"Well, Harry," Dumbledore said, slight concern in his eyes, "how was your summer?"

"All right, thank you, sir," Harry replied colourlessly. His mind was swimming with questions and his stomach was churning.

"Did the Occlumency lessons help?"

"Yes, very much."

"I suppose the Dursleys were not at their most hospitable?"

"No." Harry paused, while Dumbledore stared out of the window. "Ah, sir, why I am here? What happened just then?"

"Patience is a virtue, Harry," said Dumbledore with a twinkle in his eye. "I was getting to that. Now, Harry. . ."

"Yes, sir?"

Dumbledore looked him straight in the eyes, now empty of any of the humour of before, but filled with a seriousness Harry had seen only on occasion. "I have just discovered, Harry, that there is something I need to tell you - urgently. I didn't realise how important it would be until just now." He looked out the window again, seemingly piercing the view in search of anything untoward. "Harry - there was another prophecy made concerning you."

"Oh no," groaned Harry. He had hated the very word 'prophecy' ever since he learnt of the very prophecy which was now the bane of his existence.

"Yes," said Dumbledore. "It seemed so . . . meaningless, in a way, that I didn't even bother telling you about it. Now I realise my mistake. I read this prophecy in such a way that it was, frankly, boring. But there was another way to read it, and it has been revealed to me only now. I am determined to tell it to you immediately; I must never make the same mistake again and leave it until I feel more comfortable with it."

Dumbledore was silent again. "Yes?" pushed Harry. He wasn't sure if he really wanted to know, the way the Headmaster was putting it, but anything was better than sitting here imagining himself destined for horrible and painful fates.

"The evening Sybill Trelawney installed herself at Hogwarts, I went to visit her to see how she was doing, how she was settling in. I climbed up her little ladder and entered the classroom just in time to hear that rather raspy voice she uses. I recognised it at once from the prophecy I had heard only a few weeks before, and listened closely. Unfortunately one of the board of trustees was with me, who has since proved himself guilty to the world of being a member of Lord Voldemort's group of Death Eaters. You know who he is; Lucius Malfoy heard it all too. This is what she said." He paused, and when he spoke, he spoke slowly, clearly but hesitantly. "'The boy who lived, the boy who lived - he will meet one who needs him on the tracks of the express; he will meet one of his blood whom he needs in his time of sorrow. The one who needs him will be his peril and his saviour. He will meet him after the second father is gone.'" Again Dumbledore paused.

"Is that all?" asked Harry, completely confused and tensing himself for the explanation which must follow.

"Yes," said Dumbledore. "That is about all. Do you understand it?"

"No, of course not," said Harry. "What tracks? What blood?"

"Harry," said Dumbledore. "I read that prophecy to mean, you would meet someone at some point who might do you good and harm. I didn't think it meant anything serious. And I had no idea who this second father might be. I forgot all about this prophecy until today. And Harry, I am going to tell you something you must not tell a single soul - I suppose it will be impossible for you to regard Miss Granger and Mr Weasley as a single soul. Just be careful. Too much knowledge is not always a good thing for those it does not concern. Anyhow, Harry, the train was attacked today."

"It was?" said Harry, leaning forward with eyes open wide.

"Yes; unlike my unforgivable lapse of judgement, Lucius Malfoy had not forgotten this prophecy. When he remembered it, he told Lord Voldemort, obviously, and a Death Eater was sent to apprehend the train. A young man named Belshazzar Foygar is now securely bound in this train, awaiting the Ministry officials to arrive and take him to Azkaban."

"Why this train, sir?"

"Well . . ." said Dumbledore slowly, "I am almost certain that when the prophecy says 'the tracks of the express', it means these railway tracks, and the Hogwarts Express. And then your second father would mean Sirius, of course, especially the mention of your time of sorrow." Harry looked out the window again rather quickly. " 'One of your blood' suggests one of your family line, Harry."

"Yes!" said Harry eagerly. "Professor, sir, I have been having these dreams about my family! I think the people in them are my grandparents, and I remember something about an aunt called Alba, and there were a few other people too. . ."

"Alba?" interrupted Dumbledore, a strange look in his eyes.

"Yes, and I was meaning to ask you, who are they all? Are they still alive?" Harry waited breathlessly.

"Oh, yes," sighed Dumbledore. "I thought this might come up at some point." But he remained silent. As soon as Harry opened his mouth, Dumbledore waved his hand to stop him. Finally he said, "All right, Harry. It is only fair that you know. I apologise that I have not told you before, but I thought it best. It would have endangered not only your own life. But now is the best time."

"Yes?" continued Harry eagerly.

"Your father, James, was the son of Henry and Lucia Potter. As a twizard."

"Twizard?!" asked Harry.

"Teen wizard," explained Dumbledore. "Rather an old-fashioned term nowadays. Anyway, as a twizard, James had one aunt alive, by marriage. She was called Alba, and was thus your great-aunt. He had two sisters, Septima and Gretchen. Your mother's parents were George and Rose Evans, muggles, and as you know, she had a sister, Petunia. You don't know, however, that she had a sister called Poppy. She and Lily were the only witches in their family."

Harry's head was spinning. To be told you had relations after a life of no relations was really quite stunning. "Do I have any cousins?"

"We'll come to that, Harry." Dumbledore gave him a brief smile. "I must confess this is rather difficult for me - you see, Alba . . . she was my twin sister. She married your great-uncle."

Harry's mouth opened. Nothing came out.

"Yes," sighed Dumbledore. "Well, you and I are somewhat related because of that, Harry."

"Uh-huh," gurgled Harry.

"Alba and Albus!" smiled Dumbledore. "My parents were not the most original people ever, as you may be able to discern." He shook himself briefly. "Well, Gretchen, your father's sister, married a Bulgarian man named Sebastian Krum."

Again Harry goggled. "K-krum?" he asked.

"Yes, Harry - Viktor Krum is your cousin." Dumbledore went on as if he had said nothing extraordinary at all. "And Poppy Evans, who had an affair, had a son called Michael. The Dursleys knew about him, but they never spoke to Poppy or her son and refused to be acquainted with them, on account of Poppy's rather unwise affair. One of their few moments of discernment of what is actually wrong, although they really didn't need to fear anything, in this case. For, you see, Poppy had an affair with Lord Voldemort."

Now, more than any other time, Harry gaped, tonsils bared and eyes wide, incredulous at this amazing piece of news that Dumbledore had given him. The headmaster looked at him somewhat carefully. "Not too much news at once, Harry?"

"No, no," gasped Harry, "carry on."

"Well, Voldemort got tired of Poppy quickly, let her give birth to the child she had become pregnant with, and then got rid of her quickly." Dumbledore frowned and paused. "Poppy Evans was a nice girl. Almost as nice as your mother. I can't think why she fell for Voldemort, of all people. But she really did fall in love with him, and he, well, I suppose he just wanted amusement. After all, she was a muggle-born and you know how much he hated muggle blood. When he killed her, he tried to get hold of the baby. But I wouldn't let him get near the boy. He still doesn't know his name, or his whereabouts, or anything about him." He paused. "As for your grandparents, both of Lily's parents were killed by Voldemort - he was trying to search for both James and Lily, and Poppy's son. So after Lily died, the only member of the family left was Petunia. You may have wondered why she hates wizards and witches so much; her dread of the unknown is only part of the reason. In fact, magical people brought about the deaths of all her family."

"I see," murmured Harry. And he did see. He saw the look on Aunt Petunia's face from the year before, when he told the Dursleys that Voldemort was back - that look of fear, of sudden knowledge, of understanding.

"In your father's family, well, Gretchen is still alive. She was one of the Order, and well protected from Voldemort's efforts to get to your father and mother."

"Why haven't I ever met her?" burst out Harry angrily. "Why couldn't I live with her instead of the Dursleys?"

Dumbledore fixed his calm eyes on Harry's. "It's simple really. You know why you have to call the Dursleys' house home; it is because your mother's blood runs in Petunia's veins. Gretchen was not related to your mother but by marriage."

"Well, yes, I see that, but not to even have met her!"

"You may see later why such a step had to be taken," said Dumbledore. "However, your aunt Septima was killed by Voldemort."

Harry's head spun still more. All these relations killed! His anger grew, but not at Dumbledore - at Voldemort.

"And your great-aunt Alba died too. She was on a mission for the Order of the Phoenix, and met a few Death Eaters who surprised her and tricked her, the worms," said Dumbledore, an angry look on his face that Harry rarely saw. "They would never have been able to conquer Alba Dumbledore without foul trickery, oh no! They were as scared of her as they were of Voldemort."

"What did they do, sir?" asked Harry softly. He had never thought that Professor Dumbledore had had losses as great as his own loss of Sirius.

Dumbledore smoothed his beard down. The usual look returned to his eyes; that look of a calm, waiting lake which hid, but also illuminated the paradoxical, poised power of Dumbledore - he could be terrifying and comforting in this power at the same time. "You wouldn't want to know, Harry, and I wouldn't want to tell you. Anyway, your father's parents were more successful in keeping out of Lord Voldemort's clutches than many others of your relations. They survived, until a few hiding Death Eaters found them and tortured them. Your grandmother died. Your grandfather became insane, like Neville Longbottom's parents had. He is in St Mungo's still."

"He is there?!" blurted out Harry. "Why didn't you tell me anything of this? According to you, I have two cousins, an aunt and a grandfather alive! Why didn't you tell me?!"

Dumbledore's eyes were sad. "It is a terrible thing to be without family, Harry, I understand. But you must understand in turn that I had very good reasons to hide this from you."

"What, then?" cried Harry. "Why could this be so dangerous?"

"Firstly, your grandfather is dangerous. The Death Eaters' torturing of him left him terrified of anyone, and he is liable to attack anyone he sees. He even attacked his own daughter, Gretchen, when she tried to see him, and did serious harm to her. As he knew his daughter a great deal more than you, and was likely to thus attack you, a committee judged it best that you did not know he was alive."

"A committee?" said Harry. "What does a committee have to do with me? I could at least know."

Dumbledore went on. "You knew nothing about your cousin Michael, firstly because the Dursleys wouldn't admit he was alive, and secondly because you would be watched by Voldemort's followers in case you showed them were Voldemort's son was. And you didn't know Gretchen existed because knowing one relative existed would generally make you ask if any more did. Neither does Viktor Krum know that you are his cousin."

Harry seethed. Once again, people making decisions for him. Did it ever occur to these people who wanted to keep him perfectly safe, that while he was oh-so-safe, he rotted at the Dursleys, with family only in word and not in action? "And what does this have to do with today, sir?" he gritted out with teeth clenched.

"Well, the prophecy said you would meet one of your own blood on this train. They assumed this to be Voldemort's son. They were right. Michael is starting Hogwarts this year, after a few years of homeschooling, and is on the train right now."

"Now?" said Harry, the anger shocked right out of him.

"Yes," said Dumbledore. "Would you like to meet him?"