Time Travel? Really!

Life is just death in motion

Disclaimer: Not mine.

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Albus Dumbledore was old and he held no delusions about his age. He could feel his age in his bones, deep in his soul, and he could see it in the mirror every time he cared enough to look. He hated looking in the mirror. The mirror knew everything, and yet it said nothing.

But it said everything.

The mirror was his enemy. He could see his broken, crooked nose where Aberforth had punched him and blamed him for Ariana's death. He could see the small freckle under his left eye that Gellert used to lovingly stroke when they had just been two foolish young boys in love. He could see the vibrant blue of his eyes, the exact same shade as Ariana's when she would smile adoringly up at him and call him "Al". He could see everything in the mirror.

He hated the mirror.

When he was a young and naïve boy, he'd thought that he could change the world with just a few nice words, he could help the people that needed it the most, and he could have the power to change the world for the better. The world was a horrid place as it was, but Albus was an intelligent person, a genius even, and he could help them change. He could have the man he loved stay with him forever and ever. Love was everything in his life and he would always have it with him.

He was nothing but a fool.

Watching the light fade from his beloved sister's eyes – and why, why, did he ever think she was a burden? – and watching the man he loved run away like a coward, and watching his brother break down and cry over their sister's coffin, he'd stood there and had known without a shadow of a doubt that he was going to hell.

Burning in eternity would be his next 'adventure'.

He knew that he was going to hell when he heard rumours of his beloved killing people and simply turned a blind eye like the coward he was. He knew that he was going to hell when he ignored the articles about Gellert Grindelwald killing muggles while his brother spat abuse and sneered at him. He knew that he was going to hell when he resolved to kill Gelllert, promised it to eager listeners, and then couldn't bring himself to kill him and instead locked him in his very own prison.

Liar, liar, liar.

He couldn't do it. He looked into the eyes of the man that he loved, that he hated, that he despaired over, and couldn't muster up the resolve to rid the world of a mass murderer. He was a coward, and he lied to everyone.

What sort of cowardly liar didn't go to hell?

He knew that power was his enemy, and yet there he was with the most powerful wand in existence sat in the palm of his hand. The irony made him laugh and cry with madness. Years and years searching for something to share with Gellert, and now there was no Gellert to share it with. He briefly contemplated killing himself, but he was a coward. If he ran away from life he was a coward, and if he died then he would find out the truth about the very girl whose death destroyed him, and he couldn't deal with that.

He was a pitiful coward.

Power was his enemy, and when he'd been offered the chance to be the Minister of Magic he'd trembled with fear. Fear that he would ruin everything he touched. Fear that people would know the truth about him. Fear that he would fall prey to the allure of power once more. Fear and lies and cowardice. His life was a cacophony of deceit, and yet he was being offered the chance to be in control of them all? He'd wondered what was wrong with the people of Britain and if he could help them change.