Preface
When The Past Is ExposedPosted originally on the Archive of Our Own at /works/12333828.
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Fandom:
Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Character:
Harry Potter, Marauders (Harry Potter), Tom Riddle Voldemort, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Ginny Weasley, George Weasley, Fred Weasley, Molly Weasley, Charlie Weasley, Bill Weasley, Albus Dumbledore, Minerva McGonagall, Severus Snape, Hogwarts Students, Hogwarts Staff, Dolores Umbridge
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Characters Reading Harry Potter Books
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Reading the Harry Potter books
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Published: 2017-10-11 Updated: 2018-04-23 Chapters: 3/? Words: 13771
When The Past Is Exposed
by DragonGirl237
Summary
When a series of books are discovered detailing the first five years of Harry Potter's school career, Dolores Umbridge is excited, the teachers are worried, the students are curious, and Harry Potter is mortified. Watch how the future of our beloved characters is changed beyond recognition, but will this better the future, or worsen it?
Notes
Please note that this is my first ever fanfic, so it will probably suck. I hope it doesn't, and that you enjoy it, but if you do not, please don't flame. Constructive criticism is welcome. EXTREMELY welcome. Also, Harry Potter and all associated characters belongs to J.K. Rowling. I own nothing except my own writing.
The Discovery
On a cool November morning, one Dolores Umbridge could be seen marching imperiously through the halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She had just returned from an early morning meeting with the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge. In between her numerous complaints about the "obnoxious brats" she was forced to educate, and her rants about Dumbledore's apparent senility (I mean, really? What sane person would wear such disgusting, garish robes?) she was able to deliver a report to the Minister regarding the state of the school. In said report, she detailed the abominable way the school was run, from the Half-breed teaching Care of Magical Creatures, to the Divination professor who seemed to have inhaled too much incense. She also described the arrogant behavior of the Potter boy. 'Really, who did he think he was, questioning the Ministry of Magic?! And undermining her authority?' That boy deserved far more of a punishment than she had been able to dish out. She paused in her mental rant to re-live the pain she had inflicted upon the Boy-Who-Lived with her Blood Quills, and a fanatical smile played across her lips at the memory.
As she had divulged to Cornelius, the only remotely competent teacher in the school, besides herself of course, was Severus Snape. Now he knew how to keep the students in line. A firm hand and sharp tongue. Dolores had to wonder why a man like that hadn't been picked up yet. Well, she certainly wasn't complaining. As Umbridge became lost in her increasingly lewd thoughts, she failed to notice the large pile of books on the floor, about 10 feet away. 8...6...4...3...2...1...THUNK. The pink-clad women went sprawling across the floor, a look of shock on her toad like face. After a few moments of undignified scrambling to regain her footing, the High Inquisitor stood. She looked up and down the corridor (the seventh floor corridor she noticed absentmindedly) to make sure that no one had seen her fall flat on her face, as that would not be good for her image... Umbridge brushed off her fuchsia cardigan, fixed her hair, and proceeded to glared at the pile of books that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. Somehow, the books had not been displaced from their perfectly orderly stack when she had tripped over them. Of course, this was a magic school, so random things like that happened all of the time. She bent down to pluck the first , and smallest, book, from the top of the pile.
Dolores Umbridge nearly let the book slip from her pudgy fingers when she spied a very familiar, and very hated, face on the cover. POTTER?! What was that ingrate doing on the cover of a book? The book's cover illustrated a much younger (but probably no less annoying) Harry Potter flying on a broomstick, hand outstretched to catch a snitch. Oddly enough, the image wasn't moving. Written in spidery handwriting above his head, were the words Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone. Rapidly forgetting her annoyance, Dolores Umbridge opened up the book, to read the inside cover.
/Harry Potter has never played a sport while riding on a broomstick. He's never worn a cloak of invisibility, befriended a giant, or helped hatch a dragon. All Harry knows is a miserable life with the Dursleys, his horrible aunt and uncle, and their abominable son , Dudley. Harry's room is a tiny closet at the foot of the stairs, and he hasn't had a birthday party in eleven years.
But all that is about to change when a mysterious letter arrives by owl messenger; a letter with an invitation to a wonderful place he never dreamed existed. There he finds not only friends, aerial sports, and magic around every corner, but a great destiny that's been waiting for him… if he can survive the encounter./
An excited smile spread across her toad-like lips (Do toads even have lips?). This, This is what she needed. Books detailing the rule-breaking, lying, and all around mutiny of Harry James Potter throughout his Hogwarts career. Why, she may even be able to get the brat thrown in Azkaban, dragon-breeding was very illegal after all. Greed began to pool in the pit of her stomach at the thought of an invisibility cloak. Just the thought of all the no-good students she could catch flouting the rules with that cloak made her mouth water. With books in hand, she continued her march through the halls of Hogwarts, this time with a definite destination in mind. She was going to put Harry Potter, and that doddering, old fool in their place!
Umbridge rounded the corner and disappeared down the hall. If she had stayed a moment longer, she may have heard the musical laughter that echoed through the corridor, that almost seemed to come from the walls themselves.
In The Great Hall
Chapter Summary
Umbridge gathers the students and Staff of Hogwarts, plus a few others, to read the books
Chapter Notes
Nothing recognizable belongs to me. All characters and settings belong to the Queen of writing, J.K. Rowling. No flames please, just constructive criticisms.
"Harry, you simply must tell a teacher about what that-that hag is doing to you!" Hermione had been launching verbal attacks at random intervals, in an attempt to get her best friend, Harry Potter, to tell an adult about what he was enduring in Umbridge's detentions. This time, they were walking up to Trelawney's tower. Harry had hoped to go an hour without hearing Hermione questioning his reasoning.
"Hermione, I've dealt with worse. Really-", He didn't finish his sentence, because Hermione had interrupted him.
"But you shouldn't have to, Harry! She has no right to do this to you!" Hermione stated. Ron, who up until now, had been listening, chimed in.
"Really, mate, you should tell somebody, like Dumbledore, or McGonagall. You can't let her walk all over you!"
"Which is exactly what I'd be doing if I went running to a teacher!" Harry said through gritted teeth. He stopped walking and faced his friends. "I can't let her win! And, really? What could McGonagall or Dumbledore do? SHE has all the power here. You've seen her, she acts like she owns the place because she does! There is nothing that anyone can do about it!" After his rant, Harry's anger was spent. Looking suddenly vulnerable, he beseeched his friends.
"Now can we please go to Divination?" Hermione looked like she wanted to say more, but nodded her head. Ron slung his arm around Harry's smaller frame in a show of support.
"Yeah, mate. Let's go to Divination." The trio resumed their trek, with Harry and Ron branching off towards the North Tower, and Hermione heading towards the Ancient Runes classroom.
Ron and Harry slipped into the pungent room just as their bespectacled teacher, Sybill Trelawney, stepped from the shadows. Just as she opened her mouth to speak, another, distinctly shriller voice rang out through the room.
"Hem, hem. May I have your attention, please. This is your esteemed High Inquisitor, and DADA Professor, Dolores Umbridge. Students and Faculty of Hogwarts, please report to the Great Hall for an important announcement." The magically amplified message ended with another little 'hem, hem'. The room became filled with noise, as the students speculated what the "special announcement" would be, and put their books back in their bag. Professor Trelawney looked distinctly ruffled at having her lesson interrupted.
"Whad'ya think it is, Harry?" Ron asked as he packed up his homework (it was blank).
"I don't know Ron. I just hope it's not another 'educational decree'." He said those words with a sneer to rival Snape's. Ron shuddered as they climbed down the ladder from the Divination Tower.
"She's already taken Quidditch from you, and Defense. What more could she do to us?" Harry shook his head and shrugged.
"I don't know Ron, and don't say that. You'll jinx us." The two marched the rest of the way to the Great Hall in silence."
Harry and Ron slid into two empty seats on either side of Hermione. She barely acknowledged them, instead focusing on the staff table. Harry also turned his attention to the professors. Umbridge looked like the cat that caught the canary or the toad that caught the fly.
"Anything that makes her look that happy cannot be good for the rest of us." Dean Thomas said from across Gryffindor Table. Harry absentmindedly nodded his head in agreement, still studying the professors. Dumbledore looked worried, the twinkle in his eye barely present. He was looking directly at Harry, though he quickly averted his eyes when Harry tried to make eye contact. Harry quickly stomped down the annoyance and anger that threatened to swallow him, in favor of rational thought. 'What could possibly have Dumbledore looking so rattled?' All of the teachers looked apprehensive, sans McGonagall, Snape, and Trelawney. McGonagall looked furious, and from the numerous glares she shot at the pink-clad "professor" beside her, it wasn't hard to guess at who. Snape simply looked impassive, as he normally did. Trelawney however, looked completely oblivious and was cleaning her hands in a goblet of sherry.
"-arry, Harry, are you in there?" Dean had been trying to get his attention.
"Sorry, zoned out for a minute. What is it, Dean?" Dean glanced around as if checking for eavesdroppers. He leaned across the table.
"I was wondering when the next DA meeting would be. The enchanted galleons haven't changed in a while, and I don't want to fall behind." Harry smiled slightly at the reminder of his secret (and illegal) club.
"Don't worry, Dean. Our next meeting is real soon, Hermione just hasn't gotten around to updating the coins, what with all of her homework." Dean nodded and then went to sit with his friend Seamus, a few spaces down.
Harry's thoughts turned to the DA, and a small smile crossed his face. It really was the best thing that could have happened to him this year. Whenever he got moody, or angry (as was becoming increasingly more common) someone just had to bring up the DA, and he would feel his chest warm with secret pride, for himself, and for his students.
As more and more students poured into the Great Hall from their various classes, the cacophony of voices grew louder and louder. Hermione and Ron were furiously discussing what the purpose of this assembly could be, as was most of the Hall.
"I'm telling you, Hermione, it's got to be a Death Eater attack! Why else would the teachers have called us here IN THE MIDDLE OF CLASSES if it wasn't serious?" Ron looked genuinely frustrated with Hermione for not realizing the brilliance of his deduction.
"Ron, if we were being attacked by Death Eaters, we would be in the panic rooms. It says so in Hogwarts: A History-" She was interrupted by Ron.
"You and that bloody book!" Ignoring Hermione's exclamation of "Language!", he proceeded," Let's see what Harry thinks, shall we?" They both turned to Harry expectantly, who had been watching their argument like a tennis match. Personally, he didn't think it was a Death Eater attack, but he couldn't just say that. Ron would be offended, and Hermione would get that annoying 'I'm-right-and-you're-wrong' look on her face.
"I think-" Thankfully, he wasn't able to finish his sentence before he was interrupted by a sugary, and overly-feminine voice.
"Hem, hem." Harry and Hermione both fell silent, not out of respect, but out of morbid curiosity. Ron continued chattering, as did most of the student body.
"Hem, hem. Excuse me, may I have your attention please?" The Hall was still filled with noise. Umbridge was becoming visibly more annoyed with the lack of respect being shown to her by the students. None of the other teachers seemed inclined to help her out, even the normally benevolent Dumbledore was remaining silent. Harry and Hermione leaned forward in anticipation of the inevitable explosion.
"SILENCE!" She screeched, waving her arms about like a windmill to get the Hall's attention. The students fell quiet, all staring at the fuzzy, pink thing before them. "I have NEVER been so disrespected in my life! When I say 'silence', you sit down and do just that! SILENCE yourselves!" Umbridge was red in the face and the little, black bow that used to be atop her head now hung by her chin. Little pink puffs of smoke were pouring from the tip of her wand. If Dolores Umbridge was trying to be intimidating, then she was failing miserably. The students were trying their best not to laugh, except the Weasley Twins, who outright guffawed.
Umbridge drew in a breath as if to say more, but froze when she made eye contact with her most hated student. Harry glared with all of the force he could muster, but this only seemed to amuse Umbridge. A cold, cruel smirk grew across her face. Umbridge began to speak again, this time in her normal cadence.
"Students, an important discovery has been made within the hallowed halls of Hogwarts. But before we get into that, please welcome The Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, and the Head of the DMLE, Amelia Bones." Very few people clapped, which seemed to confuse the Minister, who was well used to adoring crowds and fawning employees. Madame Bones simply sat down at the end of the table and observed the Hall.
Inwardly, Umbridge was squealing with glee. With the Head of Magical Law Enforcement here, she would surely be able to get Harry Potter arrested. Never did it cross her mind that her own actions would be recorded in the books. With everyone seated, and the students growing restless, Dolores Umbridge stepped forward.
"Students and Faculty, for too long you have been subject to the lies and manipulations of Harry James Potter," Dumbledore's Army glared just a little bit harder," but no longer," She reached into a small drawstring bag (pink of course), and withdrew book after book after book. The mouth of the bag grew to accommodate the size of the books, and then reverted back to the size of a pouch of marbles. Finally, seven books, each bigger than the last rested on the table. The trio exchanged confused glances, along with most of the Hall. Umbridge gestured to the volumes on the table like a salesman, a grinning like a madwoman.
"A series of books have been discovered by yours truly, and verified by the Department of Mysteries, detailing the life and lies of one, Harry Potter!" It took a moment for her words to sink in, but when they did, the Hall was filled with noise. Many people's attention was devoted to Harry Potter, who was massaging the bridge of his nose.
"Why me?" He asked. Ron rubbed Harry's shoulder in silent support, but was still staring at Umbridge, and answered.
"I don't know, Harry." But Harry wasn't finished yet.
"But seriously, why me? What the HELL did I do to deserve this?" Harry moaned. He rubbed his forehead harder. He could feel a headache coming on. Malfoy could be heard howling with laughter from the Slytherin table.
"This cannot be legal," Hermione was saying angrily. "She has no right to invade your privacy, this is insane-"
"SILENCE!" The shout came from Amelia Bones, who, though she understood the student's reaction ( God knows she had had a similar one when she heard about these books), was not one to tolerate disrespect against authority. The entire Hall quieted, for the Head of Magical Law Enforcement cut quite an imposing figure.
"Thank you very much, Amelia." 'Amelia" did not look happy with being referred to as such. "Now, for the next several days, until the conclusion of all five books, there will be no classes." Umbridge looked around as if expecting applause, but the Hall remained dead silent. Umbridge quickly regained steam.
"All actions recorded in this book that are against the law, will be punished by the full extent of the law, isn't that right Amelia?" The High Inquisitor looked to Madame Bones as if expecting her rapturous agreement. She was disappointed when Madame Bones merely spoke calmly.
"Any illegal actions recorded in this book, whether by a student or an adult, will be dealt with as I see fit." Harry, Ron, and Hermione made eye contact with each other, thinking about all the things they had done that could come back to bite them. Suddenly, Hermione sat up stock straight, her eyes gleaming with inspiration. She leaned over to Harry and whispered to him.
"Sirius, they'll find out he's innocent. And it'll prove that Voldemort is back." It was like a bomb had gone off inside Harry's chest. If everything in these books were true, then Sirius would be proven innocent, AND everyone would have to accept that Voldemort was back. Even if he did have to suffer the humiliation of having his life revealed to everyone, it would be worth it. Umbridge's own plan would be her downfall. Each concealing smiles, the three friends turned their attention back to the Head Table, where Umbridge was still speaking.
"Now, without further ado, let us begin reading." Umbridge conjured a large, overly puffy pink chair that looked like it belonged in the home of an old spinster. Facing the students, she sat down amongst the cushions, and primly straightened her obscenely stiff skirt. With a look of feral satisfaction on her face, she levitated the smallest novel off of the Head Table and into her lap.
"I believe I shall begin the reading," She said. The entire Hall leaned in, eager to hear about the life of the famed Boy-Who-Lived. Even Harry was interested, despite himself. 'I wonder just how much is in these books?' He thought to himself. After quite a few annoying 'hem, hems' Umbridge began to read.
/Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much./
The Boy-Who-Lived
Chapter Summary
Hogwarts begins reading the Philosopher's Stone
Chapter Notes
Harry Potter and all associated characters belong to JK Rowling. I'm just borrowing them for awhile.
"You're quite welcome," said Fred and George Weasley in perfect unison.
"Do not interrupt me!" snapped Umbridge. She looked as if she were about to continue, but then Dumbledore began to speak.
"Now, now, Dolores. Surely we cannot deny the students the opportunity to discuss whatever it is we may learn from these books." While Dumbledore spoke quite affably, there was an underlying sternness to his tone. Clearly he would not budge on this issue. As the Headmaster of Hogwarts and it's High Inquisitor stared each other down, Harry Potter was having an internal crisis.
'The Dursleys?! How far back do these books go?' Harry had hoped that the books would start once he was at Hogwarts, or at least spend a minimal amount of time with the Dursleys. 'Damn my luck!" He thought. If Snape found out about what the Dursleys were like, he'd never hear the end of it.
Having come to an agreement with the Headmaster (and realizing it would be best to allow the students to gossip, and spread rumours about whatever it is they learned) Dolores Umbridge continued to read.
/They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense./
"Bloody Hell, they sound boring!"said Lee Jordan, looking over at Harry with sympathy in his eyes. Harry laughed humorlessly.
"You have no idea."
/Mr. Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills./
Questions ensued from many purebloods about what a drill was, and were answered by nearby halfbloods and muggleborns. Malfoy listened carefully to the answers provided, not wanting to reveal that he had been curious as well
/ He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did have a very large mustache. Mrs. Dursley was thin and blonde and had nearly twice the usual amount of neck/
"Well they sound like a match made in heaven, don't they?" asked Ron, nudging Harry's shoulder. He glanced over, expecting to find Harry laughing, and nodding in agreement. Instead he found his best friend staring intently at the volume in Umbridge's hands, a look of intense dread on his features. 'What could he be so worried about?' Ron wondered.
/which came in very useful as she spent so much of her time craning over garden fences, spying on the neighbors./
"Well, she sounds like a -"
"-Perfectly lovely woman," said the Twins.
"Quite right, Gred," said Fred, in a rather posh voice.
"I agree, Forge," answered George, affecting the same tone.
/ The Dursleys had a small son/
Harry snorted slightly. Catching Ron and Hermione's questioning glances, he explained.
"Dudley is many things, but small is not one of them." Ron, understanding now, nodded emphatically to Hermione, who had never before seen Dudley Dursley.
/ called Dudley/
"What the hell kind of a name is Dudley?" blurted Malfoy. Really, he knew muggles were stupid, but this was ridiculous. Who the HELL named their child Dudley?!
Snickers echoed throughout the room upon hearing the Dursley child's unfortunate name, some even sympathizing with him.
"I think Dudley is a fine name," declared Umbridge imperiously, sticking her nose up in the air.
"Well of course you would, 'Dolores'," whispered George to his brother, who burst into giggles.
/and in their opinion there was no finer boy anywhere. The Dursleys had everything they wanted, but they also had a secret, and their greatest fear was that somebody would discover it. They didn't think they could bear it if anyone found out about the Potters. Mrs. Potter was Mrs. Dursley's sister, but they hadn't met for several years; in fact, Mrs. Dursley pretended she didn't have a sister, because her sister and her good-for-nothing husband/
"James was not a 'good-for-nothing' anything!" said Mcgonagall angrily. Those who had known the couple, even in passing, were growling at this description. Dumbledore was beginning to look worried, as if he had made some grave mistake. Even Snape, who emphatically agreed with this description of James Potter, was incensed because Lily had been thrown in the same boat with James Potter. The only two people in the Hall who were not even remotely affected were Umbridge, and Harry. Umbridge, because she did not care at all for the late Potters, in any capacity, and Harry, because he had heard this all before. He said as much to Ron and Hermione, but the reading proceeded before they could respond.
/were as unDursleyish as it was possible to be./
Luna Lovegood's head popped up from behind Ron's shoulder, who hadn't even heard her approaching.
"What does unDursleyish mean?" Luna turned her wide eyes towards Hermione, awaiting an answer.
"It's not even a word, Luna" Hermione answered. Luna, now comfortably seated next to Ron, looked briefly disappointed, but perked up when the reading began again.
/The Dursleys shuddered to think what the neighbors would say if the Potters arrived in the street. The Dursleys knew that the Potters had a small son, too, but they had never even seen him. This boy was another good reason for keeping the Potters away; they didn't want Dudley mixing with a child like that./
"A child like what?" said both McGonagall and Hermione, both in equally warning tones.
"Well, you know-" Harry was scrambling for an answer that wouldn't further incense either of the two very irritated witches in front of him. "A child with magic." That had apparently been the wrong thing to say, as now, not only were McGonagall and Hermione upset, but most of the Hall was as well.
/When Mr. and Mrs. Dursley woke up on the dull, gray Tuesday our story starts, there was nothing about the cloudy sky outside to suggest that strange and mysterious things would soon be happening all over the country. Mr. Dursley hummed as he picked out his most boring tie for work/
Many of the Hall wondered why anyone would would purposefully wear their most boring anything.
/ and Mrs. Dursley gossiped away happily as she wrestled a screaming Dudley into his high chair. None of them noticed a large, tawny owl flutter past the window./
Dumbledore sat up a little bit straighter as he realized what day it must be, and the twinkle in his eyes dimmed as he glanced down at Harry, who was still staring at the book. 'Well, I guess here is as good a place as any to begin your story, Harry,' he thought.
/At half past eight, Mr. Dursley picked up his briefcase, pecked Mrs. Dursley on the cheek, and tried to kiss Dudley good-bye but missed, because Dudley was now having a tantrum and throwing his cereal at the walls. "Little tyke," chortled Mr. Dursley/
"Good lord, don't encourage that kind of behavior!"rebuked Professor Sprout. Almost every other parent, Aunt, or Uncle in the room nodded their heads.
/as he left the house. He got into his car and backed out of number four's drive. It was on the corner of the street that he noticed the first sign of something peculiar -- a cat reading a map./
Suddenly, Professor McGonagall realized what day it must be. Looking over in dismay at the Headmaster, she saw him silently nod in confirmation. Meanwhile, down at the Gryffindor table, Hermione was engaged in a debate with Luna over whether or not cats could read maps.
"Cats cannot read!" exclaimed Hermione, "They do not have the mental faculties necessary to comprehend the written word!" Hermione, while quite confident in her position, looked stunned that she was even having this argument. Luna, while seeming similarly confident, retained the same aloof and serene disposition as always. Both seemed completely indifferent to the attention they were drawing.
"If a Heffalump can read, then I see no reason why a cat cannot. They are both mammals, and they both tend to be infested with Selwylke larvae," Luna stated dreamily. Hermione, deciding to pick her battles and not even address the fact that neither Heffalumps nor Selwylkes existed, continued.
"It was probably just looking at the map, not reading it-"
"How about we keep reading?" suggested Ron. Hermione paused her diatribe, long enough to notice the eyes of the entire Hall aimed at her and Luna.
"Yes, let's" assented a red-faced Hermione. Harry internally groaned. He had hoped that Luna and Hermione's argument would continue for at least another few minutes, but he supposed there was no delaying the inevitable. Seeming to sense his discomfort, Luna reached behind Ron and Hermione to grasp his hand.
"Don't worry, Harry. The truth may be difficult to hear now, but in the end, we will all be better off for it, even if it doesn't rid us of the Nargles." With that, she released his hand, still maintaining eye contact with him, and returned to her original position. Ron, having caught this little exchange, mouthed the word 'mental' at him. Harry just shook his head, with a small smile adorning his face. Though he didn't quite understand what Luna had said, he thought he got the gist of it. Oddly, he did feel quite a bit better.
/For a second, Mr. Dursley didn't realize what he had seen -- then he jerked his head around to look again. There was a tabby cat standing on the corner of Privet Drive, but there wasn't a map in sight. What could he have been thinking of? It must have been a trick of the light. Mr. Dursley blinked and stared at the cat. It stared back. As Mr. Dursley drove around the corner and up the road, he watched the cat in his mirror. It was now reading the sign that said Privet Drive -- no, looking at the sign; cats couldn't read maps or signs./
Hermione looked quite disturbed to have been of the same opinion as Vernon Dursley, but stayed quiet.
/Mr. Dursley gave himself a little shake and put the cat out of his mind. As he drove toward town he thought of nothing except a large order of drills he was hoping to get that day./
"Such a sad thing, to have so little to look forward to in the mornings," sighed Dumbledore, speaking for the first time since the books had started. "At least I have my daily lemon sherbet deliveries to count on." Many of the students erupted into giggles, after all, it was such a Dumbledore thing to say. Most of the staff (barring Umbridge) looked equal parts exasperated and amused by this statement.
/But on the edge of town, drills were driven out of his mind by something else. As he sat in the usual morning traffic jam, he couldn't help noticing that there seemed to be a lot of strangely dressed people about. People in cloaks./
"What in the world are wizards doing out and about?" said a Ravenclaw fourth year. No one had an answer for him, as many of the students were wondering the same thing. Hermione gave a little gasp as she realized what day it must be. She quickly whispered it to Ron and Harry. Ron looked shocked, Harry on the other hand, looked unsurprised.
"Of course it would be that day, of bloody course," He muttered quietly, glowering at the table.
/Mr. Dursley couldn't bear people who dressed in funny clothes -- the getups you saw on young people! He supposed this was some stupid new fashion. /
"It's the new spring collection!" trilled Fred, getting to his feet striking a ridiculous and flamboyant pose.
"Why, it's simply the last word in fashion Mr. Dursley," piped George, striking an equally absurd pose next to his brother. Laughter echoed through the room at the twin's antics, a quick grin even drawn from Harry. The twins took simultaneous deep bows, before returning to their seat.
/He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and his eyes fell on a huddle of these weirdos standing quite close by. They were whispering excitedly together. Mr. Dursley was enraged to see that a couple of them weren't young at all; why, that man had to be older than he was, and wearing an emerald-green cloak! The nerve of him! But then it struck Mr. Dursley that this was probably some silly stunt -- these people were obviously collecting for something... yes, that would be it. /
Malfoy shook his head in derision, hardly believing that anyone, even a lowly muggle, could be that thick skulled.
/The traffic moved on and a few minutes later, Mr. Dursley arrived in the Grunnings parking lot, his mind back on drills./
"He's quite easily distracted isn't he?" wondered Trelawney absentmindedly. Snape rolled his eyes.
"You're one to talk, you imbecilic old bat," he mumbled to himself, in a voice so low that even he barely heard it.
/Mr. Dursley always sat with his back to the window in his office on the ninth floor. If he hadn't, he might have found it harder to concentrate on drills that morning. He didn't see the owls swooping past in broad daylight, though people down in the street did; they pointed and gazed open- mouthed as owl after owl sped overhead. Most of them had never seen an owl even at nighttime. Mr. Dursley, however, had a perfectly normal, owl-free morning. He yelled at five different people. He made several important telephone calls and shouted a bit more. He was in a very good mood/
"That was him in a good mood?! Christ, what must he be like when he's angry?" asked Hermione incredulously. Harry didn't answer, which didn't reassure his friends, or the multiple adults that were now watching him worriedly.
/until lunchtime, when he thought he'd stretch his legs and walk across the road/
"Now that cannot be right," said Harry to himself, "He wouldn't exercise for anything."
/to buy himself a bun from the bakery./
"Ah, that explains it."
/He'd forgotten all about the people in cloaks until he passed a group of them next to the baker's. He eyed them angrily as he passed. He didn't know why, but they made him uneasy. This bunch were whispering excitedly, too, and he couldn't see a single collecting tin. It was on his way back past them, clutching a large doughnut in a bag, that he caught a few words of what they were saying.
"The Potters, that's right, that's what I heard yes, their son, Harry" Mr. Dursley stopped dead.
As did most of the Hall. The room was dead silent, as almost everyone realized what day it must be. Many students glanced over at Harry in quiet sympathy, but he just stared straight ahead, ignoring them all. Hermione slipped her hand into his, and gave it a quiet squeeze, which Harry returned.
/Fear flooded him. He looked back at the whisperers as if he wanted to say something to them, but thought better of it.
He dashed back across the road, hurried up to his office, snapped at his secretary not to disturb him, seized his telephone, and had almost finished dialing his home number when he changed his mind. He put the receiver back down and stroked his mustache, thinking... no, he was being stupid./
"Not an unusual occurrence, then," chirped Lee Jordan, trying to lighten the mood. He succeeded, as his comment garnered laughs from throughout the room. Even though the Hall barely knew Mr. Dursley, they already had a relatively low opinion of him.
/ Potter wasn't such an unusual name. He was sure there were lots of people called Potter who had a son called Harry./
"Not really," piped up Neville, speaking for the first time,"Potter isn't a common name at all."
"It is in the muggle world, Neville," explained Hermione.
/Come to think of it, he wasn't even sure his nephew was called Harry. He'd never even seen the boy. It might have been Harvey. Or Harold./
"They don't even know your name?!" said Hermione incredulously, her face awash with confusion, and not a little bit of anger. This question was echoed throughout the Hall in various forms. 'How could you not even know your own nephew's name?'
/There was no point in worrying Mrs. Dursley; she always got so upset at any mention of her sister. He didn't blame her -- if he'd had a sister like that.../
"Like what, exactly?!" exclaimed McGonagall. She was becoming increasingly worried that she had made a grave mistake in allowing young Harry to be place with these people. Severus Snape was gripping his goblet so hard that his knuckles were white, not that anyone noticed. Hearing anyone insult Lily had never failed to enrage him. That disgusting muggle better thank his lucky stars that he was not in this room, or else, he might be mysteriously eviscerated.
Others around the room were in similar states of disgust. James and Lily Potter were war heroes, people that the students of Hogwarts had been raised hearing about, almost as much as Harry Potter himself. It just didn't sit well with them to hear the Potters being insulted. Ron, Hermione, and the nearby Gryffindors glanced at Harry apprehensively, expecting an explosion. They had become quite well acquainted with Harry's temper over the course of the year, and thought that he would be quite justified in his anger now, but again, he surprised them. Harry barely looked bothered by what the book had said, after all, he had heard all this before, not that the other students knew that.
/but all the same, those people in cloaks…
He found it a lot harder to concentrate on drills that afternoon and when he left the building at five o'clock, he was still so worried that he walked straight into someone just outside the door. "Sorry," he grunted,
Now Harry looked shocked.
"I can't believe he apologized," he said by way of explanation.
/as the tiny old man stumbled and almost fell. It was a few seconds before Mr. Dursley realized that the man was wearing a violet cloak. He didn't seem at all upset at being almost knocked to the ground. On the contrary, his face split into a wide smile and he said in a squeaky voice that made passersby stare, "Don't be sorry, my dear sir, for nothing could upset me today! Rejoice, for You-Know-Who has gone at last! Even Muggles like yourself should be celebrating, this happy, happy day!"/
By now, everyone in the Hall, even Umbridge and Minister Fudge, had realized what day it must be.
/And the old man hugged Mr. Dursley around the middle and walked off./
"Can't believe he was able to reach," said Ron jokingly. This elicited a smile from Harry, a small one, but a smile nonetheless.
/Dursley stood rooted to the spot. He had been hugged by a complete stranger. He also thought he had been called a Muggle, whatever that was. He was rattled. He hurried to his car and set off for home, hoping he was imagining things, which he had never hoped before, because he didn't approve of imagination./
Luna, as well as many others in the room, shook her head disapprovingly.
"How can anyone disapprove of imagination," she remarked, her voice losing it's dreamy quality, "It's what makes the world go 'round." Luna looked as reproving as anyone had ever seen her, appearing almost offended at the concept of disliking imagination.
/As he pulled into the driveway of number four, the first thing he saw -- and it didn't improve his mood -- was the tabby cat he'd spotted that morning. It was now sitting on his garden wall. He was sure it was the same one; it had the same markings around its eyes.
"Markings?" murmured Hermione to herself, a suspicion forming in her mind.
/"Shoo!" said Mr. Dursley loudly. The cat didn't move. It just gave him a stern look./
Hermione nodded in satisfaction, having figured out who the cat must be.
/Was this normal cat behavior? Mr. Dursley wondered. Trying to pull himself together, he let himself into the house. He was still determined not to mention anything to his wife./
"Coward," said Ernie Macmillan scathingly. He already greatly disliked Vernon Dursley, so felt no guilt whatsoever in insulting him. The students who had heard his comment nodded in agreement, a few smirking slightly.
/Mrs. Dursley had had a nice, normal day. She told him over dinner all about Mrs. Next Door's problems with her daughter and how Dudley had learned a new word ("Won't!")./
"What an abominable child!" stated Professor Sinistra with great disdain, "Someone needs to teach him a few manners!" Many other adults in the room, including McGonagall, Madam Bones, Dumbledore, and surprisingly, Snape, nodded. Umbridge rolled her eyes. She thought that Dudley was a fine child, if you disregarded the fact that he was a dirty muggle.
/Mr. Dursley tried to act normally. When Dudley had been put to bed, he went into the living room in time to catch the last report on the evening news/
Anticipating what was to come, several half-bloods and muggleborns explained to their nearby friends what the evening news was, and by extension, what a television was. To say that the wizard raised students were baffled would be an understatement. Yet again, Malfoy, along with several other Slytherins, strained their ears to hear the answers to questions they had been too embarrassed to ask.
/"And finally, bird-watchers everywhere have reported that the nation's owls have been behaving very unusually today. Although owls normally hunt at night and are hardly ever seen in daylight, there have been hundreds of sightings of these birds flying in every direction since sunrise. Experts are unable to explain why the owls have suddenly changed their sleeping pattern." The newscaster allowed himself a grin. "Most mysterious. And now, over to Jim McGuffin with the weather. Going to be any more showers of owls tonight, Jim?"/
Amelia Bones huffed.
"I understand that people are celebrating, but for Merlin's sake, can't they retain their common sense? We could have revealed ourselves!" Bones exclaimed loudly. A few people around the Hall jumped, having forgotten that she was even there.
/"Well, Ted," said the weatherman, "I don't know about that, but it's not only the owls that have been acting oddly today. Viewers as far apart as Kent, Yorkshire, and Dundee have been phoning in to tell me that instead of the rain I promised yesterday, they've had a downpour of shooting stars! /
"Goodness, gracious."
/Perhaps people have been celebrating Bonfire Night early -- it's not until next week, folks! But I can promise a wet night tonight." Mr. Dursley sat frozen in his armchair. Shooting stars all over Britain? Owls flying by daylight? Mysterious people in cloaks all over the place? And a whisper, a whisper about the Potters…
Mrs. Dursley came into the living room carrying two cups of tea. It was no good. He'd have to say something to her. He cleared his throat nervously. "Er -- Petunia, dear -- you haven't heard from your sister lately, have you?" As he had expected, Mrs. Dursley looked shocked and angry. After all, they normally pretended she didn't have a sister./
Growls resounded throughout the room.
"Bloody Hell, mate," swore Ron, turning to face Harry,"Even with all Percy's up to right now, we still wouldn't pretend he didn't exist." This was true. Even though Percy seemed as though he was trying to cut all ties with their family, they were still family, and Ron couldn't imagine not even acknowledging him like that. Fred and George looking unusually serious, chimed in.
"Yeah -," Fred agreed.
"Even though he's a right prat -," continued Fred.
"Who deserves to be pranked mercilessly with dungbombs,-"
"Buzzing door knobs -,"
"Belch powder -,"
"And Filibuster fireworks,"
"Doesn't mean we would disown him," they finished together.
/"No," she said sharply. "Why?"
"Funny stuff on the news," Mr. Dursley mumbled. "Owls... shooting stars... and there were a lot of funny-looking people in town today..."
"So?" snapped Mrs. Dursley. "Well, I just thought... maybe... it was something to do with... you know... her crowd."/
For a moment, just a moment, you could have heard a pin drop. Then that moment ended/
"HER CROWD?!" shouted several people, while others merely looked offended. Amongst the pandemonium, McGonagall turned to Harry and spoke over the considerable noise.
"Mr. Potter, what exactly did your Aunt mean by that?!" she said sternly, with anger seeping into her voice, none of which was directed at Harry. 'Oh, Merlin. I knew that they were the worst kind of muggles. I should never have allowed him to left there,' she thought in despair.
"She meant, ah, she meant . . . I don't know, Professor," said Harry, opting for ignorance, which in know way satisfied his Professor, or Hermione, who had been about to ask the same question. He was becoming increasingly aware of the hundreds of pairs of eyes coming to rest on him worriedly. Hell, even SNAPE was looking at him, if only with curiosity. Harry felt like burying his head in his hands. These books were turning out to be just as bad as he thought they would be
/Mrs. Dursley sipped her tea through pursed lips. Mr. Dursley wondered whether he dared tell her he'd heard the name "Potter." He decided he didn't dare./
"Coward," said Neville. In response to all the incredulous looks he was receiving, he blushed a deep pink.
"W-well," Neville stammered, before rallying his courage, "He is."
/Instead he said, as casually as he could, "Their son -- he'd be about Dudley's age now, wouldn't he?"
"I suppose so," said Mrs. Dursley stiffly.
"What's his name again? Howard, isn't it?"
"Harry. Nasty, common name, if you ask me."
"Oh, yes," said Mr. Dursley, his heart sinking horribly. "Yes, I quite agree."
He didn't say another word on the subject as they went upstairs to bed. While Mrs. Dursley was in the bathroom, Mr. Dursley crept to the bedroom window and peered down into the front garden. The cat was still there. It was staring down Privet Drive as though it were waiting for something./
"Okay, what the bloody hell is up with that cat?!" bleated Lee Jordan, voicing the thoughts of many students around the hall, as well as a few teachers. A few of the cleverer Ravenclaws, as well as Hermione, thought that they knew exactly who the cat was, but kept it to themselves.
/Was he imagining things? Could all this have anything to do with the Potters? If it did... if it got out that they were related to a pair of -- well, he didn't think he could bear it./
Angry mutters broke out throughout the Hall again. Many of the pureblood wizards within the Hall were confused, as well as deeply offended. They had never before had such prejudice directed at themselves before, and were having trouble comprehending it.
/The Dursleys got into bed. Mrs. Dursley fell asleep quickly but Mr. Dursley lay awake, turning it all over in his mind. His last, comforting thought before he fell asleep was that even if the Potters were involved, there was no reason for them to come near him and Mrs. Dursley. The Potters knew very well what he and Petunia thought about them and their kind.../
More muttering.
/He couldn't see how he and Petunia could get mixed up in anything that might be going on -- he yawned and turned over -- it couldn't affect them…
How very wrong he was./
"What's that mean?" asked a second year Hufflepuff of their neighbor.
"Keep listening and you'll find out," was the answer.
/Mr. Dursley might have been drifting into an uneasy sleep, but the cat on the wall outside was showing no sign of sleepiness. It was sitting as still as a statue, its eyes fixed unblinkingly on the far corner of Privet Drive. It didn't so much as quiver when a car door slammed on the next street, nor when two owls swooped overhead. In fact, it was nearly midnight before the cat moved at all.
A man appeared on the corner the cat had been watching, appeared so suddenly and silently you'd have thought he'd just popped out of the ground. The cat's tail twitched and its eyes narrowed./
'Oh, yes,' mused Hermione internally, 'Definitely McGonagall.'
/Nothing like this man had ever been seen on Privet Drive. He was tall, thin, and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which were both long enough to tuck into his belt. He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak that swept the ground, and high-heeled, buckled boots./
"DUMBLEDORE!" shouted the students, mostly the Gryffindors. A few of the more fashion conscious students were appalled by the outfit described, before remembering that this was Headmaster Dumbledore, and they really shouldn't be surprised.
"Now, Albus," said Umbridge with a foul smile, "Whatever could you be doing in a muggle neighborhood?" Her eyes glinted like a niffler who had found gold, clearly thinking that she had somehow caught him out in some way.
"Why, yes, Albus," started the Minister, "What were you doing in a muggle neighborhood, when surely you should be celebrating?" The Minister seemed to have entirely forgotten what else had occurred on the night of October 31st, besides the defeat of Voldemort.
"I assure you, Minister, Dolores, I had entirely justifiable reasons for being their, as will be revealed shortly," said the Headmaster mysteriously. He then turned his attention back to the book, all but ignoring Umbridge and the Minister. Internally, he was wondering if he had made a grave mistake that night.
/His blue eyes were light, bright, and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice. This man's name was Albus Dumbledore.
Albus Dumbledore didn't seem to realize that he had just arrived in a street where everything from his name to his boots was unwelcome./
Harry smiled slightly, though his eyes were still dark with worry. Nothing could be more true.
/He was busy rummaging in his cloak, looking for something. But he did seem to realize he was being watched, because he looked up suddenly at the cat, which was still staring at him from the other end of the street. For some reason, the sight of the cat seemed to amuse him. He chuckled and muttered, "I should have known."/
"Why? What should you have known," said a few students around the Hall, before being shushed by their neighbors.
/He found what he was looking for in his inside pocket. It seemed to be a silver cigarette lighter. He flicked it open, held it up in the air, and clicked it. The nearest street lamp went out with a little pop. He clicked it again -- the next lamp flickered into darkness./
"Woah," said the Weasley twins in awe, "Where did you get THAT!?" The twins had an eager gleam in their eye, which struck fear into the heart of every teacher in the room. Dumbledore smiled merrily, he always enjoyed encouraging young minds.
"I made it," he said simply. Fred and George stared at him in awe, then at each other, then back at Dumbledore. They began to whisper feverishly to each other, trying to figure out how they might create a similar contraption. Dumbledore watched with pride, while the other teachers groaned.
"Must you always encourage them," snapped Snape, glowering at Dumbledore and the Twins in turn. Dumbledore merely smiled at him, which served to infuriate the Potions Master even more.
/Twelve times he clicked the Put-Outer, until the only lights left on the whole street were two tiny pinpricks in the distance, which were the eyes of the cat watching him. If anyone looked out of their window now, even beady-eyed Mrs. Dursley, they wouldn't be able to see anything that was happening down on the pavement. Dumbledore slipped the Put-Outer back inside his cloak and set off down the street toward number four, where he sat down on the wall next to the cat. He didn't look at it, but after a moment he spoke to it. "Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall."/
Many students who hadn't already figured out who that cat was, gasped. Others pumped their fist in the air, loving the feeling of being right. Hermione, while feeling satisfied, now had a bigger, and slightly more perplexing question, one which Ron voiced.
"What are McGonagall and Dumbledore doing at your house?" asked Ron. Harry sighed.
"I guess they're dropping me off," he answered. The trio were silent for a moment, before Hermione took the opportunity to ask a question that had been plaguing her since the books began.
"Harry, are your Aunt and Uncle still like this?" she asked tentatively.
"No," he answered, the lie rolling easily off his tongue, "They've mellowed out a lot." Hermione sagged in relief, and so missed the confused look Ron shot Harry over her head. He was about to say something, when he caught Harry firmly shaking his head.
'Don't,' Harry mouthed, his eyes almost pleading, 'Wait'.
'Why?' Ron mouthed back, confusion, and not a little bit of worry evident in his eyes. Before Harry could answer, Umbridge started reading again.
/He turned to smile at the tabby, but it had gone. Instead he was smiling at a rather severe-looking woman who was wearing square glasses exactly the shape of the markings the cat had had around its eyes. She, too, was wearing a cloak, an emerald one. Her black hair was drawn into a tight bun. She looked distinctly ruffled.
"How did you know it was me?" she asked.
"My dear Professor, I 've never seen a cat sit so stiffly."
"You'd be stiff if you'd been sitting on a brick wall all day," said Professor McGonagall.
"All day? When you could have been celebrating? I must have passed a dozen feasts and parties on my way here."
Professor McGonagall sniffed angrily.
"Oh yes, everyone's celebrating, all right," she said impatiently. "You'd think they'd be a bit more careful, but no -- even the Muggles have noticed something's going on. It was on their news." She jerked her head back at the Dursleys' dark living-room window. "I heard it. Flocks of owls... shooting stars... Well, they're not completely stupid. They were bound to notice something. Shooting stars down in Kent -- I'll bet that was Dedalus Diggle. He never had much sense./
McGonagall looked positively mortified aby her own comments, but the students present just laughed, while those who knew Dedalus Diggle just shook their heads fondly.
/"You can't blame them," said Dumbledore gently. "We've had precious little to celebrate for eleven years."/
Many adults around the room nodded solemnly, recalling all the things, and people that had been lost during the war. Students who had lost family members
/"I know that," said Professor McGonagall irritably. "But that's no reason to lose our heads. People are being downright careless, out on the streets in broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle clothes, swapping rumors." She threw a sharp, sideways glance at Dumbledore here, as though hoping he was going to tell her something, but he didn't, so she went on. "A fine thing it would be if, on the very day You-Know-Who seems to have disappeared at last, the Muggles found out about us all. I suppose he really has gone, Dumbledore?"/
"He has!" declared Umbridge, looking directly at Harry, with the Minister nodding along emphatically.
"He hasn't," replied Harry confidently, "And these books will prove it." All the students who were in the D.A. nodded, knowing that what Harry said was true, and eager to prove Umbridge wrong.
/"It certainly seems so," said Dumbledore. "We have much to be thankful for. Would you care for a lemon drop?"/
"Really Albus? You and your lemon drops," said Professor Sprout good naturedly. Some students rolled their eyes, while others giggled. Hermione was part of the former group, while Harry, Ron, and Neville were part of the latter. Internally, Umbridge was raging. 'How can they not see that he is absolutely senile?! Lemon drops! Well, I'll show them!' She surveyed the students, and the faculty, most of them taking this with good faith, even laughing! She huffed, turned the page, and continued reading.
/"A what?"
"A lemon drop. They're a kind of Muggle sweet I'm rather fond of"
"No, thank you," said Professor McGonagall coldly, as though she didn't think this was the moment for lemon drops.
"As I say, even if You-Know-Who has gone -"
"My dear Professor, surely a sensible person like yourself can call him by his name? All this 'You- Know-Who' nonsense -- for eleven years I have been trying to persuade people to call him by his proper name: Voldemort." Professor McGonagall flinched/
As did most of the Hall, causing Harry to roll his eyes. Some of the people in the room even let out loud gasps.
/but Dumbledore, who was unsticking two lemon drops, seemed not to notice. "It all gets so confusing if we keep saying 'You-Know-Who.' I have never seen any reason to be frightened of saying Voldemort's/
Another round of cringing.
/"name."
"I know you haven't, said Professor McGonagall, sounding half exasperated, half admiring. "But you're different. Everyone knows you're the only one You-Know- oh, all right, Voldemort/
Again with the flinching. By this point, Harry had had enough.
"All of you need to stop flinching every time you hear Voldemort's-," Harry paused to accommodate the gasps, before continuing, "-name. If these books are really about my life, then Voldemort should be a very major character, and will be mentioned very frequently. You can't keep freaking out every time he's mentioned, or we will never finish these books," he finished, glaring around the room as if daring anyone to question him. No one did, so the reading continued.
/"was frightened of."
"You flatter me," said Dumbledore calmly. "Voldemort had powers I will never have."
"Only because you are too noble to use them," said Hermione, causing Dumbledore to smile down at her, still carefully avoiding Harry's gaze.
"Only because you're too -- well -- noble to use them."
Hermione blushed at having said the exact same thing as McGonagall, as easy laughter rolled around the rest of the room. Harry nudged her, and said,
"You know what they say," he paused, and Hermione looked at him questioningly, "Great minds think alike." Hermione smiled at Harry, her blush fading away. Harry grinned back.
/"It's lucky it's dark. I haven't blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey told me she liked my new earmuffs."/
Many around the room began to laugh, while most of the older Slytherins, as well as Snape, and Umbridge, rolled their eyes.
/ Professor McGonagall shot a sharp look at Dumbledore and said,
"The owls are nothing next to the rumors that are flying around. You know what everyone's saying? About why he's disappeared? About what finally stopped him?"/
The room collectively tensed again, with many leaning in eagerly, interested in what Dumbledore had to say.
/It seemed that Professor McGonagall had reached the point she was most anxious to discuss, the real reason she had been waiting on a cold, hard wall all day, for neither as a cat nor as a woman had she fixed Dumbledore with such a piercing stare as she did now. It was plain that whatever "everyone" was saying, she was not going to believe it until Dumbledore told her it was true. Dumbledore, however, was choosing another lemon drop and did not answer.
"What they're saying," she pressed on, "is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric's Hollow. He went to find the Potters. The rumor is that Lily and James Potter are -- are -- that they're -- dead. "/
There was a moment of silence in the Hall. Even those who disliked Harry, and what he stood for, bowed their heads in respect. Hagrid was quietly sobbing into his blanket-sized handkerchief, trying his level best not to disturb the proceedings. McGonagall tastefully dabbed the corners of her eyes with a small star-patterned tissue, provided by Dumbledore, who allowed a single tear to leak out of his twinkle-less eye. The fist of one Severus Snape was clenched so hard that his knuckles were white, but that was the only indication that he gave that the reading was bothering him. Ron patted Harry on the shoulder, while Hermione took his hand.
"I'm fine guys, really," Harry protested feebly, even though he did enjoy the support they were giving him.
"We know, Harry." They didn't move their hands.
/Dumbledore bowed his head. Professor McGonagall gasped.
"Lily and James... I can't believe it... I didn't want to believe it... Oh, Albus..." Dumbledore reached out and patted her on the shoulder. "I know... I know..." he said heavily.
Professor McGonagall's voice trembled as she went on.
"That's not all. They're saying he tried to kill the Potter's son, Harry./
Focus in the room shifted to Harry, who bore the stares with experience and dignity.
/ But -- he couldn't. He couldn't kill that little boy. No one knows why, or how, but they're saying that when he couldn't kill Harry Potter, Voldemort's power somehow broke -- and that's why he's gone."
Dumbledore nodded glumly./
"But, that doesn't make any sense," said a 7th year Ravenclaw incredulously, before being shushed by his neighbors, even though they were thinking the same thing, as was most of the room. Why couldn't Voldemort kill Harry Potter? While that was a familiar question that had been pondered upon at one time or another by everyone in the room, it came roaring back into the forefront of everyone's minds. What was it about Harry Potter that allowed him to survive that night? No one knew for sure, but maybe these books could provide an answer.
/"It's -- it's true?" faltered Professor McGonagall. "After all he's done... all the people he's killed... he couldn't kill a little boy? It's just astounding... of all the things to stop him... but how in the name of heaven did Harry survive?"/
"That's what I'd like to know," muttered Harry, causing Ron and Hermione to glance over at him sympathetically.
/"We can only guess," said Dumbledore. "We may never know." Professor McGonagall pulled out a lace handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes beneath her spectacles. Dumbledore gave a great sniff as he took a golden watch from his pocket and examined it. It was a very odd watch. It had twelve hands but no numbers; instead, little planets were moving around the edge. It must have made sense to Dumbledore, though, because he put it back in his pocket and said, "Hagrid's late. I suppose it was he who told you I'd be here, by the way?"/
"Why are you there?" asked a small 1st year Hufflepuff.
"The books should tell you soon," answered Dumbledore, seeming like he didn't want to answer the question.
Harry was alternating between staring at the books and staring at Dumbledore, and due to his careful observation, he had noticed something odd. It almost seemed as though Dumbledore felt guilty about what had transpired that night. 'Maybe,' he thought, 'These books will get him to change his mind, and he'll let me leave the Dursleys.' This was the only possible silver lining he could find in the books revealing the true nature of the Dursleys. Still, he still fervently prayed that from here, the books would skip to his Hogwarts years, but he doubted he would be that lucky.
/"Yes," said Professor McGonagall. "And I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you're here, of all places?"
"I've come to bring Harry to his aunt and uncle. They're the only family he has left now."/
Protests permeated the Hall.
"You left him with them?!" Shouted much of the Hall. Students were shouting protests and objections to this course of action, seeming to have forgotten that this had happened 14 years ago. Many of the teachers who were not aware of Harry's home situation were not staring at him with concern in their eyes, in between berating the Headmaster.
"Honestly, Albus," admonished Professor Sprout, "Those people are not fit to raise a tadpole, let alone a magical child!" Many of the adults at the table, excluding Umbridge, who was watching the chaos with glee in her eyes, nodded in agreement. Even Amelia Bones, who generally liked to give people the benefit of the doubt (innocent until proven guilty, after all), looked like she agreed with the Herbology professor, so much so, that she joined the interrogation.
"Dumbledore," She began irately, "What legal right to you have to place a child with anyone, let alone the Boy-Who-Lived?!" Her gray eyes were like marble, and the stern set of her lips clearly stated that she expected an answer. Dumbledore shook his head, and said gravely,
"At the time, I thought it was best for Harry to go and live with his blood relatives, where he would be safest," The other two women looked ready to interrupt, but he forged ahead before they could, "Although I am beginning to worry that there may have been an error in my judgement." Dumbledore gave a heavy sigh. Yes, he knew that the Dursleys were generally intolerable of magic, but he had been sure that they would have been able to overcome that for a blood relative. Seeing the disdain with which Petunia spoke of her own sister was causing him to doubt his previous assumptions.
Severus Snape also thought that the Dursleys were unfit to raise Potter, but for a different reason than the rest. 'Look at the way they spoil their own spawn, I'll bet Potter leads the same apple pie life! Merlin's Beard, no wonder the brat is so arrogant and entitled!' he thought scathingly, refusing to acknowledge the worries about Potter's homelife that were creeping into his subconscious.
Umbridge scanned the room, glaring indiscriminately. These books were meant to destroy Potter's credibility and character, but instead, they seemed to be garnering him some measure of sympathy. She let out a growl deep in her throat, before loudly continuing the story, in hopes that something incriminating would be revealed soon.
/"You don't mean -- you can't mean the people who live here?" cried Professor McGonagall, jumping to her feet and pointing at number four. "Dumbledore -- you can't. I've been watching them all day. You couldn't find two people who are less like us. And they've got this son -- I saw him kicking his mother all the way up the street, screaming for sweets. Harry Potter come and live here!"/
Much of the Hall was nodding in agreement. Harry caught Professor McGonagall's eye and mouthed a silent 'Thank you' to her, before breaking eye contact. This only caused the worry pooling in the Head of Gryffindor's stomach to increase.
/"It's the best place for him," said Dumbledore firmly. "His aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to him when he's older. I've written them a letter."/
"A LETTER?!" exclaimed Hermione, her voice a full octave higher then normal. "How do you expect to explain ANYTHING with a letter?! This is a human child! What are you going to do, him on the porch like a gift basket?!" Hermione had said that last sentence with an air of incredulity and sarcasm, not having realized that that was almost exactly what had transpired. Agreeing mutters were sweeping across the room.
/"A letter?" repeated Professor McGonagall faintly, sitting back down on the wall. "Really, Dumbledore, you think you can explain all this in a letter? These people will never understand him! He'll be famous -- a legend -- I wouldn't be surprised if today was known as Harry Potter day in the future/
"Please tell me that's not a thing," said Harry pleadingly, his entire body turned to face Hermione. She shook her head, and then gave a small smile at Harry's sigh of relief. She had calmed down somewhat, but what she had heard about Harry's relatives enraged her, as did the callous manner in which Dumbledore treated the placement of an orphan child.
/-- there will be books written about Harry -- every child in our world will know his name!"
"Exactly," said Dumbledore, looking very seriously over the top of his half-moon glasses. "It would be enough to turn any boy's head. Famous before he can walk and talk! Famous for something he won't even remember! Can't you see how much better off he'll be, growing up away from all that until he's ready to take it?"/
"I guess I can understand that," acknowledged Harry. When the people sitting around him began to protest, he cut them off.
"I understand it, doesn't mean I like it," He said darkly. His assertion did nothing to quell the speculative murmurings that were echoing throughout the Hall.
/Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind, swallowed, and then said,
"Yes -- yes, you're right, of course. But how is the boy getting here, Dumbledore?" She eyed his cloak suddenly as though she thought he might be hiding Harry underneath it.
"Hagrid's bringing him."
"You think it -- wise -- to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?"/
"I would trust Hagrid with my life," said Harry, his tone brooking no argument. Ron and Hermione nodded emphatically. Hagrid, who had been wilting due to McGonagall's comment, seemed to glow with pride at the trust the trio obviously held in him. McGonagall looked absolutely mortified.
"Rubeus, I am so sorry-" she began, only to be cut off by Hagrid's booming voice.
"Think nuffin' of it, P'rfessor," said Hagrid. When she tried to apologize again, he interrupted her again.
"Really, P'rfessor, it's nuffin' to make a fuss about."
Umbridge watched this exchange disdainfully, nearly unable to resist the urge to roll her eyes. That half-breed didn't deserve even the slightest modicum of trust, it it nearly made her sick to witness all of these people treating him like a friend, an equal.
/"I would trust Hagrid with my life," said Dumbledore./
Harry raised his eyebrow at having said the exact same thing as Dumbledore, but shrugged it off.
"I'm not saying his heart isn't in the right place," said Professor McGonagall grudgingly, "but you can't pretend he's not careless. He does tend to -- what was that?"
"What was what?" said a small Ravenclaw first year. Her neighbors hushed her.
/A low rumbling sound had broken the silence around them. It grew steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of a headlight; it swelled to a roar as they both looked up at the sky -- and a huge motorcycle fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them./
Sounds of awe and shock could be heard from the assembled students.
/If the motorcycle was huge, it was nothing to the man sitting astride it. He was almost twice as tall as a normal man and at least five times as wide. He looked simply too big to be allowed, and so wild - long tangles of bushy black hair and beard hid most of his face, he had hands the size of trash can lids, and his feet in their leather boots were like baby dolphins./
"Hagrid!," crowed the students who knew the man, smiling and waving at him. Hagrid beamed at the warm reaction.
/In his vast, muscular arms he was holding a bundle of blankets.
"Hagrid," said Dumbledore, sounding relieved. "At last. And where did you get that motorcycle?"
"Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sit," said the giant, climbing carefully off the motorcycle as he spoke. "Young Sirius Black lent it to me./
Whispers broke out across the Hall. Why would Sirius Black, notorious mass murderer and Voldemort's right-hand man, assist Hagrid? Hearing the mutterings and speculation being thrown about the room, Harry shook his head. Ron and Hermione gave him reassuring looks, causing Harry to smile, just a little. He didn't need reassurance, he knew that by the end of these books, his godfather would be free. Even if that was the only good thing to come out of reading these books, he would be happy.
/"I've got him, sir."
"No problems, were there?"
"No, sir -- house was almost destroyed, but I got him out all right before the Muggles started swarmin' around. He fell asleep as we was flyin' over Bristol."/
A chorus of 'Awws' broke out across the room, causing Harry to blush and duck his head. Fred, George, and Ron were laughing at his reaction, while Hermione had been one of the ones 'Awwing.
/Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the bundle of blankets. Inside, just visible, was a baby boy, fast asleep. Under a tuft of jet-black hair over his forehead they could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning./
Cue even more awwing.
/"Is that where -?" whispered Professor McGonagall.
"Yes," said Dumbledore. "He'll have that scar forever."
"Couldn't you do something about it, Dumbledore?"/
Harry snapped to attention, eager to hear the answer. Oh, how he would love to get rid of the damn thing.
/"Even if I could, I wouldn't. Scars can come in handy. I have one myself above my left knee that is a perfect map of the London Underground. Well -- give him here, Hagrid -- we'd better get this over with."/
Hermione, as well as a few others in the room, growled at the cavalier attitude with which Dumbledore was treating this situation.
/Dumbledore took Harry in his arms and turned toward the Dursleys' house. "Could I -- could I say good-bye to him, sir?" asked Hagrid. He bent his great, shaggy head over Harry and gave him what must have been a very scratchy, whiskery kiss. Then, suddenly, Hagrid let out a howl like a wounded dog.
"Shhh!" hissed Professor McGonagall, "you'll wake the Muggles!"
"S-s-sorry," sobbed Hagrid, taking out a large, spotted handkerchief and burying his face in it. "But I c-c-can't stand it -- Lily an' James dead -- an' poor little Harry off ter live with Muggles -"
"Yes, yes, it's all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or we'll be found," Professor McGonagall whispered, patting Hagrid gingerly on the arm as Dumbledore stepped over the low garden wall and walked to the front door. He laid Harry gently on the doorstep, took a letter out of his cloak, tucked it inside Harry's blankets, and then came back to the other two./
The Great Hall became filled with the noise people shouting at Dumbledore.
"You can't just leave him there-"
"It's NOVEMBER-"
"A bloody doorstep-"
"NOVEMBER-"
"A letter!?"
"He could have frozen-
"Just a letter?!"
Students and teachers alike were furiously berating the Headmaster for leaving young Harry on the doorstep, and he wasn't defending himself. The Headmaster just continued to gaze ahead, seemingly deep in thought. Madame Bones was not so politely asking what the bloody hell they had been thinking, leaving an infant on a doorstep.
The Weasely Twins, and Ron, just stared open mouthed at Dumbledore, then at Harry, then back at Dumbledore. Hermione was one of the many yelling at Dumbledore, her hair wild and her face as red as Ron's hair. Finally, Harry had enough.
"QUIET!" The Hall quieted, shocked that such a commanding voice had come from the usually placid teen. The only ones not surprised were those in the DA, who were well used to Harry's authoritative side, and knew to listen to him. "Yes, they left me on a doorstep, and yes, that was wrong, but there is nothing anyone can do about now, so there is no point in arguing."
"But, Harry-"
"But, nothing, Hermione. Shouting at them," He nodded towards McGonagall and the Headmaster, "will accomplish absolutely nothing." This time, Harry turned to address the Hall.
"There will be much more important things to shout about, so I'd save my energy if I were you." With that, he sat down. Most of the Hall followed suit, more out of surprise than anything else. Most of the students had never seen Harry like that, and were surprised that he could sound so commanding. When some of the students looked like they wanted to continue questioning the Headmaster, Harry gave them a pointed look, and they sat down. By now, the adults in the room had collected themselves, and had silently decided to continue this line of questioning in another, more private setting.
Harry had no idea what had made him get up and defend the headmaster. He had been angry at the man all year, and had wanted to do nothing more then shout all of his questions into the man's face, so why had he stopped them? The answer came to him quickly, and with the anger that had been beginning to recede came rushing back. They were too late. Where had all of this questioning been when it really mattered? Why did they all give a damn about him now? Why did they care about him now that it was too late? He was brought out of his fog by Ron's gentle nudging.
"Hey, mate. You alright?"
"Yeah, I'm alright." He was lying of course. He wasn't alright. How could he be? His life, his thoughts, his secrets were about to be read out for the whole world to hear. He felt like he was waiting for the axe to fall, waiting for his secrets to come flowing out of that thrice-be-damned book like water from an overflowing tub. Realizing he wasn't going to say more than that, Ron and Hermione settled down beside him, Hermione moving so that Harry sat between the two of them. The three of them sat in silence, waiting for the reading to continue.
Realizing that the interrogation of the Headmaster was over, at least for now, Umbridge continued to read, her piercing voice echoing throughout the Hall.
/For a full minute the three of them stood and looked at the little bundle; Hagrid's shoulders shook, Professor McGonagall blinked furiously, and the twinkling light that usually shone from Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have gone out./
"Well that's never good," whispered Fred somberly. George just nodded. Both of them knew that now was not the time to make jokes, no matter how much they wanted to relieve the tension.
/"Well," said Dumbledore finally, "that's that. We've no business staying here. We may as well go and join the celebrations."/
Again, angry mutterings swept across the Hall at the way Dumbledore was treating the delicate situation. Hermione remained silent, though it was clear she wanted to join in. Surprisingly, so did Snape.
"Yeah," said Hagrid in a very muffled voice, "I'll be takin' Sirius his bike back. G'night, Professor McGonagall -- Professor Dumbledore, sir." Wiping his streaming eyes on his jacket sleeve, Hagrid swung himself onto the motorcycle and kicked the engine into life; with a roar it rose into the air and off into the night.
"I shall see you soon, I expect, Professor McGonagall," said Dumbledore, nodding to her. Professor McGonagall blew her nose in reply. Dumbledore turned and walked back down the street. On the corner he stopped and took out the silver Put-Outer. He clicked it once, and twelve balls of light sped back to their street lamps so that Privet Drive glowed suddenly orange and he could make out a tabby cat slinking around the corner at the other end of the street. He could just see the bundle of blankets on the step of number four.
"Good luck, Harry," he murmured. He turned on his heel and with a swish of his cloak, he was gone./
"You-you just left him there-" Hermione stuttered, unable to even finish her sentence. Glares were directed at the Headmaster, and the book, from across the room. Dumbledore barely even acknowledged them, so deep in thought was he. Internally, Umbridge was squealing with glee. Oh, how she wished she had found these books sooner! Who would have thought turning Hogwarts against it's Headmaster would be so easy? She wasn't able to conceal smug grin, which didn't go unnoticed by Harry.
/A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect astonishing things to happen. Harry Potter rolled over inside his blankets without waking up. One small hand closed on the letter beside him and he slept on, not knowing he was special, not knowing he was famous, not knowing he would be woken in a few hours' time by Mrs. Dursley's scream as she opened the front door to put out the milk bottles, nor that he would spend the next few weeks being prodded and pinched by his cousin Dudley... He couldn't know that at this very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices: "To Harry Potter -- the boy who lived!"/
For a moment, just a moment, the Hall was silent, as its occupants processed what they just heard. Then, the room erupted into a cacophony of noise. Students all over the room were loudly discussing what they had learned, many outright staring at Harry. The Slytherins were a little more subdued, instead quietly speculating on how a child could have possibly defeated the Dark Lord. They supposed it would be revealed in due time, and so began talking about the revolting Dursley family, laughing at what passed for a respectable family in the muggle world.
The adults once again began questioning Dumbledore, who seemed to have finally come out of his fog.
"Albus, what in the bloody hell were you thinking, leaving a child on a doorstep?!" exclaimed Professor Sprout. This sentiment was echoed by Amelia Bones, Professor Flitwick, and surprisingly, Professor Snape.
"Yes, Albus, what were you thinking?" drawled Snape, his voice unreadable. Before Dumbledore could answer, Flitwick turned to McGonagall and said,
"And why in the world would you allow it?! Lily and James were some of your favorite students, how could you just abandon their child that way?" McGonagall looked absolutely lost, clearly not knowing how to answer the question. She hadn't questioned Dumbledore at the time, hadn't been able to. The day had been so emotionally charged that she could barely remember it. Now Dumbledore spoke, if only to defend his deputy.
"Minerva was merely following my orders," he said calmly, although his eyes seemed to betray his inner turmoil.
"And what right did you have to give those orders, Albus," inquired Amelia Bones, joining the fray. Dumbledore gave a great heaving sigh.
"I thought it best to have Harry placed with his closest living relatives, where he would be safe. His mother's sacrifice left him protected by Blood Wards-"
"Blood Wards?" chimed in Professor Flitwick, "That is a very old, and dangerous branch of magic."
"That it is, but there is no limit to what a mother will do to protect her child, and as I recall, Lily was a gifted witch," said Dumbledore, the twinkle returning to his eyes for just a moment as he spoke of Lily. "The Blood Wards needed to be powered by Petunia, who shares Lily's blood. As long as Harry calls Privet Drive home, he will always be safe there."
Hearing this, Harry scoffed. Privet Drive hadn't been his home for many years now. Hogwarts was his home, the place where he felt safest. Well, it had been before Umbridge came along.
"Perhaps we should begin reading again," said Cornelius Fudge eagerly. He was quite enjoying getting out of the office for the day, and was anxious to uncover Harry Potter's lies. In his mind, it was a win-win situation.
"Why, yes, Cornelius. I quite agree," tittered Umbridge, smirking in a way that made it appear like the corners of her mouth were being drawn back with string. She reached to open the book, but it flew from her hands like a bird. The students gasped, and Umbridge shrieked.
"Get it! Get it!"
The book flapped around the room, front and back covers acting as wings. Some of the younger students reached up to grab it, but the book was flying just out of reach. Finally, after the book had made one full lap around the Hall, it came to rest in front of McGonagall. Of its own accord, the book flipped open to the correct page. Dumbledore gave a small laugh, which echoed throughout the Hall in the resulting silence of the novel's flight.
"It seems these books are mildly sentient, and choose who may read them." Hypothesized Dumbledore, still smiling slightly. "I suggest we heed their advice." He waved Professor McGonagall on quickly, before the seemingly apoplectic Umbridge could collect her thoughts enough to speak. The transfiguration professor got the message, and in a clear voice, she read out,
/The Vanishing Glass/
Harry swore violently under his breath.
Afterword
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