AN: Oh, what's this, two updates less than 48 hours apart? Bet ya didn't see this coming! To the kind Guest reviewer who''s gone ahead decided it's alright to declare my writing as "not good", please refrain from saying that my chapters are 300 words long. They're not. They're 1 K words long. At least. I just like to write lengthy author's notes because that the most direct way for me to interact with readers, and I hate hiding exposition behind the actual writing. There will be plenty of vague details in my story(ies), and I'd hate to presume everyone can read my mind and tell their origins. In 90% of the good HP fanfiction I've read, author's notes are predominantly the way authors communicate with their readers. Also, author's notes add character to what people might think of me. Also, I'm a bit of a dick.

Have fun though.

A figurative fuck

"Oh Lord. I think I might puke." Harry stumbled back, haphazardly throwing himself in the armchair he'd been occupying before he read the Daily Prophet. One that was still crisp, smelling of fresh ink and dated September 2nd, 1974. Nine-teen-seventy-bloody-four.

"It's alright my boy, it is only natural to feel so overwhelmed when faced with such situations." Albus Dumbledore stated. Harry now knew for a fact that this was't the Dumbledore under which he had studied and trained for fifteen years. He knew deep inside him that this man had never seen his face before that day, but couldn't sop himself of wanting to hug him, seeking solace.

"How can this even be?!" He wondered, his voice breathier and more unsure than he'd have liked. "I mean, I know time turners exist, but they're so limited. I'd heard Nott was working on something more versatile, but's supposed to be at least 10 years away from perfecting the theory, let alone applying it safely." By know he was talking more to himself than to the purple-robed man in the seat across the desk.

"There are things about magic Harry, that far beyond our comprehension. I've seen the charm your Lord Voldemort had used. It is an ancient one, and it hasn't been used for at least eight hundred years for a reason."

"What's that, then?"

"The charm has no name, and it cannot be found in any magical textbook that I know of, be it dark or otherwise, for sole fact that it draws its power from an Obscurial."

"I remember reading about those. You gave me the only sheet of parchment you knew to exist about those. Newt Scamander wrote it, but didn't publish it, you said. He was afraid of someone going after Obscurials, should they find out any are alive." He could see his own reflection in Dumbledore's now twinkling eyes. He looked half-deep in though, which he was, and half mad, which he was probably going to be, very soon.

"It seems I have taught you well enough. Nothing trumps the satisfaction of yet another wise and well informed young mind. Well, maybe some treacle tart would do the trick, under the right circumstances." The man smiled his notorious fox-like smile at Harry, his lips genuinely stretching as the corners lifted themselves a third of the way to his cheekbones.

"I wonder why you've never told me an Obscurial's power could be used like this. You always commended Hermione for he knowledge seeking."

"I suppose I was afraid you'd get the wrong idea into your head, my boy. I've seen your memories, you personally mentioned to my future self that the sorting hat wanted you in Slytherin. Ambition is a powerful motivation, but a dangerous one, even when the endgame serves the greater good. Power like that of an Obscurial corrupts far too easily, and with your natural inclinations, I can honestly say that you would most likely have tried to use that power to turn the tide of your war, and I must have worried for yours and everyone else's safety." The twinkle in Dumbldore's eyes had become so prominent by that pint that Harry was afraid the man would think himself to death. It was either that or he was contemplating how best to attack Harry. He wasn't too worried, since he was the one that taught his Dumbledore how to fight dirty.

"Yeah that makes a lot of sense. Voldemort was getting more more ruthless with every rising sun, and we were becoming more desperate along the way. If push came to shove, we would have tried to do something with that bit of intel had we known about it. Ron and I certainly would have tried it no matter what anyone said, if things got bad enough." Placating him with agreements was probably the best way to avoid an all out duel int headmaster's office, and it wasn't like he was lying, anyway.

"What is most curious the predicament you find yourself in, Harry, is that Tom himself is the one who did this. Why would would he choose to send you back in time when he had the power and the chance to kill you and end your war at last?" Dumbledore asked, brows furrowed and nostrils slightly flared.

'That was a curious bit...' "My friend Hermione, you've seen her, the way she seeks knowledge like its Greek nectar. She had a theory. She said that splitting your sould in half like Voldemort was doing cannot possibly have been with a cost. According to her, by the way, I'm double the Voldemort is."

"I'm sorry?"

"Yes, that's what Ron said too. If Hermione's math is correct, and Hermione's math is always correct, the Tom I left behind has only 0.78 percent of his soul, whereas I have about 1.5 percent of his soul in me. I'm a living Horcrux." The comical level of shock now on the headmasters face was almost too much for Harry. "I mean, I'm still me, but there's also bit of him in me as well. It's why I'm a Parselmouth, I wasn't born like that." Anyway, the theory is that every time Tom created a Horcrux, the splitting of the soul within him shredded away part of what little morality he had in him as well. Now that I know what happened, I can't help but wonder if his sanity was being torn apart along the way."

"That would certainly fit the bill. Self preservation is often one of a Slytherin's to priorities in life. It's a natural part of everyone, be they naturally inclined toward Lord Salazar's was or not, and with Tom's utter devotion to the House Slytherin, the risk he took sending you back is so out of place that the state if his mind has to be questioned."

Harry stood up and meandered toward the fireplace on the right side of the office area. He stared long and deep into the flickering flames, he only light sheltering them from the utter darkness of the night sky outside. He always liked the moon, so it only seemed fitting for it to hide behind the thick clouds on a night during which his life he suspected would be changed forever.

"So now you know my story, and I know how I got here. The question is, how do I get back?"

With a deep frown and a worrying sigh, Dumbledore, for what Harry thought was the first time anyone had been there to notice it, hesitant. "I'm afraid that is impossible. The energies exuded by Obscurials are exclusive to them, kind of like each witch or wizard leaves behind their own unique 'scent'. The only way you'd be able to return to your time would be by finding the same Obscurial Tom had used to send you here, and that may not happen for another twenty-something years, I worry, but most importantly, the ritual to siphon the Obscurials power will almost definitely kill it. It is simply too much for any single being to bear. I've seen through your eyes, my young friend. I've felt what you've felt, thought what you thought. I know you almost as well as you know yourself, and I know you can't bring suffering upon anyone, be they deserving of it or not. I know that you do your best avoid death, even in battle, even though your are its Harbinger, and ts follower. Fate has not been kind o you, and yet you remain kind to those around you. I fear that you will remain here."

"You know, that bloody wisdom of yours really irritates me some times. Don't pity me please. I've had enough of that to last me centuries."

"Oh, heavens no. My boy, I've lived for far too long to still feel pity, when I can look for purpose, for where purpose is, beauty lies just beyond. I'm saddened that my future self never saw fit to speak to you about that particular part of life, although perhaps only the days can jade a soul enough to forget the meaning of pity, so much so, that even suffering can lead to beauty, eventually."

Harry turned around and look back at Dumbledore, whom he found staring almost absentmindedly at his bowl of lemon drops. 'Almost. Preaching about philosophy and yet keeping an eye on any possible action. There he is.' he thought to himself with an inward smirk. "So, what comes next then, do I spend the rest of my days a shepherd on some faraway Scottish field, seeking beauty through purposelessness only to spite you, or what?"

"Ha! As entertaining as I'm sure that would be for the both of us, I think you have far greater skills at your disposal at the moment my boy. When I said that you were a follower of death, I meant that literally. Yesterday, the corpse of our dear Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Patricia Rakepick, was discovered on the Hogwarts Express when it arrived back in London. It seems she had suffered a fatal heart attack. I'd like for you take the position, at least momentarily whilst I find a more permanent solution."

"I'm sorry?" He wasn't a teacher. He was a soldier, nothing more. His DA days were long behind, and he doubted he could replicate that kind of success with students who didn't trust him. Students he didn't trust back.

"I'm sure that's what Ron would have said. Harry, war isn't an easy thing, I know that without needing to live through someone else's memories, but it teaches you so much that you cannot hope to learn anywhere else. I fully believe that you talents have far greater applications in a classroom than they do in a war zone, and if the smile you had on your face in your fifth year at Hogwarts is of any indication, it's where you belong. Certainly where you've been happiest."

"I don't know. I never thought I'd live to see peaceful times, much less have to fill my time during it. Can I sleep on it? This isn't the kind of decision I could make on the spot like this." 'This is going to be nothing if not interesting.'

"Of course, and please, feel free to use my personal quarters for the night, I have a feeling you'd want actual solitude, especially tonight."

"Much appreciated, professor." In a moment, Dumbledore was by his fireplace, hand already in the Floo powder in a magenta colored vase sitting atop the rune-decorated mantelpiece. "Where can I find you tomorrow? I can't exactly waltz into class and start hurling curses at Lucius Malfoy."

"Sure you can, my boy. A life spent is a life earned, no?" The twinkle was back, this time with a classical Dumbledorian mirth that made Harry feel like he was back in first year. "Simply make sure you attend breakfast at Great Hall tomorrow, and I'll know your decision, hand you a timetable, and you can easily get started on the practical aspects for the first few days whilst I catch you on the curriculum. I'll keep you an empty seat by my side and some warm treacle tart on your plate."

"You really do know how to sell a damn good bargain."

With a hearty chuckle, Dumbledore finally reached his hand inside the vase and withdrew it a second later.

"Now, if that will be all?" Harry nodded, seeing no reason to keep the man from his affairs, even if it was seven o'clock at night. "Excellent."

An: Well that was fun. It certainly was for me. For any of you who might have been living under a rock for the past few years, go ahead and watch Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find them, the Obscurial thing will make much more sense after that. Or you can just visit the HP Fandom site.
As far as I know, meaning I don't have this shit planned out quite yet, we should be stepping away from the heavy amount of dialogue soon enough, and with action sequences, one can only expect to suffer going through uncharted descriptive combat scene territory.
Alternatively,you can definitely check out Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. anytime you want, since that is literally the second best TV show to ever exist (after House M.D.) and I will most definitely not stop pushing it down your throats every chance I get. I also doesn't hurt that Trip and Mack might make an appearance much later on in the story.
Also, please don't tell me you people expected me to name this chapter Of Stranger Things after last chapters title. That would be weird, and far too much of a copyright infringement...

Kirk out.