Author’s Note
This fanfiction is based on “Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone” by J.K. Rowling. The Harry Potter series and the characters belong to J.K. Rowling. I earn no financial gain from this work.

“Albus Dumbledore and the Philosopher’s Stone” is based on the events of the first book in the Harry Potter series, from the perspectives of Albus Dumbledore.

The School Year Begins

“Welcome to Hogwarts,” said McGonagall. “The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.”

Albus Dumbledore didn’t pay attention to the rest of the things Minerva said. Why would he ? He was the headmaster and knew everything about the houses. He was lost in thought and when he came back into reality after hearing a loud murmur in the crowd, the Sorting had already gone beyond halfway and Harry Potter was walking towards the stool to be Sorted.

Dumbledore’s heart skipped a beat. The last time he was so anxious when someone other than him was getting Sorted, it was a young Tom Riddle walking towards the Hat. He had gone to Slytherin, and he didn’t grow up the way Dumbledore would have wanted. The boy had great potential. He used the potential, but for evil. And that boy, Tom Riddle, went on to be the most evil dark wizard in history, Lord Voldemort. And right now, there was another boy with a great potential – one who was prophesized as the boy with the power to vanquish Lord Voldemort. Dumbledore was getting more and more worried as the Hat took longer and longer to declare a house for ‘The-Boy-Who-Probably-Got-Special-Powers-From-Voldemort-And-Might-Even-Be-The-Container-Of-One-Of-His-Horcruxes’, or ‘The Boy Who Lived’ as everyone else said. Dumbledore was very nervous. If Harry’s connection with Voldemort was as strong as Dumbledore suspected, he had a good chance to be sorted into Slytherin. Dumbledore didn’t want his biggest hope of defeating Voldemort to be sorted in the same house as the many children of loyal Death Eaters, specially the spoiled brat that was the son of Lucius Malfoy. He almost jumped with joy when the voice came out from the brim of the Hat : “GRYFFINDOR!”

As the sorting ended, Dumbledore stood up. The Headmaster should welcome the students with a speech, it was the tradition. “Welcome,” he said. “Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words.” But the words didn’t come to him.

Oh, no ! What should I say ? Why is nothing coming to my mind ? I am exceptionally good with words, but why am I finding it so hard to say anything now ? Wow, I’m so happy that Harry Potter got into my old House Gryffindor. No, I can’t say that out loud. I should keep the appearance that all houses are equal for me. Come on brain, think fast. Words, words, any words.

“And here they are : Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!

Thank you!”

Albus was relieved that he at least managed to pour out some words, but also slightly worried what the students might have thought because those words made no sense. But the food was served immediately and every student’s attention turned towards the plate in front of them, so nobody cared about the Headmaster’s nonsense blabbering.

“Headmaster,” Dumbledore was startled by sudden whisper from Sprout.

“Yes, any problem Professor Sprout ?”

“The feast is ending.”

“I can see that.”

“Haven’t you forgotten anything ?”

“I don’t think so.”

“What about the warning ?”

“What kind of warning ?”

“About the third-floor corridor.”

Dumbledore understood what the Head of Hufflepuff House meant to say, and rose to his feet.

“Ahem — just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well.”

“I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.”

Dumbledore was about to sit down, but McGonagall gave a sharp glare indicating he still needed to say something more.

“And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death.”

A few students laughed but most were shocked. Dumbledore felt pleased with himself. The message was delivered. He was sure that no student would even think of going anywhere near the forbidden corridor after that clear warning. Dumbledore could see that Harry was seated near the Weasley prefect. Dumbledore was always confused with the names of the Weasley kids, there were so many, and one more had joined this year and seemed to have struck a friendship with Harry Potter. At the moment though, Harry was talking with the older Weasley – the prefect. Dumbledore called upon the students to sing the school song, and soon afterwards the students were heading towards their house dormitories, and among the much excited first years, there was one boy with a lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead –The-Boy-Who-Probably-Got-Special-Powers-From-Voldemort-And-Might-Even-Be-The-Container-Of-One-Of-His-Horcruxes (or as the rest of the wizarding world called, The Boy Who Lived).