Three quick things:

1. Thank you to my lovely and talented Betas, C & J. Without them I would not be the author I am today.

2. Do you think I should change the story summaries or maybe put them on my Bio page?

3. Why are you reading my silly notes when you could be reading the chapter?

Read and please review.

Chris


Chapter 11: Friendly Enemies

Harry Potter sat waiting for Potions class to begin and tried not to be surprised by his life, though recently he found that very hard to do. First, there had been the midnight visit from Ginny and Gwen the night before. After physically dragging him down to the deserted common room, they had announced quite casually that Gwen and Colin had crushes on him. Gwen, of course, had blushed furiously at the admission and Harry had felt his own face turning a rather respectable shade of red as well. Ignoring Colin's part in their news, Harry had accepted the announcement rather calmly. He then explained to Gwen that while he liked her well enough as a friend, there was only room enough in his heart for Ginny. That statement earned him a rather large hug and a kiss on the cheek from the madly grinning redhead in question and a look of understanding from Gwen.

That had not been the end of their announcements, though as it seemed the house-elf, Dobby, had finally revealed himself as at least one of Harry's mysterious attackers. Actually that was not absolutely certain, based on what the elf had said to Ginny. It was clear however that Dobby was behind the Weasleys having their memories modified and the series of events that had led to his estrangement from Ginny. Supposedly this was only done out of a misguided desire to protect Harry and Ginny. Still, it infuriated Harry to think that the house-elf had tampered with his adopted family in such a callous manner, even if it was with good intentions. It was only the fact that Dobby claimed Ginny had been in danger and was now apparently safe that kept Harry from tracking the house-elf down and giving him a good thrashing.

"Of course, he never did get to answer as to whether I'm still in danger or not," thought Harry. "Given the recent events I have to think I've still got a target on my forehead, literally. What I wouldn't give for a nice quiet, normal life just like everyone else."

"Good afternoon, class," called Professor Flamel as she entered the room and closed the door behind her.

"Good afternoon, Professor," everyone replied politely, even the Slytherin students.

Harry had to admire the Potion Mistress' style. Since her arrival and subsequent takeover as Head of Slytherin House, there had been a drastic change in her House's behavior. Much to the surprise of the other Houses, the Slytherins were much better behaved this year. A few of them were turning out to be friendly, even when she was not watching them. It was only bad apples like Malfoy and his gang that insisted on continuing the open hostilities against the other Houses, and Harry had to admit that much of that was his fault. It shamed Harry to admit it, but his embarrassing Malfoy in such a public manner had only served to fan the flames of Malfoy's hate and anger. Now it seemed Malfoy was merely biding his time until he could strike back at Harry and his friends.

"I would have been better off just punching the stupid plonker instead of embarrassing him like that," Harry thought to himself as he waited for Professor Flamel to reveal what their lesson would be for the day. "Nothing I can do now. I doubt he'd believe an apology."

"How are you all doing today?" asked Professor Flamel as she stepped to the front of the classroom.

There was a general murmur of replies. Professor Flamel always asked this question and no matter how many replies she received, she always seemed to hear them all. It was a rather impressive display on her part and one that always made everyone feel appreciated. Well, almost everyone. Draco Malfoy always seemed rather resentful that the Potions Mistress did not drop what she was doing to focus solely on him, but then Draco seemed to feel that way about almost everything. Harry just wrote it off as a character flaw, due to Draco's rather shoddy upbringing.

"Today we will be working on something rather fun," continued the professor. "If you turn to page 449 of your potions text, you will find the instructions for a potion that will lift your spirits, literally. The Fizzy Lifting Drink is actually rather easy to make and you will be allowed to take a bottle of it with you when you leave class today. Just remember, you are not allowed to use it inside the castle."

Turning to the page in question, Harry could barely suppress a chuckle. It was actually a rather famous potion, thanks to its mention in a Muggle movie. In fact, from the look on several people's faces, mostly Muggle-born, Harry could see that he was not the only one that appreciated the professor's little joke. At first Harry wondered why she had assigned such an easy potion to make, but he figured she must have had her reasons. Joining the line that had formed in front of the cabinet that held the rarer ingredients, Harry chatted quietly with Ron and Hermione. Unlike other professors, Professor Flamel did not have a problem with people talking in her class unless they were sharing work. Soon he had his supplies. Harry took his seat again and began setting up his equipment.

"Harry," a quiet voice said from behind him. "Have you thought anymore on who is attacking you?"

Looking up, Harry realized the voice was that of Professor Flamel, and he nodded. "We know it was Dobby the house-elf that was behind the simpler attacks here and at the Burrow. We still don't know who was behind the attacks in the hallways though."

Professor Flamel nodded and whispered, "Have you noticed any other strange occurrences, other than that? They could be more important than you know."

"There was the attack on Mrs. Norris," Harry replied, cutting up his newt's tail. "Other than that, I can't think of anything else. You probably know more about that than I do."

Professor Flamel nodded and Harry could see the sadness in her eyes as she answered, "I do, Harry. Believe me when I tell you that I want to tell you what's going on, but I had to swear a Wizard's Oath not to tell you."

"I take it that Mr. Knight feels I need to figure this out for myself?" guessed Harry, his voice laced with bitterness.

"I know, Harry," sighed Professor Flamel, patting Harry's shoulder. "He doesn't like it anymore than you do."

As soon as the Potions Mistress had walked away, Hermione leaned over so only Harry and the others could hear her whisper, "So, there really is more going on than we originally thought."

"And Mr. Knight knows what it is," added Neville in a hushed voice.

Ron grunted and nodded his head mumbling sarcastically, "But he isn't going to tell us. Awful nice of him, don't you think?"

Harry nodded again, silently agreeing with his friends as he added the last ingredient to his potion before setting it to simmer. "I think we need to call a meeting tonight and make a list of anything strange that's happened so far. If the Professor thinks it's important, I have to wonder why."

"I'll pass the message, Harry," volunteered Ron.

"Good," Harry said with a nod. "I'm going to ask Professor McGonagall if she can get in touch with Sirius and Remus. If it's possible, I think they should be here as well."

"Should we invite Professor Flamel and Professor Lockhart?" asked Neville as he stirred his simmering potion.

Glancing up at the Potions Mistress, Harry nodded. "I'll ask, but if they have promised Mr. Knight that they won't tell me anything, then I'm not sure how much help they'll really be."

Hermione suddenly smiled deviously saying, "Maybe it's not about what they will answer, Harry. Maybe it's really about what they won't answer."

"That's brilliant, Hermione!" exclaimed all three boys at once.

Several hours later, the four friends found themselves gathered together in the Transfiguration classroom with all the other members of their little group. Professor Flamel had not been able to attend, but she had made arrangements to sneak Sirius into the school for the night. Remus had been unable to attend due to the full moon. It felt good to see his uncle again, even though it had only been a short time since he had seen him last. Looking around the rest of the room, Harry felt that possibly they would be able to solve this mystery if they worked together. With the addition of his uncle, Harry had a good feeling that they could accomplish anything.

"You look good, Harry," said Sirius, walking over and giving his adopted nephew a hug. "I can't say I wasn't worried about you, what with all these attacks."

"I know," agreed Harry, hugging his uncle back tightly. "We did manage to find out who was behind some of the attacks. Seems a house-elf named Dobby, the same one we saw at the Den, was behind several of the attacks. He admitted to Ginny that he was behind the attack at the Burrow as well. I guess he thought if he kept Ginny and me apart that she would be safe, or something just as silly."

If Sirius was surprised by Harry's revelation, he did not show it as he spoke. "That makes sense actually. Everything I discovered about that attack pointed to a magical creature being involved. Knowing that a house-elf was involved just clears up the rest of the muck. Their magic is completely different than a witch's or wizard's. Knowing this, though, I think I can undo the spell he used to modify their memories. I'll ask Molly for her help tonight when I get home and let you know the results. Meanwhile, you should check out the books in your satchel for ideas on how to defend yourself against memory charms."

"I'll do that tonight before bed," assured Harry with a wide grin. "We better get this meeting started if we want to get anything done tonight."

After a few minutes of pleasant conversation, they all took seats around the large round table that Professor McGonagall had Transfigured for them. However, no sooner had Harry taken his seat between Sirius and Ginny when there was a loud banging on the door. Sirius quickly ducked down below the table as Professor McGonagall walked over and opened the door. The door was barely open when a heavily breathing Professor Lockhart ducked inside, closing the door behind him. Harry looked at the disheveled professor and realized that things were not going to go well for them.

"You have to get out of here," panted Professor Lockhart. "The Headmaster knows about your meeting and he's on his way here now to break it up. I convinced Hagrid to delay him, but that won't last very long."

"Bloody hell," swore Harry under his breath, causing Ginny to giggle. "Everyone, get back to the common room right now. I'll stay here with Professor McGonagall. Dumbledore already knows we're meeting here tonight, so we'll let him find us practicing Transfigurations. Now, go!"

As strange as it might seem to an outsider to see so many people taking orders from a twelve year-old boy, that is exactly what everyone did. Sirius hugged his godson tightly, then turned and sprinted out the door without saying a word. Harry's friends and Professor Lockhart were next to leave, throwing worried glances at Harry as they escaped. Only Ginny refused to leave, instead plopping down at an empty desk. As Professor McGonagall changed the table and chairs back into their original forms, Harry stalked towards Ginny.

"You need to go, now, Ginny!" urged Harry with a pleading look.

"Not a chance, Harry," replied Ginny, crossing her arms across her chest. "I'm not leaving you alone."

"Now listen here," began Harry, but he was cut off by a harsh cough from Professor McGonagall.

Harry spun around, pulling his wand as he did so. He looked at the table in front of him and saw that on one end was a large cage filled with white mice. On the other end of the table was a pile of several badly transfigured tea cups. When he realized that the Transfiguration teacher had purposefully botched the transfiguration of the mice into tea cups, Harry almost burst into laughter. However a moment later, the door to the classroom burst open revealing the Headmaster staring at Harry with eyes that held no trace of their normal twinkle. It was only the fact that both Harry and Professor McGonagall seemed to be in the middle of a lesson that prevented the Headmaster from doing anything hasty.

"Now if you remember to concentrate on your outcome, you'll get far better results, Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall said calmly before turning to look at the Headmaster. "Hello, Albus. To what do we owe this visit?"

"Hello, Headmaster," chorused Harry and Ginny with what they hoped were believable smiles.

Dumbledore seemed to reevaluate the situation in a moment, smiling suddenly as the twinkle returned to his eyes. "Oh, I was just out on a stroll about the castle. One of the drawbacks of reaching my age is I find it difficult to fall asleep without a bit of exercise. I was just about to return to my quarters when I noticed the light on in your classroom, Minerva. I thought it best to make sure none of the students were doing things they should not be."

Harry listened to the Headmaster's explanation with a sense of detachment. While on the surface, it would sound perfectly logical and even reasonable for the Headmaster to be wandering about the castle at night, Harry knew the real reason the man was here. With that knowledge, Harry could see whole new levels of meaning behind the Headmaster's words. The fact that, as Dumbledore spoke, Harry could see the man's fist was tightly clenched around the strange crystal he always carried only served to put Harry even more on edge.

"Bloody thing gives me the creeps," he thought to himself, tearing his eyes away from the strange crystal.

Glancing at Ginny, Harry saw that she had noticed the crystal as well, but her reaction was more severe than his own. Ginny's face had gone so pale that her freckles looked like drops of red paint on white marble. It was only when she realized that Harry was looking at her that Ginny tore her eyes away from the crystal. She looked up at Harry from where she sat with eyes filled with what he could only call terror. He wanted to ask her what was wrong, but Ginny suddenly jerked her head towards the table and mouthed, "Practice." Harry understood what she meant and turned his attention back to the table in front of him.

Reaching into the cage, Harry pulled out one of the white mice and set it down on the table in front of him. The terrified mouse tried to scurry away from what it must have known was coming, but Harry made a jabbing motion with his wand, which caused the mouse to freeze in its tracks. Harry had not actually cast a spell, but instead had silently commanded the mouse to remain still. Without even thinking about it, Harry pointed his wand at the mouse again and once again commanded it silently. However, this time the command was for the mouse to become a perfect teacup, which the mouse promptly changed into. He had felt the magic seemed to rush down his arm and out his hand, bypassing his wand altogether. Whatever the method, there on the table in front of him was now a perfect teacup with images of little dancing mice upon its sides.

"Mr. Potter had asked for some help with his basic Transfiguration skills," Professor McGonagall was saying in answer to a question from the Headmaster. "I had some free time tonight, so we have been working on basic animal transformations. Miss Weasley asked if she could join us and I approved."

"Very admirable," replied Dumbledore, now staring at the teacup in front of Harry. "Mr. Potter seems to have made great progress with your help. If I might ask, Mr. Potter, when did you learn to cast spells silently?"

Harry looked up at the Headmaster rather confused before he realized he had not actually used a spell on the mouse to Transfigure it. Glancing at Professor McGonagall, he saw her looking rather surprised as she looked at the teacup he had just created. Obviously silent casting was not something that someone his age normally did, though he knew for a fact that his uncles and Tonks did it all the time. Thinking quickly, Harry formulated a reply to the Headmaster's question that he hoped would not lead to any questions he did not want to answer yet.

"My uncles have been teaching me, Sir," he answered as calmly as possible. "I really didn't get it until Professor McGonagall started tutoring me."

Turning to look at Professor McGonagall, the Headmaster seemed to be examining her for any sign that what Harry was saying was true before he turned back to Harry saying, "Is that right, Minerva? Nonverbal spell casting is a rather advanced technique for a second year student, don't you agree?"

"Actually, Albus, Mr. Potter seems to be a natural at it," she answered without hesitation. "However, this is the first time that he has gotten such exemplary results with it. I think house points are in order for such fine work. Wouldn't you agree, Albus?"

Dumbledore seemed to consider that for a moment before smiling back at Harry with the first genuine smile Harry could remember seeing from him all year long. "I do indeed, Minerva. Five points to Gryffindor for your fine work, Harry, and an extra five points if you can reverse the spell."

"I completely agree," Professor McGonagall said with a smile of her own. "So, Mr. Potter, can you change the teacup back into a mouse?"

Harry thought about it for a moment, glancing at Ginny for support. Ginny gave Harry a brilliant smile, which filled him with confidence. Turning back to the teacup, Harry once again focused on what he wanted to happen and silently commanded the teacup to become a mouse. Once again he felt the magic flowing down his arm and out his hand. A moment later, the cup shimmered and seemed to fold back in on itself as it became the little white mouse that it had started out as. Hiding the surprised look on his own face, Harry wondered if he had always been able to do this, or if it was some new talent he had just stumbled across. Whatever the case might be, he was sure that this ability would come in handy if he could apply it to other spells.

"Wonderful work, Mr. Potter!" exclaimed Professor McGonagall.

"I wholeheartedly agree," added Dumbledore. "Five more points to Gryffindor for a most impressive display of nonverbal spell work. Well done, Mr. Potter."

An hour later after many more displays of nonverbal casting and nearly one hundred points for Gryffindor being awarded by the Headmaster, Professor McGonagall finally announced that it was time to call it a night. Dumbledore almost seemed reluctant to let Harry leave, but after Ginny's fifth yawn in as many minutes, he seemed to realize he could not keep the two youngsters any longer. Saying a final farewell and good night, the Headmaster left to return to his quarters as Professor McGonagall escorted Harry and Ginny back to their common room.

"I'm a little surprised by all of that," Harry said once he was sure Dumbledore was not following them. "That's the first time this year he's actually been nice to me, or at least not scowling at me."

"Whatever else Albus may be now, he was once the best Transfiguration teacher this school had ever seen," replied the professor.

"I can't imagine anyone being better at Transfiguration than you, Professor," Ginny said, trying not to yawn as she said it. "I will say that I liked him much better the way he was tonight rather than how he normally is."

"Thank you, Miss Weasley, but I assure you that the Headmaster's skills far outshine my own. What you saw tonight was the Albus Dumbledore I remember from before the rise of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," replied the older woman with a sad smile before looking back at Harry. "Your skills with nonverbal casting seem to have brought that side of his personality back to the forefront tonight. It was really very surprising to see someone as young as you with the focus to nonverbally cast such complex spells. Did your uncles really teach you how to do that?"

Harry shook his head before looking up at his teacher. "Actually, no they didn't. I've seen them do it loads of times, but this was the first time I ever did it myself. To be honest, I didn't even realize I was doing it until the Headmaster pointed it out to me. For some reason I just didn't want to tell him that. Please, don't tell him?"

"You have my word, Harry," she said softly, using his first name to show her sincerity. "I will not tell anyone of this until you tell me it is acceptable to do so."

"Thanks, Minerva," replied Harry with a crooked grin that made the older woman laugh.

"You obviously inherited your father's mischievous nature," she said with a laugh. "Although given who your uncles are, I suppose that cannot be helped. I wonder what else you have learned from them over the years."

"Oh, I still have a few secrets," Harry replied with a mysterious sparkle in his eyes. "Someday I may just show you a few tricks they've taught me."

"I look forward to that day, Harry."

The rest of the way back to the Gryffindor common room was filled with quiet chatter and the occasional laugh. Professor McGonagall asked Harry to stop by her classroom the following night after dinner for an actual teaching session. Harry agreed on the condition that Ginny could join them, to which the older woman immediately agreed. Saying farewell soon afterwards when they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, Harry gave the password and they parted ways. No sooner had Harry stepped inside with Ginny than his friends were there.

"How'd it go, Harry?" asked Neville as soon as he and Ginny made their way over to a couch and sat down.

"It was really very surprising," answered Ginny, sliding over and sitting closely next to Harry.

Harry nodded, wrapping an arm around Ginny's small shoulders. "Believe it or not, Dumbledore was actually really nice to me tonight. He was giving us tips on how to perform certain types of Transfigurations easier. I actually learned a lot from him."

"Yeah," agreed Ginny in a sleepy voice as she rested her head on Harry's shoulder. "He got really interested when Harry started casting the spells nonverbally."

"Harry!" exclaimed Hermione, looking both disappointed she had missed out on the private lesson from Dumbledore and shocked at Harry's ability. "You got private lessons from Dumbledore, and you were casting spells nonverbally? That's really advanced magic. We don't learn that until our sixth year. How did you learn to do it?"

"Calm down and be quiet, Hermione," hissed Harry, looking around to see if anyone had overheard her. "We don't need anyone overhearing us and spreading what I can do to my enemies, now do we?"

"Sorry, Harry," mumbled Hermione, looking as if she was about to cry. "I just got so excited."

Harry nodded and smiled at her saying, "I know, and I'm sorry I snapped at you. Just keep your voice down, okay?"

Quickly running through the details of his odd encounter with Dumbledore, Harry tried to come to grips with the fact that the Headmaster was not always against him. It was a strange concept to him, and not one that was easy to come to terms with. Dumbledore had seemed to go out of his way to punish Harry for independent thinking, not to mention defending himself against attacks. It was almost as if there were two Albus Dumbledores. There was the one that seemed to want to control Harry's every move and then there was the one that everyone seemed to like and respect. It just did not make sense to Harry what had happened to make the Headmaster act the way he did.

"Wait a minute," Harry thought suddenly, turning to look down at where Ginny had drifted off to sleep, still leaning against him. "That crystal. Mr. Knight warned Dumbledore about it and Ginny seemed to be just as creeped out about it as I was. I've got to ask her about that tomorrow."

However, the following day seemed to be nothing but a continuing exercise in frustration for Harry. Not only did he not seem to be able to find any time to talk to Ginny, but everyone seemed determined to bother him over the smallest things. Whether it was one of his friends asking him about the previous night or the pile of homework that had built up, Harry seemed to be busy all day long. When it was finally time for dinner that night, Harry was sure that he would be able to talk to Ginny. Unfortunately she received a detention from Filch for tracking mud into the castle and was forced to eat quickly before reporting to the caretaker's office. So, frustrated that he was unable to talk to Ginny, Harry made his way alone though the hallways of Hogwarts to Professor McGonagall's office.

Knocking on her door, Harry barely waited a second before he heard the professor calling from inside, "Come in, Harry."

What followed was two hours of intense practice. Actually, it was more than intense. It was downright nasty and grueling work. Professor McGonagall had not only tested Harry's Transfiguration skills, but also his Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts skills. All of this was done non-verbally and with only a few exceptions he had done quite well. When she finally allowed him to leave, Harry wanted nothing more than to crawl into his nice soft and warm bed to sleep for at least twelve or so hours. That would have been too easy considering the rest of his day and soon enough Harry realized he was standing in a part of the castle he had never seen before.

The hallways were dark and dusty, though there were occasional spots of light on the floor from large stained glass windows. The images depicted in the windows were quite beautiful, especially since they moved just like magical portraits. Entering a rather short hallway, Harry looked at the wall to his right and saw four of the most beautiful windows he had seen yet. Each window was dedicated to a single figure and each was amazingly detailed. The first window was filled with the image of a very beautiful woman. Her long blonde hair flowed down her back as she walked through a field of roses the color of blood. Her gown, as it looked nothing like the robes that witches wore, was silver and looked like something a queen would wear.

"I wonder who she is?" Harry asked out loud, not expecting an answer.

"I was Queen Guinevere when I lived," answered the figure of the woman, turning to look at Harry. "I ruled by my King's side until circumstances pulled us apart."

"She means she shagged someone else," shouted the next window over. "I go off and fight one lousy war. She has to run off and diddle the hired help. Bint didn't even have the decency to write me a 'Dear Johnnie.' Off she goes with her knickers 'round her ankles, and not even a note."

Harry watched stunned as the figure he clearly recognized as Mr. Knight waved from the next window. "Sorry if I don't sound every bit the King I'm supposed to be, but some little prat chucked a Bludger through me a few years back. I guess some of the original glass was lost, so they replaced it with new. Never really been myself since then."

"An uncouth cad is what you are," shrieked the image of the legendary Queen. "I never abandoned my wifely duties! You speak lies, just as you did when you lured me to your bed on our wedding night."

"She was installed before she cheated on me," explained the image of King Arthur, making a rude hand gesture in the direction of his wife. "Says she doesn't know anything that happened after that, or so she claims. Neither does the fat bastard in the picture at the far end. He's the one she ran off with, Sir Lancelot du Lac, or as I like to call him, 'the fat bastard that diddled my wife and ran off with the royal jewels.'"

Harry looked at the window at the far end of the hallway and saw the image of a rather heavyset knight on a white horse. The knight seemed to be doing his best to hide behind a tree in the background, but between the size of his horse and the size of his belly, it was a losing battle. Glancing back and forth between the image of the beautiful woman and the fat knight, Harry just could not imagine how the two of them could have ever ended up together. It was as his eyes were roving back and forth that he noticed the figure in the fourth window.

The scene in the window was like the one of the Queen, only the roses were white rather than red in this scene. The woman was turned towards the scenery, so her face could not be seen, but her hair was long and red. Harry felt drawn to the image and stepped closer to it in order to get a better look. Unlike the other windows, this one did not seem to move at all. The other windows, now silent as Harry looked at their companion, looked sadly at the frozen image. Harry was surprised to hear the sound of crying from the Queen's image.

"We do not know her name," said the Queen when Harry looked over at her. "She was installed after us and we have no memory of her."

"Never would tell us why they put her here with us," added the King's image. "We never gave up trying to get her to tell us, but it's too late now."

"Why?" asked Harry, turning back to the frozen image.

"Same Bludger that got me turned right back around and shattered her," answered the King. "We're not like them fancy portraits that can go traipsing all over the bloody castle. We're stuck in these here windows. So, when that there Bludger shattered her window, there was nothing anyone could do about it. The magic they used to make her image wasn't as strong as what they used for the rest of us."

"Sadly, the lout speaks the truth, for once," continued the Queen. "Though they did toil for many days and nights, the magic that had granted her some small semblance of life was gone. The last thing we saw of her face, or heard of her voice, was a soft sigh as she turned to face the roses she loved so much."

The image of the King nodded, looking at Harry with a sad smile on his face. "Right after that the Bludger shattered her glass. Least she got to go while looking at her flowers. She sure loved them flowers."

Harry was still thinking about the sad image of the unknown woman several minutes later as he waved goodbye to the strange stained glass windows. From what he had been able to learn from the King and his former Queen, the part of the castle Harry was in now was actually part of an older castle that Hogwarts had been built around. None of the windows would tell him anything more than that and finally he grew tired of their bickering. So, deciding he wanted to know more about his surroundings, Harry began walking further along the deserted old hallways.

After about five minutes, Harry found himself at a dead end. Actually, that was not exactly true. There were three large wooden doors, one in each wall. Harry tried each of the doors, but only the one on the right side of the hallway seemed to be unlocked. Pushing against it, Harry felt how easily it moved and he wondered if the hallway was not as forgotten as he had originally thought. The fact that the hinges did not squeak only added to the mystery since he could smell fresh oil on them. Whatever the reason, Harry was curious now and he fully intended to see what was behind them.

Stepping inside the room as soon as the doors were open enough for him to squeeze through, Harry found himself in a strangely familiar room. In the darkness that filled the room, it was hard to see much of anything, but what little light there was did allow for some guesses. What he could see was half revealed by beams of moonlight through the high windows along the top of the walls. The bluish silver light seemed to make the shadows that much darker, making Harry wonder what was hiding in them. Thanks to the moonlight, what he could see gave him the impression that the room was about half the size of the Great Hall and filled with row after row of long wooden benches. At the far side of the room was a raised section of the floor. An aisle ran from the main doors to the raised section, rather like in a Muggle church. Harry wondered if that's what this had been at some point. His question was answered when he looked up at the far wall and noticed a very old looking stone cross carved into it.

"A chapel in Hogwarts?" Harry asked himself as he walked towards the front of the room.

"That's exactly right, young man," answered a voice from the shadows, causing Harry to spin around with his wand drawn. "No need for a wand here."

The voice sounded familiar to Harry. Unfortunately the acoustics of the room seemed to fill the air with strange echoes and whispers until it was impossible to recognize to whom the voice belonged. Oddly though, Harry could still understand the voice perfectly. That alone put Harry on edge because the voice could belong to anyone and that meant it could be the person that had been trying to kill him. Just the thought of that made Harry's hands sweaty and his heart race as it prepared for battle.

"Who are you?" demanded Harry as he scanned the shadows, his wand still drawn. "Step out where I can see you!"

There was a chuckle for a moment. Then the voice spoke softly, saying, "Since I have never seen you here before, it falls to me to pass on the rules of this place. This is a place of safety for all who enter its doors. It was built as part of the original castle that once stood here, long before Hogwarts was even a dream. As you can probably tell from the decorations, this chapel was consecrated to the Christian God. The King at the time, like most of the Kings in Europe, did not want to look as if he was a Pagan, so had this chapel built to appease the Church in Rome. It was at his command that this should be a safe place for all, a sanctuary if you will. So, even all these years later, any may enter here with no fear of being attacked."

"Great," grunted Harry, still not sure if he should trust the mysterious person. "I get it. This is a safe place. Still doesn't mean I want someone lurking in the shadows behind me."

The shadowy figure chuckled softly before speaking again. "You need not worry, young man. I am not your enemy, no matter what you might think. The commands of the King prevent those with dark intentions from entering. Even those with dark enchantments upon them may find some measure of relief here, ensuring that all may be safe. Have a seat and we shall talk."

Something about what the figure said bothered him, so Harry kept his wand drawn as he sat on one of the benches on the far side of the room. "So, you aren't going to tell me who you are?"

"No, though you are welcome to guess," replied the voice. "In this place I am just a man, with no greater or less authority than anyone else. I come here when I need to find some peace, and recently I feel the need for peace very strongly. Actually, in all the years I have been coming here, you are the only person I have ever known to find this place, other than myself."

"No one else ever comes here?" asked Harry, finding that rather odd. "That's a bit sad actually."

"More to the point, no one ever looks for a place like this," answered the voice. "I have a theory that this chapel, in fact this entire section of the castle is only able to be found by those that truly have a need to find it. I only found it by accident some years ago when several of the windows were damaged. If not for that, I doubt I ever would have discovered this place."

"Yeah, I talked with the windows before coming in here," Harry said, growing a little more comfortable with the unknown speaker. "One of them told me about a Bludger doing some damage. Do you by any chance know who the woman is in the window that doesn't move anymore?"

"Sadly, I don't," responded the voice. "I spent years trying to restore her, but it was beyond my skills. I have a theory that it was Merlin himself that enchanted those windows, and I am by no means on par with him. As for who she was, there are no mentions of her in any of the school histories. I fear her identity is lost to us, at least until someone with greater skill than mine finds a way to repair her."

Harry had a growing suspicion as to whom the shadowy figure was, but he decided not to confront them about it, yet. "So, you come down here for the peace and quiet?"

"Exactly right," replied the voice. "I come here to think, and to remember. As I grow older, I find that I need this place more and more. I have made many hard choices in my life, and sometimes they haunt me. Being so young, you may not understand what I mean."

"I think I understand better than you think," said Harry sadly. "Last year some of my friends got hurt because of me, and two people died. At the time it seemed like I was making the right choices, but afterwards I wasn't so sure."

"Maybe you do understand, after all," the voice said with a sigh. "I have always prided myself on the fact that my own choices have been for the greater good, but recently I find myself wondering if that is still true. It troubles me greatly that I have recently done things that even I do not fully understand."

This confused Harry, so he asked, "I'm not sure I understand what you mean, sir."

"Sadly, I am just as unsure as you, young man, and that worries me a great deal," replied the voice, suddenly sounding weak and unsure. "I was entrusted with something many years ago and I always thought I had the upper hand when dealing with it. Then, just over a year ago, a student arrived at the school. With his arrival I suddenly felt myself losing control of my emotions and lashing out at him for no reason. He did nothing wrong, merely defended himself against unwarranted attacks, and I acted as if he was attacking me personally. I am not proud of my actions."

"Do you think this thing you were entrusted with is starting to control you, sir?" asked Harry, leaning forward on his bench, ready to run if need be. "If so, then why don't you destroy it?"

Harry could hear a weak chuckle coming from the shadowy figure before it spoke again. "I have tried, young man. There has not been a night this year when I have not tried to seal it away or destroy it. Yet when I wake up the next morning, I find myself holding it in my hand as if it were my dearest possession. Twice I have thrown it in the lake, and twice I have woken with wet robes and the thing clenched in my fist."

"Have you told anyone else about this, sir?"

"I have tried," responded the voice sadly. "Each time I try to tell someone, I find that I am unable to speak of it, or else what I say is not what I intended. I fear that I am only truly free while I am here, and sadly I cannot stay here forever."

"I could help you if you want, sir," said Harry firmly. "I could go get it and hide it while you are here."

"If only you could," sighed the voice, sounding old and defeated now. "Try as I might, I cannot even remember where I put the damnable thing, or even what it is. I know that the moment I leave this room I will remember and retrieve it immediately, but right at this moment, I have no idea where it might be."

"Then I could go with you when you go to retrieve it," began Harry, but he was immediately cut off.

"No!" barked the voice. "I'm sorry, but I fear what I might do to you if you, or anyone else for that matter, were there when I retrieve it. If you truly want to help me, then ask your benefactor to do what he can to take the cursed thing from me. After all, it was he that gave it to me all those years ago."

"I'll do what I can, sir," said Harry with a firm resolve. "I can't say how soon I'll be able to get in touch with him, but I will do my best."

"Thank you," the voice replied gratefully. "'Til then I think it best if you try to keep your distance from me, at least once we are outside this room. I fear that whatever dark control that thing has over me is growing stronger with time."

"Can you fight it, sir?"

The figure stood now and a beam of moonlight from one of the chapel's windows revealed the tired and worn face of Albus Dumbledore. "I have been fighting it for a long time now, Harry, but I think I can fight a little bit longer."

"I'll do my best, sir," swore Harry, standing up to follow the headmaster from the room.

Dumbledore raised his hand, motioning for Harry to stay where he was. "Wait until I am gone, Harry. As I said, I do not know what I would do if I saw you outside this room. That is enough to frighten even me. Harry?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Keep Miss Weasley safe," said the headmaster as he turned towards the door. "I cannot say why. Maybe it's another memory that has been taken from me, but I feel that she is in danger. Keep her safe at all costs, Harry."

"I will, sir."

"Good," said the Headmaster, glancing over his shoulder to smile at Harry one last time. "I hope we can talk like this again sometime. Good night, Harry."

"Good night, sir."

Harry watched as the headmaster opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. No sooner was he out the door than Harry sat back down on the bench and began to cry. Tonight he had met the real Albus Dumbledore, the man that so many people admired and respected. This Dumbledore was kind and rather fun to talk with as opposed to the one that always seemed to be ready to strike out at Harry for no good reason. Even when Dumbledore had been teaching him about Transfiguration, Harry had wondered when the old man was going to lash out at him, but not this version of the man. This was the real Albus Dumbledore and Harry vowed he would do whatever it took to help him get free of whatever it was that was controlling him. The first step to doing that was getting some help.

Standing, Harry hurriedly made his way back to Gryffindor tower. He ran as fast as he could, which was actually quite fast, and soon found himself outside the portrait of the Fat Lady. Shouting the password, Harry ducked inside and was heading up the stairs as quickly as his legs would carry him. A quick peripheral glance at the common room showed that it was completely empty, which made Harry wonder how late it was. He decided that was unimportant as he burst into his dorm room and dashed over to his trunk. Grabbing his book bag, Harry spun around and dashed back out of the room. He had been in and out of the room so quickly that even with the heavy sound of the door being thrown open, his dorm mates never even woke up.

Soon Harry was sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace with its dying fire. He opened his book bag and pulled out a spare piece of parchment and a self inking quill before setting to write to his uncle. He did not stop writing until he had filled the two foot roll of parchment with all the details of his meeting with Dumbledore. As he reached the very end, Harry paused and thought seriously about what he wanted to say. Finally Harry had made up his mind and he began to write again.

I know that you and Dumbledore have never really seen eye to eye, but now I wonder how much of that is caused by that blasted crystal. Yes, I am positive it's the crystal that's affecting the headmaster like this and I think we have to do everything in our power to find out how to help him. I don't know why, but I feel like this is more important than just helping the headmaster. I feel like this is part of the darkness that Mr. Knight was telling us about.

Maybe I'm wrong. I actually hope that I am, but I just feel that if we don't help him, things are going to go very badly for everyone. We've got to do something, Sirius. The problem is, I don't think Dumbledore is going to be able to help us do it. The way he was talking I think he would actually defend that crystal from us if we tried to take it from him by force. Not to mention his warning about watching over Ginny. This is bad and I'm really starting to worry that we're not doing enough to stop whatever is coming.

Try and contact Mr. Knight if you can. I'll see about reaching him through Professor Lockhart and Professor Flamel. I'm not sure if it will work, but it's worth a try. Maybe he knows something that will help us, or at the very least he could take the crystal away from Dumbledore.

Hurry.

Harry