Disclaimer: All you read is property of J.R.R Tolkien and Harry Potter.
A/N: This has been sitting in the writing 'closet' of my computer for a while.
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore had lived a very long life, and though many had thought otherwise, it was not one without fault. Albus was a flawed man, and had, in fact, made many mistakes in the course of his lifetime.
A particularly notable series of mistakes had, in fact, changed his life: he had inadvertently caused his beloved sister’s death.
Afterward, he had tried to bury everything in himself that made him, well, Albus: the person.
He became someone driven by the need to do good, in the name of the greater good, and only that. He became Dumbledore- the Headmaster, or more recently, the only one ‘He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named’ was afraid of.
And he had been only that for so long, Albus thought tiredly as he talked to the Malfoy boy. The boy who, like so many others, he had failed to save.
Harry would be angry with him, he knew. Harry, with whom he had shared so little. Yet another soul he had condemned by not recognizing and stopping young Tom’s rise to power.
“…you’re at my mercy…”
The poor Malfoy boy. His mind had been deluded and twisted for so long, and now he was alone in fighting his own personal battle.
“No Draco, it is my mercy, and not yours, that matters now.”
And of course Draco had his mercy.
And then the door flew open, and in came Tom’s minions.
‘Did you foresee this, old man?’ he mocked himself.
But Severus would come soon, and it would be all over.
He recognized Amycus, Alecto, and then… Fenrir Greyback. His horror grew. By not foreseeing this, by assuming everything would go according to his plan, he had put an insurmountable number of his students in danger and would soon be unable to defend them from the mad werewolf.
Dumbledore traded words with Amycus and Fenrir coolly, holding to the fact that he knew Tom had ordered them to make sure Draco did the killing. But he knew it would happen differently- yes, his last deception…
Ah, at least he could see he was right about one thing; the boy couldn’t do it.
The door, once again, flew open. Always the dramatic one, Severus.
The former Potions professor played his part perfectly, and Dumbldedore reciprocated.
Everyone in the room with the exceptions of the actors themselves believed Dumbldedore was begging for his life.
‘And now, at last, the end is upon me,’ Dumbledore thought tiredly, satisfactorily.
‘The final act before the curtain.’
And it was all over within a matter of seconds. The final curtain in the form of a brilliant flash of green light.
He never thought he’d be called on for an encore.
A/N: And there it is. Reviews, ConCrit appreciated.