. He wasn't really special regards to living, his mother had used a sacrificial ritual of his own design to trap Voldemort. Well, it was a ritual that the Light, which he had sworn to almost a century back, helped him devise. He knew to trust the small whispers guiding his movements over the years, and they always delivered.
Honestly, it was lucky that Lord Voldemort hadn't gone after the Potter himself. Whatever monstrosity Lily Potter had conjured on Godric's Hollows was unlike anything he had ever seen. It was good that young malleable Neville Longbottom was the child of the prophecy in the long run. It made his planning a lot more flexible, all things considered. The willful and strangely intelligent Potter boy would have made a terrible weapon, although, if he had a better hand in his upkeep, he would have probably grown up differently.
"Dumbledore, you have a lot to explain…"
Oh, right, Augusta was there to meet him. She had refused him access to young Neville in the past, probably paranoid because of the death of her son and daughter-in-law. But that wasn't nearly enough to stop him from influencing the boy. Just his reputation had been enough, considering the awe in the boy's eyes whenever he looked at Albus.
Back to the angry grandmother, Albus pretended to sigh loudly, "Can you be a little more specific, Augusta…"
"The Philosopher's stone, the little tests, the possessed professor, what else do you want me to say?" the woman thundery returned.
The aged headmaster repressed a sigh. The boy had ended up blabbing to his grandmother, after all. He had thought that he would have a smidge of discretion after all. Alas, the boy really was a Gryffindor to the bone.
That woman really was irritating. Her husband was far easier to get along with. He had House Longbottom on his side in any Wizengamot meeting, but now, he had to appease her at every turn.
"Well, I can tell you that the Philosopher's Stone was nowhere in the castle. It was a small diversion Nicholas and I made to well, prepare to fake his and his wife's deaths, and see if Lord Voldemort was still alive. I dare say that it worked wonderfully so far." Albus explained.
He was lying slightly in this. The Philosopher's Stone was in the castle, just under very heavy wards in a secret room in his office. His control over Hogwarts was enough to divert the magical aura of the stone and make it appear to be in the forbidden corridor. Lord Voldemort in his prime probably wouldn't have been fooled by it, but as reduced as he was, possessing an average wraith with barely a fraction of a fraction of the power and skill he held, and counting for his desperation to regain his body, it was enough to trick him.
The woman didn't seem to be appeased at all, "And my grandson's involvement in this mess?"
"I will admit that I did not expect him to take that as an invitation to figure out the ploy and try to stop it himself. It was never meant to involve him in any way," Dumbledore answered with a calming tone.
"So, it was just a coincidence that you pull this off during the first year you have access to Neville?" the head of house Longbottom answered with a dubious tone.
"Yes, it was. It coincided with some very disturbing rumours I heard of a malicious wraith in Albania, which I thought might be Voldemort. And it was confirmed that he was still alive. Did you really wish that his return be a surprise, that your grandson and the legacy of Frank and Alice would be unprepared to deal with him when he inevitably returns? He will not leave the boy, you know it, I know it. This defeat was a sting to his pride, to his supposed supremacy. He will not take it lying down."
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