It took Harry a minute or two to overcome the feeling of dizziness that
always came when travelling by portkey. He thought he heard Sirius say:
"Wait here for a minute, I'll be right back."
When he finally stood up and took a look around him, he saw that he was in a place he had never come to before: he was in a small, filthy pub, quite empty, where only a few strange-looking people sat at different tables across the room.
He looked around for Sirius and spotted him at the counter, talking to what had to be the owner of the pub. Harry saw him point a finger to a table way back at the end of the room where a pair of goblins were having a drink. Harry thought this was very odd, as goblins usually never allowed themselves to be seen in such places. However odd he thought this was, he was even more astonished to see that Sirius was walking towards them, and by the way they looked up at him when he came to the table, they had been expecting him.
Harry tried to figure out the meaning of this. What possible business could Sirius have with goblins?
Harry concentrated on cleaning his clothes, which were covered with dust from his landing on the floor, and when he glanced over at the table again, he saw that Sirius and the goblins were involved in what seemed to be a deep conversation. Harry knew that he wouldn't know what this was all about until Sirius was done, so he walked over to one of the windows and looked outside, trying to figure out where they could be.
The landscape - if you could really call it a landscape - was composed only of hills; sad, dark, desolate hills, with just a few trees here and there, and no other sign of life or human activity than the pub where he was standing right now. There wasn't even a road in sight, just a sort of trail that led to the top of a hill and disappeared from Harry's view on the other side.
Harry looked back at the table. Apparently Sirius and the goblins were done talking and were now biding farewell. Sirius looked slightly angry. He walked up to Harry, leaving the two goblins at their drinks.
"Never try to make a compromise with those creatures," he said in an exasperated tone. "Far too mistrusting. They never take your word for anything. Don't know why Dumbledore chose them, of all people..."
"What kind of a compromise?" Harry asked, curious to see what Dumbledore wanted from the goblins.
"Can't tell you that... Not yet, anyway. You can ask Dumbledore when you see him, maybe he'll be willing to tell you."
Harry didn't argue, although he knew it would be a very long time until he saw Dumbledore again. It was barely the end of July, and school didn't start until September.
Perhaps because of the look of disappointment on Harry's face, Sirius chose this moment to tell Harry: "I haven't given you your birthday present yet."
And he pulled out from one of his pockets a small, black ball, and handed it to Harry, who took it with slightly trembling hands: this was the first birthday present Sirius had ever given him, if you didn't count, of course, the firebolt broom he had sent him two years ago - and was enough, Harry thought, to make up for a thousand birthdays.
"Thanks!" said Harry, his voice quivering a little.
He held the ball up to his eyes so he could see it better, and as he did so, he thought he heard whispering coming from it.
"It's a translator," explained Sirius. "It'll translate any form of language - humans', creatures', animals' - into the one you understand. In your case, English. Or, if I dare say, Parseltongue."
Harry stared at Sirius in numb disbelief: was he mocking him? A Parseltongue was someone who could talk to snakes. Few possessed this gift, and those who did were often considered evil. However, this didn't seem to be Sirius' opinion:
"There's no shame in being a Parseltongue, Harry. Quite the contrary, in fact. It's a very valuable gift, that, in time, I believe will probably reveal itself to be very useful."
Harry smiled at Sirius gratefully: he was glad that him, at least, didn't think that his being a Parseltongue made him a malevolent person.
"Now, why don't you give it a try," Sirius added, pointing at the translator.
Harry didn't have to be asked twice: he spotted a couple of elf-like creatures sitting at a table nearby and approached them cautiously, pretending to get a better look out of the window. The elves had a sort of nasty, evil look in their eyes, something he had never seen with house- elves, who were kind, hard-working, and some of the most submitting creatures he had ever seen.
Harry wondered what sort of elves these two were, and as he came closer to them, the translator next to his ear, he could hear them speak very quickly, in a language he didn't think he had ever heard before.
As he came nearer and nearer the translator's whispers became a lot clearer, until at last he was able to follow everything they were saying:
"The day the Ministry will recognize us as civilized creatures and worthy of being part of it," was saying one of the elves, "that's the day I'll trust them. Not before. I really don't understand why they're doing this. Very fishy indeed, this whole thing."
"Not only that, but they've been doing it with a whole lot of different creatures, which could be very dangerous for them," added the other elf with a nasty grin. "I think this is where we should come in and do our part."
"Yes, that could be very interesting, couldn't it? Teach them a lesson, we shall."
Harry listened carefully, somewhat worried at their conversation. Could this be a plot against the Ministry? He wasn't particularly fond of the Minister of Magic himself, Mr Fudge, but Mr Weasley, Ron's father, worked there as well.
He slowly walked back towards Sirius who was waiting for him next to a glass-shaped portkey.
"Work fine?" he asked with a smile.
"Yeah, thanks Sirius."
"Well then, you ready to go?"
"Yes," answered Harry, not sure whether he should tell him about the elves' conversation or not. He finally asked: "What kind of elves were those?"
"Actually, they're not really elves, Harry." said Sirius in an undertone, as though fearing that the creatures might overhear him. "Notice how tall they are compared to normal elves? We're not really sure what they came from, they're the only ones who do, but a lot of people say they're a cross between wild elves and trolls."
"Trolls?" asked Harry in surprise. "But aren't trolls supposed to be really stupid? Those creatures didn't seem stupid at all, to me..."
"That's because they're not. They're actually some of the meanest, slyest, and most cunning creatures you'll come to meet. But they don't really have any magical powers; that's why nobody worries about them too much."
The fact that they didn't have any magical ability was a little comforting to Harry, but still, he wished he hadn't listened to them. It only made him feel even more uneasy.
"You all right?" Sirius asked. "Looks like you've got a lot on your mind..."
"I'm fine..." Harry answered, trying to sound confident. "Yeah, I'm ready, let's go."
Sirius nodded and they both took hold of the portkey at the same time, and Harry found himself found himself spinning very fast again. It was actually kind of fun, after you'd gotten used to it...
A few seconds later he was thrown to the ground, which appeared to be a soft, smooth carpet. Harry got up a lot quicker than the last time, and found himself to be in quite an extraordinary room: there were very tall shelves against the walls, covered with what must have been thousands of books, and dozens of very odd objects, anything from glass balls to strangely live-looking wooden animals, and even a few trophies here and there. In the middle of the room there stood a very low table, which, Harry was surprised to see, appeared to have no legs. Around the table were a couch and two large, comfortable armchairs, and, in a corner in front of a fireplace, a sort of bench covered with dozens of pairs of socks, Harry noted in amusement. The general aspect the room reflected was that of a cosy, warm, welcoming place, and Harry was strongly reminded of Dumbledore's office at Hogwarts.
Sirius had gotten to his feet and was now standing next to him, apparently quite amused at the look of fascination on his godson's face.
"Any guess as to where we are?" said Sirius, smiling.
Harry was just wondering if this might have been Sirius' house, when he heard a well known, pleasant voice behind him say:
"Good morning, Harry."
Harry turned around and stared in amazement at the familiar figure of Dumbledore, who was standing in the doorway, beaming at both him and Sirius.
"But..."started Harry, "What are you... I mean - what is this place?"
"This, Mr Potter, is my home."
Harry and Ron had always wondered where Dumbledore spent the summer holidays, but it had never occurred to them that Dumbledore actually lived some place else than Hogwarts. Now that he thought about it though, Harry figured that it was mere logic: why shouldn't Dumbledore have his own house? Another thought then crossed his mind: what if Dumbledore had a wife? The simple thought of it was so ludicrous that Harry chuckled out loud.
Sirius stepped forward to shake hands with Dumbledore:
"Albus... I'm glad we've made it."
"Sirius, my dear friend, it's good to see you. And in good health! I was beginning to get worried when you didn't send me an answer."
Harry noticed that both men seemed to have great respect for one another: they just stood there, smiling at each other for several seconds, before Harry coughed loudly to remind them of his presence.
"And Harry, of course," Dumbledore added, walking towards him. "It's always a pleasure to see you, my dear boy..."
Harry felt himself blush a little. He knew that Dumbledore had a 'liking' for him; but then again, he had a liking for all of his students. "That's how good a headmaster Dumbledore is," he thought, shaking his warm hand.
"I hope you've spent an enjoyable holiday up until now, Harry?" Dumbledore asked kindly, sitting down in one of the armchairs, and motioning Harry and Sirius to do the same.
"Well..." Harry started, but immediately interrupted himself. Memories of his locked door at Privet Drive and the less-than-friendly expressions he got from his relatives' every time he approached them flashed through Harry's mind - as did the thought of this empty desk and owl cage. No letters. From no one. But he realised it would sound quite rude to complain, and answered instead, "Yes, quite enjoyable, thank you."
Sirius shifted uneasily in his chair. Harry gave him a sideways look: he knew that Sirius hated it when people mistreated his godson, and clearly he didn't like the idea of overlooking what the Dursleys had done to him this summer.
Dumbledore seemed to have noticed this too, because he looked Sirius straight in the eyes, still smiling pleasantly.
"Yes, Sirius?'" he asked.
Sirius didn't say anything, although apparently burning to do so.
Dumbledore then added, "I trust you've been keeping an eye on Harry."
"I've been trying to." said Sirius. "I know you've been."
Dumbledore smiled and nodded. There was a look in his eyes Harry couldn't understand; it was almost like he was talking to Sirius through them. Sirius nodded back, a twinkle in his eye. They both looked very satisfied about something.
Harry now had the impression that he was being completely left out. He didn't understand what Dumbledore and Sirius were plotting, but it made him feel like he was intruding.
He was just considering asking Dumbledore if he should go for a walk, when Sirius told him: "Harry, I believe you had a question for Professor Dumbledore?"
Harry stared at him, wondering what he was talking about. Then he remembered:
"Oh yes! Um... Professor? I... I was wondering if you could tell me about the goblins..."
"The goblins, Harry?" repeated Dumbledore, raising his eyebrows.
"Yes. I mean... the goblins Sirius met in that old pub where we were earlier... Why did you want him to talk to them?"
"Ah, Harry... Curious, as always, I see?" Dumbledore responded, a large smile visible behind his thick beard.
Harry was starting to regret he had even asked him this question; it was probably secret business, and after all, it didn't really concern Harry. However, to his great surprise, Dumbledore looked at him, sighed deeply, and said:
"Well, I guess... Yes... It probably is time we started telling you about what's going on. What do you think?" he added, turning towards Sirius. "He is your godson; it's up to you to decide."
After a second, Sirius nodded slowly and gravely.
"If that's what he wants, then I think he should know..." he said, giving Harry a piercing look.
Harry felt both excited and apprehensive. This had to be important.
As Dumbledore and Sirius both kept staring at him, apparently in expectation, Harry said hesitantly:
"Yes... Yes, I do want to know."
"Very well, then Harry..." started Dumbledore. "I think the fairest thing to do is to ask you if have any other questions you want an answer to, first."
Harry wondered if Dumbledore had read his mind: he was just about to ask him if he had any news of Hermione or the Weasleys. When he expressed his concerns about them not writing to him, Dumbledore smiled widely and said:
"You will be pleased to know that all of your Hogwarts friends are perfectly safe, and enjoying the holidays very much! Except maybe for Mr Ronald Weasley; I believe his brothers have been picking on him, again..."
Sweet relief swept over Harry. Anything Dumbledore said, he believed: he had never lied to him before, and Harry knew he never would.
But then, if they were fine, why hadn't they written to him?
As if answering his silent question, Dumbledore said:
"Although I'm afraid I did have to forbid your friends to send you any mail..."
Harry's eyes widened: it was Dumbledore! It was his fault Harry hadn't got any letters! He couldn't believe what he was hearing... He then suddenly realised that Dumbledore wasn't done talking yet.
"... as it would have been an easy way for eventual enemies to find out where you were hiding; all they would have had to do is follow the owls, and the poor creatures would have led them straight to you without even knowing it."
Harry felt guilty at once for criticizing Dumbledore. He was trying to protect him, not isolate him... Still - it didn't make sense in Harry's mind.
"But sir... Voldemort already knew that I was staying in Privet Drive, so what difference would the owls have made?"
"Ah, but you're not in Privet Drive now, are you?" said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling. "And if someone wanted to find you now, following an owl would be the easiest way."
It struck Harry that Dumbledore, once again, was right, and that he had had a good reason for forbidding his friends to write to him. A few seconds ago, Harry was rather angry at him: now, he felt very grateful for what he had done.
Harry couldn't think of anything to say: despite his dozens of questions, the lack of rest from the previous night was finally catching up with him, and he was also quite hungry, as it must have been around noon, and he hadn't had any breakfast. Soon, he felt his eyelids begin to droop, and try as he might, he couldn't concentrate on his conversation with Dumbledore anymore.
"Shall we continue later, then, Harry?" Dumbledore asked in a gentle voice.
Harry nodded, and as Sirius and Dumbledore started talking in hushed voices, he felt himself becoming drowsy, lying on the comfortable couch, and finally he fell into a deep sleep.
"Wait here for a minute, I'll be right back."
When he finally stood up and took a look around him, he saw that he was in a place he had never come to before: he was in a small, filthy pub, quite empty, where only a few strange-looking people sat at different tables across the room.
He looked around for Sirius and spotted him at the counter, talking to what had to be the owner of the pub. Harry saw him point a finger to a table way back at the end of the room where a pair of goblins were having a drink. Harry thought this was very odd, as goblins usually never allowed themselves to be seen in such places. However odd he thought this was, he was even more astonished to see that Sirius was walking towards them, and by the way they looked up at him when he came to the table, they had been expecting him.
Harry tried to figure out the meaning of this. What possible business could Sirius have with goblins?
Harry concentrated on cleaning his clothes, which were covered with dust from his landing on the floor, and when he glanced over at the table again, he saw that Sirius and the goblins were involved in what seemed to be a deep conversation. Harry knew that he wouldn't know what this was all about until Sirius was done, so he walked over to one of the windows and looked outside, trying to figure out where they could be.
The landscape - if you could really call it a landscape - was composed only of hills; sad, dark, desolate hills, with just a few trees here and there, and no other sign of life or human activity than the pub where he was standing right now. There wasn't even a road in sight, just a sort of trail that led to the top of a hill and disappeared from Harry's view on the other side.
Harry looked back at the table. Apparently Sirius and the goblins were done talking and were now biding farewell. Sirius looked slightly angry. He walked up to Harry, leaving the two goblins at their drinks.
"Never try to make a compromise with those creatures," he said in an exasperated tone. "Far too mistrusting. They never take your word for anything. Don't know why Dumbledore chose them, of all people..."
"What kind of a compromise?" Harry asked, curious to see what Dumbledore wanted from the goblins.
"Can't tell you that... Not yet, anyway. You can ask Dumbledore when you see him, maybe he'll be willing to tell you."
Harry didn't argue, although he knew it would be a very long time until he saw Dumbledore again. It was barely the end of July, and school didn't start until September.
Perhaps because of the look of disappointment on Harry's face, Sirius chose this moment to tell Harry: "I haven't given you your birthday present yet."
And he pulled out from one of his pockets a small, black ball, and handed it to Harry, who took it with slightly trembling hands: this was the first birthday present Sirius had ever given him, if you didn't count, of course, the firebolt broom he had sent him two years ago - and was enough, Harry thought, to make up for a thousand birthdays.
"Thanks!" said Harry, his voice quivering a little.
He held the ball up to his eyes so he could see it better, and as he did so, he thought he heard whispering coming from it.
"It's a translator," explained Sirius. "It'll translate any form of language - humans', creatures', animals' - into the one you understand. In your case, English. Or, if I dare say, Parseltongue."
Harry stared at Sirius in numb disbelief: was he mocking him? A Parseltongue was someone who could talk to snakes. Few possessed this gift, and those who did were often considered evil. However, this didn't seem to be Sirius' opinion:
"There's no shame in being a Parseltongue, Harry. Quite the contrary, in fact. It's a very valuable gift, that, in time, I believe will probably reveal itself to be very useful."
Harry smiled at Sirius gratefully: he was glad that him, at least, didn't think that his being a Parseltongue made him a malevolent person.
"Now, why don't you give it a try," Sirius added, pointing at the translator.
Harry didn't have to be asked twice: he spotted a couple of elf-like creatures sitting at a table nearby and approached them cautiously, pretending to get a better look out of the window. The elves had a sort of nasty, evil look in their eyes, something he had never seen with house- elves, who were kind, hard-working, and some of the most submitting creatures he had ever seen.
Harry wondered what sort of elves these two were, and as he came closer to them, the translator next to his ear, he could hear them speak very quickly, in a language he didn't think he had ever heard before.
As he came nearer and nearer the translator's whispers became a lot clearer, until at last he was able to follow everything they were saying:
"The day the Ministry will recognize us as civilized creatures and worthy of being part of it," was saying one of the elves, "that's the day I'll trust them. Not before. I really don't understand why they're doing this. Very fishy indeed, this whole thing."
"Not only that, but they've been doing it with a whole lot of different creatures, which could be very dangerous for them," added the other elf with a nasty grin. "I think this is where we should come in and do our part."
"Yes, that could be very interesting, couldn't it? Teach them a lesson, we shall."
Harry listened carefully, somewhat worried at their conversation. Could this be a plot against the Ministry? He wasn't particularly fond of the Minister of Magic himself, Mr Fudge, but Mr Weasley, Ron's father, worked there as well.
He slowly walked back towards Sirius who was waiting for him next to a glass-shaped portkey.
"Work fine?" he asked with a smile.
"Yeah, thanks Sirius."
"Well then, you ready to go?"
"Yes," answered Harry, not sure whether he should tell him about the elves' conversation or not. He finally asked: "What kind of elves were those?"
"Actually, they're not really elves, Harry." said Sirius in an undertone, as though fearing that the creatures might overhear him. "Notice how tall they are compared to normal elves? We're not really sure what they came from, they're the only ones who do, but a lot of people say they're a cross between wild elves and trolls."
"Trolls?" asked Harry in surprise. "But aren't trolls supposed to be really stupid? Those creatures didn't seem stupid at all, to me..."
"That's because they're not. They're actually some of the meanest, slyest, and most cunning creatures you'll come to meet. But they don't really have any magical powers; that's why nobody worries about them too much."
The fact that they didn't have any magical ability was a little comforting to Harry, but still, he wished he hadn't listened to them. It only made him feel even more uneasy.
"You all right?" Sirius asked. "Looks like you've got a lot on your mind..."
"I'm fine..." Harry answered, trying to sound confident. "Yeah, I'm ready, let's go."
Sirius nodded and they both took hold of the portkey at the same time, and Harry found himself found himself spinning very fast again. It was actually kind of fun, after you'd gotten used to it...
A few seconds later he was thrown to the ground, which appeared to be a soft, smooth carpet. Harry got up a lot quicker than the last time, and found himself to be in quite an extraordinary room: there were very tall shelves against the walls, covered with what must have been thousands of books, and dozens of very odd objects, anything from glass balls to strangely live-looking wooden animals, and even a few trophies here and there. In the middle of the room there stood a very low table, which, Harry was surprised to see, appeared to have no legs. Around the table were a couch and two large, comfortable armchairs, and, in a corner in front of a fireplace, a sort of bench covered with dozens of pairs of socks, Harry noted in amusement. The general aspect the room reflected was that of a cosy, warm, welcoming place, and Harry was strongly reminded of Dumbledore's office at Hogwarts.
Sirius had gotten to his feet and was now standing next to him, apparently quite amused at the look of fascination on his godson's face.
"Any guess as to where we are?" said Sirius, smiling.
Harry was just wondering if this might have been Sirius' house, when he heard a well known, pleasant voice behind him say:
"Good morning, Harry."
Harry turned around and stared in amazement at the familiar figure of Dumbledore, who was standing in the doorway, beaming at both him and Sirius.
"But..."started Harry, "What are you... I mean - what is this place?"
"This, Mr Potter, is my home."
Harry and Ron had always wondered where Dumbledore spent the summer holidays, but it had never occurred to them that Dumbledore actually lived some place else than Hogwarts. Now that he thought about it though, Harry figured that it was mere logic: why shouldn't Dumbledore have his own house? Another thought then crossed his mind: what if Dumbledore had a wife? The simple thought of it was so ludicrous that Harry chuckled out loud.
Sirius stepped forward to shake hands with Dumbledore:
"Albus... I'm glad we've made it."
"Sirius, my dear friend, it's good to see you. And in good health! I was beginning to get worried when you didn't send me an answer."
Harry noticed that both men seemed to have great respect for one another: they just stood there, smiling at each other for several seconds, before Harry coughed loudly to remind them of his presence.
"And Harry, of course," Dumbledore added, walking towards him. "It's always a pleasure to see you, my dear boy..."
Harry felt himself blush a little. He knew that Dumbledore had a 'liking' for him; but then again, he had a liking for all of his students. "That's how good a headmaster Dumbledore is," he thought, shaking his warm hand.
"I hope you've spent an enjoyable holiday up until now, Harry?" Dumbledore asked kindly, sitting down in one of the armchairs, and motioning Harry and Sirius to do the same.
"Well..." Harry started, but immediately interrupted himself. Memories of his locked door at Privet Drive and the less-than-friendly expressions he got from his relatives' every time he approached them flashed through Harry's mind - as did the thought of this empty desk and owl cage. No letters. From no one. But he realised it would sound quite rude to complain, and answered instead, "Yes, quite enjoyable, thank you."
Sirius shifted uneasily in his chair. Harry gave him a sideways look: he knew that Sirius hated it when people mistreated his godson, and clearly he didn't like the idea of overlooking what the Dursleys had done to him this summer.
Dumbledore seemed to have noticed this too, because he looked Sirius straight in the eyes, still smiling pleasantly.
"Yes, Sirius?'" he asked.
Sirius didn't say anything, although apparently burning to do so.
Dumbledore then added, "I trust you've been keeping an eye on Harry."
"I've been trying to." said Sirius. "I know you've been."
Dumbledore smiled and nodded. There was a look in his eyes Harry couldn't understand; it was almost like he was talking to Sirius through them. Sirius nodded back, a twinkle in his eye. They both looked very satisfied about something.
Harry now had the impression that he was being completely left out. He didn't understand what Dumbledore and Sirius were plotting, but it made him feel like he was intruding.
He was just considering asking Dumbledore if he should go for a walk, when Sirius told him: "Harry, I believe you had a question for Professor Dumbledore?"
Harry stared at him, wondering what he was talking about. Then he remembered:
"Oh yes! Um... Professor? I... I was wondering if you could tell me about the goblins..."
"The goblins, Harry?" repeated Dumbledore, raising his eyebrows.
"Yes. I mean... the goblins Sirius met in that old pub where we were earlier... Why did you want him to talk to them?"
"Ah, Harry... Curious, as always, I see?" Dumbledore responded, a large smile visible behind his thick beard.
Harry was starting to regret he had even asked him this question; it was probably secret business, and after all, it didn't really concern Harry. However, to his great surprise, Dumbledore looked at him, sighed deeply, and said:
"Well, I guess... Yes... It probably is time we started telling you about what's going on. What do you think?" he added, turning towards Sirius. "He is your godson; it's up to you to decide."
After a second, Sirius nodded slowly and gravely.
"If that's what he wants, then I think he should know..." he said, giving Harry a piercing look.
Harry felt both excited and apprehensive. This had to be important.
As Dumbledore and Sirius both kept staring at him, apparently in expectation, Harry said hesitantly:
"Yes... Yes, I do want to know."
"Very well, then Harry..." started Dumbledore. "I think the fairest thing to do is to ask you if have any other questions you want an answer to, first."
Harry wondered if Dumbledore had read his mind: he was just about to ask him if he had any news of Hermione or the Weasleys. When he expressed his concerns about them not writing to him, Dumbledore smiled widely and said:
"You will be pleased to know that all of your Hogwarts friends are perfectly safe, and enjoying the holidays very much! Except maybe for Mr Ronald Weasley; I believe his brothers have been picking on him, again..."
Sweet relief swept over Harry. Anything Dumbledore said, he believed: he had never lied to him before, and Harry knew he never would.
But then, if they were fine, why hadn't they written to him?
As if answering his silent question, Dumbledore said:
"Although I'm afraid I did have to forbid your friends to send you any mail..."
Harry's eyes widened: it was Dumbledore! It was his fault Harry hadn't got any letters! He couldn't believe what he was hearing... He then suddenly realised that Dumbledore wasn't done talking yet.
"... as it would have been an easy way for eventual enemies to find out where you were hiding; all they would have had to do is follow the owls, and the poor creatures would have led them straight to you without even knowing it."
Harry felt guilty at once for criticizing Dumbledore. He was trying to protect him, not isolate him... Still - it didn't make sense in Harry's mind.
"But sir... Voldemort already knew that I was staying in Privet Drive, so what difference would the owls have made?"
"Ah, but you're not in Privet Drive now, are you?" said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling. "And if someone wanted to find you now, following an owl would be the easiest way."
It struck Harry that Dumbledore, once again, was right, and that he had had a good reason for forbidding his friends to write to him. A few seconds ago, Harry was rather angry at him: now, he felt very grateful for what he had done.
Harry couldn't think of anything to say: despite his dozens of questions, the lack of rest from the previous night was finally catching up with him, and he was also quite hungry, as it must have been around noon, and he hadn't had any breakfast. Soon, he felt his eyelids begin to droop, and try as he might, he couldn't concentrate on his conversation with Dumbledore anymore.
"Shall we continue later, then, Harry?" Dumbledore asked in a gentle voice.
Harry nodded, and as Sirius and Dumbledore started talking in hushed voices, he felt himself becoming drowsy, lying on the comfortable couch, and finally he fell into a deep sleep.