Knees knocking together, the boy timidly entered the headmaster’s office. He looked young, hardly old enough to attend Hogwarts, though he was nearly twelve. The headmaster gestured at him to take a seat.

“Well, do you know why I called you here to talk to you?” the headmaster began, smiling at the boy to make him feel more at ease.

“Er, because of what happened last night? Am I going to get detention?”

“No, of course not. You showed extraordinary courage, and many an adult wizard could envy your presence of mind facing such extreme danger. You are a true Gryffindor, my boy.”

The headmaster nodded his head. “Ask away. I don’t guarantee answers, of course, but I’ll try my best.”

“Thanks. Well, I just wondered- why does it always happen to me?" The words began pouring out of him like a flood.

“I don’t look for trouble, honest, but everyone thinks I’m a daredevil, and even the older students know about it, but I have never once gone on purpose into danger, never! This is only my first year here, how can I keep this up? Will I always manage to be this lucky? I can’t survive forever, can I, but at this rate- And why does You-know-who want to go after me? What did I ever do?”

“Use his name. Fearing his name only increases your fear of the person it belongs to,” the headmaster said, smiling slightly as though remembering something pleasant and far-away.

The boy paused, then said with an effort, “Emperor Surmata, then. Why does- Surmata- want to kill me?”

“Ah." The headmaster paused, looking sincerely apologetic as he said, "I’m so sorry, and please try to believe me, I really cannot tell you that at the moment. I promise you I will tell you someday, though.”

The boy nodded, accepting his words for the moment. The headmaster felt a warm surge of pride and affection for his pupil, who trusted him so much.

“Is there anything else you’d like to ask me?” he asked the boy.

“Yes- what happened to Professor Tuor? He was trying to kill me, and then I woke up in the hospital wing.”

“You will be overjoyed to hear that I can tell you the answer this time. I turned up shortly after both you and Tuor were knocked unconscious and just after Surmata escaped his bonds. You know what happened to Surmata- he isn’t dead, of course, which you would do well to remember and watch out for in the future.

"Tuor, now- I fear he escaped while I dealt with Surmata and you. His wife and son Tristan went with him, as well. I imagine you won’t be too sorry that they are gone, especially Tristan.”

The headmaster winked at him, quite aware of the rivalry with Tristan, the ultimate Slytherin, and could not help but draw comparisons with other Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalries of the past. Some had ended better than others, in his opinion, but he was not going to share those stories with his pupil. Not now.

The boy blinked hard and suppressed a surprised smile.

“Thank you, headmas-” He broke off with a huge yawn. The headmaster stood up.

“Back to the hospital wing,” he said firmly, “and get a good night’s rest. You can be proud of all you’ve accomplished, but now you should go to sleep.”

He escorted the boy to the door of his office and wished him a good night.

The boy was already down the spiral staircase, but the headmaster remained standing in place, staring at the door where the boy had departed. He was obviously lost in his thoughts and reminisces. Phineas Nigellus spoke from his portrait.

“You’re proud of him, aren’t you? Brave little Gryffindor fighting evil; so young, so innocent. Headmasters don’t have favorites, you had better be careful.”

The headmaster had startled at the sound of Phineas’ voice. Now he slowly walked back behind his desk and sank into his chair.

“I know, I know,” he said distractedly, his chin resting in his hands. “You don’t know what it’s like…”

“I’ve been here a long time; you might be surprised. I certainly remember your childhood escapades rather well. I know how you feel about all this, and I know the role you’ll probably decide to take. Always the Gryffindor…ready to sacrifice it all. Why not try my way for once? Slytherins always-“

“I know your views on this, Phineas, and you know mine.”

“I do, I just thought I’d tell you.”

“Yes, Phineas,” said the headmaster, smiling.

“The headmaster is right, and even if he wasn’t, Phineas, you have no right to say that. Our job is to give advice, not to mock the headmaster’s beliefs,” said a reedy little witch in a gold-framed portrait.

“I wasn’t!” said Phineas, looking highly insulted.

They squabbled angrily for another few minutes, but eventually silence fell across the Headmaster’s office. The portraits fell back into their light doze, with the exception of one, whose eyes showed blue beneath half-closed lids.

After sitting peacefully for another moment, the headmaster noiselessly stood up and walked over to a table full of silver instruments that had been there for countless years. He glanced over them all, then prodded one of the devices with his wand.

A puff of smoke floated up, cylindrical in shape. Standing up from the top, right in the center, was a lightning bolt.

All the portraits, awake again now but still silent, watched as one tiny blob of smoke detached itself and floated lightly to the floor./

The headmaster sighed. “Not for a long while, I suppose. It may not be right. Not all prophecies come true, and even these results don’t prove anything, not with complete certainty anyhow. It won’t necessarily happen like that.”

“Yes, and don’t forget, you never were very good at using those things. Although this time it does look like you did it properly, but who can be sure?”

The blue eyed-man in the portrait nodded wisely, and continued, “Don’t worry, though. For certain, you have time. Though do be careful not to waste it.”

He paused, examining the expression on the headmaster’s face, and added, “Just as I thought. You don’t like taking advice like that, do you? I know you’re capable of managing quite well, but advice is my job, after all. I don’t want you making my mistakes, you see,” he said, a hint of sadness reflecting in his eyes for an instant, then gone. The headmaster opened his mouth to protest, but the portrait continued sagely.

“You do need to make your own mistakes, of course. I know that. I just hope you learn from them in time. And- Harry?”

The headmaster nodded, brushing a wisp of still disobedient hair, now white, off his forehead, revealing his scar.

“I want you to know this- I think you’ll succeed. You can do it. And I think you’re a wonderful headmaster, whatever Phineas says.”

“Thank you, Headmaster,” Harry Potter whispered, for a moment a young boy again, getting ready to rid the world of a powerful evil. He would be on the other side of the headmaster’s desk this time- but he could do it.