Chapter 2—The Burden of Proof

The chamber below the sinks was not as dank as Harry remembered it. Piles of small bones littered the floor, but otherwise it was empty and dark. Harry extracted his wand, brandishing it above his head.

"Lumos!"

Hermione, Neville, and Professor Dumbledore arrived, adding their light. The others marvelled at the space, even Dumbledore. Without preamble, Harry led off down the passage towards the Chamber of Secrets.

"If you don't mind me asking," Dumbledore said from behind. "What are we doing down here?"

"I'm going to kill the basilisk to prove that I am who I say I am," Harry replied without looking back. "Is Fawkes already your familiar, professor?"

"He is," Dumbledore answered slowly. "What concern is that of yours?"

"He saved me last time, and I was hoping he'd do so again," Harry said. "Would you call him, please, sir?" Professor Dumbledore complied, and soon after, the red bird was perched on his shoulder. Harry paused, having reached the serpent door to the Chamber proper, and turned.

"'Lo Fawkes," Harry said brightly. "My name is Harry Potter, and I'm from the future. In that future, you helped me confront the basilisk on the other side of this door. I was rather hoping you'd help me again. Would you?" Fawkes trilled and bobbed his head. "Excellent. In that case, the first thing I need you to do is bring me the Sorting Hat."

The phoenix flamed away, leaving Dumbledore's robes slightly singed and Dumbledore looking perplexed. Everyone remained silent. Dumbledore and Hermione both used the opportunity to study the door, which Harry readily admitted to himself was fascinating. He was, however, thinking about what was on the other side of the door. Fawkes returned with the hat in his beak. Harry reached up and retrieved it.

"I hope this works," he said quickly, and jammed the hat on his head. "Hello," Harry thought to the hat.

"This is most irregular," the hat replied in his mind. "Are you to be sorted?"

"I've already done, but in the future," Harry answered.

"Ah yes, I see…" the hat mused. "Very interesting. I might go so far as to say that you have the most interesting mind I've ever come across."

"Thank you," Harry laughed.

"Don't be too flattered," the hat responded, "I'm usually only worn by eleven-year-olds." Harry stopped chuckling. "In any case, I see no reason I can't provide you what you seek."

"But I haven't told you what I need yet," Harry reasoned.

"I know what's in your mind and in your heart, young Gryffindor," the hat explained. "Take me off and reach inside me. And good luck." Harry pulled the hat off, flipped it over, and plunged his hand in beyond the brim, feeling around. His hand hit metal, and he grasped it and pulled. With a flourish he pulled the sword from the hat.

"Please look after this," Harry said to Dumbledore, handing him the hat. Dumbledore took it dumbly, astounded that Harry had pulled such a relic from the hat.

"That's the Sword of Gryffindor," he breathed in amazement.

"I know," Harry replied easily. "Fawkes, we're going to go into the Chamber proper, and I'll summon the basilisk. I need you to claw its eyes out so I can look at it. Can you do that for me?" The phoenix trilled and nodded again. "Thank you, friend. I might need you after I do the deed. I did before." Without another word, Harry turned and in his mind pulled up the word, "Open." The parseltongue slid past his lips in a hiss and the metal snake chased its way around the edge of the door, unlocking it. The Chamber of Secrets lay before them.

Harry stepped into the chamber. The other three fanned out behind him. Fawkes pushed off Dumbledore's shoulder and started soaring around the room, passing between the elaborately carved stone and wood columns and around the statue of Slytherin. As he flew, the torches lining the walls burst into flame, illuminating the room, displaying it to the new occupants.

"I never dreamed I'd see it," Dumbledore breathed.

"The last time, you didn't," Harry told him. "Keep behind me, you lot. And for the love of Merlin, don't look at the thing until Fawkes does his eyes. I'm going to summon him now." He didn't wait for a response, but approached the statue. "Speak to me Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts four."

With a creaking groan the jaw dropped. Harry caught a flick of a tongue before he glanced away. There was a sickening thud as the body of the serpent landed on the ground.

"Who summons me from my slumber?" Harry could hear the massive snake hiss and coil, readying for a strike.

"Now, Fawkes!" Harry shouted. Harry heard a trill and then a squawk. This was followed by a hiss of pain. The battle of the beasts continued while Harry looked away and tried to gauge the progress from the sounds. The flickering shadows helped, and he watched as the shadow of Fawkes dove on the basilisk again. In a blink, Fawkes trilled again, and swooped past Harry to alight on Dumbledore's shoulder. The bird nodded at him. Harry chanced a look.

The basilisk was coiled about itself, flailing at the ceiling. Finally, it gathered itself, sniffed the air, and looked right at them with ruined eyes.

"I will kill you all!" it raged.

Harry stood resolutely, sword grasped firmly in his right hand low at his side, waiting. Hermione gasped loudly. The others took an unconscious step back, gaping now at the massive serpent rising before them.

"Me first," Harry ordered. "The phoenix acted on my orders."

"You are either brave or foolish, speaker. Either way, you are dead." The snake uncoiled itself and eased closer to Harry, sniffing the air to get its bearings. Finally it rose to strike, towering over Harry, standing alone in the centre of the room.

"Do it!" Harry shouted. The basilisk struck, fangs flashing as its mouth opened, rushing towards Harry. Harry sidestepped left, raising the sword toward the gaping mouth. The serpent's head impacted the sword. Harry held firm, driving the tip of the Sword of Gryffindor deep into the roof of the snake's mouth. As he moved, the serpent's fang grazed his arm. A shallow gash was ripped in the flesh of his forearm. It was a minor wound compared to the one he'd inflicted on the basilisk, but fatal just the same.

Harry staggered, releasing his grip on the sword as the head of the snake carried forward to the ground. He dropped to a knee as he watched the basilisk. It lay motionless, dead. Blood pooled on the ground, running out of its mouth in a small river. Harry fell back onto his bottom, feet splayed out in front of him.

"Fawkes!" he called, pulling back on the ruined sleeves of his robes and shirt. The bird didn't need further prompting, flitting over to land on the floor beside him. Harry held his arm steady with difficulty, already feeling the effects of the venom. Fawkes lowered his head to Harry's arm, and cried. Warm, salty tears welled from his eyes, rolling down his face, and dripping off his beak onto the ugly gash on Harry's arm.

Harry gasped as he felt the healing tears begin their work. Before his eyes, the wound healed, sealing up, and mending into a jagged scar. Harry took a deep breath, feeling his strength returning, and his balance restored.

"Thank you, friend," he said. "I won't forget the help you gave me today. I know you and Professor Dumbledore share a bond, but if you ever need anything, just ask. You've saved my life twice now." Fawkes trilled in response, and nuzzled Harry's arm with his head. Then he turned, hopped once, and flew back to Dumbledore's shoulder.

"Astonishing," Dumbledore observed dumbly as Harry kicked the head of the basilisk to the side, carefully reached between its jaws and yanked the Sword of Gryffindor free. Harry stood there a moment staring at the dead beast, sword hanging loosely his hand.

"Is that proof enough that I am who I say I am?" Harry asked, turning to look at Dumbledore. He pushed his ripped sleeves back down with his free hand.

"I… I find myself speechless," Dumbledore said. "My boy, how did you…"

"Because I've bloody done it before!" Harry cried exasperated. "This time happened almost exactly the same as last time, except instead of a possessed Ginny Weasley opening the chamber, it was me! A shade of Tom Riddle stood right there over her body, taunting me." Harry pointed.

"Was this after he'd died?" Professor Dumbledore asked, perplexed.

"Sort of," Harry responded. "The shade came out of an old diary of Tom's that Lucius Malfoy had slipped into Ginny's school texts before the start of term. The real Tom was somewhere else at the time." Harry watched Dumbledore's eyes go wide. "I knew the shade was coming out of the diary, but I couldn't destroy it… The shade, I mean. Finally, I destroyed the diary by stabbing it with the basilisk's fang, and the shade screamed and vanished, and black fluid bubbled out of the diary. Then Ginny woke up and it was all over." Dumbledore looked pensive, and remained silent for several heartbeats. Finally, he spoke.

"What did you do with the basilisk afterwards?" Dumbledore wanted to know. Harry sensed he was redirecting the conversation away from a delicate area.

"It stayed down here," Harry said with a shrug. "I never saw it again."

"Why didn't you sell it?" Dumbledore wanted to know.

"You never told me I could," Harry replied sharply, stalking up to Dumbledore. "Can I sell it?"

"It is yours by law, as the slayer," Dumbledore informed him with a friendly smile that didn't reach his eyes. They looked worried.

"Is there anything else important about what you've just seen and been told that I should know, Professor?" Harry asked harshly. Dumbledore was hiding things from him. It had happened before, but now Harry was older, and Dumbledore was younger. He wouldn't put up with it this time.

"I don't know what you know already," Dumbledore said carefully. "I shall endeavour to tell you what I know…"

"Good start, sir," Harry observed.

"This is the Chamber of Secrets, long rumoured to be the secret lair of Salazar Slytherin, though judging by the statue, I would say that is now established as fact. By pulling the Sword of Gryffindor out of the Sorting Hat, you've declared yourself the rightful heir of Godric Gryffindor. Finally, by slaying it, you can claim the basilisk carcass as your own."

"What about the diary?" Harry pressed, advancing on Dumbledore again.

"Without observing the item, I can't say with certainty," Dumbledore replied hastily.

"Guess please, Professor," Harry ordered.

"I hesitate to speak of it, as it is soul magic," Dumbledore prevaricated, looking at Hermione and Neville. Neville had vomited, and was propping himself up on a nearby column dry heaving. Hermione was helping him with a concerned look on her face. Neither were paying attention to Harry or Dumbledore.

"I'm already aware, sir," Harry said firmly. "I want to understand what it was. It's out there right now. The shade was of a sixteen-year-old Tom Riddle. We need to stop it, and in order to do so, I need to know what it is."

Dumbledore looked at Harry, taking in his steely green eyes staring right back at Dumbledore. Dumbledore was a strong wizard, but Harry was positively glowing with power and determination. He didn't sense darkness in Harry. Perhaps he could tell the boy…

"Please, sir," Harry pressed.

"I believe it to be a horcrux," Dumbledore said at last. "A soul container, formed by the darkest of black magic. I won't tell you how to create one, as I don't know the exact procedure myself, and any knowledge in the wrong hands could be disastrous."

"How do I destroy it?" Harry wanted to know.

"Fiendfyre and basilisk venom are the only two ways known," Dumbledore replied. "It would seem you stumbled across one in perhaps the best circumstances possible. How old were you?"

"Twelve," Harry replied, shocking the professor.

"And you killed the basilisk the same as you did now?" Dumbledore asked in awe. Harry merely rolled up his sleeve farther, revealing the neat circular scar left by the basilisk fang when he was twelve and quirked an eyebrow at the professor. "My boy, that is remarkable."

Harry rolled the shirt down, and let the robes drop back into place. Then he started looking around the chamber. As he passed, he looked at where Hermione was still helping Neville. "Alright Neville?"

"Alright, Harry," he replied with a wan smile, still a little green.

"Well, we're done here," Harry said. "So I'm going to look for a way out."

"How did you get out before?" Dumbledore asked, following Harry.

"Fawkes flew me and three others out, but we were younger then," Harry replied. "We weigh a bit more now, and it struck me that if Tom and Ginny could repeatedly come down here, there must be a way to get back that isn't fly up through the shaft."

"Sensible," Dumbledore agreed. He pulled out his wand and cast a revealing charm. The door behind them and in Slytherin's mouth both glowed golden, as did a hidden door to their right.

Harry first scaled the statue of Slytherin, leaning the sword against it to do so, taking the time to peer in the mouth. He quickly waved away the smell, and pointed his lit wand into the hole. It revealed nothing but snake droppings and more bones. He descended again, retrieving the sword.

"Thought there might be some kind of study or something," Harry explained.

"In the mouth of a statue?" Hermione asked in disbelief.

"You never know," Harry said shrugging. Then he went to the new door hidden behind some columns. It was another round portal door covered in snakes. "Open." Much like the other door, the snake travelled around the outside of the door, releasing the latches. Then the door eased open. "It's a stair," he revealed.

Harry led the other three up what for what seemed like an eternity, winding up the dark stair. Eventually, they came to a landing by a blank wall. Professor Dumbledore cast another revealing charm, and a stone in the wall glowed in the near darkness. Harry pushed it, and the wall sprung open.

Harry and the others stumbled into the fifth floor. He looked around while the others brushed their clothes off. Dumbledore cast another charm, revealing a corresponding stone marked with a crudely carved snake.

"This would appear to be another entrance," Dumbledore observed.

"This is near where Justin and Nearly Headless Nick were found," Harry blurted. Hermione nodded. Neville yawned.

"Perhaps we should get you a place to rest for tonight, and continue our discussions in the morning?" Professor Dumbledore suggested.

"Follow me, you lot," Harry said brightly, sensing if not an end, then perhaps a pause, in sight. He made his way to the seventh floor corridor with the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. With the others looking on, Harry paced three times in front of the blank wall before a door sprung into being. Harry pushed it open, revealing a room outfitted with three beds, all draped with curtains with a set of pyjamas laid out on each, a divider running down the middle to separate one of the beds from the others, and a door on the opposite end.

"Yet another secret revealed," Dumbledore breathed, as the four of them entered. "You are a most fascinating individual, Mr. Potter."

"The Room of Requirement, Professor," Harry stated simply, wandering over to one of the beds and tossing the Sword of Gryffindor upon it.

"As I had deduced," Dumbledore replied, inspecting the room. "Though rumoured, like the Chamber of Secrets, I had never believed I would see it."

"You would've eventually, sir," Harry replied as Neville collapsed into the other bed without even removing his shoes. "I think I recall you saying you had a desperate need for a loo, and this room appeared from nowhere full of chamber pots."

"That does sound like me," Dumbledore chuckled. "Shall I collect you in the morning for breakfast?"

"I think it would probably be best if we just ate in the kitchens," Harry replied thoughtfully as he removed his shoes. On the other side of the screen, he could hear Hermione readying herself for bed.

"Very well," Dumbledore agreed. "Come to my office when you're done, and we can continue our conversation. Perhaps then you can reveal to me what exactly it is that you need from me." With a nod, Dumbledore left, closing the door gently behind him.

Harry looked over to see Neville was already snoring. From the far side of the curtain he heard quiet weeping.

"Hermione," he called softly. "Are you decent?"

"Yes," she sniffed. Harry rose and walked around the screen. Hermione was in pyjamas sitting on the edge of her bed, wiping her eyes. Harry crossed quickly and knelt in front of her.

"This is properly bolloxed up isn't it?" he asked, trying to draw her out.

"Yes." He took her hands in his.

"We're going to get back," Harry promised. "Professor Dumbledore will help us."

"What if he can't? What if we can't get home? What if we're stuck here? I'll never see my mum and dad again."

"If that's the case, I'll be your family," Harry said firmly. "And you must've gone round the twist if you think you won't be seeing your mum and dad again."

"What, in twenty-seven years you're going to pop us over to the flat they got together in uni and say, 'Oh, hello Dan, Emma, I'd like to introduce you to your adult daughter, Hermione. You see, you work out after all, and get married in 1977. She won't be born for another two years after that, and bonus, she's a witch!'" At that, she broke down laughing at a combination of the absurdity of the premise and the deep voice she'd been affecting.

"I thought I might do, yeah," Harry rejoined, grinning.

"They're not even born yet!" Hermione protested.

"Ever wanted to meet your grandparents as people just a bit older than us?" Harry asked. "'Cause now you can!"

"I think that'd mess up the timeline," Hermione protested.

"Doubtful," Harry shrugged. "If that were true, then I wouldn't've been able to slay the basilisk."

"Oh…" Hermione trailed off, realizing what he'd said. "But…"

"Yeah, I didn't think of that until just now," Harry told her, moving up to the bed and sitting beside her.

"That would be a point in favour of the argument that we're stuck here," Hermione reasoned, taking his hand in hers.

"I can't think of anyone I'd rather be stuck in the past with, Hermione. You're my best friend, and the smartest person I know, hands down."

"So what are you going to do?"

"I dunno," Harry shrugged. "Listen to what the professor has to say tomorrow, and play it by ear. I might look up my grandparents. Or, it sounds like I can make some easy money selling that basilisk. I'm pretty sure I could make a killing in the stock market. IBM… Ford… Apple… BP… Microsoft… Tesco…"

"Okay, okay." Hermione laughed. Then she stopped, turning serious. "Thanks Harry. I'm glad it's you I'm stuck in the past with." He let go her hand and gave her a quick hug.

"See you in the morning," he said, before rising and returning to his own bed. He didn't bother changing into the pyjamas, and was out moments after he climbed under the covers.

On the far side of the room Hermione crawled under her own covers, pointed her wand at the light and said, "Nox." Harry hadn't noticed that the Sword of Gryffindor had already faded away, awaiting the next time it was needed.

ooOOOOoo

Harry, Hermione and Neville found themselves standing outside the Gryffindor Head's office at nine the next morning. The trio had had a bit of a lie in as they'd been up late the night before. Around them, students were hustling past to class, most of them barely sparing a glance at the trio. It was a refreshing change of pace for Harry. He knocked.

The door swung open revealing Professor Dumbledore behind the desk. He grinned from behind his neatly trimmed brown beard. His robes were not yet the eye-watering ones he would come to favour later in life, nor was he wearing glasses. He almost looked like a different person, but it was impossible to ignore the twinkle in his eyes.

"Do come in," he said, waving them in. "I have an hour before my next class, and I thought you might like an update." The trio entered and sat in the provided chairs, Harry in the centre, the unofficial leader.

"What happened to Mr. Crabbe?" Harry asked. He'd been thinking about him all morning; worrying through breakfast.

"Mr. Crabbe was taken to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement last night by myself after we parted ways for the evening. I had gone to the Headmaster's office, and found him there contemplating what to do with the man, and suggested it might be profitable to take you at your word. Rather than revive the man, I flooed with him to the Aurors. They revived him, and he began spouting what they believed to be nonsense. He was talking about a Dark Lord and Death Eaters.

"At my suggestion, they asked his name, then reviewed known family members of the Crabbe family. Finding him not among them, I proposed him to be a liar, and asked them to use veritasserum to question him. He then revealed he'd murdered, raped, and tortured several people. When he said in was 1996, I advised them to turn him over to the Department of Mysteries for study. They did so as soon as the first of them came into work this morning.

"I went with him, of course," Dumbledore chuckled as he remembered. "The Unspeakables were most perturbed about the state of their time room. I explained as best I could the events of the previous evening. They're asking to see you all. I told them it would be up to you."

"What do you think we should do?" Harry asked point blank.

"I think you should go to the Department of Mysteries today and speak with the Unspeakables," Dumbledore said. "They might be able to answer some of the questions that I cannot."

"What about beyond that? We all have living relatives. Do we go to them? How do we explain our situation to them? To the general public?" Harry's voice was strained with evident worry.

"Those are excellent questions which I will endeavour to help you answer," Dumbledore replied. "I think you should be wary however." He threw a copy of the Daily Prophet onto the table. 'Unknown Murdered!' shouted the headline. It showed a picture of the Death Eater Neville had identified as Rabastan LeStrange, missing a leg, cut in quarters, in the middle of Diagon Alley.

Neville, who'd thrown up at the sight of the dead basilisk the night before, didn't look away, but stared steely-eyed at the photo of the dead man. Hermione gave a squeak and backed up. Harry looked from the photo to Dumbledore.

"What happened?" Harry asked sharply.

"His body was discovered in Diagon Alley this morning. He'd been drawn and quartered. No culprit has been identified. I doubt one will be. The LeStranges are almost as well-known as practitioners of dark magic as the Blacks."

"You think he went home?" Harry deduced, leaning back in the chair.

"I think it's a good possibility," Dumbledore agreed. "You said you took the Knight Bus here?" Harry nodded. "I think our Mr. LeStrange simply apparated somewhere he shouldn't have, thinking it safe, not realizing it wasn't 1996."

"Where?"

"Knowing what some of the older families wards will do to unauthorized guests, my guess would be that he went to a LeStrange property, and had a run-in with whomever was living there." Dumbledore sighed. "Alas, we may never know for sure." He leaned forward. "Now I have a question for you." Harry nodded his assent. "Why were you in the Hall of Prophecy last night?"

"I am… will be, the subject of a prophecy," Harry replied, stumbling over the tense. "In early 1980, you interviewed a candidate for the divination professorship, and during that interview, she gave a prophecy regarding Tom Riddle and myself. It was intended by the Death Eaters that I would obtain the copy of that prophecy from the Department of Mysteries, and they would take it to Voldemort… Tom, to hear."

"He didn't know it?"

"He knew part of it, but not all."

"Do you know the contents of the prophecy?"

Harry reached into his robes, pulling out the prophecy orb he'd put there after he'd awoken in the time room. It still glowed brightly, the swirling blue-grey mist visible through the glass. The tag was still affixed, and Harry showed it to the professor.

"S.P.T to A.P.W.B.D. Dark Lord and Harry Potter. Who is S.P.T.?"

"Professor Sybill Trelawney. I don't know what her middle name was." Harry rotated the orb in his hands. "How do you listen to the prophecy?"

"You must break the glass, and the prophecy is revealed." Dumbledore conjured a small bowl on the table. "Please," he said, gesturing to the bowl. Harry placed the sphere in the bowl. Dumbledore shot a piercing hex at the orb, and it shattered. The swirling mist filled the bowl and a ghostly image of Professor Trelawney appeared over the rim.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..."

"That is quite a bit to unpack," Dumbledore observed, sitting back and looking up at the ceiling in thought. He closed his eyes and tapped his fingers together.

"I… I was born on July 31, 1980," Harry stammered. "Tom killed my parents. He gave me this," he said, pulling back his fringe to display the scar.

"How?" Dumbledore asked, leaning forward again.

"You told me it was a killing curse."

"Hmm," Dumbledore murmured. "Were your parents dead when Tom attacked you?"

"They died right before he attacked me," Harry revealed softly.

"That would do it," Dumbledore nodded. "It appears that your parents' sacrifices saved you."

"So now I have to kill Tom Riddle."

"The prophecy clearly said defeat," Dumbledore countered quickly. "You needn't kill him."

"Yes I do," Harry replied firmly.

"Sir," Hermione interjected. "Tom Riddle causes more deaths and violence in Britain than any dark lord or lady since Morgan le Fay. His reign of terror became something like a civil war. If Harry can stop him now, kill him now, perhaps that won't happen. You of all people should know that. You just killed Grindelwald!"

Dumbledore sighed and looked between Harry and Hermione. In a moment he seemed to age two decades.

"My greatest regret," he said slowly, "was that I had to face Gellert. He was my… friend. I wanted anything but to have to face him. But now he has the opportunity to see the light. He has the opportunity to be reformed."

"What do you mean reformed?" Harry asked. "Didn't you kill him?"

"No," Dumbledore said. "He's imprisoned at the Fortress of Nurmengard in Austria. You see, you needn't kill Tom Riddle. Indeed, I doubt it's possible at this point." He gave Harry a significant look. "He can be reformed; shown the error of his ways. I ask you to let me try."

"You know where he is?" Harry pressed, leaning forward.

"I do," Dumbledore nodded. "But I won't tell you. I ask that you respect my request."

"But he's already killed!" Harry shouted. He was so close to ending things, he didn't want to let the opportunity slip through his fingers. "You heard Myrtle!"

"Yes," Dumbledore replied calmly. "It is unfortunate, and Tom shall pay for his sins. But we have Azkaban for that, and Ministry procedure must be followed."

"You're dooming Britain to decades of fear," Harry shot back.

"I think not," Dumbledore said with a dismissive air.

"Last night!" Harry said, rising suddenly. "Last night you said you suspected Tom Riddle of misdeeds while he was at school. Did you try to reform him then?"

"Alas, I did not," Dumbledore answered. "I had no proof. I do now, and I will confront him about what I've learned and try to turn him from his path."

"But in the future…"

"The future is not written in stone," Dumbledore cut him off sharply. "You yourselves have proven that. You defeated the basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets, despite that not occurring until the 1990s. You said so yourself. And yet, here you are, having defeated the basilisk twice, and remembering both times. Armed with knowledge, I can go to Tom and convince him to see reason."

"And if you can't?" Harry asked sharply.

"I can," Dumbledore replied. "We share a special bond."

"Oh?" Harry pressed.

"As Deputy Headmaster, I visited his orphanage, and introduced him to the Wizarding world."

"Forgive me, sir, if I don't share your optimism," Harry spat. Then he sighed, resigned. "How will we be getting to the Department of Mysteries?"

"You'll need to use the floo in the Headmaster's office," Dumbledore said, standing. "I'll escort you." He came around the desk and opened the door, ushering the trio out into the hall. Neville hadn't said a word the entire time. He looked some combination of frightened and embarrassed. Harry decided to worry about that later.

"You know what I'll really miss?" Hermione asked, making conversation as they followed Dumbledore.

"What?"

"The music. Half the music I grew up listening to—and love—is gone. I mean, I love classical music, and that's still around. Swing is fun, in its own way, too, I suppose. But I'm going to miss rock."

"First… You'll miss rock?" Harry asked, wonder in his voice. "Second, it'll come around again, you just have to wait."

"True. But we'll be so old when it does…"

"How…"

"My dad listens to Queen, Oasis, and AC/DC in the car. I mean, he listens to other stuff too, like the Cure, and Motorhead, but I like Queen and AC/DC the best."

"What about your mum?"

"She's into Tom Jones, George Michael, David Bowie, and Elton John."

"I'd've though you'd like that sort of music," Harry observed. "Or Madonna, Blondie, Michael Jackson, Celine Dion, or Cindi Lauper."

"They're all ok" Hermione shrugged. "But every time I hear the opening chimes of 'Hell's Bells' I get a shiver down my spine. And 'Bohemian Rhapsody' is just sublime."

Harry had to stop abruptly, nearly running into Dumbledore. He'd stopped, as they'd arrived at the entrance to the headmaster's office.

"Iron Maiden," Dumbledore spoke the password. The gargoyle leapt aside as Harry and Hermione traded a look and then broke down in gales of laughter. "What's so funny?" They never answered him, finally pulling themselves up off the floor and straightening their robes.

"Temporal joke," Hermione said finally. Dumbledore shrugged and led them up the winding stairs to the office.

"Hello, Albus…" Dippet began from behind his desk, though he stopped short upon seeing the three children. "What are you doing with them?" he asked sourly.

"Flooing them to the Department of Mysteries," Dumbledore said calmly as he moved to the fire place. Harry looked around the office. It looked different. The portraits of the former heads were there, of course, but there was a very comfortable seating area off to the side, and a different desk that somehow managed to look both imposing and pompous at the same time. The whirring gadgets were nowhere to be seen. It looked darker—not dark precisely, but less welcoming than it had in Harry's past.

"I don't know what you're trying to prove," Dippet grumped from his seat, realizing he'd lost the bulk of the argument, and disliking it intensely.

"I'm not trying to prove anything," Dumbledore replied easily. "I'm merely trying to resolve a riddle." Harry raised an eyebrow at that. "These children might be able to shed some light on their situation. The Unspeakables asked for them directly."

"Always trying to curry favour with the Ministry, aren't you, Albus," Dippet observed snidely. "They already made you Chief Warlock after you turned down the Minister's position."

"Headmaster, I neither sought that position, nor did I expect it. I merely accepted it when offered."

"Ah yes, the consolation prize," Dippet shot back. "Couldn't give up the influence teaching provides to take the Minister's spot, but you jump when they dangle the ability to sit in judgement and guide legislation. I see right through you, Albus. The board might not, but I do."

"In any case," Dumbledore said comfortably, "we must be off. I'll return shortly. Harry…" He held out the bowl of floo powder. "The destination is the Ministry of Magic." Harry scooped some out, threw it in the fire and said the destination firmly, stepping into the flames. He whirled away.