Chapter 86: Harry and the Secrets
During the last week in May, Harry was reminded over and over that the Quidditch Cup was Gryffindor's to defend. It was strange to think about it. The last Quidditch Cup might as well have taken place in another lifetime.
The last time Harry had flown in the championship match, he hadn't even met Sirius. Now he knew Sirius as well as he knew anyone in the world and was going to live with him.
The last time Harry had flown in the championship match, a tiny piece of Voldemort had flown with him. Now that was gone— and Voldemort was gone, too.
In stolen moments when Angelina wasn't frantically studying for her NEWTs (which somehow seemed to be even worse than OWLs), she was hollering at the team to be faster, stronger, and sharper. When she lost her voice and Madam Pomfrey instructed her to be absolutely quiet for two days, Harry sent an owl to Wood asking him to send a Howler pep talk by return owl.
Wood obliged him with three separate Howlers exhorting them to defend the Cup and remember that they had never been defeated when they all played together. The twins and Alicia and Katie laughed; even Angelina managed a smile. The Howlers seemed to break the tension, and their daily practices were a bit more pleasant from then on.
Their opponent was to be Ravenclaw. The two teams were close enough in the standings that everything was likely to come down to who caught the Snitch. That meant that, no matter how well everyone else played, the success of Gryffindor was really down to whether Harry could out-fly Cho Chang.
He knew that he could out-fly Cho.
The way Cho and her friends began gathering near him in the halls and giggling at least three times a day didn't mean that he couldn't out-fly Cho.
He was used to the Slytherins' tactic of threatening to hex him in the corridors. He didn't know quite what to do with Cho's tactic of gamesmanship by giggling.
Sometimes the laughing crowd of girls did include half a dozen Slytherins. That made sense; Slytherin would surely prefer a Ravenclaw victory to a Gryffindor victory. And Cho was so enormously popular that she no doubt had friends from every house. Harry smiled as he remembered Lupin telling him that the same had been true of Lily Evans.
One of the Slytherin girls returned his smile and raised her eyebrow. Belatedly, he recognized Stephanie Wheeler. Perhaps when the Cup had been won and the OWLs were over, they would duel again.
The weather was perfect on the day of the Quidditch final. Cho's shiny black hair rippled in the slight breeze as she talked animatedly to Ravenclaw's captain, Roger Davies.
The last time Harry had flown against Cho, she'd decided to mark him rather than search for the Snitch herself. Harry was prepared this time; he knew that his Firebolt was much faster than Cho's Comet. He would be able to lose her any time he liked.
Lee Jordan's magically amplified voice announced the Ravenclaw team first. They circled the field to raucous applause from the all of the Ravenclaws and Slytherins, and some of the Hufflepuffs, too.
"And for the defending champion Gryffindor, you know them already— Johnson, Spinnet, Bell, Potter, Weasley, Weasley, and Weasley!"
Harry grinned. He had won the Cup before, but he had never won it with his best friend. He slapped Ron on the back before getting into position to get a good view of the Snitch as it was released.
On such a clear, beautiful day, it ought to have taken Harry about five minutes to catch the Snitch.
Instead, he found himself circling the pitch helplessly as Roger Davies scored the first goal.
"Roger has excellent form, doesn't he?" a voice said in his ear. It was Cho, of course. She had decided to shadow him again.
Gryffindor's chasers retaliated by luring Davies into Parkin's Pincer, a brutal move that involved two chasers pigeonholing the opposing player while the third chaser— in this case, Angelina— flew at top speed into the victim. Davies nearly tumbled from his broom, and Angelina scooped up the Quaffle and flung it through the left hoop from halfway across the pitch.
"Roger will be all right," Cho breathed in his ear. "He's strong."
Harry didn't say anything in response. He looked for the Snitch; after failing to find it, he decided that it was time for a Wronski Feint. If Cho crashed into the grass below… well, that was Quidditch. And to hear her tell it, Davies would probably rescue her.
He heard the crowd gasp and scream as he dove faster, faster toward the earth.
"Potter's spotted the Snitch!" Lee exclaimed. "Another championship for Gryffindor— it's all over—"
Harry pulled up at the last possible second.
"False alarm," came Lee's commentary. "That was a Wronski Feint from Potter. Chang hit the ground, but she's recovered her balance and flying back toward Potter. You'd think a Ravenclaw might be able to think for herself rather than follow the opposing player around all day, but Chang—"
"Jordan!" warned Professor McGonagall's magically amplified voice. Harry grinned. It wasn't a Quidditch match until McGonagall threatened Lee with detention.
"Just telling it like it is, Professor. Chang is back to shadowing Potter. Neither one of them has spotted the Snitch, but only one of them is actually trying. Meanwhile, clear shot at the goal for Katie Bell, but— ouch, that Bludger must have hurt, not such a clear shot after all…"
"Lee Jordan is very funny, isn't he?" Cho was back. There were new grass stains on her uniform where she'd hit the ground, but she seemed unhurt. "I enjoy his commentary even when he's having a go at me. I used to have a crush on him back when I was in my second or third year."
Harry really didn't want to know anything about who Cho had had a crush on when she'd been a third year. He accelerated, knowing that Cho couldn't keep pace with him. He couldn't search for the Snitch at that speed, though, so he had to slow his pace and resume searching.
"The acceleration on that Firebolt is amazing!" said Cho once she'd caught up to him. "Would you let me have a go on it sometime? Before tryouts next year, maybe? Gryffindor's going to have to replace four positions. Three, I guess, I assume Ginny Weasley already has one of the chaser spots? I've seen her fly in practice. I think she's better than any of her brothers, don't you?"
In fact, Harry did think that, but now was hardly the time to discuss it with Cho. Or with anyone, really, because it felt disloyal to Ron to point out that his younger sister was a better Quidditch player than he was. This was meant to be the day that he and Ron held the Cup up between them before they stayed up all night eating too much food and reliving the moment over and over.
"Just one go on the Firebolt?" Cho wheedled. "Courtesy between captains and all. Just between us, I already know I'll be Ravenclaw's captain next year. Has McGonagall told you that you're it for Gryffindor? I know Katie's older, but you're a much stronger player. Katie's only as good as she is because of her chemistry with Alicia and Angelina. Cedric's promised to give me some advice on running tryouts. Do you want to join us? I'm sure he'd be happy to talk to you, too. No? Well, send one of us an owl this summer if you change your mind."
They crossed the pitch for what felt like the thousandth time.
"I've never had an official leadership position before," Cho continued. "I don't think I'd want one other than Quidditch Captain. I don't know who the Head Girl and Head Boy will be next year, do you? Sometimes it's so obvious, like it was with Cedric. If it were me, I think I'd pick Stephanie Wheeler for Head Girl. You know my friend Stephanie, right?"
Harry spun to avoid a Bludger. He hadn't had to do that much this match; the Ravenclaws didn't want to risk hitting their own Seeker by accident.
"Stephanie's in Slytherin so I don't see her all the time, but she's good friends with my roommate Lyssa. They grew up down the street from each other. Stephanie's really into magizoology, has she told you? Especially water creatures. Kelpies, things like that. I think the main reason she wanted to be in Slytherin was because she likes to be able to watch the giant squid from their common room. It's romantic, in a way, having the common room under the lake like that."
Harry thought the Slytherin common room felt like a dungeon and he was glad that he didn't have to live there.
"So next time you duel Stephanie, make sure it's not underwater. She'd definitely beat you," Cho concluded.
There was a roar from the crowd. Ron had made an unlikely save. Both of the keepers were playing exceptionally well. There was no chance that the match would be decided by anything but Harry or Cho catching the Snitch.
"Stephanie said that if you wanted to ask her out, she wouldn't say no."
After an hour's non-stop chatter in his ear, Harry finally gave up. "Are you trying to annoy me into letting you catch the Snitch just so the match will be over?" he asked.
Cho winked at him cheekily. "Of course. Your broom is better than mine. You're a better flier than I am anyway. This is my team's only chance at winning, so I'm swallowing my pride and taking it."
He hadn't expected such brutal honesty, although he supposed that it hadn't been much of a secret. Everyone in the stands, as well as every player on both teams, had been able to see what Cho was doing.
Just then, a Bludger hit Cho in the chest and nearly knocked her from her broom. "Less chatting, more seeking, Harry!" Fred yelled. "I'd like to be able to open my shop at the end of the month, and I can't do that if we're still stuck here because you haven't caught the Snitch."
Harry made a rude gesture at Fred's retreating back and redoubled his efforts. He flew behind Ron just as Ron made another spectacular save.
"Good one!" yelled Harry.
"End this!" yelled Ron, panting from exertion.
And that was when Harry saw the Snitch hovering just below the center hoop. He snatched it from the air and held it above his head.
"Since you asked nicely," he told Ron. Ron's eyes widened as he realized what had happened, and he flung his arms around Harry. Five more solid thumps followed as their teammates reached them, and they drifted to the ground in a tight huddle.
"GRYFFINDOR WINS! GRYFFINDOR WINS!" Lee was shouting, but Harry could hardly hear him as he and his teammates lifted the Cup above their heads.
"And that's a happy ending for Fred Weasley, George Weasley, Alicia Spinnet, and Captain Angelina Johnson. And for yours truly, too. It's been a pleasure being your quidditch commentator these last five years," Lee signed off.
The team that would defend the Cup next year would be made up of almost entirely new players. Harry had been the youngest member of the team for as long as he'd played. He didn't want to see the others go, but he couldn't wait to fly with Ginny…
"Well done, Potter," said Professor McGonagall, who looked as happy as any of them that they had won. "I thought that you were about to make a misguided attempt to avoid your OWLs by letting the match last for three weeks."
"Could that really happen?" asked Harry.
"I advise you not to attempt to find out."
Harry and Ron did celebrate all night. After that, they resumed studying.
The OWLs passed in a blur. When they were finally finished, Harry was cautiously optimistic that he had done as well as he needed to do.
The morning after he had completed his final OWL— he would be happy to be free of History of Magic next year— he received a square of parchment informing him that his presence was requested in the Headmaster's office at his earliest convenience.
"I thought you were done with all of that," said Ron, casually reading the note over Harry's shoulder.
"So did I," said Harry. He wasn't certain how he felt about Dumbledore's message. He wanted the part of his life that had revolved around Voldemort to be over. But he would miss being special to Dumbledore, would miss their occasional chats that had made the world feel both mysterious and wonderful.
The door to Dumbledore's office stood open. Dumbledore smiled in greeting as Harry arrived. With one hand, Dumbledore gestured that Harry should sit down; with the other, he gave a wave of his wand, which caused the door to close and lock itself.
"How did you find your OWLs?" Dumbledore asked.
"Some better than others," said Harry honestly. He was slightly concerned about Potions and Herbology, but he was almost certain that he had achieved an Outstanding in Defense.
Dumbledore chuckled. "I suppose that's true for all of us."
"Professor Marchbanks mentioned that he examined you when you were in school. He said you did things with a wand that he'd never seen before."
"That's not necessarily a positive assessment," said Dumbledore. "I only once saw a student coat the entire Great Hall in pink candy floss, but as he was attempting to Summon a glass of water, his examination was not strictly considered to be a success. General consensus was that candy floss was not nearly sweet enough."
Harry laughed. He didn't know whether Dumbledore had made up the story, and he didn't care.
"I did not, however, ask you here to discuss your OWLs. Unless you have any particular questions?"
Harry shook his head. "No, Sir."
"Are you not going to ask why I did ask you to meet with me?"
"I thought that you would tell me when you were ready, Sir."
Harry worried for an instant that Dumbledore would think that his answer was more cheeky than he had intended it to be. But though Dumbledore sighed, he did not seem upset. "That has always been the way with us, hasn't it, Harry? I've meted out my thoughts to you in the smallest of portions and left you with unanswered questions. When your godfather and Professor Lupin came into your life, they were much more straightforward with you and perhaps that changed the way you viewed me."
"I did appreciate learning the truth," admitted Harry. The specter of Teddy Lupin, grinning like Tonks in bright Hufflepuff robes, raced through his mind. "But I understand," he told Dumbledore. "It's hard to know what to tell someone, and when. You know they'd want to know, but you don't want to hurt them when they aren't— aren't ready for the pain."
"You're very wise, Harry. I hope you never forget that when Quidditch and examinations and friendships and fugitive godfathers and reporters from the Daily Prophet are swirling around you."
"Thank you, Sir."
"It is I who should be thanking you, Harry. You did a brave and beautiful thing when you trusted Professor Snape to resurrect Voldemort and allow him to confront you a final time. You saved many lives at the risk of your own, and very few of those you protected will ever know what they owe you. I am among the lucky few who does know, and so I would be remiss if I didn't offer you a token of my gratitude."
Harry wondered what a token of gratitude from the most powerful wizard who had ever lived might look like. Knowing Dumbledore, it could be anything from a box of Every Flavor Beans to his own invisible castle.
As if reading Harry's thoughts— Harry really hoped that Dumbledore wasn't reading his thoughts— Dumbledore offered Harry a chocolate frog. "I could give you something material to mark the occasion, of course. But you have a godfather who spoils you with racing brooms and gold cauldrons. You have dear friends who know what you like best. So what I will offer you instead is something that you have craved from me. Honesty. A secret. Not a secret about you this time. A secret about me."
Harry had never seen Dumbledore speak so seriously, not even when they were discussing life and death.
"Tell me, Harry, have you ever heard the story of the three brothers? Or, perhaps, the Deathly Hallows? Have you ever wondered why your father's Invisibility Cloak was in my possession at the time of his death?"
Harry could feel his eyes widening behind his glasses.
"The story begins with my younger sister. Ariana was a beautiful girl, and bursting at the seems with magic. When she was six years old, she was practicing magic in the back garden…"
For over an hour, Harry sat silent and listened while Dumbledore spoke about his family and his quest to unite the Hallows.
"They do exist, you see," said Dumbledore. "My wand. Your family's cloak. And unless I am very much mistaken, the resurrection stone is concealed in the ring Sirius found last year. I don't believe that Sirius knows what he has."
"He doesn't," agreed Harry. If Sirius had known, he would have called for Harry's parents. He wouldn't have been able to resist, even knowing the story that warned that the resurrection stone would only pull an unhappy shadow back to the land of the living.
"Will you tell him?" asked Dumbledore.
"Yes," said Harry firmly. Sirius didn't lie to him. He wouldn't lie to Sirius. "I'll tell him and I'll ask him to let me destroy it before it hurts him or someone else."
"Would you be willing to let me study it first?"
"Would you try to resurrect Ariana?"
"I would not. I will not disturb Ariana's peace in death at it was disturbed in life. I am an old man. I imagine that I will see her soon enough as it is."
Harry swallowed hard, and nodded. "I… I mean, there's no need to make it sooner than it has to be, is there? When I saw my parents— when Voldemort tried to kill me at Easter— the last thing my dad said to me was not to be in any rush even though they're waiting for me. I reckon Ariana would feel the same way, wouldn't she? She knows how many children you've helped by being the sort of Headmaster you are…"
Dumbledore's eyes were bright with tears. "I'm proud that you still believe, knowing what you do, that I have done more good than harm as Headmaster."
"Of course you have!" Harry exploded. Some of the portraits of former headmasters stopped pretending to be asleep and voiced their agreement.
"I don't agree with everything you do, Dumbledore," drawled Phineas Nigellus Black, "but you mustn't be so maudlin. You've been spending too much time with adolescents again."
Dumbledore looked at the portrait with amusement. "That is my job, Phineas."
"Horrid job. It's a wonder anyone wants it," muttered Phineas Nigellus before resuming his pretended rest.
"Forgive me my maudlin moment, Harry," said Dumbledore, and his eyes were clear and twinkling again. "And forgive me, perhaps, someday, the position in which I placed you the moment I bound you to your aunt's blood. I know what it is to know that the world is counting on you when you aren't certain that you have anything to offer. I would not have lain that burden on your shoulders if I had believed that there was another choice."
"I understand," said Harry, and the knot of annoyance that had been building in his chest ever since people had begun asking him whether he felt safe living with Sirius suddenly unraveled.
That afternoon, Harry went to the library and sought out a copy of Tales of Beedle the Bard. Madam Pince eyed him suspiciously and told him that students who had completed their examinations had no business in the library.
"I'm studying for next year's examinations," Harry told her, and she couldn't prove that it wasn't true. He pored over the book and found that he rather preferred Dumbledore's oral version of the story to the written version. Still, he wondered what Dumbledore had done, or had planned to do, with his invisibility cloak. He left the book in the library and headed back to Dumbledore's office with the cloak in his hand, vaguely planning to ask Dumbledore to show him how he had realized that this cloak was the one from the story.
It was only when he was halfway up Dumbledore's winding staircase that he remembered that this time he had not been invited. Dumbledore was not alone. A shiver ran down his spine when he realized that Dumbledore was speaking to none other than Snape.
Harry dropped the cloak over his head and stood out of the way to listen. He knew that he shouldn't eavesdrop, but the door was open, and Dumbledore had demonstrated that very morning that he was perfectly capable of closing it…
"And if things work out as we expect them to, it will only be a matter of what you would like, Severus," Dumbledore was saying. "Let me offer you a choice: Potions or Defense Against the Dark Arts?"
Harry cringed. He had held out some hope that Lupin would be able to resume teaching Defense when the new term began in autumn. So many of the students supported him, and Umbridge's law could be repealed just as easily as it had been put in place.
"Neither," snarled Snape. "My debt is as paid as it will ever be."
"Your debt is paid in full," said Dumbledore gently. "I thought perhaps that you might choose teaching, now, rather than viewing it as an unfortunate side effect of some of your more noble life goals."
"Choose teaching?" Snape laughed, and Harry heard the echo of another laugh— that of Phineas Nigellus. "I don't like teaching and I don't like most children any more than I like most adults."
"Very well, Severus." Dumbledore sounded disappointed. Harry wasn't disappointed at all. "I will consider you to be on sabbatical for the next year. If in that time you change your mind, Hogwarts will welcome you home."
"I shan't change my mind."
"Then Hogwarts will still welcome you home when you're ready."
Harry decided that it was best to leave the area before Snape stormed out of the office in a fit of aggravation.
The closing feast that year was like none Harry had ever known. Cornelius Fudge sat at the high table with the teachers just as he had the year before, but this year he was accompanied by Umbridge rather than by the heads of the other magical schools.
Every one of the professors— even Snape, who apparently had no plans to return to Hogwarts in the autumn— glared openly at Umbridge. Fudge shifted nervously in his seat, as if Umbridge's unpopularity might rub off on him.
As the last of the students settled into their seats, Dumbledore rose from his. The Great Hall was suddenly silent with anticipation. Harry didn't know quite what they were anticipating, but he knew that it was something.
Dumbledore's gaze seemed to take in everything that surrounded him. "Another year at Hogwarts has come and gone," he began. "I hope that you have learned many things inside your classroom, and that your lessons outside the classroom have been just as magical. I, myself, have learned a great deal from my colleagues and my students in the past few days alone. I have learned much about what is truly important and how very often we have the power to choose even when we feel as though we do not. That is why I am taking this opportunity to resign my position as the Headmaster of Hogwarts."
There was a groaning, shrieking roar from the student body. Harry felt his own voice joining them.
"It was supposed to be Snape leaving," Ron groaned in Harry's ear. Harry had, of course, told Ron and Hermione everything he'd overheard.
"Did talking to Snape make Dumbledore think it was time for him to leave, too?" Hermione theorized anxiously. "Who will be the new Headmaster? McGonagall wouldn't be too bad, but what if Fudge and Umbridge are planning—"
Fudge stood up. "Really, Dumbledore, is this the time to make such an announcement?"
Dumbledore nodded gravely at Fudge. "I'm afraid it is, Minister Fudge. I have been the only headmaster that these students have ever known. It is right that they should hear the news from me, and this is my last chance to address them before they flee to all corners of the world for their summer holidays. But I know that you and Undersecretary Umbridge had an announcement that you wished to make as well, and so I yield my place to you."
Umbridge leapt to her feet. "Hem hem." The faculty was still glaring at her; so, too, were the students. Unlike Fudge, she did not seem to notice or care. "As you children well know, this year I have conducted an extensive evaluation of your school in order to make certain that you are not only given the best education in the world, but that you are kept safe. And indeed, it has been the great triumph of my career to remove a monstrous beast from your midst."
The students began to boo openly. Harry joined in as loudly as he could. A storm cloud materialized above Umbridge's head and began to pelt her with sleet and hail.
Dumbledore waited for a long, long moment before he murmured a spell that made the storm cloud vanish.
"That was a lovely piece of charmwork," he said vaguely. "But please allow the Undersecretary to complete her announcement."
"It was not a lovely piece of charmwork," Umbridge said. She was dripping wet and shaking with cold. None of the professors had bothered to dry her off, nor had Fudge. Harry had no idea why she didn't simply do it herself. Perhaps she was too angry to realize that she could.
Perhaps she couldn't. He wasn't certain that he recalled ever seeing Umbridge perform complicated magic.
"What my evaluation of the school has revealed is that you children are sorely lacking in discipline. You may not realize it now, but when you are adults, which you will be all too soon, no one is going to laugh when you throw Every Flavor Beans at them from the top of a staircase. There will be repercussions when you speak out of turn and fail to respect your betters."
"Who are our betters?" Lee Jordan screamed.
"Silence!" snapped Umbridge. "It may be too late for you, Mr. Jordan, but this school requires a new headmaster and the faculty must be supervised more closely by the Ministry."
That was when the faculty rose in perfect unison.
"The Ministry will be able to choose its own faculty," said Professor McGonagall crisply.
"We will all be resigning with the Headmaster," said Snape. He offered his arm to McGonagall. She took it, beaming, and they strolled out of the Great Hall in lockstep, followed by the rest of the teachers. Some were solemn, but others were unsuccessfully hiding smiles.
"Really, Dumbledore," said Fudge, sounding flustered. "Is this necessary?"
"I'm only attempting to support you, Minister Fudge," said Dumbledore. "Your report has revealed that I have not run this school appropriately."
"Well," stammered Fudge. "Not precisely my report."
An exaggerated expression of confusion crossed Dumbledore's face. "Then perhaps you must clarify for me. I am an old man and sometimes I do misunderstand things. My belief was that you accepted the recommendations of Undersecretary Umbridge that the school is in need of greater Ministry oversight and that the Ministry must approve of the staff. If that is the case, the staff and I have decided to allow you to make a clean start. If, on the other hand, you believe that the investigation revealed no major concerns and that I am still capable of choosing my own staff…"
"Of course," said Fudge hastily.
"Then I apologize for the confusion." Dumbledore smiled out at the students. "I am afraid that I will still be your headmaster next year, and I daresay that most of your professors will be returning as well."
There was a collective whoop of joy as food appeared on the tables. Harry piled his plate high with lamb chops and roasted potatoes, but he hardly tasted them as he focused all his attention on Umbridge. She seemed to shrink before his very eyes as, one by one, the professors returned from wherever they had been. Fudge was no longer fidgeting with nervousness; indeed, he was no longer paying Umbridge any attention at all. Instead, he was chatting a bit too jovially with Dumbledore.
Harry waited for Umbridge to make her escape. She never did. She only sat silently, alone in the happy crowd.
If it had been anyone else, he would have felt sorry for her.
As the meal concluded, the Weasley twins let off what seemed like thousands of fireworks. In what Harry could only assume had been a last minute change, some of the fireworks spelled out we love Hogwarts and Dumbledore.
"Come visit us at our new premises on Diagon Alley next week!" shouted Fred.
"But don't use them to disrupt anyone's education in a well-run school!" added George.
Everyone but Umbridge laughed.
Harry had one more thing to do before he left Hogwarts for the last time as a fifth-year student. That evening, he sat in the Common Room, pleasantly full of food. Ron was soundly defeating Hermione in a game of chess. The twins were loudly explaining that their original exit plans had been much more dramatic but that they hadn't wanted to encourage Fudge to take sides with Umbridge against Dumbledore, as they didn't think Fudge had much of a sense of humor. The other Gryffindors were making last minute plans for holiday visits and saying goodbye to one another.
But Harry had a letter to write.
Dear Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia,
You do not have to pick me up at King's Cross Station when the Hogwarts Express arrives. Sirius has officially adopted me so I will never come to live with you again.
Harry
To be continued.
Recommendation: Yet Another Snape meets the Dursleys story by rabbit and -v-Jinx-v. It is story number 601118 on this site.
Summary: When Snape is called to the Dursleys' by an urgent message, he does not find what he expects to find.
I don't always love the Snape-saves-Harry trope, but I thoroughly enjoyed this one back in the day. Yes, I read this classic when it was new. Yes, I'm old.