Chapter XXI
Harry awoke with a start and gasped for air, his emerald green eyes darting wildly around the familiar Gryffindor boy's dormitory at Hogwarts. Instinctively, he reached with one hand for the pair of black, round-rimmed spectacles that lay on his bedside table, while his other hand searched under the hard pillow for his wand. Frowning slightly, he tried to remember the events that had led to his being here, lying shivering in his bed in Gryffindor Tower, but surprisingly no explanation was forthcoming. He could not even recall going to bed the previous night, nor indeed had he any recollection of the term's lessons that he had surely attended in this, his fifth year of education at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
The room around him presented a starkly normal situation, only adding to Harry's sense of bewilderment and unease. Evidently, he had been the only occupant of the dormitory to have forgotten to draw the crimson hangings around his bed the previous night. The other four boys were all concealed from view behind their velvety drapes, clothes and shoes lying discarded on the floor in a disordered heap. The dawn sun crept sleepily through the tower window, throwing Ron's immense four-poster into sharp relief and casting thick, dark shadows over the rest of the room. Harry shivered in the cool shade, vaguely wondering at the stale, musty odour emanating from his normally warm and cosy bed linen. His bed felt wrong, the mattress too crisp and unyielding beneath his back to be even remotely inviting.
He supposed he had simply had another nightmare. That would account for the feeling of ominous dread now consuming his spirit and rendering him dull-witted and disorientated as he swung his feet out of bed and crossed the room. Certainly, the image of a surging ocean seemed to have become imprinted on his mind, causing him to tremble at the memory of a piercing cold and icy rain driving down upon his shoulders in sheets. It wouldn't be the first time that a dream had unnerved him, but on this occasion, something significant seemed to be absent. His scar was not hurting.
As he approached the mirror, Harry stowed his wand in the pocket of - his school robes? Had he not just awoken in his pyjamas? Nervously, he turned around to survey his bed, wondering if he had simply changed his clothing without thinking, but there was no sign of his pyjamas. Breathing deeply, he tried to dismiss these strange thoughts from his mind and continued over to the washstand, above which hung the old round mirror with its lavish gilt frame. His hands toyed nervously with his unruly, black hair in an attempt to flatten it as he went. To his great surprise, the mirror had apparently forgotten to mock his useless efforts.
Shrugging gently, Harry reached up to trace the lightning bolt scar on his forehead. There was still no unpleasant stinging sensation, as he would normally have expected after a nightmare of such unsettling proportions. In fact, he soon realised that, where the familiar line of his scar used to reside, he could now feel nothing but cool, smooth skin. What was happening? Confused, and becoming increasingly worried, Harry stepped closer to the circular mirror to examine the thin blemish more closely. What he saw, however, almost made him jump with shock. There was no reflection! At least, there was no reflection of himself. The rest of the room showed up clearly in the looking glass, the mahogany furniture looking pale in the morning light, but it was as if Harry himself was invisible. Shakily, he waved his hand back and forth before the glass, but still nothing appeared.
Normally Harry would have suspected Fred and George of having performed some kind of enchantment on the mirror as a prank, but everything about the dormitory just felt so eerie and unnatural that he was certain there had to be some more serious explanation.
The sound of rustling sheets and muffled grunts caused Harry to swing around from his position and close his gaping mouth. Ron! Thank God... Presently, the hangings surrounding Ron's bed parted, and Harry's heart leapt at the sight of his red-haired friend emerging from the covers, bleary-eyed and tousle-haired.
"Ron!" Harry cried out, not caring if he woke the others, "Come and see this!"
Ron walked over to him, still rubbing his eyes in exhaustion and grunting something about it being too early.
"Here. This mirror's acting weird. It-"
Harry suddenly stopped talking as Ron just walked past him as if he didn't exist, not even bothering to listen to what he had to say.
"Ron?" Harry snapped irritably, "What-?"
"C'mon, Neville," Ron moaned, kicking the post of Neville's bed, "Seven o'clock. Gerrup! Seamus! Draco! Up!"
"Draco?" Harry roared, "What the hell is Malfoy doing here?"
Incredibly, the three other boys emerged from their beds yawning and taking no notice of Harry, among them Draco Malfoy. Draco stood up and combed his blonde-hair as he walked nonchalantly to the mirror, completely ignoring the furious, shocked face of Harry Potter, who was almost incoherent with rage.
"Who said you could sleep up here? In Dean Thomas' bed?! Malfoy?!"
There was no response. Draco smoothed down the last of his locks and began to throw on some black, school robes. They were marked, to Harry's intense fury, with the Gryffindor emblem. Now shaking with anger, Harry rushed at his arch-nemesis, determined to beat him senseless. With all the force of his meagre body weight, he threw himself upon the other boy, only to collide heavily with the wall. Dazed, Harry got up and saw that he had apparently ran straight through Malfoy's body into the concrete barrier behind him. What the hell is going on?
The four boys continued to dress, occasionally speaking to each other, but apparently remaining completely oblivious to Harry's presence in the dormitory. Harry stared at them, screamed at them, swung his hands before their eyes, but to no avail. Eventually, at the end of his tether, he had an idea. Hermione! She'll know what's happening...
Harry hurried down into the Gryffindor common room, but there was no sign of Hermione. A few students were sitting around, sorting through their homework and schoolbooks, among them Ginny Weasley and some of the other fourth years, but surprisingly, Dennis Creevy was not among his classmates. Nor was Dean Thomas, who would certainly be furious over the incident with Draco Malfoy. In their stead, however, were many students whom Harry was sure belonged to different houses, as well as other students he didn't even recognise. Had he missed something?
Confused, he decided to try to enter the girls' dormitory in search of Hermione. So far nobody had paid him any attention, so he thought that he would probably get away with it. He inwardly hoped that his presence in the girls' dormitory would be noticed; at least then he would be able to lose the strange sense of loneliness and detachment that had become attached to his person from the moment of his awakening.
Cautiously he climbed the stairs, calling out Hermione's name and trying to avert his eyes from the hoards of half-naked girls running around, joking and giggling to each other. When presently he found the fifth year dormitory, the door was ajar and he could hear voices within.
"Um, Hermione?" he asked cautiously from the hallway.
Again, nobody answered. Harry walked boldly into the room, fed up with being ignored, and not caring if he found her shaving under her armpits so long as he found her. Unfortunately, only Parvati Patil was in there, and-
"Millicent Bulstrode?!"
Neither girl looked up at this astounded exclamation, but continued their conversation while tidying their beds.
"Who?" Millicent boomed.
"Cedric Diggory. You know, the tall, quiet, good-looking guy. Captain of Slytherin Quidditch team?"
"Oh yeah, he's not bad I suppose..."
"Not bad!" Parvati cried out, "He's gorgeous. Anyway, I heard him talking to Ernie MacMillan yesterday, and he distinctly said that Dumbledore's going. Ousted at last by Minister Malfoy!
"I'm surprised it took this long".
"Well, people are afraid of him. At least they were afraid of him, but they're not anymore. He's old now, old and decrepit, and has finally accepted that he can't fight the Dark Side forever. All his friends are dead because of him, the people he tricked into joining the Order of the Phoenix. Nah, it was bound to happen sooner or later... Professor Trelawney and I saw it coming ages ago in the tea leaves, but agreed it would be best not to tell anyone. Might look suspicious, you know? But guess who'll be taking over!"
"Who?"
"Why, Cedric's dad, of course. Amos Diggory".
"Oh. Isn't he the one, who-"
"Yeah, it was him. Caught Sirius Black himself-"
Harry edged closer to the two girls, startled.
"Wow," Millicent was saying, "And he got the Order of Merlin, first class, didn't he?"
"Yep, and he deserved it too. You know Black was the Potter's Secret Keeper, their right-hand man. He was the one that kept Our Lord waiting so long for the victory he deserved... If Black hadn't been stupid enough to let Peter Pettigrew become the new Secret Keeper, Our Lord might never have defeated Lily, James and Harry Potter, and then who knows what would have happened..."
Defeated Lily, James and Harry Potter? What-?
"This school would probably still be full of filthy Mudbloods for a start".
"Oh, I'm sure of it. My parents have told me how terrible it was here, when they let Mudbloods learn magic. She says Dumbledore ruined Hogwarts, and has probably polluted wizarding blood for generations to come... Throw me my hairband, will you? No, the pink one-"
Millicent passed the hairband and smiled stupidly, reminding Harry of his cousin Dudley.
"Headmaster Diggory. That has a nice ring to it".
Parvati laughed approvingly into a compact mirror saying, "Yes, it does... And I'll tell you something else. If I see that Ravenclaw girl- eh, what's her name?"
"Chin Chang, or something foreign like that".
"Yeah, her. If I see her anywhere near Cedric, I'll be sure to remind him of the importance of keeping his family's blood pure, especially now that his father is so important".
"I thought she already was a Pureblood".
Millicent Bulstrode thinks?
"Well, of course she is. She wouldn't be here if she had any Muggle blood in her. But, she's not a Westerner, and that's what I'm saying. The Ministry doesn't pass a favourable eye on these Easterners interbreeding with us. Dad says they only let them come here because if they didn't, there'd be war and the economy can't afford to lose out on the Eastern market".
Since when is Parvati a racist? Or care about economics?
"Huh?"
"Oh, forget it! Just tell me if you see her hanging around Cedric, okay?".
"Right," thundered Millicent, flinging her schoolbooks onto her bed and searching through the rolls of parchment. "Can I see your horoscope?"
"Okay, but no copying. That was painstaking work, and besides, every horoscope is supposed to be unique".
"Okay... Ooh, look, you're going to find love with a dark-haired man..."
Deciding that this would be a good time to leave, Harry wandered out of the dormitory and trudged down into the Gryffindor common room, his mind still struggling to digest the wealth of information it had just acquired from Parvati Patil and Millicent Bulstrode, however improbable those two sources would have earlier appeared to be. He stood quietly by the large fireplace, obseving the students sitting around and conversing happily about the day's lessons. It was a typical morning scene, but again, this did little to soothe his strung nerves.
Why were Draco Malfoy and Millicent Bulstode, among others, now resident in Gryffindor Tower? How could Cedric Diggory still be alive? Had Sirius really been captured? Since when where Muggle-borns not permitted to attend Hogwarts? It all made Harry's head swim in confusion. If ever he needed Hermione, it was now, he thought glumly. From what the two girls had been saying, however, the last fourteen years of Harry's life, as he remembered them, had not occured. As a Muggle-born witch, Hermione had probably never even heard of Hogwarts. No, Harry decided, he would have to figure this out on his own.
It was almost as if he had wandered into an alternate dimension, in which all his worst nightmares had sprung to life. Perhaps he had travelled into the past with a Time Turner, and made a terrible mess of things. But then, why couldn't he remember doing it? No, that didn't make any sense.
Millicent and Parvati had said that Voldemort had defeated all three Potters, including himself...
Was he dead?
That was it, the one question Harry had been refusing to ask himself ever since the incident with the mirror, not wanting to accept that his memory of the wizarding world, so happy and carefree in the aftermath of Lord Voldemort's demise, had been false and nothing but a dream. Was this the world as it truly was?
Wearily, Harry lowered himself into an armchair, his eyes widening and his shoulders sagging more and more as reality sunk in. He had really died during that attack on Godric's Hollow, along with his parents. It certainly seemed to make more sense. There was no counter-curse to Avada Kedavra; everyone knew that. There was no way he could have survived the attack. Lord Voldemort was the most powerful Dark sorceror in over a century! How could he have been so vain as to imagine he could have defeated such a terrifying adversary? He really had died, then, and in his own sense of grief and incredulity had invented a wish-fulfilling world in which he was a hero, the saviour of Voldemort-fearing peoples all over the globe. Only now, however, was he beginning to see the truth. He was no hero! He was nothing more than a ghost with a vivid imagination and rather severe psychological issues.
What would he do now, however? Well, what do ghosts normally do? Harry suddenly realised that he hadn't a clue what the ghosts of his imaginary world, such as Nearly Headless Nick and The Bloody Baron, did when not attending school ceremonies and feasts or celebrating Death Days. Nor could he understand why he was invisible to the students. Clearly, he needed answers...
***
Breakfast in the Great Hall was a noisy affair, dominated by the incessant hum of conversation at the five tables and the excited hooting of messenger owls, swooping onto the assembled school population below to deliver their charges. Harry moved between the different houses, noting the many incongruities in their make-up and catching occasional snippets of conversation.
"So," a long-haired Ravenclaw girl was saying, "What've we got first?"
"Dark Arts... Oh, I can't wait to see what I get for that essay on the Cruciatus Curse," her companion replied.
Harry shuddered at the mention of that Unforgiveable Curse, feeling the distant remnant of a hundred daggers stabbing him in the chest and a great throbbing building in his skull, but could not understand why a memory he had simply invented could affect him so acutely. His recollections seemed so real that he could not entirely dismiss them. He had experienced that Curse before, had he not? Voldemort had used it to torture him before the Death Eaters in his fourth year, Lucius Malfoy had employed a modified and much more dangerous version of it to try to kill him during the attack on Privet Drive. Could it be that these things had never happened?
Having already decided that the only person who could possibly give him the answers he required was Albus Dumbledore, Harry hastened up the aisle separating the Slytherin and Hufflepuff tables in the direction of the staff table. His way was blocked by numerous students congregating throughout the hall, chatting animatedly about this and that. It was a slow walk, therefore, to the front of the room, doubly so since Harry was much too squeamish to take advantage of his ghostly powers by stepping through the people that littered his path. It did not take him long, however, to establish that the syllabus of this Hogwarts was very different to the one he remembered. Apparently, these students were actually studying the practical use of the Dark Arts, rather than simply learning how to defend themselves against them. He even saw one group of Slytherins jokingly comparing the lifelikeness of their voodoo dolls.
"You didn't give Weasley enough freckles," Hannah Abbott was telling her neighbour, attracting a great deal of mirth, and gesturing at the Gryffindor table, where Ron was sitting between Draco Malfoy and Neville Longbottom.
"Here!" Vincent Crabbe grunted, "Use my fork. Let's see if it works!"
Harry's eyes opened wide in astonishment and he hurried away, inspecting the staff table as he went. He saw to his regret that Dumbledore was absent, and that none of the assembled teachers looked familiar. A group of around a dozen formidable and stern-looking witches and wizards were eating breakfast and speaking in hushed tones. Something in their demeanour reminded him of his pale, hooked nosed Potions master, Severus Snape in that they all wore severe black robes and emitted a silent, intangible aura of power, making Harry very nervous as he passed by. Nevertheless, he remained invisible to the living world and soon arrived at the Gryffindor table, stopping close behind Ron's chair to eavesdrop on the conversation. Ron was holding a hand to his bleeding nose and appeared to be livid, as Draco Malfoy and Neville Longbottom tried to calm him down.
"Just ignore them, Ron. We'll be making our own Voodoo dolls soon, so you'll get your revenge," Neville said reassuringly.
"Yeah, I'm taking Goyle. Mind you, I might not have enough stuffing to fill it, since he's so obese," Malfoy drawled.
Ron grinned and turned to Draco. "Bloody Slytherins... Geez, no matter what you say I still can't imagine you being one of them, Draco".
Now Malfoy laughed. "Yeah, I think I'd kill myself... Of course, Father only wanted me in there because he was a Slytherin himself, and so was the Dark Lord".
"With all your precious family traditions I'm amazed he didn't insist on having you re-sorted," Neville pointed out wonderingly.
"Umm, well... There's nothing wrong with being in Gryffindor. Just because I'm brave, noble, achingly handsome-"
"Oh, give us a break, Draco!" Ron exclaimed, chuckling.
"Well, just because I'm all those things, that doesn't mean I have no ambition or cunning. The Dark Lord told me himself that he has no place in his Inner Circle for cowards. I suppose I was put in here because of all the battles I was exposed to as a kid, you know... I'm no coward, so I was put in here".
"Did your father actually take you to battles?" Ron asked incredulously.
Draco smiled imperiously. "Not as such. The battles came to us, since the Manor was used as headquarters for the Death Eaters. But Father often let me help with interrogations".
"Wow," the other boys chorused.
Looking pleased at his friends' reactions, Draco continued spiritedly, "Oh yes. I could perform the Cruciatus Curse before I could walk. Father always took great pride in my education. I was not allowed to show any cowardice before the likes of Dumbledore, and nor would I. The man's pathetic, and he doesn't scare me in the slightest. That's why I was the youngest Death Eater in a century".
"You're so lucky," Neville exclaimed, "My parents have never taught me anything useful, not that I'd expect them to".
"Yeah, your parents are weird. No offence," Draco added apologetically.
Neville shook his head sadly and looked around the table to make sure no-one was listening. He then whispered, "I've thought about turning them in, but it just doesn't seem right".
"You're right not to, Neville," said Ron quietly. "My parents aren't the most devoted servants of the Dark Lord either, but they're still family".
Draco said nothing.
An uncomfortable silence ensued in which all three boys returned, with only mild enthusiasm, to their bowls of cereal. Harry walked away, beginning to miss the Hogwarts of his dreams with ever deepening regret. Just to hear Draco Malfoy speak with pride of the wizards he had helped to torture, or to hear about Neville's shame at having parents who were secretly less than committed to Lord Voldemort, made his blood run cold. Neville should have been jumping for joy at actually having parents who could recognise him and love him; instead he was threatening to betray them to the Dark Lord. It was a sick and perverted twist to the world Harry had once inhabitted, and if this was reality then he was not at all certain that he wanted to remain in it. He walked briskly away, breathing heavily and feeling the anger growing in his muscles.
He ran swiftly up the large marble staircase and onto the first floor corridor, where a group of Slytherin students were refusing to allow a short, red-haired girl to pass. As he stepped closer, Harry saw that it was Ginny Weasley, and that she was almost in tears, her breath coming in great wracking sobs as she begged them to leave her alone. Harry felt a rush of pity towards her, watching her shake with fear, and longed to push the bullies aside. Without thinking, he tried to elbow the tallest of the Slytherin gang, a formidable, hag-like girl with matted brown hair, only to fall straight through her and land heavily on the stone floor with a grunt.
"Damn it!" he screamed furiously, knowing he would not be heard. "Leave her alone!"
He stood up and moved closer to Ginny, glaring at the Slytherins in disgust. This was a level of bullying he had rarely witnessed in his imaginary Hogwarts, a sickening and base mentality that reminded him painfully of Dudley's cruel gang that had terrorised the children in his Muggle school. The bullies showed no sign of retreat and presently the hag-like girl tore Ginny's schoolbag from her grip, laughing cruelly along with her fellows as she opened it and began to spill its contents out onto the floor.
"Oh, look at this! Poor little Ginny can't afford any new books. How sad!" she chortled.
Ginny was now sobbing hysterically, her lips trembling as she watched her already battered schoolbooks being kicked around the corridor by the Slytherins. Harry gazed on helplessly, seething with rage, but unable to act upon it. The large Slytherin girl continued to empty out the satchel, when suddenly she withdrew her hand, a triumphant sneer on her ugly face.
"Well, well, well... what have we here? Weasley, you read Muggle books! The Neverending Story... Hmmm. "The Never heard of," story would be more accurate! What's this about then, Weasley?" she exclaimed, delighted with her pathetic wit.
Ginny just whimpered and looked terrified.
"What's that, Weasley? Nothing to say for yourself? Fine, let's see what Professor Fletcher thinks of it!"
"No! Please... Don't! I'll do anything," Ginny wailed desperately.
"Now, now. You know you're not allowed to have Muggle things. It's your own fault".
"P-Please! I didn't mean to. I er- I just-"
"It's my duty to report this, Ginny dear. You never know, you might get off with a ten-year prison sentence-"
Ginny cried out miserably and fell to the floor, abandoning herself in the depths of despair. She only raised her bloodshot eyes at the sound of her school satchel being torn to shreds. The Slytherins giggled and threw the fragments of her books into the air with glee. Harry was unable to contain his rage.
"Stop it!" he screamed furiously.
Suddenly there was silence. Time seemed to stand still as the insane giggles were stopped in an instant and the irregular shards of paper remained suspended in mid-air. Harry looked on in amazement, momentarily too confused and disorientated to think. A look of terror had become frozen on Ginny's immobile face, the Slytherins appearing delighted with the success of their cruelty to her. The scene was changing, however, the corridor and its inhabitants beginning somehow to appear less solid, the colours swirling around him and combining into unintelligible masses. As the walls melted away, and the floor beneath him seemed to vanish, Harry became aware of a voice, warm and comforting, speaking from near his ear. At first he could not make out the words as they seemed to be coming from a great distance, and as he turned his head to identify their speaker, he could see nothing but blurred, incoherent images that seemed to spin and stetch before his very eyes, but gradually the message reached his dazed mind. No! Come back, Harry! Please! That's it...Alright, drink this... Come on, now, just open your mouth for us...
Although he could not understand why he was being asked to open his mouth, some part of his being trusted the voice and obeyed. He opened his mouth, but felt no liquid flow down his constricted throat. Confused, Harry prised apart his dried lips and tried to speak, but no sound emerged. A strange weariness seemed to have descended upon him and he closed his eyes. Almost immediately, however, he felt strangely dizzy, and a rush of air seemed to gust past him until his feet impacted with solid earth. Curiously, he opened his eyes.
As quickly as it had vanished, the corridor around him materialised once more and the jeers and taunts of the Slytherin bullies increased to their former volume. They were apparently oblivious to whatever strange events had just taken place, as was Ginny, and were laughing so loudly that they did not notice the footsteps that were approaching them down the corridor. It was Albus Dumbledore.
Harry smiled in relief as the old wizard stepped up behind the Slytherins, tucking something small and green into one of his many pockets, and looking sternly at the group of students. On close inspection, however, Harry found that he was shocked by the headmaster's frail appearance. Dumbledore looked old, ancient in fact, and very weary. He also seemed a lot shorter than Harry remembered, and when he spoke, it was with a voice almost completely devoid of the power and confidence it had once held. It was the voice of defeat, a tone that Harry had never expected to hear from this most powerful of all wizards.
"Mr. Crabbe, Mr. Zabini, Miss Patil, Miss Karkaroff, Miss Weasley... What is the meaning of this behaviour?"
The enormous, hag-like Slytherin, whom Dumbledore had addressed as Karkaroff, stepped forward. "We're ridding the school of inferior Muggle literature, er, Professor. Surely, you can have nothing to say against that".
An expression of anger flickered momentarily across Dumbledore's aged face, but soon disappeared as he looked old and frail once more.
"Very well, Miss Karkaroff. I'll take that book, if you please-"
"Should we not take it to Professor Fletcher, sir? I mean, he is in charge of all confiscated Muggle items".
"I shall deal with this myself. Now get to class all of you! You too, Miss Weasley. Reparo!"
The torn pieces of paper immediately coalesced to re-form all of Ginny's old schoolbooks. While they were by no means pristine, the books were somewhat newer-looking than before. Ginny gratefully gathered them into her repaired bag and hurried away, wiping her eyes on the sleeve of her robes as she made her way to class. The Slytherins skulked off in the opposite direction, leaving Harry and Dumbledore alone in the hallway.
Harry looked at his old headmaster curiously, suddenly missing the comfort and confidence that normally exuded from his twinkling eyes. Dumbledore stood in the corridor for a long time, looking ill at ease, and apparently searching for something illusive that lay just beyond the reach of his vision. With a jolt of excitement, Harry wondered if the old wizard could sense his presence.
"Professor Dumbledore?" Harry tried hopefully. "Sir?"
Albus Dumbledore suddenly straightened his back and turned directly to Harry. His eyes opened wide with suspicion as he began to approach the boy, clutching his wand tightly in his long, bony fingers.
"Professor? Can you see me?" Harry gasped.
Almost immediately, Dumbledore halted in his tracks and his shoulders sagged in weariness. Harry watched in mute despair as the old wizard shook his head sadly and moved swiftly away down the corridor, sighing. Harry was so frustrated he felt like screaming. For a moment he had been certain that Dumbledore had seen him. Quite aside from his desire to have his questions answered, he had desperately wanted to hear a friendly voice after enduring such a dreadfully lonely and unsettling morning, and could think of no voice more reassuring than that of Albus Dumbledore.
Harry decided to hurry after the headmaster. So far, he was the only person who had demonstrated even a slight awareness of his presence, so perhaps that awareness would increase if they spent more time together. He finally caught up with him by the stone gargoyle, which guarded the revolving staircase up to the headmaster's office.
"Raspberry Fizzer!" Dumbledore uttered without expression.
Harry followed the headmaster into the circular office and immediately felt better. This room, at least, remained unchanged, with its many pictures of snoozing former headmasters, strange contraptions that emitted odd whizzing sounds every few minutes, and its resident phoenix Fawkes, who sat proudly on his perch, but seemed unfortunately to be approaching a Burning Day. Fawkes' normally resplendent plumage of red and gold had been replaced with small clusters of dull, dirty feathers over patches of white skin, and he was looking decidedly wretched and aged. Dumbledore retrieved the small green object that Harry had earlier seen him hide in the pocket of his robes, and placed it inside the top drawer of his desk, too quickly for Harry to see what it was.
Presently the old headmaster walked to the window and looked down on the grounds below. Harry joined him and, following his gaze, saw that a group of students, mere dots on the green fields surrounding the castle, were being taught how to conjure the Dark Mark. Several skulls, and half-skulls, were floating in the air above their heads, some more impressive than others, but none as large and as terrifying as those which Harry had seen before, both at the Gryffindor World Cup and at his parents' home, Godric's Hollow. Away in the distance, on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, stood Hagrid's cabin. Harry wondered if Hagrid was in there, or if he was even still alive.
With a sigh, Dumbledore moved away from the window and sat slowly down at his desk. A mound of paperwork littered its surface. For a moment, the he eyed the towering stack of parchment, until finally he slumped back in his chair and opened the top drawer of his desk. He took out a corked glass phial, containing a small quantity of thin, green liquid, and placed it on the desk. Harry crept forward for a closer look. The mixture looked familiar, but because he had brewed so many potions in his imagined life, both in class and out, it was difficult to identify it with any certainty. After closing the desk drawer, Dumbledore sat up and turned to the phoenix.
"Well, Fawkes, I'm only waiting on you. There's nothing keeping me here".
The phoenix hummed quietly in response, a chilling, almost tragic note that quivered in the air like a taut spring.
"It pains me to think of the world we're leaving behind, and of what might have been... Alas, for he would have been great, truly great, if only he had lived... Do you know, I thought, just now, that I had seen... However, I was mistaken, of course"
With a painful, strained flapping sound, Fawkes took off from his perch and flew across the room to land on Dumbledore's shoulder. Harry was deeply touched by the expression of grief lining both their faces, and wondered what Dumbledore's cryptic words had meant. Evidently, they held a certain poignant meaning for the two of them, a summary perhaps of a conversation they had shared many times in the past. Fawkes trilled softly and opened his wings in what Harry considered to be a gesture of resignation, depositing more dried out, grey feathers on the floor.
"Very well, old friend. It's time".
Dumbledore removed the cork from the phial and swirled the green mixture before his eyes. He raised it to his lips-
That potion... Harry had seen it before, taken it in fact. It had almost killed him.
"Professor! No!" Harry roared deafeningly, as realisation came to him in a flash. Dumbledore was trying to kill himself.
A single note of phoenix song burst forth to fill the room, bathing it in an unearthly warmth that reached even to Harry's broken spirit. Almost immediately, however, it was crushed in a hollow, silent explosion as Fawkes erupted into flame. As Harry's mouth opened wide in sorrow, the ashes fell to the floor, where they lay, perfectly still. There was no movement in the ashes, no rebirth.
Dumbledore's hands seemed suddenly to be frozen in mid-air, holding the unemptied phial before his parted lips. His eyes were narrowed in expectation behind his half-moon spectacles, yet the event he anticipated did not arrive. It was as if Harry's frantic exclamation had halted the passage of time itself, at least as it applied to those around him, and for the second time that day Harry experienced the strange, unsteady sensation of being lifted above the ground by an invisible force, the walls of Dumbledore's office melting into a thick, blurred mass of light and colour on his every side. Then, from all around him, he heard voices...
***
The morning sun illuminated the master bedroom of Godric's Hollow, announcing the beginning of yet another glorious summer's day. Sirius opened his tired eyes and shifted uncomfortably in his bedside chair, elbows slipping irritatingly from the narrow arm-rests as he straightened his back to greet whoever it was he could hear coming up the stairs. He glanced down at Harry, still sleeping fitfully, his face too flushed and his body much too hot, and wondered if Snape's best efforts at an antidote would ever take effect. He had been sitting by Harry's side all night, feeling completely useless, while listening to his godson's fevered dreams and trying to imagine what nightmares Harry had become trapped in. The long night had taken its toll on his own body too, which had moved from beyond the screaming-for-sleep phase, and had now taken to simply doing what it wanted. It was a constant battle to stay awake therefore, especially when he had to listen to Arabella's gentle snores coming from the chaise-longue across the room.
Presently the door opened, and Remus Lupin entered silently, carrying a steaming cup of coffee in his hands. Sirius sniffed the delicious aroma hungrily as he accepted the mug from his friend, neither saying a word. There was no need to speak. Both knew the other too well to have any doubts about the mutual gloom oppressing their thoughts. Remus put his hand to Harry's forehead and shook his head sadly, before sitting down next to Sirius.
"Still no improvement, then".
"No," Sirius replied quietly, not quite meeting Remus' eyes. "It happened again a few minutes ago".
"His heart stopped?"
Sirius nodded glumly. "That's the second time".
"Don't worry, Padfoot. He's obviously still fighting it, and Albus is sure he'll recover".
"I hope he's right. I couldn't bear to lose him now, now that I can give him, well, a proper home".
Remus stretched a comforting arm around Sirius' shoulders. Sirius melted into the embrace, releasing the tension in his neck and relaxing visibly. He yawned into his friend's shoulder.
"I don't suppose there's any point in my telling you to get some sleep," Remus stated in a hopeless voice.
"If it didn't work for her," Sirius replied, a tired smile spreading across his face as he looked over at Arabella, "Then it certainly won't work for you".
"No, I didn't think so," said Remus, frowning.
"Just keep the caffeine coming, Moony," Sirius muttered after a moment, sipping his coffee. "Ah, yes... This'll keep me awake".
Remus nodded in agreement, a strange, closed expression on his face as he carefully watched the coffee's meniscus getting lower and lower in the mug. Sirius was feeling too exhausted to take note of this, however, and he yawned again, his eyelids drooping as he drained the last of his beverage.
"Does it taste okay?" Remus asked after a moment, smiling to himself.
"Um, yeah..." Sirius began, his words slurring slightly as he spoke. "Why?" he added, suspiciously, "What've you done to it?"
Remus smiled angelically and looked away, beginning to hum in mock innocence. He did not fool Sirius in the slightest, despite the fact that he was now struggling to keep his eyes open.
"Moony," Sirius hissed indignantly, "You complete an' utter bast-"
The anger and astonishment in his voice dissolved as sleep descended upon him with the force of a tonne weight. His eyes closed of their own accord and he slumped back in his chair, instantly unconscious.
"Pleasant dreams, Padfoot," Remus whispered, taking the mug from his unresisting hands and setting it on the floor. Sirius snored in response.
***
Their voices were all around him, but he couldn't see their faces. Standing in complete blackness, Harry shivered as the frantic whispers rushed past him, some from directly behind his ear, others from a great distance, their words unintelligible, but always full of malice and dark intent. Stepping uncertainly forward with one hand stretched out before him, he moved blindly through the icy sea of voices towards a faint, diamond-shaped glint of light that lay far ahead, a distant ray of hope in the terrifying nightmare in which he found himself. Their voices continued to hiss incessantly, sometimes startling him with their alarming proximity, and causing him to quicken his step as he hurried onward, not daring to look around.
He subconsciously tried to raise his collar to cover his neck, an instinctive response to the eerie sensation of cool air running over his bare skin, but unfortunately the fabric was static and unyielding. Frightened and confused, he began to run, sometimes tripping on the loose hem of his robes, while all around him the whispers evolved into moans and high-pitched, hellish wails. Their voices were tormented, and unlike anything Harry had ever heard before. Whoever these people were, he was certain that they had been made to suffer more than anyone deserved. He ran faster, breathing heavily and aware only of the frantic beating of his heart against his ribs, and of the cries that followed him, piercing him to the bone, but still the voices grew and grew until they became so loud and immediate as to seem like they were emanating from his own mouth.
The darkness pressed in upon him, stifling him despite the icy chill in the air, and he began to panic. He had to get out of here, that much was certain, but the tiny sliver of white light, which he hoped represented his escape, did not seem to be getting any closer. The cries turned into agonized screams, shrill pleads for mercy. He could hear the words now.
No.... Please, have mercy.... I didn't do it.... I am innocent.... Let me die.... Kill me....
Harry raced onward, feeling warm tears running down his cheeks, but not understanding why. The voices were now deafening, begging for release from their inner torment, begging for death... And still the tiny glint of freedom remained illusive.
Before he knew it, Harry was screaming, his arms flailing wildly as he ran in no particular direction, abandoning himself to the despair and darkness that lurked within his soul. He didn't know where he was, but that no longer seemed to matter. Time seemed to have no meaning here, causing him to sink ever deeper into the pit of despair his mind had somehow created. As the minutes progressed into hours, and even days, the pain and fear consumed him almost entirely, preventing him from asking the rational questions that would otherwise have been relevant, and as his hope dwindled to a mere flicker, so the light on the horizon extinguished.
As total blackness spread through the hellish environment, he dropped to his knees, suddenly exhausted, and sobbed hysterically, all pretence of Gryffindor Courage dying with the loss of his only hope for freedom. He buried his face in his knees and cried.
He seemed to have been sitting and crying for an eternity, before he became aware of the silence that had grown around him.
"You're dead, Harry Potter," spoke a cruel voice above him.
Harry slowly raised his head and looked into the eyes of his enemy.
"If that's true, then so are you," Harry spat.
"No, I'm afraid not... Your little curse may have temporarily incapacitated me, but I can assure you, I'm very much alive. You should know by now that I cannot be killed. Lord Voldemort is eternal."
"I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I know better. You can be killed, and I shall kill you."
A momentary silence ensued.
"I see Dumbledore has given you delusions of power. That's good, it will make him mourn you all the more for what might have been."
"I'm under no delusions. I see you as you truly are."
"Really? I'm intrigued..."
"You're no almighty, god-like creature. You're just another wizard, a Muggle-born wizard at that, whose only power lies in an infamous name. That's why you're afraid of Dumbledore, because he doesn't have to resort to murder to gain power. The respect people have for him is enough."
"Your father was respected," Voldemort hissed coldly, "Yet I killed him in an instant. Where was his sacred power then? He knew it was hopeless, that he would die. He didn't even try to defend himself. I look forward to seeing that defeated expression on your face, when the time comes."
"You are mistaken, Voldemort, if you think you represent any threat to me."
"Foolish boy! You speak as if you were my equal-"
"I am much more than that."
"Very well. We shall see..."
With that, the Dark Lord vanished, leaving Harry alone to his troubled thoughts. He had been surprised by the courage in his voice, even more surprised to note that it had been genuine, but what really had amazed him was the fact that, for the first time in his life, he had felt that he was in control, that he was invincible. It was a novel sensation, and he found that he rather enjoyed it. He longed to experience it again, to threaten Voldemort and render him speechless. He would bring him to his knees and make him beg for mercy, like those poor, tormented souls he had heard earlier. He would make him pay for the lives he had ruined.
And as Harry's spirits lifted in the wake of renewed courage and determination, so the walls of his prison suddenly collapsed around him, admitting a tremendous deluge of light and colour. Harry felt the happiness flood back into his soul as the ground beneath his feet was transformed to soft, dewy grass, and the early morning sun shone upon his weary shoulders. Smiling, he stepped through the familiar gap in the blackberry bushes to look at his home, standing quaint and beautiful against a host of emerald oaks. A tremendous warmth seemed to spread from the ground into his feet and up through his body, filling him with joy and inexplicable hope. Glancing up at the gnarled treetrunks surrounding Godric's Hollow, and the decaying ivy that swamped its proud, granite facade, he laughed, long and full, with all his heart. He was home...
***
Having levitated Sirius' sleeping form over to the long window seat, Remus took a final look at Harry, still delirious with fever, and then headed downstairs to wait for Albus Dumbledore. The headmaster had been concerned to hear about Harry's latest encounter with the Dark Lord, but had been comforted somewhat to see that the boy had somehow retained his wand, tucked safely in the pocket of his robes. That was the first thing he had checked for, much to Remus' surprise, on their return from Azkaban, that Harry had was still in possession of his wand. He had later recounted to Remus the full history of the remarkable talisman and directed him never to speak of it to anyone save Harry, Snape, Sirius, Arabella and Ron. Remus had given his word to do as his mentor asked, deeply flattered by the trust Dumbledore obviously had in him to share such important information. Having not been on the receiving end of a great deal of trust since his exposure as a werewolf, it had taken him somewhat by surprise to encounter someone still willing to engage his confidence. After their discussion, Dumbledore had left to assist in the defence of the school and to aid Severus in the brewing of an antidote for Harry's Todis Potion.
Several hours had passed since, interrupted only by the arrival of the Potions master, looking particularly smug, with his finished mixture. Sirius had administered it immediately, reluctantly thanking his long-term enemy in a quiet, disgruntled voice, before engaging on a night long vigil by Harry's bedside. Remus could see why Dumbledore had requested him to be there. Sirius and Arabella were completely exhausted from their ordeal, Arabella falling asleep the moment she sat down on the chaise longue in the master bedroom with the intention of tying her shoelace. He had expected Sirius to follow suit, but unfortunately had not reckoned with his friend's unwavering sense of duty to Harry and his parents. A carefully prepared, and even more carefully disguised, sedative had soon dealt with that, however. It was surely a sign of Sirius' intense fatigue that he had actually accepted the "Coffee", a myriad of lessons, acquired painfully from his schoolboy years as a prankster, being forgotten at a crucial moment. Well, Remus supposed, it would be something to laugh about later, after Sirius told him all about his meeting with James and Lily.
Remus had been shocked at that revelation. Apparently, Voldemort had found a way to use Priori Incantatem as a means to resurrect his murdered victims, albeit temporarily, and James and Lily had come back to life. Sirius had been somewhat vague on the details, being much too tired, worried and upset to tell him any more than had been necessary to explain Harry's condition. Remus hoped that they would talk about it later, though, as he longed to hear of James' reaction to the news that he had been betrayed by Wormtail. Of course, he might have surmised the identity of his betrayer during the attack on the house, barely hours after he had performed the transfer of the Fidelius Charm to Pettigrew, but Remus knew that James would have a difficult time suspecting any of his friends of such evil. He decided he would ask Sirius about it later, when things had calmed down a little. For now, he had to see Dumbledore and find out how the battle at Hogwarts was progressing.
As he strolled out onto the front lawn, Remus saw Dumbledore approaching from the opposite direction, his timing as uncannily impeccable as ever. Even from a distance, he could tell that the old wizard was smiling as he walked down the grassy slope, and he moved with a lively, almost excited pace.
"Hello, Remus!" he called merrily, "What a charming view!"
"Um, yes, headmaster. What about-"
"I don't believe I've ever taken so much pleasure in an early morning stroll... Such stunning scenery, fine oak trees, beautiful foliage..."
Remus sighed in exasperation at Dumbledore's characteristic laid-back attitude.
"...and a wonderful variegated ivy catching the sun. Ah, perfect! Old Godric certainly knew what he was doing when he chose this site."
Remus cleared his throat.
"Oh, do forgive me, Remus! You want to know how the school fares."
"Yes, Albus, if you don't mind."
"Certainly, I don't mind, but let us sit here, in the midst of Mother Nature, while we talk."
Remus hesitated for a moment, laughing inwardly at Dumbledore's knack for completely eroding his line of thought. Confused, he joined the headmaster on the dewy grass, sitting with his back to the house and looking off into the forest beyond while waiting for his companion to speak.
"Well, Remus," Dumbledore began shortly, "Hogwarts has fared remarkably well, and thanks to the efforts of the Order, and indeed our new Giant friends, we have captured some very high profile Death Eaters, who will no doubt prove useful. The Dementors, I regret to say, fled back to their master. I'm sure he will be most displeased with them... But at least our successes on the battlefield will delay any retaliation for quite a while, I would imagine. It will be a long time before Voldemort builds up his ranks enough to launch another full-scale attack."
"Was there much damage?"
"Well, if you count the loss of two greenhouses, a window on the fourth floor, and one rather old shed behind Hagrid's cabin, as much damage, then I had better warn you against surveying the carnage... Oh, but poor Professor McGonagall did have her whiskers fried. Otherwise the damage was negligible. A few cuts and bruises, a lot of broken bones, some Dementor induced fits... nothing Madam Pomfrey's crater of chocolate couldn't deal with. Personally, I think we came off rather well in the end. It was a bit of a disappointment, to be honest. I rather enjoy a good fireworks display!"
Remus stared at Albus incredulously, and laughed. "I'm amazed Hagrid returned so soon."
"So was I. He's become quite the diplomat, actually. I believe the new Minister for Magic is intending to confer upon him an official title to that effect... Something like, "Special Envoy, First Class". Hagrid will be pleased."
"Fudge is gone already, then?" Remus exclaimed, amazed.
"Well, just between you and I, Remus," Albus began, winking mischievously, "He has not been removed from office yet, at least officially. However, it occured to me that he might not want to face public outcry over his treatment of Sirius, so I've taken him somewhere safe."
"Safe for him, or safe for Sirius?"
"Well, it would be a shame if the sole surviving witness to the injustice of Sirius' imprisonment were to go missing. And I know it will greatly enhance Sirius' case to have Fudge speak for him. So I've put him somewhere nice and secure, where there's no danger of his escaping".
"Is that legal?"
"He deserves no such consideration, Remus. He is a disgrace to the Judicial System. The Council of Warlocks is aware of my actions, and I have their unofficial backing. Once Sirius is free, Fudge will be removed from office, and tried. When he is found guilty, as he most certainly shall, I believe he is to be held in a Ministry holding cell until construction of the new prison is complete. He shall probably spend the rest of his life in prison, the victim of his own vanity and ambition."
The two wizards sat in silence for a while, listening to the chaffinches chirping in the trees above them.
Finally, Remus spoke. "I'm so happy for Sirius. He'll finally have his life back."
"Yes, his freedom will bring great joy to many people."
"Especially Harry."
Dumbledore sighed.
"Professor," Remus suddenly began, "About James and Lily-"
"They are dead, Remus, and as upsetting as that is, such things should not be tampered with."
"Harry might not see it that way." And I'm not entirely sure that I do, either...
"I shall advise him as best I can. The death of his parents weighs heavily upon his soul, but I am sure that, in the end, he will do the right thing. We just have to stand by and support him along the way."
Remus nodded. "We should go inside. I'm supposed to be watching him."
"Of course, Remus, but something tells me that he's going to be just fine."
Remus stood up, not really paying attention to the headmaster's words. He was too preoccupied with the idea of bringing James and Lily back to life to listen carefully to anything Dumbledore said, dully imagining his conversation to represent no more than a well-intended gesture of comfort. He turned around to walk down to the house, vaguely aware of his aged companion muttering nonstop under his breath.
"Yes indeed... Exquisite foliage. I haven't seen the gardens looking this well for a long time..."
Remus halted. Dumbledore was smiling at him expectantly.
"Albus! What on earth-" he spluttered, gazing around from the vibrant, lush plants filling the borders, to the elegant, healthy ivy spreading up the house's walls, and to the no longer gnarled trunks of the proud oaks surrounding the house."How-?"
"There is nothing more magical than life, Remus," Dumbledore stated simply, "Or more precious... Come, I believe Harry is waiting for us. No doubt he will have some questions of his own."
***
Harry awoke abruptly to find himself in a strange room that he didn't recognise, even with the added magnification of his glasses, which he had discovered next to his pillow. His initial thought would have been, "What now?" if at that moment he hadn't been interrupted by the chorus of snores coming at him from all directions. He sat up blearily, taking in the comical sight of his godparents sprawled over various pieces of furniture, both fast asleep. Sirius had dribbled down his front, and was creating a deafening snorting sound from the window seat, while Arabella was somewhat more dignified, not making too much noise, but lying in an unfortunate position that was showing considerably more leg than Harry found appealing first thing in the morning.
Swiftly averting his eyes, he lay back down in bed and snuggled luxuriously beneath the warm covers. He felt strangely tired himself, and a little shivery, but was glad to have left behind the dreadful nightmares that had plagued his sleep. He could only recall fragments of these dreams, voices, sensations, and darkness, but it was enough to make him exceptionally glad to have two ex-Aurors standing, or rather sleeping, nearby. He suspected that Lord Voldemort had featured in his dreams, too and that, somehow, the dark wizard had seemed less terrifying than usual.
The voices had scared him, however, horrified him in fact, but he was too sleepy and comfortable to worry about that now. He felt strangely calm as he closed his eyes and tried to fall back asleep, the result, he supposed, of having gone so long without truly relaxing. Now that the chance to do so had finally arrived, he intended to enjoy it, wherever he was, and however he had gotten there. It felt like he hadn't slept in days, as if for months past his entire existence had been comprised of one nightmare on top of another. He wouldn't think about that now, however. Reality could wait until he was rested, and then he'd try to put his memory in order. Sirius would help him sort it out....
Harry dozed, clearing his mind of all thought and simply abandoning himself to the pleasure of sinking ever deeper into a warm, soft mattress. He had just started to drift off to sleep when the bedroom door suddenly opened. He heard soft footsteps approaching his bed, and decided, much to his regret, that he would have to see who it was. They were probably worried about him, whoever they were, as was usually the case when he woke up in unfamiliar places. He opened his eyes to see Albus Dumbledore and Remus Lupin standing by his bed.
"Hello, Harry," said Dumbledore, beaming, "You're looking much better. How do you feel?"
"Er, fine," Harry muttered, "A bit tired, I suppose".
"That's to be expected. Professor Snape delivered the antidote on time, as I'm sure you'll be glad to hear".
Antidote?... Oh, God... As reality flooded back into Harry's mind, so the images of the last few days appeared before his eyes - his discovery of the Penna in a wash of golden light - hiding in the dark passage with Arabella - Fletcher's composed expression as he calmly announced his betrayal - Lucius Malfoy pointing his wand directly at him - awakening on the straw-covered floor of his cell in Azkaban - teaching Sirius to conjure a Patronus - searching through the passages of Azkaban for his wand - meeting Voldemort - Ron stabbing him in the back - taking the green, almost fatal, Todis Potion - Sirius duelling with Pettigrew - his parents coming back to life in the blue flames - the expression on Voldemort's face before he cast the Killing Curse - his parents vanishing, telling him how much they loved him... Everything since was something of a blur, an intermingling of horrific circumstances and fevered dreams. He suddenly realised that he had a lot of questions.
Dumbledore and Lupin observed him quietly, seeing the swift passage of emotions spreading across his childish features, and giving him time to adjust. When Harry finally looked up, he saw that Lupin was staring at him in unconcealed awe.
"Albus," Remus began, not taking his eyes from Harry, "How did he recover so quickly?"
Harry felt a stab of annoyance at being spoken of in the third person. To his surprise, Dumbledore turned to him.
"The antidote Severus prepared for you forms only part of the cure for that nasty poison. A desire to live does the rest, and I'm very glad you were able to provide that, Harry. Now, I know you have many questions, but I must ask you to sleep a little first. We will speak later."
Harry nodded gratefully and curled up on his side, closing his eyes once more. Before he fell asleep he heard Dumbledore utter an incantation, which seemed to block out the sound of Sirius' snores. He drifted off to sleep, lulled by the gentle, rhythmic hush of his own breathing.
***
When Harry finally awoke, it was still bright. Dazzling sunlight streamed in through the Georgian windows, casting dark-rimmed squares over the patchwork quilt that covered his immense double bed. He felt deliciously warm and rested, which was surprising since he knew he couldn't have been asleep for very long if there was still daylight outside. Heaving himself up on his pillows, half-asleep, he reached out for his glasses, only to feel someone placing them in his hand. He started in surprise as Sirius' delighted face came into focus above him, well-groomed and clean-shaven.
"'Bout time you woke up," Sirius stated gruffly, but grinning as he sat down.
"Nice to see you too. What time is it?"
"Around three, I think."
"Is that all? Geez, it felt much longer than that."
Sirius shook his head, raising his eyes to the ceiling.
"Three the next day, Harry. It was yesterday you woke up and spoke to Moony and Dumbledore."
"Oh, right. That makes sense."
"As I was saying, it's about time you woke up! How do you feel?"
"Great," Harry stated boldly, catching the doubtful expression on his godfather's face. "Honestly..."
"Hmm, good. We weren't sure you'd make it.You know your heart actually stopped beating twice."
"I feel fine, Sirius... Where are we, anyway?"
"Godric's Hollow. This was your parents' room. It was yours too. See! The crib's in the corner-"
Harry sat up and gasped in surprise. So this had been his room, as a baby. He wasn't really sure how to feel about that, but it wasn't an unpleasant feeling. He looked up to see Sirius watching him carefully.
"Look, Harry, I'm really sorry, but I have to go to the Ministry. I was supposed to be there hours ago, but I wanted to wait until you were awake before I left. You remember what I told you, about there being a possibility of my name being cleared?"
Harry nodded eagerly.
"Well, there's going to be a small, private hearing in Ministry Headquarters today to discuss it. Now don't get your hopes up! It really could go either way..."
Sirius looked nervous as he spoke, fidgeting with the edge of Harry's quilt.
"Of course, there's no danger of my getting the Dementor's Kiss now, but there are other punishments. They could sentence me to prison again, or even lethal potion. I'm not too happy about going in there, I can tell you, but Dumbledore was quite insistent. That's why I wanted to see you, before I left, because we might not see each other again..."
Harry eyed him tearfully, but his expression soon cleared. "Dumbledore wouldn't ask you to go there if he thought there was any chance of your being found guilty. It'll be alright."
"Well, whatever happens, you'll always have a home with Arabella. Oh, and I hope you don't mind, but I've asked Moony to stand in as a replacement godfather. I know he's dull as hell, but he's a dab hand in the kitchen, and if ever you need help with your love-life, he's the one to ask-"
"Sirius! Geez, there's no need to pull out the replacement godfather just yet!" Harry chortled. "I'll see you later, okay?"
Sirius reddened a little, but apparently had trouble giving in to the mirth flowing from his godson's lips. Harry suddenly had the horrible impression that his godfather was aching to perform some kind of parental display of affection, perhaps even ruffle his hair, causing his own cheeks burn at the thought.
"You'd better go, Sirius, if you're already late."
"Yeah, s'pose so. Um, Harry-"
"It'll be fine. Go on..."
Sirius gazed at him with an intensity Harry had never seen before. It felt like he was trying to memorize every curve, blemish and freckle on his face, peering into his bright green eyes and lingering there for what seemed an eternity. Harry found it difficult to return his gaze, focusing instead on the sky blue, pearl stitches of his patchwork bedspread. He almost jumped when he felt Sirius pull him into a tight bear hug.
"Okay," Sirius said quietly, releasing Harry back onto the covers, where he lay catching his breath. "Right. I'm going. Moony's downstairs. He'll see to anything you want. You must be starving. I know I was... I practically ate a whole cow. Tell him to mix you up an omelette! Moony makes the most wonderful omelettes... He'll fill you in on everything that's happened too... Anyway, wish me luck!"
"Good luck, Sirius, and don't worry!" Harry called after him.
***
A short nap and two bowls of thick, creamy vegetable soup later (Harry decided his stomach probably wouldn't be able to handle an omelette), he felt well enough to leave his bed and go downstairs to talk to Lupin. He had a great many questions to ask, such as what had become of Ron and Arabella, how they had gotten back to Godric's Hollow and whether or not there was any news yet about Sirius' visit to the Ministry of Magic. He found Remus sitting at the kitchen table, a copy of the Daily Prophet open before him, and a frown on his face. He looked up as Harry entered, however, and smiled.
"Good to see you back on your feet, Harry. Sleep well?"
"Yes, thanks. Are you busy right now?"
"Oh, no. I was just reading... Attractive blonde Rita Skeeter is up to her old tricks again, spreading panic..."
"What?" Harry suddenly asked loudly, surprised. "She's back?"
Lupin looked at him in bewilderment.
Harry quickly added, "Oh, it's just, I heard she had gone on holiday, or, or something..." Hermione must have let her go!
"Oh, well, never mind. She's reporting on the attack on Hogwarts, or rather on the lack of security in Hogsmeade."
"Ah. What happened? Was anyone hurt?"
"It went extremely well, actually. There were no fatalities, at least on our side. The Death Eaters weren't so lucky," Lupin explained grimly. "Arabella will be able to tell us more when she gets back. She headed over to Hogwarts first thing this morning"
"The school's all right, though?" Harry asked nervously.
Lupin smiled reassuringly. "Yes, it's fine."
"What happened to Ron?"
"I brought him home shortly after you arrived. Molly and Arthur were very relieved to have him back. As for Draco-"
Harry's eyes opened wide in shock. Malfoy... Didn't I dream something about him?
"What about him?"
"You do remember meeting him, don't you?"
"Er- no, not really. My memory's a bit jumbled up."
"Well, he caught up with you out on a pier in Azkaban apparently, and used a Portkey to get you all home."
The image of crashing waves and sharp rocks suddenly crept into Harry's mind. There was something about Snape...
"I don't remember seeing him there..."
"Oh, you were probably pretty out of it at that stage. Anyway, Draco is in something of a difficult situation now, because in helping you home, he has betrayed not only his father, but Lord Voldemort. Harry, Draco was a Death Eater."
Harry didn't quite know what to say. Certainly, he remembered hearing Voldemort mention Draco Malfoy's name in the throne room at Azkaban, but it still seemed inconceivable that the boy would have gone so far as to join the Dark Lord's ranks. However unpleasant, and even cruel, Malfoy's personality was, Harry found it difficult to imagine that he would actually take the enormous, life-altering step of becoming a Death Eater. Until now, he had always pictured Draco as being boastful, jealous, and cruel, but not as a wizard capable of murder. But now, he was being told that Draco had indeed sworn an oath to serve Voldemort and to rid the world of Muggles, an oath that he had decided, in an incredibly short period of time, to forsake. Harry wasn't sure he trusted Malfoy, or believed in his miraculous redemption. His disbelief must have shown clearly on his face, for Lupin quickly tried to banish it.
"Harry, I know what you're thinking... Draco might not be genuine. It's hard to say if he is or not, but he did bring you all home safely. To be honest, I don't think he really knows whose side he's on. He's confused, and has a lot on his mind. For now, however, he is on our side, and we must encourage him to stay there."
Harry mumbled, almost incoherently, "Where is he now?"
"Well," Lupin shifted uncomfortably on the kitchen chair, "The Weasleys offered to take him-"
Harry spluttered with laughter, unable to contain his amusement, despite the stern expression on Lupin's face..
"-But Draco had objections, which I won't repeat. In the end, Dumbledore had to ask Snape to look after him, poor kid, but I don't think he minded too much It's only a temporary arrangement, fortunately."
"I'm sure they'll be great company for each other. They can wind away the hours plotting my murder... But can't his parents insist that he be returned to them? I mean, he is still a child by law, right?"
"Yes, normally we wouldn't be able to take him from his parents unless we could prove they were Death Eaters. We found the proof we needed, however."
Lupin seemed reluctant to say any more on the matter, so Harry changed the subject.
"Has there been word from Sirius yet?"
"No, not yet. I'd say it'll be awhile before we hear anything. They've a lot to discuss, and on top of dealing with the attack on Hogwarts, the Ministry has its hands full right now..."
"Oh," Harry sighed in disappointment. "Okay."
"I'll be heading over there myself soon, to give evidence."
"Really? What on?"
"I don't know yet. Albus just asked me to be there. I'm afraid all we can do is wait, Harry. Why don't you go back to bed for awhile?"
Harry sighed once more and looked around the kitchen, bored. He didn't want to go back to bed, especially now that with his concern for Sirius casting a dark shadow over his earlier cheerfulness. The thought of spending the entire day sitting around the house and worrying about the outcome of his godfather's trial filled him with dread. He found himself longing for distraction, so that he could delay having to think about the crucial moment until it arrived. If only he had his broomstick... Unfortunately, the Firebolt was still at the Burrow, along with all his possessions. Besides, he doubted that Remus would let him go out to fly in the aftermath of the attack on the house as it might be dangerous. He could make a start on his homework. Even the prospect of working on his Potions essay would have been preferable to being left alone with his gloomy thoughts, but again, his books were at Ron's house. The thought of Ron gave him an idea.
"Remus?" Harry asked.
Lupin looked inquisitively back up from the newspaper.
"Is there an owl I could use? I'd like to write to Ron and Hermione to let them know I'm okay, and everything."
"I'm afraid not, Harry. Hedwig arrived yesterday, but Sirius sent her off this morning with a message."
Damn.
Harry looked over at the pile of dirty dishes by the sink. "D'you want me to wash those?" he asked hopefully.
"Hmm? Oh, no, that's all right, Harry. Here-"
Remus waved his wand and the sink immediately filled with water. The plates began to push each other roughly, each wanting to be the first into the soapy water. Harry shook his head in exasperation.
"Er, is there anything I can do?"
"Bored already, Harry?" spoke a voice from the doorway, causing Harry and Remus to rise from their chairs in fright.
"Professor Dumbledore!" Harry exclaimed. "Has there been word from Sirius yet?"
"No, not yet, Harry," Dumbledore stated apologetically. "Your presence is required, however, Remus."
"Right. See you later, Harry," Lupin called as he left.
"Shall we adjourn to the living room, Harry?" Dumbledore asked, already halfway out of the room.
Harry followed him curiously. Once inside the dull, mahogany-panelled room, the headmaster sat down wearily on the dusty maroon couch, inviting Harry to join him. Harry sat down slowly, wondering why the older wizard was suddenly looking so old and tired. The expression reminded him of something, perhaps from a dream that he couldn't quite recall, and it made him strangely sad to look at it.
"Well, Harry... Another encounter with Lord Voldemort, another victory..."
Whatever Harry had been expecting it wasn't this vague, sweeping statement.
"Um, yeah," he replied uncertainly.
"And you used the Killing Curse to great effect."
"Yes, sir. Am I going to be in trouble for that?" Harry asked anxiously, wondering if this was why Dumbledore looked so uncomfortable.
It was a while before the headmaster replied. "No, since nobody knows what you did, except those who were present."
Harry silently digested this welcome piece of news, before saying, "I thought I'd killed him at first, but it wasn't enough. I should have used the concentrated form of the Curse that Sirius taught me."
"You regret that you did not kill him, then?"
Harry's brows furrowed in confusion. "Well, of course I do-"
Dumbledore sighed heavily. "Perhaps that it is your fate, Harry, if you believe in such fancies. But you should realise that, with every life you take, a part of yourself dies also."
"I wouldn't use it on anyone else!" Harry cried out, alarmed.
"You misunderstand me, Harry. I know you have too great a respect for life to destroy it thoughtlessly. I merely want you to understand your enemy. Voldemort has taken the lives of thousands, and it has reduced him to a creature bearing a greater likeness to death than life. He thrives on the souls he has claimed, keeping his victims trapped for all eternity in a nightmarish world from which he draws strength and power..."
Dumbledore continued speaking, but Harry was hardly listening. The headmaster's words had struck a cord with him... A nightmarish world... Victims trapped... Voldemort... The images from Harry's dreams suddenly popped into his memory with crystal clarity. The dead souls begging for release from their torment, Voldemort looking fearful at Harry's veiled threats...
Dumbledore continued, "This will be his downfall, Harry, that the influence he has gained was obtained from dead things. Have you never wondered where the term, "Death Eater," originated?"
Harry listened raptly.
"Well, it was born from the practise of drawing power from the souls of the dead. That is why the Dementors were so quick to flock to Voldemort's side. He encourages them to feed as much as they want, and the souls they remove prolong his life. To beat him, Harry, you must not be like him. You must not give in to hatred and a lust for revenge. You have witnessed the power of the Penna Potissimus, and no doubt have considered using it to increase the force of your Killing Curse, but, Harry, you must not do so," Dumbledore continued, speaking these last words with careful emphasis. "The Penna is not meant to be used in that manner. It is not a weapon. As the heir of Gryffindor, you have the important duty of defending it, and protecting it, from the likes of Voldemort, who would abuse its power, but you should never try to wield it for your own gain."
"But, sir!" Harry exclaimed, "I already have, and nothing terrible happened."
"As the Secret Keeper of the Penna Potissimus, you needed to understand its power. That is why I did not advise against your using it before now. However, you are stronger now, and more dangerous an adversary. Were you to wield the Penna at the height of your magical powers, I dread to think of the consequences. I have told you before that the Penna represents the source of all magical power in the world. Think of what you could do with such power..."
"I could rid the world of Voldemort!" Harry stated defensively.
"In a fit of anger, casting the Killing Curse on Voldemort could result in a lot more than his death. You could kill the entire population of the world with a single curse, were you not in control of your emotions. It is too great an object for one person to bear. Can you see that, Harry?"
In that moment Harry finally understood all of Dumbledore's warnings and misgivings. He had lost control before and blown up his Aunt Marge. What might he have done, had he his wand, and the Penna Potissmus? Dumbledore was right.
"But how can I kill him, then?" he asked desperately.
"You will learn in time, but you are still young, Harry. In fact," Dumbledore chirped happily, looking at his strange watch that contained no numbers or hands, "I believe I should wish you a happy, belated, fifteenth birthday!"
Harry couldn't believe it. His birthday had come and gone in the terrifying adventure of being captured by Lord Voldemort. He looked up in surprise to see Dumbledore surveying him happily, his eyes twinkling behind his half-moon spectacles.
"Professor," Harry began quietly, "When I was asleep I had some strange dreams. I think I saw that place you mentioned, where Voldemort keeps the souls he feeds off. They were begging me to kill them, or release them. It was terrible."
"Yes, it is a fate far worse than death, Harry," Dumbledore answered carefully.
"You said that not all of them got there because of the Dementor's Kiss, that thousands are there because Voldemort used the Killing Curse on them..."
"Yes..."
"My parents aren't, aren't there, are they?" he asked, frightened.
"No, Harry. I'm sure they're not. Their wills were too strong to be enslaved thus."
Harry relaxed slightly. "There was another dream, sir, about Hogwarts. I had almost forgotten about it until now. But it was really strange, because the school was the same as usual, but Muggle-borns weren't allowed to go there, so Hermione wasn't there, or Dean. There were lots of other small changes, like the students were learning the Dark Arts, and how to conjure the Dark Mark... but nobody could see me. It was like I was dead, or something. Parvati said Voldemort had killed me as a baby. Really creepy. You were able to see me, though, at least I think you did for a second, but you couldn't believe your eyes. And then you-you-"
Harry suddenly fell silent, not sure if he should tell Dumbledore about how he had tried to kill himself in the dream. Dumbledore did not appear surprised by his uncertainty, however, and even seemed to be smiling slightly.
"I expect I was little more than a shadow of my present self?"
"Er, yes sir. Sorry."
"That's quite all right, Harry. Now what do you suppose your dream meant?"
"I was going to ask you that!"
"Come now, Harry! You're getting old enough to interpret your own dreams. Think! What did you see?"
"I think- well, it was like I had been killed along with my parents, like that was the way the school would have been if I'd died..."
"Yes. I would agree with that assessment. The mind can create some stunning scenarios when given free reign, and yours showed you exactly how the world would have turned out if you had not defeated Voldemort as a baby. It was probably born of your own reluctance to regard yourself as a hero."
Harry cringed visibly at these words, causing Dumbledore to chuckle lightly.
"It seemed so real, but it was horrible. I never would have thought that anything could make you give up hope and try to- well, you know..." Harry stuttered.
"You see what a difference you have made to the world, Harry. As much as you dislike your fame, you should be glad for what it represents. You brought the wizarding world hope, when there was very little left, and you would do well to remind yourself of that in the future, if anyone else should be lost in the struggle to defeat Lord Voldemort."
"Hmmm," Harry muttered pensively. "How come you were able to see me when no-one else could?"
"Ah, well, I'd like to say that it was due to my own amazing powers of perception, but alas, I have no such abilities. I believe that curious twist to your dream may have stemmed from something your subconscious mind has perceived before now. I have told you before that when one wizard saves another wizard's life, it creates a certain bond between them, similar to that you share with Peter Pettigrew, however reluctantly. Such a bond has existed between us since I saved your life in your first year at Hogwarts."
"Oh," Harry said softly, finally understanding why he always had the eerie feeling that Dumbledore could read his mind.
"It's not so terrible, Harry. I have found it rather useful, actually, since it gives me something of a sixth sense for finding you whenever you decide to break school rules by entering the Forbidden Forest, or some other out-of-bounds place. So let that be a warning to you!" Dumbledore said, laughing at the look of dismay on the younger wizard's face. "Now that I have said all I came to say I have just one more piece of advice to offer you, and it concerns the Penna. Clearly, you cannot continue to keep it in your wand, so I would suggest that you return it to its original location and keep that location to yourself. You should use your own judgement, of course, in whatever you decide to do. In the meantime, I need to get back to the Ministry. These are very busy times... Don't leave Godric's Hollow, Harry! Remus, or maybe even Sirius, will be along soon, so you won't have the place to yourself for very long. Make the most of it!"
Harry understood what Dumbledore was telling him, despite the cryptic nature of his words. He had to return the Penna to the tunnel before any of the others arrived from the Ministry. Now that it was time to do so, however, Harry found that he was reluctant to part with the Penna, and the sense of power and confidence it imparted to him. He looked up from the floor to tell Dumbledore as much only to see that he was now alone. He knew deep down that Dumbledore had been right. The Penna was too dangerous an object for him to use, but losing it would deny him his only asset that frightened Voldemort. But then, he thought, just because he was going to return it to the tunnel, that didn't necessarily mean that he wouldn't be able to take it out again if necessary. That possibility would always be open to him, so perhaps it wouldn't be so bad after all. At least it would be kept safe until he needed it.
His mind made up, Harry removed his wand from his pocket, walked forward and opened the hidden passageway into the circular, grassy region beyond. He no longer felt unhappy about letting go of the Penna, since he had the comforting knowledge that his loss was not necessarily permanent. He hoped he would never have to disappoint Dumbledore by taking it out of its hiding place for his own use, but he felt somewhat safer knowing that he could do so if ever the need arose. Stepping out of the tunnel and onto the enclosed lawn, he held his wand high above his head and closed his eyes.
"Fidelio!" he cried.
Instantly, the glorious, haunting melody of phoenix song erupted from the silence to fill the small area with warmth and energy. Harry felt his wand arm being pulled up higher into the air, and then his wand effortlessly left his grasp. From behind his closed eyelids there was a bright luminescent glow that caused him to turn his head away instinctively.
When the music finally ended, he cautiously opened his eyes. The golden light had dissipated, but above the encircling trees he could just make out the long red and golden tail feathers of a retreating phoenix. His wand lay a couple of feet behind him, its pure holly grain no longer enriched by its previous yellowish tinge. Smiling to himself, Harry picked it up and examined it closely, waving it around in a cloud of brassy sparks. It was nice to have his old wand back, however plain, he thought happily as he turned back into the tunnel.
***
"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed the following morning, scurrying into the master bedroom of Godric's Hollow, with Ron close on her heels. "Oh, Harry! I was so worried..."
Harry grinned broadly at his two friends as they raced over to join him on the window seat, where he was enjoying a mug of hot chocolate.
"Ron has told me almost everything," she continued, without taking a breath, "And I still can't believe it. Did you really try to kill You-Know-Who?"
Harry almost laughed at her appalled expression, but instead turned accusingly to Ron.
"Are you trying to get me arrested?" he asked jokingly.
"Sorry, Harry," Ron grumbled sarcastically, without a hint of remorse.
"Well, yes," Harry told Hermione, "I did try, but I'm afraid it didn't work very well... But never mind that! Why did you release that cow?"
"Hmmm?" she asked, confused. "Oh, Rita Skeeter? Of course, you wouldn't have heard! Oh, Harry, wait till you hear. You'll be so happy! You will too, Ron, since I had you in mind when I did it." At these words, Hermione's face went a bright shade of red, as did Ron's, but she ignored it and continued speaking.
"Well, after you two went missing, I decided there were better things to do than just sit around worrying, and wondering when you'd get back. So, I decided to see if I could work out why Percy was killed."
Hermione glanced sympathetically at Ron and added, "I thought it might make you feel better if you had someone to blame."
Ron went even redder and looked away.
"And it occured to me that dear Rita has a singular skill for digging up hidden information, so I told her that if she investigated it and gave me a reasoned explanation for what happened to Percy that I would keep quiet about her being an unregistered Animagus. She seemed happy enough with the arrangement (probably because she thought she might get a story from it)... Anyway, within just a couple of hours she had not only found enough evidence to identify the people who planted the Mortis Charm on Lupin's house, but had uncovered- Oh, Harry, you won't believe me-"
"Come on, Hermione!" Harry and Ron roared impatiently.
"All right, all right... I'm building up to a climax here! Okay, Ron? The Charm that killed Percy was planted by Wormtail, but I don't suppose that's much of a surprise to you, Ron, since you went after him, hell-bent on revenge. This is the surprise: Percy did have evidence against Fudge, as was suspected, and this evidence not only incriminates him, but it also proves that Sirius is innocent!" she cried out impressively.
"Yeah, and the climax is...?" Ron taunted, grinning at Harry.
"What?" she asked in a flat voice. "Isn't that enough?"
"Um, we already knew that, Hermione. Sorry!" Harry said, trying not to laugh.
Hermione glared from one boy to the other, with a deflated look on her face. "How do you know?"
"Sirius told us in Azkaban," said Harry.
"Oh," she muttered.
"Don't feel bad! I'm sure you did some excellent detective work," Ron chortled, attracting a very sour look from Hermione.
"I still haven't heard from Sirius," Harry explained seriously. "He didn't come back last night, and at breakfast this morning Remus only said that the hearing had been delayed and had only just started when he arrived. I hope it goes okay."
"Don't worry, Harry!" Hermione begged, "There's no question of his innocence. I mean, how could anyone dispute the evidence of Wormtail's own wand?"
Harry's eyes snapped up in shock, and he felt Ron's keen gaze upon him. "What did you say?" he asked swiftly.
Hermione looked puzzled. "I thought you said you knew!" she cried out, too surprised to adopt the superior gaze she had worn earlier.
"I obviously don't know!" Harry roared. "Tell me what you meant!"
"The evidence proving Sirius' innocence... It seems they found the core of Wormtail's wand in the debris after he blew up that Muggle street during his encounter with Sirius fourteen years ago. His wand had been destroyed, and only half of the core was found, a strand of hair from a unicorn's tail, apparently. Anyway, it won't surprise you very much to hear that Mundungus Fletcher was the first Auror on the scene and that he was the one who found the wand's core. Priori Incantatem could have shown that the explosion came from Wormtail's wand, but unfortunately, Fletcher decided only to share that evidence several months later with Cornelius Fudge, only recently elected Minister of Magic. By then, Crouch had already thrown Sirius in prison without a trial, and Fudge didn't want to face the embarrassment of having to publicly admit to imprisoning an innocent man for such a high-profile case, so it was kept quiet. But silly old Fudge must have had second thoughts because he apparently wrote out a pardon. However, it was never put into effect. Instead, he hid it away in the most boring department he could think of, The Department of International Magical Co-operation, where Crouch had just been shunted, thinking that, with Fletcher as Crouch's boss, it would be well hidden."
"Why didn't he just burn it, or something?" Ron asked, amazed.
Hermione smiled at him knowingly. "Because it was on official Ministry parchment. Ministry parchment has all sorts of charms on it to prevent tampering, and it can't be burnt, or torn, or destroyed in any way, nor can even it be removed from the Ministry Headquarters in London. Of course, Fletcher left the department when Crouch took over, and then Percy became Head of the Department after Crouch's death. It seems that Fletcher kept an eye on Crouch and Percy during their careers, and when he realised that Percy had found Sirius' pardon, well, he had him killed."
Ron shook his head angrily. "I wish he'd never taken that job."
"It meant the world to him, Ron," Hermione stated consolingly.
"Yeah, s'pose."
"At least he didn't die for nothing, Ron," she continued. "If it wasn't for him, the truth about Sirius' innocence might never have come to light."
The three fell silent for a while, suddenly becoming interested in a sparrow singing in its nest in the large oak canopy outside the window. At length, Harry spoke, trying to think of something to clear the air of the dark mood that had descended upon it.
"Hey! Did you hear about Malfoy?"
"'Course I did! D'you know, Mum offered to let him stay with us! I tell you, it would have been enough to make me move out! And now poor old Snape is stuck with him. Geez, I never thought I'd feel sorry for Snape, but I do now!"
Harry sniggered in spite of the annoyed, pinched expression on Hermione's face. He had seen it too many times to pay much notice.
Ron was still speaking, "And did you hear about Neville? No? His uncle is going to be the new Minister for Magic. That'll be one in old Draco's eye, for sure. Ha! If only I could be the one to tell him!"
"Ron!" Hermione scolded, "That's cruel."
"What?" he groaned. "You hate him as much as I do. I mean, the number of times he's called you a mudblood..."
"Maybe, but it's different now. He must be really upset about losing his father."
"Losing his father?" Harry asked in surprise. "What happened?"
"I thought you knew," Hermione said quietly and then explained, "Lucius Malfoy was killed during the attack on Hogwarts. Apparently he attacked someone on our side, although the Daily Prophet doesn't specify who, and was killed in self-defence."
"Oh my God," Harry whispered. So that was why Lupin said that Draco Malfoy could be taken from his parents legally.
Ron said no more about Draco Malfoy, and the conversation soon turned to more cheerful matters, such as the new school year, the need for Harry to have a belated birthday party, and the latest exploits of Fred and George Weasley, who had apparently designed a very impressive and professional-looking mail-order catalogue for their comic creations. Harry laughed along with Ron and Hermione, grateful not to be asked how he felt about losing his parents again. It just wasn't something that he wanted to speak about yet, preferring to have some quiet time to himself to work out his feelings first. For the moment, it was nice to immerse himself in the simple pleasure of talking to his friends about unimportant things, knowing that, for a while at least, he was safe.
Towards midday, they were interrupted by Remus bearing a tray full of sandwiches, and an order from Madam Pomfrey for Harry to stay in bed, which he cheerfully ignored. They ate in companionable silence, and spent the afternoon in friendly games of Exploding Snap, until it was time for Ron and Hermione to return to the Burrow. Harry was very sorry to see them go, and realised, with a pang of regret that, now that Sirius would be free, he would probably never have to stay at Ron's house again. He envied Hermione, who said that she would be staying there for another fortnight to give Ginny some company while she grieved for Percy. Harry couldn't help but notice, however, how her eyes had strayed to Ron as she said this. Perhaps they would be happier to have some time to themselves for once, he thought sadly... Well, at least he still had Sirius. He looked forward to getting to know him better, outside of dangerous, life-threatening situations.
Harry found that the visit from his friends had tired him out considerably, and after they had left, he lay down for a nap. Stretched out on his parents' enormous double bed, he fell into a refreshing, deep sleep, where he remained for an indefinite amount of time until the door suddenly burst inward, and a mass of black fur bounded across the room to land heavily on his chest.
"Ack!... Sirius! Oh, stop licking me! Come on, you have to transform and tell me what happened," he cried out stupidly, wrenched from his precious sleep, but delighted nonetheless to see his godfather alive and well.
With a pop, Padfoot transformed into a smiling Sirius Black, lying rather ungracefully across Harry's legs.
"Harry!" he cried, "I'm free!"
Harry burst out laughing, not even caring that he had lost all feeling in his legs. He was speechless, but so, apparently, was Sirius, who launched himself across the mattress and flung his arms around his godson's neck, giggling hysterically behind his ear. Harry hugged him tightly, still laughing uncontrollably, and resisting the urge to rub his moist eyes. He had never felt such immense, all-embracing joy in his entire life. Not even the happiness he had felt at learning for the first time that he was a wizard compared to the way he was feeling now. Sirius was thumping him on the back, and tousling his hair, all the while shaking with sheer delight. When finally he let him go, Harry saw that he was not the only one who had been crying.
"I hate to interrupt this beautiful moment," Remus called from the door, startling them, "But I've slaved all afternoon over a hot wand to prepare this meal, and I don't want it to go to waste!"
"Moony!" Sirius roared, with a mischievous glint in his eye, "Old pal! Come here!"
Sirius leapt up from the bed and advanced menacingly on his friend, arms stretched out wide in a gesture of friendship. Remus looked alarmed, and began to back away, out onto the landing, but it was too late. Sirius charged out of the room after his prey, screaming, "Mooooony!" at the top of his lungs, the floorboards protesting at his every heavy footfall. A moment later, the house reverberated to an indignant, high-pitched yell and the crash of broken pottery, before Sirius stampeded back into the bedroom, carrying a frustrated Remus Lupin over his shoulder, kicking his legs wildly. With a triumphant, "Ha!" Sirius flung his friend onto the mattress and proceeded to tickle him remorselessly. Crouched against the headboard, Harry couldn't stifle his laughter at seeing the normally reserved and controlled Remus Lupin squirming frantically and giggling hysterically in between squeals of, "No!- Stop, Padf- Ah!- Sirius! I hate y-"
"Should I stop now, Moony?" Sirius asked finally, winking conspiratorially at Harry.
"For God's sake, yes!" Remus screamed, unable to wriggle out of Sirius' iron grip.
"Hmmm, I don't know..." Sirius teased. "Maybe just a little more-"
"No!"
Sirius started tickling Remus once more in the sides of his chest. "You see, I have to be sure that you won't try to slip anything into my drink ever again..."
"-'kay, won't, Siri- Ow! Stop!"
"What do you think, Harry? Should I let him go?"
"I would if I were you, Sirius. He looks pretty mad," Harry replied.
"Hmmm... Okay, then. There you go, Moony!"
Remus rolled onto the floor, presenting as little of his body as possible to the threat of another attack. He stood up slowly, brushing down his messy robes, and glaring murderously at Sirius. Harry had the impression, however, that the werewolf was only just managing to keep from smiling.
"'Should've let you cook your own damn dinner," he grumbled.
"Awww, sorry Moony! We love you, really (at least our stomachs do!)... Come on, Harry! Let's go eat!"
The three wizards walked downstairs, Remus shaking his head, feigning exasperation, Harry laughing under his breath, and Sirius speaking consolably to Remus.
"Tell you what... Now that I'm rich and famous, I'll buy you a house!"
"Whatever you say, Sirius," Remus muttered lightly.
"Really, Moony. I'm not kidding. You tell me what place you'd like, and it's yours."
"You're not buying me a house, Sirius!" Remus insisted.
"Ah, come on, Moony! Let me buy you a house! I feel sooo guilty for tickling you-"
"Shut up, Sirius!"
Sirius sighed dramatically, "I don't know, Harry... Some people just can't accept gifts."
"You can buy me a house, Sirius!" Harry joked, walking into the kitchen, and gazing hungrily at the roast chicken waiting to be carved.
"You already have one!"
"Huh?"
"You're in it."
"Oh, yeah. I hadn't thought about that... So I own Godric's Hollow?" Harry asked, surprised that it hadn't occured to him before.
"'Course you do!" Sirius exclaimed, stealing the drumstick that Remus had just laid on his own plate, and earning a reproachful glance from the cook. "Have you thought about where you want to live? I'll understand if you want to stay here, of course, but if you'd prefer somewhere else, I wouldn't mind investing in some property."
Harry was stumped. "Er- I don't know. I think- Well, this is a nice house, and everything, and I certainly wouldn't sell it," Harry began, thinking of the Penna hidden away behind the living room panel, "But I don't think I'd like to live here, at least not yet."
"That's fine, Harry. We can start looking for somewhere new... Moony, if you won't accept a house, how about a mobile home?"
"Thanks all the same, but I'd rather not live on a broomstick. Here's yours, Harry."
Harry accepted his plate gratefully, and soon the three of them were eating voraciously, not saying very much. As they finished their meal, the sun was beginning to set, and the kitchen was bathed in cool shadow. Harry looked up from his now empty plate in time to see Hedwig swoop towards the window, her magnificent feathers glistening in the sunlight. The snowy owl entered the room, landing skilfully on Sirius' shoulder, and hooting happily as he let his fork fall onto his plate with a clatter and read his message. Almost immediately he got to his feet, a pleased expression on his face.
"Anything important?" Remus asked.
"Um, you could say that... It's from Arabella. If you'll excuse me, the highway awaits!" he cried.
With that, Sirius tore from the room, yelling something about leather trousers. Harry grinned softly, helping himself to more sprouts. Remus was smiling warmly at him from across the table.
"Poor 'Bella. I hope she knows what she's letting herself in for."
"I think she's well able for him," Harry retorted, grinning broadly.
Feeling satisfied, and warm after his meal, Harry opened the back door and stepped out onto the sweeping garden lawn, where instantly he was greeted by the evening song of the sparrows overhead, and the occasional moth fluttering past his face. He felt stronger and more carefree than he had in a long time, and began to stride up the sloping grass, inhaling the sweet summer air with unquenchable passion. Sitting lazily down at the foot of an ancient oak, he gazed back on his parents home with love and awe. There was magic here, he thought vaguely, but of a different, more immediate, and more human kind than he had ever experienced before. It was all around him, in every blade of grass, and every breath of air.
It reminded him of his parents.
If only he could feel his mother's bushy red hair against his cheek again, or marvel at his father's startling blue eyes... Filled with a longing to see his parents so intense, so overpowering as to render him almost paralytic with desire, he gazed deep into his soul and found them, waiting expectantly. They were too beautiful to remain hidden in his memory. He would bring them back...
fin.
A/N: Finally! The end! I get my life back, and just in time for exams-great :(. Well, I'm fairly pleased with the way this turned out. Of course, there are loads of mistakes, especially as far as continuity with the books is concerned, but let's just call it artistic licence, shall we? This was my first fic, and I have to say I've enjoyed the experience, and learned loads, so I will be back. There will be a sequel in a couple of weeks, after I finish college for the summer, but before I start on it, I think I'd like to try something different, probably MWPP. I'd like to thank all of you for putting up with my endless cliffhangers and delays, and for reviewing throughout the series. I probably would have given up after chapter one if it wasn't for you! I hope it's not too much to ask for you to review just one more time :o) Come on! Please...
Before I thank you all individually, I'd just like to say an enormous
THANK YOU!!! to Coqui, who beta-read most of the second half of
the series, and had the grace not to lose her temper with my flagrant misuse
of inverted commas, proper nouns (Quidditch with a capital Q!), and the
And everyone else->
rachel: So sorry for the delay. I promise you it wasn't laziness!
I worked harder on this part than any of the others, and failed to get
my scholarship because of it! I had major writer's block and had to rewrite
it several times, so it took forever. Anyway, I hope it turned out okay
:)
~*~Ten No Megami~*~:Glad you liked my series, and I hope your
cat didn't die of curiosity!
audiaa2:Oh goodie, one of my fav authors is reading my fic!
Ack! (bows head in embarrassment). I'm not worthy! Thanks so much for reviewing,
and for not accusing me of cheesyness. I know this story is a little sentimental
at times, but hey, I'm a sentimental person! Anyway, I am absolutely dying
for the next part of Veracity and have been amusing myself trying to figure
out what's going to happen next. I just can't work out why Janice and Dr.
Nyborg keep contradicting each other. I'm not sure I trust Nyborg, as he
seems to be up to something suspicious, but Janice is a goodie, isn't she?
She wouldn't do anything nasty. So, did Sirius just imagine that slip about
the sleeping potion, and is it not just a coincidence that he has been
conveniently kept out of the way for Harry to be kidnapped from Remus.
Argh, I don't know. But you're doing it on purpose, aren't you? Getting
us all confused, and making us think up one crazy conspiracy theory after
another.. Heehee.
I can't wait for the next part.
Sailorcelestial: No problemo. Hope the finals went okay. As
for Malfoy, well, I certainly wouldn't make him a nice person, or Harry's
friend since that's been done before and I'd hate to be accused of copying
the excellent Cassandra Claire. He may feature strongly in the sequel,
however. And thank you so much for reviewing throughout the series. I don't
think you missed a single chapter :)
Piper: Glad you like it. Hope this part's okay.
Katy713: Heehee, you had the right idea, waiting till the end.
Everyone else had to endure my frequent delays and cliffhangers! Thanks
for reviewing.
cloud: Goodie, thanks!
shadowwolf75: Great! Hope you like it.
california love: Ha! I told you this was the last part! And
you didn't believe me-for shame... I guess you don't like Malfoy. Well,
I could have let him drown, but then poor Harry might never have gotten
home. Sorry! Thanks for reviewing all through the series :o)
~~*Julie*~~: Ooh, sorry for taking so long. Hope you're not
too mad at me! Anyway, thanks for saying you liked it, and I hope this
part pleases..
HASKAP: I feel so guilty for making you all wait so long! I'm
really, really sorry, but believe me, if I'd rushed it, it would have been
dreadful. Anyway, thanks for reviewing.
the great bumblebee: I read that series you recommended, "My
Name's Severus," and you were right, it was hilarious! Thanks for the reference.
Now you know what I was doing when I should have been writing! Oops...
heffa: Thanks for reviewing!
Harry's Crush: Ah, someone else I should get down on bended
knee to thank! Well, thank you very much for sticking with my story, and
for reviewing so much. I hope you enjoyed this last chapter. I did my best
:)
Ravenclaw filly: Oh dear, oh dear... You asked me to get this
chapter out the very next day! Eek! I could never have written this in
a day :) I tried to, but failed miserably. Well, at least I didn't kill
Harry off. I could never do that. Thank you very much for reviewing!
Dunno: Yup, there will be a sequel, though not right away. My
exams end June 9th so I'll start on it around then. Hope you like it!
MK: Wow, thanks! Better than the books?! Um, I think that's
going a bit far! But I'm really glad you liked it :o) If this part was
okay, then maybe you'll read the sequel when I get around to writing it.
Anyway, thanks again!
Gohan Hugger: Um, thanks, I think..:)
Tinabedina: Thank you, sorry for the long wait..
Dog Star's Crush: Way way way! Aww, how cute! Glad you approved
of my decision to include Draco, because he'll play a big part in the sequel.
Aaron Delboone: Thank you very much! Wow, this only the second
fanfic you read! Well, you've probably been told this already, but the
best fics to read (at least in my humble opinion) are by Cassandra Claire,
Lori, Harry's Mum Lily, Al, audiaa2, Bliss, Thing1, and D.M.P.
Belle M: Thanks for saying you liked part 20 and for reviewing
so often. I really appreciate it :)
Mike Potter: Hex me! Ha! I'd like to see you try :) Heehee.
Okay, I'm sorry for the wait, and regardless of your threat, I am still
grateful that you reviewed!
Rede: So nice of you to keep reviewing. I'm really happy that
people have stuck with this from the beginning. Well, this is the last
one. I think I'll go cry now...
Beruna Ford: OMG! Your poor sister! And it's all my fault...
Well, I must admit I'm flattered, but as soon as you read this chapter
you're to turn off your computer and go finish that veil. Oh, and my congratulations!
Nagh: Thanks!
Kelzery: Hey, I only read your fic, "The Fear Evil Brings,"
yesterday, and I must say it's one of the best short series I've read,
really dark and angsty, and you handled the Harry/Ginny romance beautifully.
Well done! I liked your suggestion about including more Draco in my fic,
but it was getting a bit too long, so I'm going to save it for the sequel.
Adelina: LOL. You're right, there was a lot that needed to be
squashed into this one chapter, but i was determined to do it, at least
for the sake of my education, which has suffered badly through this fic.
But, I did it! Aganist all odds, I think I cleared up all the loose ends.
Well, you can tell me if I succeeded...:)
Liz: Oh, thank you very much!
Jedi Lizzybean: Great, that last chapter was hell to write.
I hope you enjoyed this part.
SEEKER_2000: Er, I've always thought that JKR would keep Harry
alive long enough to complete his education at least, so it didn't feel
right killing him off just yet. I hope it isn't too great an anticlimax,
but there's always the sequel...
Amanda Mancini: Hey, Scary Girl! Glad to see you haven't given
up on my fic.
Cassandra Lynn: Oh, thank you. Nice of you to say this is one
of your favourites. I'm sorry for making you wait so long for this part
:(
Giesbrecht: Well, here it is, chapter 21 at long last. I haven't
forgotten about Harry's parents, and the last line of the fic will give
you some indication of what the sequel will be about.
Coqui: Ah, you were quick to review! Thanks! Especially for
the beta.
Lin-z: Thanks! Coqui recommended your fic to me, "Harry Potter
and Gryffindor's Secret," which I'm trying to catch up with at the moment.
So far, I love it!
Pleiades
Monday, May 14th, 2001.
