Chapter 3

"You were about the same age when you revolted against Lord Voldemort. Yet you weren't blinded and led by the thought of might." Dumbledore slowly looked up at Harry with his piercing blue eyes. "I wasn't only blinded by the greater good, but by love as well, Harry," the old Headmaster admitted. "Unluckily, I fell for the wrong person and thus found myself forced to hide my true feelings from not only others, but from myself as well. I would not allow myself to admit my feelings of love anymore because I knew what love – just as well as might – could do to me. Both are rather amazing to have, but blinding and dangerous for those as selfish to let themselves lead by their desires like me. I didn't think I could be trusted with either of gifts."

Harry was hard-pressed to ask his next question. "I'm wondering, have you ever fallen in love again? And..." he stopped.

"Because I kept in mind what would have happened, had I let my feelings of love over-rule my mind and my actions the last time I had loved another human being, I never allowed myself to give in to it again and let it all over-rule my mind and thoughts like before, but yes. I did. And yes," Dumbledore emitted, "all of them happened to be men."

Harry swallowed, as the old man sadly dropped his head again. "Isn't it... nearly impossible to contain such feelings?" He asked, thinking of Ginny.

Dumbledore nodded in response. "Yes, Harry, but when I was young – in more ancient times – people... weren't exactly... keen on... anything different – not in that aspect… not even in the Wizarding world. Witches or wizards falling in love... with anyone of their own gender was different and unacceptable. People have become more flexible, but back then it was much better to keep it hidden. When people finally started to open their minds more and accept such differences, maybe abnormalities for some back then and now – just think about the Tales of Beedle the Beard: men belong with women, and women with men – I already was an old man, and my time to love was over."

"No," Harry spoke. "It wasn't. It isn't. It's never too late… not for love."

The grey haired and bearded wizard smiled. "I have met enough men whom I could love, but I couldn't imagine any of them to be like me. For the aforementioned reasons, I suppose I feared I would be spurned. Well... I, too, think that your first is one you don't forget."

"Yeah," Harry agreed, thinking about his wife and children. She hadn't really been his first, and he hadn't been hers, but she'd surely been the one whom he had loved most and longest, considering the two of them had been together for more than half a century.

Out of the corners of his bright green eyes, which he had inherited from Lily, Harry suddenly noticed Dumbledore getting up from the seat beside him, looking out. He stood hugging himself for an instant, as if he were cold. Then, he turned around again, and Harry consequently found his old Headmaster's pain lingering in the penetrating blue eyes. It hurt. He understood. It hurt remembering.

He had always known Dumbledore as an old man. Sure, Harry had seen pictures of him in younger years – different times. He'd been quite recognizable then, but still hard to imagine as a spirited young wizard, without middle-length silvery grey hair and beard, before his nose had become crooked and before he'd started wearing half-moon spectacles.

Harry secretly wished he could have seen him back then. The thought had just formed into his head when suddenly, a so much younger Dumbledore stood in front of him, looking down at himself.

"I forgot how it felt like to be young," the young Dumbledore smiled. He didn't seem surprised.

He would have been around this age when he'd fallen in love with his later rival Grindelwald, not all that much older as Harry had been when he fell in love with his best friend's little sister. Harry, however, had already been in love with his Ginny years before he'd dared admit it. And he knew it had been the same for her. He smiled to himself. He understood just how deep love could go and felt sorry for Dumbledore, who'd always stood up for love, yet never obtained it himself.

Harry suddenly felt so old in the company of the young Albus Dumbledore, and within an instant, he, too, had turned seventeen all over again. The mere thought of being young again appeared to have been enough to make this change.