Chapter 2

Harry skidded to a stop in front of the stone gargoyle. He ripped off the cloak and shoved it inside his robes. He was panting, bent over with his hands on his knees, not able to utter a single word for lack of breath. "I-I need…to s-see…Prof-essor…McGonagall," he gasped to the gargoyle.

"There's no password yet, but you should knock," it groaned allowing Harry to stagger up the stairs.

"Right, thanks," he said. But the door to the office was open when he reached the top, so Harry stepped inside. The portraits of all the headmasters nodded to Harry as he walked further into the room. He caught the bright blue eye of Dumbledore and couldn't help but smile. "Professor McGonagall?"

"Potter!" she appeared from behind Dumbledore's pensieve which she had apparently been studying. "My word, the ministry officials will surely be here soon to discuss important matters, and I strongly discourage you from being here when they arrive, seeing as you do not look up to questioning at the moment." The surrounding headmasters and headmistresses nodded their approval and Dumbledore said, "A wise decision, Minerva."

"Yes, I know, Professor, but I need to talk to you before anyone else comes." Seeing her look of surprise, he added hastily, "It's urgent." She looked hesitantly towards the open door behind Harry and made her decision. She flicked her wand at the door and it snapped shut.

"Very well, Potter. But speak quickly; I have others coming as well."

"Yes Professor, but, you may want to sit down. Some of this may come as a shock." She gave him a quizzical look, but perched on the edge of the chair he had so often occupied in front of Dumbledore's desk, clearly intrigued. Deciding to avoid pretenses to save time, Harry plunged right in. "A year ago, Professor Dumbledore told me he wanted to give me private lessons. I didn't know what they were for. Ron and Hermione suspected he would teach me how to defend myself against Voldemort. But they were wrong. Dumbledore knew something about Voldemort that no one else had. There was only one way to defeat Voldemort, sort of like a divide and conquer outlook—" Harry was abruptly cut off by a knock on the office door.

McGonagall, who had not been aware of Harry's private lessons with Dumbledore the previous year, was transfixed on Harry. "Enter," the door opened and she spared a glance at the group huddled around the threshold. Kinsley was holding the door open as Bill and Charlie shuffled Firenze across the room; Mr. Weasley, Sprout, Slughorn, and Flitwick all hung back, peering around Kingsley into the room. He moved aside and they all filed into the office.

"Minerva, I thought you said…" Kingsley trailed off as he looked back and forth between Harry and McGonagall. Suddenly Harry had an idea. He would have to tell the wizarding community eventually, so why not start with those he loved and trusted?

"Wait." He turned to face the headmistress. "Professor McGonagall, they should stay. I want—no, no I need them to hear this, too."

"Minerva, what—" Kingsley looked torn between curiosity and having the meeting with McGonagall and the others.

"Kingsley," McGonagall addressed all of them holding each of their gazes, finally finding Harry's green eyes. "Kingsley, Potter is ready to tell us exactly what he has been doing for the past two years on Dumbledore's orders." Mr. Weasley slumped into a chair looking back and forth from McGonagall to Harry, finally deciding that it was true while Slughorn held his handkerchief against his forehead mid-wipe looking stunned. Bill and Charlie exchanged looks over the top of Firenze's head, Kingsley looked faintly surprised and Phineas Nigellus said, "Really now, it's about time!"

"Headmistress," Kingsley looked pained, "as much as I want to hear Potter's story, as I know it will fill in many empty gaps in the past couple of years, I believe our time would be better spent on discussing the evacuation and clean up of Hogwarts before the Ministry officials arrive. It'd be best to have a plan ready prior to their arrival." He turned to Harry, "Harry, I promise you, we will hear what you have to say, it's important that we do; however, not at the present." Harry couldn't believe it. He strode toward the door, livid. Hadn't they been the ones to ask repeatedly what Dumbledore had left him to do? Hadn't they been the ones to heckle him at every turn about whether or not they could help? Wouldn't each and every one of them have given their wands just the day before to know what he, Ron, and Hermione had been doing while they were picked off one-by-one by the Ministry? With his hand on the door he said coolly, "That's fine, but you should know that you'll find Snape's body in the Shrieking Shack." Professor Sprout gasped and Slughorn spluttered a few incoherent words of shock. Harry ignored them; relishing the sounds of their ignorance, he carried on. "Yeah, and he was one of the bravest men I've ever known."

McGonagall let out an indignant cry and Mr. Weasley said, "Harry! That's an insult to Dumbledore's memory."

"Not to mention all of the victims of You-Know-Who!" said Flitwick.

"Everything I said to Voldemort," (Slughorn squeaked and wiped his forehead with the handkerchief), "about Snape was true and he should be honored as a hero. He's the reason we're all still alive—"

"No, Harry, you're the reason we're—"

Harry whirled around. "I couldn't have defeated Voldemort without Snape's help. I was going to tell—"

"My goodness! What took you so long, Severus?" Phineas looked positively delighted as he stared over the heads of Bill, Charlie and Firenze, all of whom were sitting on the floor looking puzzled. Directly above them, a portrait had appeared of a wizard with greasy black hair and a great hooked nose.