Chapter Three His Friends

Lupin stood in the hallway at Hogwarts and questioned Sir. Nicholas De Mimsy-Porpington, otherwise known as, Nearly Headless Nick, Gryffindor's resident ghost.

"Nick, did you see anyone in the hallways? Did you see Harry Potter?"

The ghost was standing very erect as if at attention and showing polite respect towards the man in front of him. "No, Professor Lupin. I have not seen Harry since the end of last term. Is there cause for concern?" The ghosts eyebrows were knit together in worry.

"He was here a short while ago," Lupin said in disgust. "I have lost his trail." He turned to go and the ghost swirled around in front of him. Remus put on the brakes to keep from walking through the ghost. He was well aware of how uncomfortable the feeling was, having experienced the sensation several times before.

"Perhaps the house elves have seen him," Nearly Headless Nick proposed.

"No, I think not," Remus said and side-stepped to go around. Nearly Headless Nick floated in front of him to block that exit.

"Since we are discussing the house-elves, perhaps you can find a moment to talk to them. They are very disturbed by Dumbledore's death and fear that if school does not start again that they will be left 'unemployed'." The ghost wrung his hands, cleared his throat and continued. "You and I know that they will not find employment elsewhere. Their leader...."

"Leader?" Lupin repeated raising his eyebrow. "They have a leader?"

"Oh, yes. One of them befriended Harry Potter early on although he served the Malfoy family; he was a servant to Lucius Malfoy at the time. He actually warned Harry Potter of danger to himself when the Chamber of Secrets was opened. Harry returned his good deed by setting him free. The house-elf chose to work at Hogwarts for a salary and he has asked my advice on the matter of their future employment."

"Yes, I seem to remember him hanging around. Dotty is his name?" Lupin said quickly, wanting to move on, his mind on other matters. The ghost had other ideas and seemed to be floating in his path no matter which way he turned.

"No, Professor; it is Dobby."

"Dobby." Lupin studied the wall just behind the ghost and nodded to himself. "They have an uncanny way of finding people don't they. Dumbledore told me he was especially fond of Harry if I remember."

Lupin was speaking more to himself then to the ghost and yet Nearly Headless Nick answered. "Yes, they do. Humans have observed many of their talents, although, if you will pardon my observations, they have made light of or neglected their importance."

Remus turned on his heel and started towards the dungeons. He was well aware of how to locate the entrance to the kitchens. "Thanks Nick. You've been very helpful." The ghost bowed deeply and found to his dismay that he had to right himself quickly or find his head slung over his shoulder hanging by a ghastly thread. "You are most welcome, Professor Lupin."

While Lupin sought out Dobby, Minerva McGonagall emptied the contents of the Pensieve and carried it in a fishbowl size container to the Library. The librarian, Madam Pince, was in the library but not to be located immediately. Minerva McGonagall knew that during the summer the woman spent inordinate amounts of time sorting and cataloguing old manuscripts and scrolls. These she placed in a special vault and the faculty were the only ones with access.

"Ima?" Minerva called cradling the sealed bowl. "Are you there?

The thin faced, sullen woman stepped out from behind a bookcase. "Yes, Minerva?"

"There you are," McGonagall said and stepped forward. "I have the contents of Albus Dumbledore's Pensieve. You know what to do."

The librarian nodded and took the precious item into her arms. She studied it for a moment, closed her eyes and then frowned. "Minerva there is a problem here."

"Really? What could that be?" McGonagall asked.

"Another person's thoughts are combined in this container with Dumbledore's."

"Really!" McGonagall exclaimed with surprise.

"Oh yes, I am quite sure." Madam Pince said. "I believe I detect.....yes, it's very clear.... Professor Snape has also included some of his own thoughts."

McGonagall stared at the opaque orb and put out a hand. "Don't put it away just yet. Remus Lupin may still be in the castle. He will want to hear about this." She headed out the door, stopped and turned again. "I shall also want to look in the vault for anything that you might have on Horcruxes."

Madam Pince jumped and the glass bowl flew from her hands. McGonagall was very quick to draw her wand and stop it before it reached the ground. "Ima, please do be careful with that!"

The librarian held it firmly in her hands and glared at the back of the older witch as she left. "Horcruxes!" she whispered. "You expect to find dark magic in my library?! That will be the day!"

Several book flew off the shelf and spoke to her as she passed them on her way to her vault. She turned and pulled her wand out in a threatening manner. "That will be quite enough from you!"

In another part of the world, where the everyday business of muggles was taking place, Hermione Granger packed the last of her belongings into a box. She had been preparing, like Harry, to make a move- a permanent move- into the wizarding world. Although, there was no news yet about Hogwarts opening for the next term, she had made plans. She was going to leave her parents and join the wizarding world.

She knew there was grave danger there, but her heart was always with wizard's and witches and not with muggles, even though she loved her parents. She had one year to complete, if it became possible, and then she would choose a career and live there the rest of her life. Her closest friends, Ron and Harry, were there and she could not see herself being anywhere else. She snapped the traveling suitcase closed and surveyed her room. There was nothing left to hint at her 'magical' side.

She nodded and took a deep breath. Saying goodbye to her parents would be the last and hardest thing to do. It wasn't like she was going off to University and would see them now and again. As she had explained to them, the danger that threatened her might threaten them. If she were gone, then they would be safer and of course they had not wanted her to go.

She picked up the valise and headed down the stairs. She also carried a map in her bag.

Hermione had been busy during the summer months. She knew Harry better than anyone else and she knew he would leave her and Ron behind and try to find Snape and the Horcruxes alone. She was neither angry or disturbed by it. That's just the way he was. And so she had done research through the summer.

Hermione made her best guess and booked a seat on the train to Hogsmeade and from there she intended to go North. She knew she could use another means of travel, as long as it wasn't flying, but she liked the train and he would be waiting for her. She had written a lengthy letter explaining every thing to him.

"If McGonagall's letter should show up saying that school is in session," she said to her mother at the door, "then send it back and write on the envelope Hogsmeade Post. "I'll check when I get there. Address it the way I've told you, it's Victor Krum in Bulgaria. Everyone knows him. That's the name you put on the letter and the owl will find him." She smiled at the owl she had specifically purchased for them, then tearfully kissed her mother and hugged her father and hurried down the walk to the waiting taxi.

Ron was still living at the Borough though the house was empty most of the time. He had avoided his mother and his sister all summer long and had taken long rides on a very old broom to stop and meditate in a quiet meadow where he could be alone. He felt mostly angry. His one and only close friend was Harry.

"You have to admit, I've been there with you all along, Harry," he said, staring at a crow sitting on a post. He had taken to talking to his absent friend as if he were present. "I helped you get to the Sorcerer's Stone and I went with you to battle the Basilisk, even if I didn't quite make it all the way because of that twit Lockhart. And I fought at the Department of Mysteries. I never thought I would do that! My family, my dad and my sister have been hurt, almost killed, and I never complained. I even let you date my sister." He frowned at that and threw a stone half-heartedly at the bird. It sat and squawked at him and didn't move. "And then there were the spiders. Spiders, Harry!" He shivered and shook his head. "You know I don't like spiders."

The sun beat down on the field of long grasses and the air was still. There was no breeze or sound except for buzzing insects and birds in the trees that shaded him. "It's not that I'm afraid exactly," he said and threw another stone. "But I am afraid. Anybody in their right mind would be. You and Hermione just don't understand things. Lots and lots of wizards think that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named can't be defeated. If that isn't bad enough, there's the Horcruxes. It makes him immortal. Blimey! That means he lives forever, Harry. Now that Dumbledore's gone we don't stand a chance!"

"What are you starin' at?" he said nastily at the black bird. He turned the wand in his hands that he always carried and made a slight movement with it. He conjured a gingham tablecloth which he laid on the grass and then a tall glass of cold pumpkin juice.

He sat back on the bank under the tree and sipped it. "Ok Harry, I figure I can do that. I probably can find something you or Hermione might have overlooked. You know I'm not altogether useless, I'm not a coward." He drank the tall drink down and pushed himself off the ground. He had grown even more over the summer and was now the tallest in his family. He reached in his pockets and felt the objects there, counting and fingering them.

He had spent the morning at his brothers's shop in Diagon Alley and had filled his pockets with useful items from the shelves. He knew they would find out eventually but he didn't care. He figured he was as good as or better then Fred and George when it came to spell work. He'd never shown any aptitude for it at school but found that if he concentrated on doing one thing and doing it very, very well that he could pull it off enough to satisfy even Professor McGonagall, or Professor Flitwick.

"Ok then, Harry," he announced to the Black bird. "Here I go. No# 12 Grimmauld Place it is!" He disapparated into thin air leaving the cloth-covered table sitting in the field, the empty glass and the black bird on the fence.