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Albus Dumbledore was bored. This was an unusual state of affairs for the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, who ordinarily had more than enough to occupy his time. There were disciplinary reports to review, letters from the Ministry to ignore, and a particularly unpleasant dispute involving Peeves, three Hufflepuffs, and a quantity of treacle that nobody had yet satisfactorily explained.
Dumbledore had decided that all of these matters could wait.
Instead, he sat behind his desk, examining an ancient magical artifact known as the Looking Glass of Possibilities.
It was a curious object. Unlike the Mirror of Erised, which showed people what they most desired, the Looking Glass revealed worlds in which history had unfolded differently. Every choice, every accident, every improbable coincidence had the potential to create an entirely different reality.
Dumbledore found the possibilities fascinating. He also found them rather entertaining.
He peered into the glass.
A young Harry Potter appeared, sitting at the Slytherin table. Dumbledore watched for several moments. Harry was wearing green and silver robes and arguing with a young Draco Malfoy, his best friend, about Quidditch.
"Boring." Dumbledore muttered.
He stirred his wand through the glass as though it were a particularly stubborn cup of tea.
The image dissolved. Another appeared.
Harry Potter and Hermione Granger stood beneath a flowering tree, holding hands.
Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "Ah! Now that's more like it."
He watched for a moment longer. "Frankly, that's how it should have been."
He stirred the glass again.
This time, Harry Potter appeared in the arms of Draco Malfoy. They were kissing. Passionately. Dumbledore stared. He blinked.
"Oh, not again."
Fawkes looked up from his perch.
"How many times must I watch these two fall in love?"
Fawkes gave a sharp, disapproving squawk. Dumbledore turned angrily toward the Phoenix. "What??"
Fawkes squeaked loudly at him.
Dumbledore looked offended. "CERTAINLY NOT!" he said, loudly.
The phoenix tilted his head at Dumbledore.
"Don't you give me that look!" Dumbledore scolded. I have absolutely nothing against two young men falling in love. In fact, it can be a beautiful story."
Fawkes just stared at Dumbledore.
"I've just seen it HUNDREDS of times in The Looking Glass. One time, they are secretly in love. In another, they are married. In yet another, they start a bakery in Hogsmeade!"
Fawkes gave Dumbledore a soft trill in response.
"Yes, the bakery was charming. That's not the point!"
Dumbledore gestured toward the Looking Glass. "An infinite number of possible realities, Fawkes! Infinite! Surely somewhere out there is something a little more original!"
The phoenix regarded him skeptically.
Dumbledore sighed. "Oh, don't look at me like that. You know perfectly well what I mean."
Dumbledore stirred the glass with his wand again.
There was Lucius Malfoy, standing in Madam Malkin's robe shop. Beside him stood a young girl. She had long, platinum-blonde hair, an aristocratic bearing, and the unmistakable expression of someone who had already decided that most of the world was beneath her.
Dumbledore frowned. "Well, well." He examined the image more closely.
Lucius was speaking to the shopkeeper. The little girl was examining a set of expensive dress robes with obvious approval. Lucius left for some other errands.
The door opened again. A small, dark-haired boy entered.
Harry Potter.
The girl turned. Their eyes met.
Dumbledore leaned forward. "Ohhhh."
Harry said something. The girl responded.
Dumbledore began to smile. "Oh, this is interesting." He settled deeper into his chair. "Lucius Malfoy has a daughter instead of a son." He stroked his beard thoughtfully. "And young Harry Potter appears to have made quite an impression."
In the glass, the girl tossed her hair and turned away. Harry watched her go, looking thoroughly bewildered.
Dumbledore chuckled. "Now THIS... This is not something I expected." He reached for a tin of lemon drops.
"Now then. Let's see where this goes." He popped a sweet into his mouth. The Looking Glass shimmered.