Yet another Peggy Sue Fix it fic by Imouto Kitten

Chapter 4: Dumbledore's Reaction.

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore sagged in exhaustion as he 
lowered into the chair behind his desk and popped a sherbet lemon in his 
mouth. The old headmaster was no spring chicken, even by Wizard 
standards, but he felt like the last decade had aged him a century, and 
half of that in the last fortnight. Tom Riddle, the self-styled Lord 
Voldemort's, reign of terror had been one of the worst times in magical 
British history, making even Grindelwald's War look like a schoolyard 
scuffle by comparison, even if Dumbledore's old friend had campaigned on 
a larger scale geographically. At least Gellert had had enough common 
sense and restraint to not slaughter innocents and bystanders in cold 
blood, but even Dumbledore had been shocked to learn just how far Tom 
had fallen.

The story James and Lily had relayed to Dumbledore following little 
Harry's defeat of the Dark Lord had made little sense, even with the 
prophesy in play, but when he had gone to check on the Potters and 
determine if Voldemort had left a mark of any sort on the boy, the old 
wizard had gotten more than he bargained for.

As soon as Harry had seen Dumbledore enter his play area, the child had 
levitated his alphabet blocks with precision far beyond what could be 
dismissed as accidental magic and used them to spell a pair of words 
that made the headmaster go pale as a ghost.

Horcruxes

Legilimens

After which the child had stared at Dumbledore, Emerald Green boring 
into sapphire blue, clearly demanding the old wizard use the mind arts 
to obtain a fuller explanation.

Complying, Dumbledore had been bombarded with visions of a future that 
would never be... An 11-year-old Harry confronting the host of 
Voldemort's shade for the Philosopher's Stone, a slightly older Harry 
slaying a Basilisk deep in the bowels of Hogwarts and using the fang to 
destroy a Diary anchoring a Memory of Tom Riddle, of a barely teenaged 
Harry driving off a horde of Dementors, a resurrected Voldemort rising 
from a cauldron, Sirius being tossed through the Veil of Death, 
Dumbledore's arm whithering from a curse and being killed by his own 
spy, a signet ring in an old shack, a gilded cup in a Gringrotts Vault, 
A Diadem hidden in Hogwarts, a cave with a lake of Inferi, a Locket 
stolen and entrusted to the Black family's house elf, a Diary entrusted 
to Lucius Malfoy, a giant snake tainted with the foulest form of 
familiar ritual, Harry taking a killing curse to dislodge a sliver of 
soul clinging to the boy for dear life, a young man standing over 
Voldemort's corpse, the Elder Wand in hand.

Dumbledore knew not how the toddler had learned of such things, and had 
been too appaled by Tom's depravity to care, but he knew what he had to 
do, and after checking that Harry was unharmed by his encounter with the 
Dark Lord and ensuring his parents, agreeing with James's decision to 
take the credit, had departed to ensure Voldemort would not have a 
second rise.

Dumbledore could, in a pinch, use Fiendfyre, but deciding the shared 
memories provided a safer alternative, he returned to Hogwarts and 
retrieved the sword of Griffindor from the Sorting Hat, and with 
Fawkes's help, went down to the chamber of secrets, slew the Basilisk in 
its sleep, both neutralizing the threat and granting the sword the power 
to cleanse the Horcruxes of their unspeakable taint.

The Diadem had been found and cleaved in two, and the elves of Hogwarts 
put to the task of organizing everything else in the room of lost items 
just in case anything else of value had been forgotten there.

The Shack had been Dumbledore's next stop, and forewarned of the 
compulsion and the withering curse, he managed to cleave the ring as 
well before he could fall for the insideous trap.

The Goblins had been appaled that such a foul object had been allowed 
into one of their Vaults, and had been happy to hand over the cup after 
confirming Dumbledore's claim, even agreeing to loan the sword of 
Gryffindor to the headmaster until Tom Riddle is confirmed dead upon 
learning it had been infused with Basilisk venom.

Dumbledore had feared getting the locket would be hopeless, but 
fortunately, he had managed to convince Sirius to call for Kreacher, and 
the elf had come, bound to serve the disgraced son despite his 
mistress's efforts to disown the white sheep of the family, and when 
Dumbledore promised to help the elf fulfill Regulus's last request, 
Kreacher had been eager to hand over the locket.

Dumbledore concluded the snake had not yet been made a Horcrux, but the 
Diary had turned out to be the hardest to get hold of. Though he was 
among those arrested and charged with being Death Eaters, Lucius Malfoy 
had the kind of wealth and connections that made convictions hard to 
obtain and harder to make stick, and it would take a conviction to make 
the Wizengamot consider issuing a warrent to search the Malfoy Estate 
for dark artifacts when they were overrun sorting out the messthat had 
followed Voldemort's downfall... and unfortunately, Lucius had almost 
succeeded in buying a pardon not only for himself, but several of his 
closest associates. Testimony from the Potters, Longbottoms, and Sirius 
had helped chip away at the protections the Malfoy money had bought, but 
surprisingly, it had been Peter Pettigrew who had tipped the scales 
towards condemning Lucius, the rat animagus even quicker to sell out his 
fellow Death Eaters than he had sold out the Marauders now that the tide 
had changed.

It had been mere hours earlier that, with a special ministerial decree, 
Dumbledore had lead a raid on Malfoy Manor, found the diary, and run it 
through with Gryffindor's sword before returning to Gringotts, where the 
goblins had confirmed the enchantments they use to track inheritances 
had confirmed Tom Riddle had passed on with the distruction of his last 
Horcrux and thanked, or the closest a Goblin can get to thanking, the 
old wizard for returning a priceless piece of goblin craftsmenship.

It had been a stressful couple of weeks to end a stressful decade, but 
Dumbledore let out a sigh of relief as he took another sherbet lemon, 
relieved that at least it's truly over and not just the beginning of a 
reprieve.