Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling

Chapter 24:

It was the Monday of the third week since Harry had returned to school. They were heading outside for Herbology when Hermione suddenly confronted him. Harry stopped, confused. She looked so angry. He tried to smile, "Hello, Hermione."

Ron said uneasily, "Looks like you'd best handle this alone, Harry," and he hurried after the groups of students ahead of them.

Harry wondered if he would have to defend himself, but this was Hermione! His friend ever since that troll incident. They'd done so much together. But now she stood before him, white-faced, lips compressed. She finally spoke in a voice that vibrated with her fury. "You stupid, stupid, conceited boy! Just because I decided it was no longer suitable to be close, you think someone meddled with my mind? Are you mad?"

"Ahhh..."

Hermione stormed on. "All weekend, I've been questioned, and it's all your fault. How dare you!" Her voice was becoming louder as she spoke, and now she turned scathing. "The Great Harry Potter. If someone doesn't want to be with you, it does not mean there is something wrong with their mind! It does not mean that the headmaster or anyone else has been meddling! IT DOES NOT MEAN I WANT TO KILL YOU!"

Harry was red and acutely uncomfortable. "Sorry," he blurted.

Two of the Hufflepuff girls arrived, and one put a hand on Hermione's arm and said mildly, "My aunt told me that there are people who have tried to have him killed, you know," but Hermione wheeled on her, "What does your aunt know?"

"She's Amelia Bones, head of the DMLE. She does know."

Harry asked, "DMLE?"

Susan glanced at him, "Department of Magical Law Enforcement. There's been a lot coming out about Dumbledore, you know?"

"There's been nothing in the paper."

Hermione still stared at him, still seething, then abruptly whirled and stalked off. Harry breathed a sigh of relief. He may have lost a friend, but it seemed that it was not because she had been magically influenced.

One of the girls hurried after her, but the Bones girl, Susan, said, "Never mind. It's not surprising if you're a bit paranoid."

"I didn't know they'd give her such a hard time. I didn't know anyone had done anything. It was only Snape I was mostly worried about." They were alone now, since the rest of the class had gone ahead.

Susan said briskly, "Snape will not be back. He was a Death Eater once, but Dumbledore had him here for his protection because he'd turned spy."

"Your aunt tells you a lot."

"It is strictly secret, but she said I could tell you that much."

"I wish they'd tell me a bit more, but I suppose they think I'm only a kid."

"Grownups are like that. But we'd best hurry, or we'll be docked points for being late."

So they hurried, and a short time later, they were fully occupied pruning a vicious plant that didn't like being pruned.

xxx

Perenelle Flamel was fully expecting her husband to raise furious objections when she told him that she had accepted a position as Potions professor at Hogwarts, "Probably for a couple of years."

But he only enquired, quite mildly, "Our notoriety?"

"It is in the name of Miss Alinta Prewitt."

"Well, if I find a small home for us in a Muggle town not too far away, you can still come home to me every night."

Perenelle said, surprised, "I thought you'd be furious!"

"I get bored too, you know? Maybe I'll find something for myself. Maybe a bar-tender in a local pub. Something completely different."

"It's a long time since I worked every day. I wonder if I'll get tired. I'm not so young any more."

"Nor am I. Maybe I'll find a part time job instead, one that gives me time to study their local history, something like that."

Perenelle laughed, "Well, that will be a change for both of us."

"There's only two of us and we have to stay together. We're unique, you and I."

"Then I guess we'd best stay together."

"Just a little Muggle house in the middle of a Muggle town."

Perenelle smiled at her husband of so many years. She'd never meant to leave him, of course, but she'd set her heart on spending a year or two at Hogwarts, and getting to know the boy she only knew through his letters. He had begun to share more and more, probably far more than he would have if he'd known her personally. He probably didn't even realise he told her so much. Sometimes it was a temptation to share more of her own life in return, but each time, she'd remembered that this was only a pre-teen boy, even if he did sound mature for his age. She would not tell him who she was. It would be interesting to hear how he liked the new Potions teacher. She wrinkled her brow - what if he hated her?

xxx

Harry was ashamed of himself after that confrontation with Hermione. Was he really so conceited? Or paranoid maybe? Just because someone acted a little unexpectedly, he'd imagined they were a threat? Hagrid had wanted to speak to him, and he'd avoided him ever since.

Straight after last class, he headed to Hagrid's cabin. He went alone, but was still cautious enough to go as fully armed as was his habit.

Hagrid greeted him expansively, "Thor' they musta bin keepin' yer too busy." He was shuffling in a drawer, and then turned to him, beaming, a little book in one of his large hands. "I was thinkin' you wouldn' have any pictures of your parents, so I fixed this up for you."

Harry took the leather-covered book and opened it. He'd last seen his parents in the Mirror of Erised, and here they were again. He carefully turned the pages, here they were with a group of friends, and here was his father holding a broomstick. The wedding, and there were several pictures. Was that a younger and much better looking Sirius Black? And that one - surely that was the new History teacher. He turned more pages and stopped. There was his mum holding a very young baby. He asked Hagrid, "Is that me?"

"Yeah. They were that thrilled. It was like yer mum could talk o' nothin' else. Yer dad, too."

Harry gently touched the photograph. "I guess they did love me."

"O' course they did. Why'd you ever think they didn't"

"They left me with people who hated me, that's why."

Hagrid shifted uncomfortably, and said, "Well, it was fer the best, o' course. Dumbledore said."

"Maybe they thought it would be alright."

He looked up, eyes slightly moist. "Is it really for me?"

"O' course. Did it for you, I did."

"Thank you. I don't think anyone has given me quite so good a present."

"Tha's orrigh'. Ye'd best be off now, though, I reckon. Ye shouldn' be wanderin' around alone, not these days, when You-Know-Who might be around."

"Yes, Hagrid. Thank you, Hagrid."

He wandered slowly back towards the school, holding the precious book in both hands. How could he have thought that Hagrid might attack him? Not Hagrid, who'd always been kind to him. And he remembered something that Brandon had told him, just before he'd left - that he'd never be twelve again, and so he should enjoy it. That he should not be too serious. He smiled as he remembered them, and caressed the book again. He guessed his parents had trusted Dumbledore. It was not their fault that the man had turned out to be seriously evil.

Charlie hailed him and said, "Thank goodness. I was worrying about you."

Harry smiled and said, "Look what Hagrid made for me."

Charlie took the book, but said, "Father told me to watch out for you. You should not be wandering alone."

"It's pictures of my parents. I've never seen any before."

Charlie stopped walking and opened the book at the picture of Harry's mother holding the baby. "Pretty lady," and "Have you really not seen any pictures?"

"My uncle and aunt refused to allow any mention of them. They were Freaks, you see, and so was I. So no pictures, and they told me they died in a car accident."

"I hadn't quite realised."

Harry shrugged, "It's finished now."

xxx

Two days later, a picture of Dumbledore appeared on the front page of the Daily Prophet, with the headline, 'We Never Knew Him.' The article went on to say that he was wanted by the aurors for several serious crimes including unauthorised obliviations, the illegal use of Mind Magic, theft, attempted kidnap and attempted murder.

Dumbledore was angry, but Doris Crockford was almost speechless with her fury. "How could they?" she ranted. "When I think of all you have done for us! Who else was working against You-Know-Who, I'd like to know." She was nearly crying. "And my husband. He gave his life to fight You-Know-Who, and you tried so hard to save him. It's an insult to his memory to attack the Leader of the Light!"

Dumbledore was gratified and relieved at her response, and wondered how many other loyal followers could be trusted. Kingsley, probably, but the last he'd heard of Kingsley, he'd been fired for incompetence and hadn't been seen since. Arthur Weasley? Maybe not Arthur, as he worked at the Ministry. Hestia Jones, who was such a good cook and had been so thrilled when he'd visited. He was sure she could be trusted. Women always seemed easier to convince than men were, and he chuckled as he remembered the way that Gilderoy Lockhart had been treated by some of his staff. Bathy Babbling - he would have thought her far too old to giggle girlishly merely because the fraud had kissed her hand.

Those charges. Theft. They must have worked out that he'd been siphoning off some of the Hogwarts funds. Most of it was too well concealed to have been discovered, but the salary for Binns had been paid to himself. That could have come to light, but there was nothing wrong with that - obviously a ghost had no need for a salary. Or had they gone back decades to those orphans' trust funds? There hadn't been such strict checks in those days. Attempted murder. What was that all about? And then he was embarrassed at himself. Was he losing his memory? Snape. He'd been very angry at the time, but he should not have forgotten that. There were also those killed when he was having such a grand time with Grindelwald, but that was so long ago. They wouldn't have uncovered them now.

He thought he should move on, but his initial irritation with Gladys Crockford had faded and he was relishing her hero-worship. He disguised himself when he went out at night, trying to find old allies, sometimes with information provided by Doris, who heard the gossip from the bartender at the old pub. He was lurking in the shadows of Knockturn Alley when Mundungus Fletcher said quietly, "Hello, Mr. Dumbledore. Did you know there's a reward for the one who finds you?"

Dumbledore regarded the dirty man, and said, "Fifty galleons for keeping it quiet."

Fletcher held out his hand, and Dumbledore handed over the gold, all he had with him. He guessed he'd ask Doris for more since it was so risky for him to go to the bank. And he had to get to that secret stash he'd put away for just such a rainy day, only that it was in his hideaway place in Scotland.

Fletcher asked, "Anything you want me to do?" but Dumbledore looked at him with disdain and said, "Not at the moment," and then added, "Taking a shower would be good."

Fletcher stiffened and said, "I have told you before. I have a skin condition."

Dumbledore wrinkled his nose, "Of course. You did tell me that."

Fletcher stepped back with a casual, "See you around."

Dumbledore responded with a curt nod. He still had some Muggle money, and he needed his ration of sweets. Fletcher silently followed him into Muggle London and back again, all the way to the small home of Doris Crockford.

He made discreet enquiries the next day; he wanted to know whether there was a reward for the location of Albus Dumbledore. There didn't seem to be one, but maybe his enquiries prompted the offer, as the following day, notices appeared all around magical London that declared that a reward of five hundred galleons was offered for the location of Dumbledore. Fletcher didn't think it was a large reward, but better he claimed it than another spotted him. He went to the Ministry's office, managed a promise that he would be paid even if they failed to arrest him, (since he was a renowned duellist) and gave them the address.

They caught Dumbledore taking an afternoon nap, snoozing in the best armchair in Crockford's sitting room, a bowl of sweets by his side and a book on a table nearby. He was disarmed before he woke, and conveyed to a holding cell in the Ministry, where he was questioned at length.

Albus Dumbledore had always had the gift of making his entirely unreasonable actions sound perfectly benign and rational, and the use of Veritaserum was only permitted after a lengthy process of forms completed and committees consulted. Or if the accused agreed, and Dumbledore was not agreeing. He would say, with a benign look on his face, that he held too many secrets for too many good people, information that was far too sensitive to broadcast, and, "You would not want to help Voldemort back to renewed life, would you? Because he's still out there, you know."

Even without his wand, Dumbledore was persuasive. A young trainee auror fell to his wiles, took on the appearance of his usual guard, and enabled his supporters to set him free, even with his own wand, no longer confiscated. Dumbledore fled, first to his hideaway, where he accessed his money, and then to Hestia Jones, who satisfied him by railing against the Ministry and their 'dreadful calumnies' and provided him with an assortment of deliciously sweet treats.

Voldemort, meantime, was still just a dark spirit, still in pain, still confused. He was still at Azkaban. His supporters were there. They knew him, but none were offering to host him as Quirrell and Bellatrix Lestrange had hosted him. Voldemort would take some time to gather strength to possess an unwilling body. He had not, so far, even managed to possess one of the prison rats. He was stronger with a physical body than he was as just a spirit.

xxx