Hermione looked up from the book she was reading to stare out of the window of her room. The day after she had arrived home, Professor McGonagall had visited. Hogwarts' Deputy Headmistress had been very candid about what had happened and explained what the Grangers options were going forward: Hermione's continued enrolment at Hogwarts or a memory wipe for the whole family. The elder witch had done her best to answer any questions the family had and assured them that they could contact her at any time should more questions crop up.
The Grangers had listened patiently and asked questions calmly. As the conversation progressed, Hermione had gone from apprehensive to nervous to terrified. Her parents were only ever that analytical when they wanted to really tear a proposition apart.
Hermione's nerves were not calmed when her parents had shared a look after Professor McGonagall's departure and announced that they would continue the discussion the next day when they got home from work.
So now all Hermione could do was wait. She was trying to read some of her school books in an effort to catch up, but it was difficult to even know which books had been assigned for which year. In the end she kept getting drawn to a book called Hogwarts: a History in the hope that reading about the school would somehow jog her memories.
It didn't, but reading was better than just waiting. Sighing, Hermione tried to turn her attention back to the book and ignore the chill in the pit of her stomach.
When she finally heard the garage door opening, Hermione shot to her feet, dropping the book on the chair before she'd even heard the car pulling in. She raced towards the stairs, only to hesitate when she reached them as it occurred to her that she might not want to appear too anxious and eager in front of her parents. I have to argue this logically, not emotionally.
She found herself chewing nervously on her thumb as her mind raced. The riot of conflicting feelings racing through her chest gave Hermione little hope that she would be able to pull this off.
Before she could resolve the issue, the connecting door to the garage opened and Hermione decided that it would be better to move than to stand there like a statue. At the bottom of the stairs she found her parents hanging up their coats. "Mum. Dad. How was your day?" Hermione was relieved that her voice didn't waver too much.
Her parents shared a look. "It was on the busy side," her mother said, sounding tired. "I'm afraid that neither your father nor I felt much like cooking tonight so we picked up some Indian on the way home."
"That's fine," Hermione rushed to reassure them. She considered offering to cook for them in the future, but unfortunately she still had her memories of previous attempts and none of those had been particularly successful. They'd probably end up eating out at that Indian place before they come home if I did that Hermione thought to herself ruefully.
"Why don't you tell us how you kept busy today while we set the table?" Helen Granger asked.
Hermione noticed that her father was carrying a pair of white plastic bags into the kitchen that looked like they might burst at any moment. "Sure, mum."
As she helped her parents set out the plates and cutlery for their dinner, Hermione told them about all the reading she'd done. It wasn't until she was describing in detail how Hogwarts had been founded that she realised that she was rambling and abruptly shut her mouth.
"Well, you're as eager to go to that school as you were when you were eleven," her father said, studying her as he loaded up another forkful of lamb kolhapuri and rice.
"Might as well address the matter now, hmm?" her mother nodded, pulling apart a piece of naan. "Hermione, dear, do you want to go back to this school?"
Hermione took a deep breath to steady herself and nodded. "I do, mum. What I've read in the books is amazing, I've made good friends there and, even though I can't remember everything, I feel like I belong there."
The elder Grangers were quiet for a moment as they thought it through. "I think that those are excellent arguments for going back, sweetheart," her father said in a musing tone. "We can't overlook the fact that this place is also clearly dangerous."
"Dad, this was a terrorist attack. I mean, I'm not at risk of having the IRA put a bomb under a car in the wizarding world."
"True," her father conceded, "but that also isn't a great threat at most schools that don't teach magic."
"You could still choose to go to a normal school and get the qualifications necessary to attend university," her mother added.
"That would probably be more difficult than getting my magical qualifications though, wouldn't it?" Hermione countered. "I've missed several years of schooling that we aren't going to be able to explain away, while Hogwarts knows what's happened and appears willing to work around that."
Hermione's father just hummed in the back of his throat, while her mother looked nervous. "Hermione, I think you should know that we have no intention of deciding this tonight. Clearly, this means a lot to you, but that world is not without risks; risks that are difficult for us to assess. Before yesterday we didn't even know that it was possible to lose all your memories."
"I understand, Mum." What else was there to say? I hope we come to a decision in time for me to work on my homework.
:-:-:-:-:
Harry's summer passed at a pace that he'd never experienced with the Dursleys. While Petunia usually kept him busy weeding the garden or dusting the house or washing the windows, at Hogwarts there was a greater sense of having something to do every day.
There were the occlumency lessons with Dumbledore. Every day, Harry and the Headmaster would spend at least an hour, and usually more, working on Harry's mental defences. It was a completely different experience than Harry's lessons with Snape had been.
When he ran into a problem or didn't understand something, Dumbledore invariably found a different way to explain it. It caused a certain level of chagrin in Harry that the old wizard's roundabout way of thinking and speaking was actually the best way for him to grasp some of the concepts involved in protecting one's mind.
As his mind became more ordered, Harry noticed that he was also having an easier time with the books he was studying in the Headmaster's private library. He'd moved on from Transfiguring for Trouble and Animating for Adversaries and, thinking about how he might go about hunting horcruxes, had started on Dowsings, Detections and Descryings for the Determined. He'd noticed that the spell to locate a Guardian Oak wasn't listed in the book's table of contents.
Most of the time that Harry didn't spend in the Headmaster's office, he spent in the Room of Requirement. There was so much magic to practice that at times he wondered how he was ever supposed to get to a point where he'd present any kind of challenge to Riddle. He frequently thought to himself during those times that the last piece of Riddle's soul, the piece housed in his body, was going to be the most difficult to get rid of, regardless of what protections the others might have.
It was the times that he spent outside that Harry treasured the most though. Flying with Hedwig under the warm, summer sun made it almost impossible for the chill of Sirius' death and Hermione's injury to reach him. For minutes or hours at a time, Harry could leave his troubles on the ground and be a kid playing with his beloved familiar.
The troubles were always waiting there for him when he landed though; always dragging him back to his destiny and duty. It might even have been the reason that Harry felt mostly resignation and determination when Dumbledore sat down to a breakfast near the end of the summer looking grim.
"Alright, just tell me whatever it is."
"Whatever do you mean, my boy?"
Harry just shot his teacher a flatly unimpressed look.
"Very well. I believe it is time that you and I made plans for our first joint expedition to locate one of the objects we have previously discussed."
Something seemed a little off about that to Harry. "Why now of all times?"
"Because it will be to our advantage to undertake this endeavour before the castle fills with witnesses to note our absence on the first of September. The reason we have not departed sooner is that Poppy had not yet returned to the castle. She will arrive this weekend to begin brewing what she expects to need for the new school year and that will give us a much needed safety net for the eventuality that one of us might be injured in confronting whatever protections Tom has employed."
Harry was quiet for a moment before he was forced to admit "okay, that makes a lot of sense."
"I'm glad you agree, my boy. Shall we pencil that in for next week then?"
"I'll check my schedule, but I imagine I can fit it in," Harry responded with a roll of his eyes.
"Excellent. I had hoped you would," Dumbledore chortled. "There are two other matters I thought we ought to discuss. In keeping with your oath to not leave the castle without my accompaniment I had thought that we might also look for an appropriate moment to purchase your materials for the upcoming year. I trust that you will not take it amiss if I suggest that new robes at the very least will prove to be a necessity."
Harry felt a bit taken aback at that comment. He looked down at what he was wearing and realised that the sleeves of Dudley's hand-me-down shirt didn't reach to his wrists anymore. He realised that he must not have noticed since the overall feel of the shirt was as baggy as it had ever been. "Alright. You said there were two things?"
"So I did. Owing to our perennial need to find a teacher for Defence Against the Dark Arts, I believe I will require your assistance in a matter of staffing."
"Oh?"
"Over the past two years I have received but a single application to the post and I find that I must allow Professor Snape to take the job."
'NO!" Harry cried out, horror washing over him at the thought of his most hated teacher taking over what was usually his favourite subject.
Dumbledore frowned disapprovingly. "I am aware that you and Professor Snape have a less than amicable relationship, but even you must admit that he is competent."
"At what?" Harry snarked.
"Enough." Dumbledore rumbled. "Professor Snape will teach Defence Against the Dark Arts. Is that clear?"
Harry had to grit his teeth to force out a "yes, sir."
"Good. What I should like your impeccable assistance with is enticing his replacement to Hogwarts. I was thinking of asking Horace Slughorn to come out of retirement."
Harry felt his ears perk up as he levelled a sharp glare at his teacher. "What a coincidence. I was wondering what finally made Snape worthy of the Defence job."
"Harry." Dumbledore's voice carried a note of warning.
The younger wizard mulishly refused to answer.
"Would you deny that we need what Horace possesses?"
"No. Doesn't mean I like sacrificing the Defence course to get it," Harry replied.
"I believe that Professor Snape may yet surprise you in that regard. Will you come with me when I go to offer Horace the position of Hogwarts' Potions professor?"
"Yeah. If you want me there, I'll be there," Harry said, even if he felt unsure whether he might make a real difference in the man choosing to come to Hogwarts.
"Very good. Let us agree to the coming Tuesday for our first task and perhaps a day or two later for the others, if all goes well."
"Sure," Harry agreed, his mind already racing with what he wanted to do to prepare for his first horcrux hunt.
:-:-:-:-:
When Madam Pomfrey came back to Hogwarts she only showed a slight surprise at finding Harry in the castle. The most notable difference her arrival caused in Harry's routine was that meals were moved back to the Great Hall. Harry understood that the convivial atmosphere that had dominated his interactions with Dumbledore was going to get scaled back with the castle taking on its role as a school once more.
On Tuesday morning, Harry made his way up to the Headmaster's Office. He found Dumbledore standing by a window looking out over Hogwarts' grounds. "Ah, Harry," the older wizard said without turning around. "We seem to have chosen a day full of light to hunt the dark."
"Yes, sir," Harry answered, not feeling all that poetic himself.
"You are prepared?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. I have a gift I should like you to accept before we leave." Dumbledore motioned over to his desk.
Harry walked over and found a silver ring lying on a piece of parchment.
"That ring is a portkey I have enchanted. Should you speak the activation phrase while wearing it, you will be taken directly to the Hospital Wing and Poppy's tender mercies. I trust you will use it, should the need arise."
"Thank you, sir," Harry said, studying the activation phrase as he slid the ring over a finger. Lemon Sherbert… of course it is. At least I'm not likely to say that by accident while hunting a horcrux. "All set, sir."
"Then it does not behove us to delay any longer. If you will take hold of this portkey, it will take us out to our destination."
Harry gingerly grabbed hold of the pink, fuzzy sock. "Where are we going, sir?"
"The charming fields surrounding the village of Little Hangleton."
The Gaunt Shack. Makes sense. Harry watched Dumbledore tap the sock with his wand and felt a hook behind his navel drag him into a cyclone.
The whirlwind deposited the two wizards on a winding country trail. Harry's eyes darted around trying to locate any threat.
"I believe, Harry, that we have arrived quite undetected," Dumbledore said quietly.
"For now," Harry agreed tersely. Dumbledore didn't comment; he didn't need to. Both wizards knew who they were facing and that they couldn't afford to let their guard down.
They moved forward cautiously, Harry relying on his training as a seeker to look for anything that seemed out of place, Dumbledore surreptitiously casting detection charms. They knew they were getting close when something flickered in the air in response to one of Dumbeldore's spells.
The Headmaster's worried hum exacerbated the tension crawling up and down Harry's spine. He tried to keep one eye on Dumbledore and one on their surroundings, but it was difficult to tear his eyes away from Dumbledore's wand dancing through complex patterns while the man himself murmured continuous incantations that made it almost sound like he was singing under his breath.
When Dumbledore lowered his wand with a frown, Harry couldn't contain himself any longer. "What did you find, sir?"
"A disturbing train of thought on Tom's part," came the unhelpful answer.
"Then how are we going to- Headmaster!"
Before Harry's eyes, Dumbledore had slashed his wand across his hand, causing a cut to appear and allowing blood to drip from his palm onto a rock that didn't look particularly different to any other in Harry's eyes. The effect was almost immediate as a sound that reminded him of shattering glass rang through the air around them.
"What was that all about?" Harry demanded as Dumbledore conjured a bandage that wrapped itself tightly around his injured hand.
"A sacrifice," Dumbledore answered, looking up from his inspection of the way the bandage had tied itself off. "Tom presumably wished to weaken anyone who tried to approach this place. I would say that it is a fair indication that we are on the right path."
"Yeah, alright, but warn a bloke next time. We could just as easily have used my blood."
Dumbledore shook his head with a slight smile. "I am not sure that would have been wise, Harry. Your blood has reacted quite… vigorously to Tom's magic in the past."
That gave Harry pause as he imagined the stone exploding from a droplet of blood landing on it. "But the ritual he used stopped that; didn't it?"
"Perhaps. We cannot be sure of the extent of the consequences of Tom's choice to use your blood in his reincarnation and I would be even more hesitant to rely on such uncertain elements when working on traps he set more than a year ago."
"Yeah, okay. That's fair enough."
They continued walking until Dumbledore stopped in front of a stretch of hedge that Harry couldn't distinguish from any other. "In here I think, Harry."
Harry watched as Dumbledore extended a hand and it sank effortlessly into the hedge without moving a single branch out of place. "Is this the same thing as the wall at Platform 9¾?"
"Something similar at least," Dumbledore said distractedly, pulling his arm back out. "I believe that stepping through should not cause us any damage, though I would advise against stepping into the garden more than we absolutely must."
Harry nodded his understanding and followed his teacher through the illusion of the hedge. They emerged into a garden that had a ramshackle building standing at the centre of it. The weeds had grown even taller than in Ogden's memory and it was only due to that memory that Harry knew that it was a house of sorts under all that vegetation and not a small hill with a door in it.
Dumbledore was already waving his wand again. Harry felt his apprehension rise as Dumbledore's face began to look more and more worried.
"I cannot tell what this magic is," the Headmaster admitted a few minutes later, sounding more tense than Harry had ever known him to be. Dumbledore's admission did not stop him from casting though and he kept poking at whatever Voldemort had left for them with spell after spell until his expression cleared somewhat.
"You've figured it out?" Harry asked quietly, keeping an eye on the grasses around them to ensure that they weren't about to be ambushed.
"Not entirely," Dumbledore murmured in reply. "Whatever spell this is, I can see that it only coats what was once the home of the Gaunt Family. Judging by what I can make out of its structure it is focused on the front door."
"You think it's some kind of security."
"Indeed. Hmm."
Harry just kept watch, ensuring that his Headmaster could work on their problem without worrying about their surroundings.
"Harry, I would like you to take a look and tell me what you think."
Looking over his shoulder, Harry cast his eye over the house where the Gaunts had lived. "I think that if we get in there, the roof falling on our heads is at least as likely to kill us as whatever Riddle left."
Dumbledore smiled briefly, but shook his head. "That is not entirely what I was hoping you would assess. What do you make of the front door?"
Harry rolled his eyes at his mentor, but did as he was asked. Looks about as decrepit as the rest of this hovel. Harry didn't voice that thought out loud as it was clearly not going to help them in any way. Studying it more carefully, he tried to pierce the gloom he could see through the cracks where the planks had warped, but to no avail. The whole rickety death-trap is as creepy as the damn snake nailed to the door.
Wait! "Why is that snake still nailed to the door? It should have rotted away or been eaten by now. Unless Riddle stops by every so often to refresh it?"
Dumbledore nodded approvingly. "I doubt that Tom visits his mother's old home much. There is little gain in drawing attention to this place if it hides what we believe it does."
"Then he cast a Preservation Charm on that thing? Why?"
"That is neither entirely correct nor incorrect, Harry," Dumbledore said with a smile. "This is not a matter we teach at Hogwarts, though I suspect that those who have earned the right to call themselves Gringotts Curse Breakers might explain the principle to you. It is likely, in my somewhat less than humble opinion, that this snake is a part of the protections that have been set up over this place; the key to them even. Such webs of magic can often preserve organic material, sometimes even life, long beyond what might otherwise be possible."
Harry considered that and could almost physically feel his mind boggle. "Okay, but what does that have to do with-… Parseltongue! This is what you meant by the magic on the Chamber preserving the basilisk. You think Riddle was inspired by that and did something similar to that snake on the door. Meaning he probably used Parseltongue again and I'm going to have to speak to that snake to get us in the front door?!"
"Very astute, Harry." Dumbledore beamed as if he were about to award house points. "Yes, I do believe that; and what's more, that this whole system may have been cast in Parseltongue."
"Great," Harry gusted out. "Any idea what the password might be? Or should we just hope that Riddle decided to enchant a negotiation into this place?" The last sentence was heavy with sarcasm.
"Ah, I do not believe I am the one best prepared to determine that," Dumbledore said, clasping his hands behind his back demonstratively and raising his eyes up so that he wasn't quite meeting Harry's gaze. "For all that you have told me of your fascinating adventure at the end of your second year, you are the one with actual experience facing Parseltongue locks."
Harry grumbled under his breath, but turned back to face the door regardless. Right, I just have to guess what a psychopathic madman would choose as his password… fuck. He closed his eyes and concentrated on his memory of the Chamber of Secrets. He remembered what Riddle had said to open the statue. 'Speak to me, Slytherin; greatest of the Hogwarts Four.' Pretentious, bloody-
"Sir! You said that you thought Riddle made this one fairly early on, right?"
"I did and I do," Dumbledore agreed, sounding curious.
"So that would have been pretty close to his discovery of the Chamber and that he was Slytherin's Heir?"
"I believe so."
"And he was a pretentious, little git back then, wasn't he?" Harry frowned for a moment. "Well, still is, I suppose."
Dumbledore's cough couldn't entirely hide the snort of laughter beneath it. "I have rarely heard him described in those terms, but I think most of us who knew him back then detected a certain arrogance and a conviction that he was superior to his fellows, yes."
Harry nodded. "Here goes nothing then." He marched up to the door and glared imperiously at the snake's corpse, imagining that it was alive. "₰Open for the Heir of Slytherin, ₰" he demanded, feeling his tongue tickle his mouth as it moved in ways that it could not have without magic.
The snake raised its head, only to bow it. "₰Welcome, Master, ₰" it greeted in an echoing, empty hiss as the door swung open.
"Well done, Harry," Dumbledore murmured, the amusement gone from his voice as the tension reasserted itself.
Harry just nodded and followed the older man into the void of the door opening. The inside smelled musty and sickly sweet; rotting leaves and fungus over earth. He could almost feel the dust in the cool air dancing over his skin, raising the hairs on his arms and neck.
As his eyes adjusted, he saw that the room they were standing in was far larger than the shack could have accommodated without enchantments. There were no other doors that led away from this central area and Harry tried not to think about where the Gaunt Family had slept.
Dumbledore meanwhile had resumed casting spells. "Over there," he spoke confidently, pointing at an unremarkable spot on the floor. "That is where the protections concentrate."
"I don't suppose you can actually figure these ones out?" Harry asked, not expecting a positive answer.
"I am afraid not, my boy, and all the more cautious must we be because of it."
Harry just nodded and waited, relying on the older wizard to come up with a plan of attack. Maybe I'd be able to help if I'd so much as taken a Runes or Arithmancy class. As soon as the thought formed, Harry knew that it was a ridiculous one. Riddle was on par with Hermione by all accounts; that's not something I'm going to be able to tackle until I have a massive head start on how much he knew back then.
"Yes… yes, I do believe that would work," Dumbledore muttered, startling Harry from his thoughts.
"What's the plan?"
"We cannot risk using magic," Dumbledore began, "as there is every chance that Tom will have set the wards to activate if any, but a specific spell, were to touch that area."
"So… what? We hack at it with the sword?"
"Not an unreasonable suggestion, all things considered, but I thought we might employ a tool more suited to the task." With a flick of his wand, Dumbledore caused an axe to appear on the floor in front of Harry.
"Sir!"
"Not to worry, Harry. If spells that did not directly affect that area which I suspect houses the object of our search were to set off the alarms, my detection charms would already have done so."
"Really hope you thought of that before you started casting them then," Harry muttered grimly, as he bent down and picked up the axe. "Here?" he checked, resting the axe-head on the floor.
"Quite so. I do not believe that there will be a need for an overly large hole. It is only a small artifact after all."
"That makes all the difference," Harry said sarcastically, raising the axe over his head and bringing it down heavily on the floorboards. The wood was rotted through so badly that with only half a dozen blows, Harry had cleared enough of a space to see into a depression under the floor. "Looks like it might be the right spot. There's a hole here."
"Very well. Step back, Harry. We do not wish to be caught by a trap at this stage."
Harry did as Dumbledore suggested, taking a large step back and resting the axe against his leg. Dumbledore himself drew the Sword of Gryffindor and used the point to sift away the splinters that Harry had hacked out of the floor.
Upon upending a particularly large segment, Dumbledore froze, staring dumbfoundedly at a glint of gold beneath the wood. Harry couldn't contain himself, it was a glint of gold after all and seeking was what he did best. He craned his neck to get a better look.
There, in the hollow below the floor, lay a clunky looking ring with a large black stone set into the golden band. Harry noticed that there was something carved into the stone; something he couldn't quite make out from his current position. Maybe if I get closer… just a little bit...
He moved forward a step and the ring seemed to fill his vision. Pulled towards the ring, Harry felt like he was a spectator in his own body, watching everything unfold in slow-motion. That remained true when a familiar, ice-cold magic slipped into his mind. Before he could notice what it was doing, the magic touched a part of Harry's mind that filled him with a frozen dread that he could not quite put into words, and withdrew in acceptance. Harry shook his head in confusion, his thoughts left far clearer than he would have expected them to be in a Voldemort-made trap.
A clang next to him drew Harry's attention, his head snapping to the side as his body tensed, and to his horror he saw Dumbledore getting down on his knees, reaching for the ring with the hand that had once held a sword. Not stopping to debate what he was doing, Harry lunged for his Headmaster and used his shoulder to barge the old man out of the way.
Surprised by the assault, Dumbledore was sent sprawling in a tangle of robes and beard. Harry didn't waste time checking to see if his teacher was alright, instead grabbing the Sword of Gryffindor and thrusting it down into the ring.
"NO!" Dumbledore wailed pitifully, throwing himself forward, his hand desperately reaching for the object of his desires. He was too late. Under the assault of Goblin silver impregnated with basilisk venom, the stone disintegrated and the gold it had been set in began to bubble and corrode. Dumbledore wailed again and moved as if to pick up the poisonous, boiling mess.
Doing his best to keep the blade away from them, Harry desperately wrapped his other arm about Dumbledore's chest and heaved them back. He fell on top of the older man who groaned pathetically. Harry wasn't given a chance to ask if Dumbledore was injured as a series of cracks, loud and fast as machine-gunfire, resounded through the hut.
Harry saw the walls buckle and explode inward towards him in a shower of splinters. The event only barely registered quickly enough in Harry's mind that he could throw himself face down across Dumbledore, shielding the old man's throat and head.
Shards of wood tore into his flesh and he felt like every wound immediately burst into flame. Not good. We need to get out of here. Weakly gripping the Headmaster's shoulder with the hand that held his portkey ring, Harry croaked out "lemon sherbet" and felt himself and his passenger whipped away by a storm of magic.
When the sensation finally abated, Harry was slammed into unforgiving flagstones. He felt his head bounce off them once, only to impact them again. He thought he heard a scream somewhere behind him, but his world was already fading to black.
:-:-:-:-:
Harry woke to a wave of pain moving through his body and couldn't suppress a hiss. He began to breathe very deliberately, waiting for his body to acknowledge that he was in pain and move on.
"I see you are finally awake, Mr. Potter," a familiar, crisp voice sounded above him.
"Hey, Madam Pomfrey," Harry grated out. "What is it this time?"
"I believe I should be asking you that. How were you able to show up here with splinters of wood soaked in basilisk venom sticking out of you?"
"Because Professor Dumbledore was the one who made the portkey." That got him a flick to his forehead. "Ouch! I'm your patient here."
"That does not mean that I must put up with your flippancy, Potter. And you! Stop looking so pleased!"
Since that last comment was clearly not aimed at Harry and his grimace, he cracked an eye open in an attempt to determine who was in the Hospital Wing with him. A glimpse of a long white beard resting on gaudy fabric told him everything he needed to know. "So if we were stabbed with basilisk venom how are we still alive?"
"I believe that you will find that 'we' were not struck, Harry, but rather you."
"Then why are you here?"
"The Headmaster is here because he is recovering from a particularly vicious Compulsion Charm and because he needs to learn that at his age he is not to be running around taking ridiculous risks and he most certainly should not be teaching his students the same! Especially not a student who runs around taking ridiculous risks more than enough on his own!"
"I'm not that bad…" Even through his squint, Harry could feel the glare being aimed at him. He heard a frustrated growl and the sound of someone stomping away. "That went well," he muttered.
"It is to Poppy's credit as a healer that she is so invested in her patients, even though it may be less than convenient for us now." Dumbledore's response told Harry that he hadn't kept his voice quite as quiet as he thought he had.
"Point. She tell you how long she's going to keep us here?"
"I am afraid not. Poppy was very insistent that we need to learn a lesson."
"Speaking of lessons…"
"I would prefer to wait until we are back in the privacy of my office to discuss the matter."
"Yeah, you're probably right."
"One thing that need not wait that long is my thanks. I owe you my life, Harry, possibly twice over."
"Don't mention it," Harry grunted. "If we're going to be stuck here might as well put that time to good use. Think you could call an elf to get me a book to study?" he asked as he tried to work himself into a sitting position.
"Potter! Stay. Down."
Harry grit his teeth and did as he was commanded.
"I believe I will have to deny your request for now," came the highly amused and unnecessary answer to his question.
"Oh, get stuffed. Sir."
:-:-:-:-:
Harry discovered over the next ten days that Madam Pomfrey meant business in teaching them a lesson. While she eased up and allowed them to read and work in bed, neither Harry nor Dumbledore was allowed out of that bed except to relieve themselves. Harry had started to consider that a small mercy given how strict the matron was being.
The end of the punishment came when Professor McGonagall walked in, arched her eyebrow at what she found and shook her head. "I knew you'd be poorly suited to looking after each other," she grumbled. "What happened this time?"
Harry had looked over at Dumbledore and, wanting no part of this, pointed and said "his fault."
"Really now, Harry. Surely you'd not blame me for what happened?" Dumbledore asked with a twinkle in his eye.
"As long as she's looking at me like that, you'd better believe I will," Harry retorted. "I already have one member of staff glaring at me non-stop, I don't need another."
"And yet, Mr. Potter, I have no doubt that before the end of the year is out you will have found a way to have a chat with an acromantula or some similar tomfoolery," McGonagall broke in.
Harry grimaced. "No thanks. Once was bad enough."
Something flashed in McGonagall's eyes as they narrowed. "You've spoken to an acromantula? When?"
"Ummm…" Harry tried to take a cue from the Headmaster and found the old man looking a bit worried. "Never mind. Didn't really mean that."
McGonagall's head had dropped into her hand. "Albus?"
"Yes, my dear?" Dumbledore's voice sounded like a grandfather humouring a grandchild, but his expression indicated that he was hoping this would blow over quickly.
"I assume that you will be informing me later why nothing about a student coming into contact with an acromantula ever made it into our end-of-year meetings?"
"Well…" Dumbledore prevaricated, looking at Harry.
McGonagall's eyes flicked back and forth between the two wizards, noting the interaction. "Arrrgggh!" she cried in frustration, throwing her hands up in the air. "You!" she snapped, jabbing a finger at Harry. "No wandering off to do Maeve-knows-what this year. And you!" The finger swung to point at Dumbledore. "No giving him ideas. The last thing this castle needs is the son of James Potter taking his cues from you!" With that she stomped into the nurse's office, where Harry didn't doubt that Pomfrey would agree with her every word.
"Oh dear. I am starting to believe that Poppy may have kept us here for this very purpose," Dumbledore said, pulling at his beard distractedly.
"Aren't you their boss?"
"In a sense. Perhaps you are familiar with the idiom regarding the difficulty of herding cats?"
"Don't. The last thing we need is for her to think you're making a crack about her animagus form," Harry warned.
After a glaring pair of elderly witches emerged from the nurse's office to inform the wizards that they were cleared to leave, Harry and Dumbledore beat a hasty retreat from the Hospital Wing.
"A quick word, Harry?" Dumbledore asked, indicating the direction of his office.
"Sure. Let's get this over with," Harry agreed, willing to go through this now if it guaranteed him some time in the sun and fresh air without interruptions. Both wizards allowed silence to settle between them as they made their way to the privacy afforded them by the Headmaster's Office.
Once they had taken their usual seats, the two wizards studied each other for a moment. "As successful as we were, Harry, I would ask if you have any thoughts on how we might have improved our performance?" Dumbledore asked, opening the proceedings.
"Not getting hurt? If we could not get caught by Madam Pomfrey next time, I'd consider that an improvement."
"Quite," Dumbledore said, raising one bushy eyebrow. "Given Tom's creativity in certain fields, we may wish to distil that down to actions within our sphere of control."
"Fine. If you're talking like that, I'm going to guess that you already have an idea."
"As it transpires, I do. I would like to propose that we do not leave the castle on any more missions alone. Your timely action most certainly saved my life and I hope I may return the favour if it should prove necessary."
Harry stilled as he tried to work through the implications of that offer. In the short term this only helps me. I've already agreed that I won't leave the castle without him, so it forces him to wait for me. I think he might be trying to make sure that I don't run off on him once he clears me. Is the trade-off worth it? The image of Dumbledore trapped in the lure of the ring flashed through Harry's mind, though his imagination placed himself in that vulnerable position.
"Alright, sir. That seems like a good idea." Definitely safer. And who knows? It might get him to approve my occlumency shields a bit sooner.
"Good. Do you perhaps have any other suggestions?"
"Try to find out more about what we're walking into beforehand?" Harry asked uncertainly. "I know that won't always be possible, but maybe we could both know where we're headed before the portkey's in our hands?"
Dumbledore inclined his head in acquiescence.
"Also, sir, do you think you could re-enchant this?" Harry held out the silver ring that had carried them to the Hospital Wing. "I'm not planning on running off, but I would hate for us to forget in the heat of the moment."
Dumbledore accepted the ring and waved his wand over it, muttering an incantation. "A wise precaution, given the risk you might run when leaving this castle, even if we are not seeking out peril of our own accord. I have kept the same activation phrase."
It was a bit disturbing to hear Dumbledore admitting that this year at Hogwarts might be dangerous, given what Harry had gone through during 'safe' years. He slipped the ring back into place, relieved that he was at least a little more prepared for whatever might be coming than he had ever been before. "That's everything I can think of, sir."
"Then I have but one request remaining. If you are still willing, I would like to devote tomorrow to obtaining your school materials and, hopefully, Horace's services."
Harry nodded. "That's fine by me, sir," he said getting up.
"Then I believe that I have kept you from your freedom long enough."
Harry did his best not to run out the door.
AN:
Teamwork makes the dream work, especially when that dream is the destruction of unspeakably dangerous magical artefacts.
Harry and Dumbledore have been on a tear this summer, with at least half of old Riddles anchors dispatched. Unfortunately, their free reign is at an end.