Chapter 6: Breakfast and Butterbeer

For the second time in just over twelve hours Harry was woken by the sun shining on his face. This time though it was the mid-morning sun of a fine summer day in England, not the late afternoon glare he had last seen in Albania. It took a moment for Harry to dredge this fact out of the thoughts drifting aimlessly around his head. He raised his watch above his head and strained his eyes to look at it. It looked a lot like 1:30pm. Putting his arm back down he returned to his memories - he saw the valley, the cavern…

"One-thirty pm!" Harry suddenly shot up. Scrambling out of the bed he caught the bedside table with his foot. Hopping around on one foot, cursing loudly he found himself tripping over something, and with a resounding crash he toppled over into a pile of cardboard boxes. The sound, Harry thought with a sickening feeling, was very like that which a set of Aunt Petunia's best dinner plates had made when he had dropped them many years before.

After a few seconds of stunned silence Harry cautiously picked himself up. He carefully, went over to the bedside table and managed to find his glasses. He put them on and the room swiftly jumped into focus. Looking round he saw a room filled with cardboard boxes. A gap had been made so that he could access the bed, but beside this the whole space was occupied by them. Harry had little idea what could be in most of them, and none of them seemed to have labels. There were two close by that had a distinctly crumpled look. From one of them Harry could see a piece of porcelain poking through a freshly made rip.

Through a gap in the curtains shone the shaft of sunlight that had alighted on Harry's face and awoken him. In it he could see motes of dust swirling, seemingly delighted at all this activity in their abandoned haven.

Harry retrieved his cloak from on top of another box and found the spare clothes he had brought along. He dressed quickly, throwing on a pair of jeans and a clean t-shirt before making his way out of the room.

Stepping lightly into the kitchen he found Hermione. She was eating cereal, the Daily Prophet propped open in front of her. Maybe she woke up late too. Harry thought, confused by Hermione going about her usual morning ritual at almost two in the afternoon.

"Afternoon!" he said cheerfully, happy that he seemed to have got away with his lie in.

"You really are confused aren't you Harry?"


"What?"

"It is coming up to eleven in the morning. I think you must still be on Albanian time"

"Oh", Harry looked at his watch again, then at the sun outside, then at a clock on the wall that read ten to eleven, "Right".

"Sit down – would you like some cereal? Some coffee?"

"Yeah, in a moment. Look, Hermione, about last night…"

"Don't worry. I guess, just with seeing you again. It brought everything back. I shouldn't have reacted like that. I'm sorry."

Harry was taken aback by Hermione's admission, "No, I am the one who is sorry Hermione. I should have been more tactful."

"Well, that has never been one of your strongest points", said Hermione, a small smile on her face.

"No I suppose not", said Harry sitting down, "Could I have a look at the paper please?"

"Oh", said Hermione, quickly turning a page, "I think you really ought to have breakfast first"

"Why is that?"

"Because the cover story might ruin your appetite", said Hermione, glumly, "I'm going to get Skeeter this time. Unregistered animagus!"

"Let me see", said Harry, reaching over to take the paper from her.

Reluctantly she handed the paper over to him. Taking it, Harry turned back to the front and spread it out in front of him. A large proportion of the page was taken up by a photo of him, looking very startled, in amongst a crowd of even more startled muggles. Harry was frantically trying to hide behind the people, but the poor muggles didn't seem to know what to do. They kept trying to stand perfectly still, seemingly in the pose they had been in when the picture was taken. For the ones who had had a foot raised this was proving too difficult and much of the crowd was falling over, the other half trying to help them up in order to preserve the original photo. Harry stared at this extraordinary scene for a moment before turning his attention to the text.

THE BOY WHO LIVED…LIVES!

It is with great delight that your special correspondent, Rita Skeeter, is able to report that she met and interviewed the wizarding world's redeemer last night in central London.

Harry Potter, now 18, who on the 22nd June defeated the dark Lord Voldemort, has been missing since shortly after that great day. Last night, at Bethnal Green tube station, he was spotted disguised as a muggle making his way through the crowd towards an unknown destination.

Wearing tattered jeans and a ripped t-shirt he had the appearance of someone who has been living rough for quite some time. His usually cheerful countenance was replaced by a sullen and gaunt look about his face.

He acquiesced to this correspondent's invitation to get a meal in a local restaurant where the brief interview was conducted.

As he was reading Hermione had put a mug of steaming black coffee down in front of him, followed by a bowl of cereal. He drank the coffee as he continued to read the article.

Speaking in monosyllables, it quickly became apparent to this writer that Harry Potter was seriously distressed. Readers will do well to remember at this point, that this boy's mental stability has been questioned before by this publication.

When questioned about the tragic deaths of staff and students on the day of his triumph, Harry showed little remorse, and admitted not having been to see any relatives or friends, still stricken with grief at their loss.

The interview had to be cut short when a disreputable friend of Potter's, one Ronald Weasley also 19, forced his presence on this reporter.

Now that Harry Potter is seemingly back in London it is this reporter's intention to bring you the truth of his summer activities and to seek justification for his actions since the downfall of You-know-who.

He sighed and pushed the paper away from him. Replacing it with the bowl of cereal, he began to eat.

"So?" said Hermione, tentatively.

"It wasn't as bad as I was expecting, or you." Harry indicated the bowl that was already half empty. "I think Ron probably came off worse than me! You probably won't need to use your information yet, I reckon Mrs Weasley will do the job for you!

Hermione managed a short laugh, but she still seemed very displeased with the article.

"Plus no-one knows that I am here, so I won't get any 'fan-mail'", Harry said, wincing at the word.

"Well I wouldn't say that", Hermione was indicating a small pile of letters near the kettle, "They arrived this morning, all addressed to you. Evidently people are still watching you."

"You have got to be kidding!"

"No, I think there is one from Remus, one from Molly, one from Professor Dumbledore and a couple of things from the Ministry", Hermione said, ticking them off on her hand.

"Well I suppose I better get them over with", Harry had drawn his wand out and almost lazily he said, "Accio letters".

The first letter he picked up looked to be a reply from Arthur Weasley. Unfolding the letter he read:

Harry,

Thank you very much for letting me know. I have informed the Minister and will arrange a time for you to come and meet me to discuss the particulars. I am tied up with a conference today but should be able to see you some time tomorrow. I will send a message giving details as soon as possible

Sincerely, yours

Arthur Weasley

Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement

Ministry of Magic

The second letter had already been delivered to a couple of addresses. Evidently by the scribblings on the front it had been redirected and had eventually found him here. The careful, neat script was that of his good friend Remus Lupin.

Harry,

Arrived safely back in London. I am staying at Dumbledore's to recover. Please get in touch when you arrive back. I hope all went well

Remus Lupin

The third letter contained a postcard from Albus Dumbledore. It showed a tropical island complete with palm tress and golden sandy shores. A quick note was written on the reverse:

Harry

Greetings from Bermuda! I knew you would be able to handle everything. I'm exceedingly pleased I didn't have to interrupt my holiday as the weather here is splendid. I need to talk to you about your exam results. Please send my best wishes to Miss Granger and Mr Weasley.

Albus Dumbledore

After reading it Harry passed the postcard over to Hermione.

"Professor Dumbledore certainly seems to be taking it easy since you defeated Voldemort", she said after reading the card.

"Yeah, I think he is taking it a little too seriously."

"I think he deserves a bit of a break Harry. At least it sounds like he is going to help you with your NEWTs."

Dumbledore had been the last person Harry had seen before he left for Albania. The tall, white haired man, the usual twinkle back in his eyes, had told him that he was exceedingly proud of Harry, and felt sure he could confidently take a well-earned holiday in Bermuda whilst Harry tied up any loose ends.

Loose ends!

Harry had gone through hell to ensure Voldemort could never rise again, whilst Dumbledore had been lying on a beach, presumably drinking sherbet lemon cocktails under the cool shade of a leafy palm. Then again, Hermione was probably right – he did deserve it.

The letter from Molly Weasley was a short note saying how Arthur had informed her he was back, that she was glad he was alive and well, and that she would invite him to the Burrow very soon.

The final letter was by far the most important looking. The envelope was made from heavy, emerald green parchment, with Harry's address neatly written in gold writing. Turning it over Harry examined the seal on the back.

"That is the Minister's seal", gasped Hermione

Harry carefully opened the letter and took out a single sheet of the same sort of heavy parchment.

Dear Mr Potter,

I have been informed by Arthur Weasley that you have (once again it would seem) rid us of Voldemort. Although I am willing to accept your story, I am disappointed that you did not keep the Ministry informed of yours (and Voldemort's) actions.

I must insist that you come into the Ministry at your earliest possible convenience. At such a time I wish to see you myself, and to have you talk to the Press Relations department so that this particular part of the downfall of Voldemort is kept out of the papers. The Ministry would like to keep the day of Voldemort's death as the 22nd June.

Yours sincerely

Amelia Bones

Minister of Magic

Order of Merlin, Second Class

"So –what does it say?" Hermione said expectantly as Harry charily folded the letter and slid it back into the envelope.

"Oh, just welcoming me back. She wants me to go and see her – to discuss my holiday" Harry replied, grinning at Hermione.

"It seems that everyone wants to know about your holiday"

"Well, they will just have to wait and find out, won't they?" said Harry, emphasising the last part to make sure Hermione knew he wasn't going to start telling her about Albania right now.

"Ok Harry, I won't ask any more, for now"

"Good"

"So, what do you have planned for today?"

"Well, I suppose I ought to reply to Professor Lupin's letter. I also need to start looking for a job"


"I would have thought that now people know you are back in London", Hermione nodded towards the newspaper, "You will be inundated with job offers. I'm sure any company will give their wand arm for a chance to recruit you!"

"I'm not so sure. I think my one NEWT may count against me. Especially since it is in Defence Against the Dark Arts. I wonder if defeating Voldemort has put me out of work for life!"

"Talk about shooting yourself in the foot!" Hermione laughed.

"Exactly"

"I'm sure that won't be true. Let's see - what sort of work do you want to do?"

"I really have no idea what I would be good at"

"Well, you could start by writing down a list of all the things you are good at – like flying a broomstick, or counter-curses. Then you can start looking through the job vacancies a little more methodically."

"I still prefer the trusty, close your eyes and point method! I suppose you are right though", it certainly sounded like a lot of work for a sunny afternoon, "what are you going to be doing?"

"I have stuff for ECAML to do"

"Oh right. I don't understand - why are you at this ECAML now? Isn't it still the summer holidays?"

"They have a very strange timetable. I think it is to fit in with other magical institutions around Europe. I do get a lot of time off during the year, but we start much earlier than Hogwarts."

"When did you start?"

"I started in the last week of July and I already have seven essays to work on. I am going to get one of them done this afternoon I hope."

"What sort of things do you do?"

"Well, there is obviously a lot of advanced theory and practical work to do; transfiguring larger objects, living things and so on. But we also do a lot of work on the ethics behind the transfiguration of living creatures. Creating and taking away life is a big subject at the moment, especially with the Ministry working to set up International regulations for transfiguration"

"That sounds interesting", Harry said, fighting hard to sound sincere.

"It is – and it should set me up well either for a career in the Ministry or a teaching position at Hogwarts"

"You'll be Minister of Magic before I have decided what things I am good at", Harry said, his voice now genuine.

"Don't be silly Harry", she said, standing up so as to cut off him from replying, "If you have finished, why don't we go and sit outside? The weather is lovely and I have so much work to do"

***

They spent the afternoon sitting outside in the garden. Hermione had a set of chairs and a table set up on the browned grass and it was on this that she spread out her notes. She had several rolls of parchment out and worked away on several of the essays she had to do.

Harry kept himself occupied by fetching iced pumpkin juice every half an hour, and scanning through back copies of the Daily Prophet looking for some sort of job opportunity. As he had thought, there didn't seem to be much available to someone with only a NEWT in Defence against the Dark Arts. He also wrote a letter to Remus, giving only a sketchy account of his summer, but promising to come and see him as soon as he had got himself sorted out.

***

The sun was slinking towards the western horizon, and the shadows were growing longer by the time they heard a hollering from inside the house, and Ron Weasley stepped out onto the patio. He carried with him three large pizza boxes, and dropping them down on top of Hermione's notes he solemnly announced:

"Dinner is served!"

"Oh Ron", moaned Hermione, rescuing her notes from under the boxes, "Why do I ever let you arrange dinner?"

Harry laughed, but he was cut short by Hermione's withering glance. He hastily helped her to clear the table whilst Ron disappeared back into the house.

Hermione was just about to raise her wand, when Ron returned, carrying plates, cutlery and three bottles of opened Butterbeer. "There's no need to show off", he addressed Hermione as he put the things down on the now cleared table.

"I wasn't showing off", Hermione muttered, lowering her wand,

Ron sat down, gave Harry a mischievous look, and opened the first box.

"Help yourself", he said happily, handing the box round to Harry, then Hermione, "Don't worry Hermione, taking away my magical ability hardly gives you any more of an advantage than before".

"So, how was your day Ron?" Harry cut in before Hermione could reply.

"Oh not bad. Still no closer to discovering what is wrong. They tried something different day. Apparently a counter-curse that is very popular in Japan at the moment. "

"And did it help?" said Hermione, who had again raised her wand, "Accio lettuce!"

"Well, it helped me turn blue! Apart from that no, not really", said Ron as he watched several green lettuce leaves fly on to Hermione's plate, "What do you want lettuce for? Waste of time if you ask me".

"After enduring seven years of that heavy Hogwarts food I am trying to eat sensibly"

"Yeah", said Ron, turning to Harry, "She has vowed never to eat another steak and kidney pudding!"

"She has got a point", Harry said, thinking of the Hogwarts food, "I'm surprised we aren't all the size of Dudley – the amount of casseroles, stews and things we ate there!"

"Perhaps you're right", said Ron, starting on the second pizza.

They finished their meal in silence. For pudding there was a large bowl of Florean Fortescues' Raspberry Ripple which, Harry noticed, Hermione didn't have any objections towards.

It wasn't until the bowl was fully finished, and Harry was leaning back on his chair feeling comfortably full that Hermione turned to him.

"So, is this a good time for you to tell us about your summer?"

Harry tensed slightly at the thought of having to discuss the details of his adventure but at least he hadn't had to raise the subject. He sat back forward and started to tell them of his journey.

He told them about the first week after Hogwarts, back with the Dursleys with no real idea of what to do or where to go. Dudley was awaiting his A-level results before going off to University to start some sort of business degree, so the focus was on Harry and what he would be doing now his time at Hogwarts was over.

"I suppose you'll be wanting to be going to some lunatic university? If anything you lot do merits a degree." Uncle Vernon had said.

Harry didn't even know whether there was a university for wizards. He certainly didn't imagine his NEWTs would be good enough to gain him entrance. He felt entirely cut off from the wizarding world, and although he had felt elated when he first returned, it hadn't lasted long, and by the end of the week he was certain that something was wrong, terribly wrong.

The strange feeling, a kind of ominous twinge in the pit of his stomach built during the week until Friday night when it became almost unbearable. Then he had had the dream.

"I thought your dreaming days were over?" Hermione interrupted.

"It was strange – I thought they were too, at least those sorts of dreams were over. This one, at first seemed like an ordinary dream, until I saw him."

Harry was flying high on his broom, higher than he had ever flown before. The Quidditch stadium far below was reduced to a patch of green. Here he was free. He scudded underneath a bank of clouds, letting the damp mist run through his hair. The roar of the crowd had left him and his desire to find the Snitch gone. He gave his Firebolt a nudge and sent himself spiralling upwards through the soaking mists. High above he found the sun bright and clear. However its rays penetrated his eyes wherever he looked, however tightly he screwed them closed and he had to go back down, to escape. Plummeting back through the clouds his stomach gave a jerk, and when he reached the other side, the Quidditch pitch was gone. The castle was gone, and the stunted Scottish mountains had been replaced by rearing Alps. Cradled lakes reflected the steely grey sky. Below him was a village, a stream running through, and a main road, like a black ribbon running away and out of sight to the north. South of the village the mountains came closer and closer together, like hands reaching to protect a special possession. He could just make out another break in the mountains beyond the first ridge; the valley looked to be shaped like a tear.

He flew lower, drawn down by some mysterious attraction. A ruined church and its cemetery stood just beyond the village. He landed softly on the springy turf and turned to look around. The gravestone directly behind him caught his eye. That name, he thought, though he did not recognise the language the rest of the epitaph was written in. A name he remembered from four years previous, the name of Bertha Jorkins, who had betrayed vital information to Voldemort.

Then Harry had taken off, flying high again he soared over the forest and up towards the mountains, up towards that valley. Into it he had flown, through the dark and stifling woods where dark creatures disturbed the undergrowth. He flew to the far end where a sliver of rock came down from the mountains to meet the forest. Here Harry stopped, landing once more on the ground. He carefully looked around. To him, everything seemed to be tense, waiting for some unknown event to pass. As he looked towards the outcrop of rock he saw a movement in the shadows. Watching in horror, his eyes drawn to that spot he saw, like a black blossoming flower, the body of Lord Voldemort rising from the ground. The face was distorted by bloodied gashes which stretched across from the left temple to the right cheek. The once fiery eyes were pale and cloudy. The remaining flesh was rotten, and the cloak Voldemort wore was tattered and muddied. Then, as Harry watched the figure loom in front of him, there appeared a light. It seemed as though Voldemort's body was cracking open. Harry threw his arm over his head to shield his eyes from this terrible light. When he dared look again, a moment later, there was only the black cloak, crumpled on the ground, and slithering out of it, a dark green snake, with ridges along its back. It reared its head, its flaming red eyes looking at Harry, then turned and disappeared between the towering rocks.

There was a flash of lighting, closely followed by a peel of thunder, and as Harry turned to look at the ominous sky, the first raindrops hit his upturned face. The water woke him up.

Harry, who had bowed as head as he recounted the final part of his dream, looked up. Hermione was sitting, ashen face, her hands running through her hair. Ron was gazing at Harry, a mixture of horror and revulsion on his face.

"You-know-who…back?" he almost choked.

"I didn't know what to think", Harry replied.

"You watched him fall", Hermione's voice was a whisper.

"Yes, I did. But that feeling I got that week. I knew it - it was inescapable -Voldemort was still out there."

"But how?"

"I really don't know. Some of the things he did to himself - to escape death. He told me, through his screams, as I held him under my final curse. He shouted 'You still have not finished me Potter!' But I didn't believe him, until that dream, and that sense of dread that came to me during that week at Privet Drive."

"So you decided to try and find him?"

"Yes, I figured the last thing we needed was for another Death Eater, another Peter Pettigrew", Harry balled up his fists, "to get to him first, again. This time it would be me."

"How did you know where to look?" said Ron.

Hermione gave a tutting sound, but Harry answered.

"Something struck me during the following week. Every time we had heard mention of Voldemort going into retreat it had been connected with a forest in Albania. That was where Quirrel went during his summer before joining Hogwarts, and it was also where Bertha Jorkins went missing. I knew then that her grave which I had seen in my dream was in an Albanian village, and that the hiding place of Voldemort was the forest in that valley close by"

"So you just flew straight off?"

"Well no, I tired to find some information out first. I thought that maybe the Ministry would have filed some sort of report, with the details of Bertha's death. Unfortunately the whole place was still in chaos. People wouldn't leave me alone. I just got frustrated in the end – leaving the country seemed the only sane thing to do. Even if it meant trudging through half of Albania, I would find that valley."

"So you didn't speak to anyone about it?" Ron said.

"Not really no, but I did see a few people before I left. I came to St Mungo's to see you. You were in that trance so I just sat by the bed for a while. Then your dad came in and I didn't really want to talk to him. I met Professor Lupin on the way out. I think he had been to collect his prescription. He was the one person I told of my plans. We went and had a drink in the Leaky Cauldron, I told him about trying to find Bertha Jorkins' grave, but didn't mention Voldemort."

"Why not?" said Hermione.

"I didn't want to make the mistake I made at Hogwarts – it had to be just Voldemort and I. Anyway, he agreed to help me. He would get in contact with some of the Eastern European werewolf communities. See if they had heard of or could track down this cemetery."

"Did you see Dumbledore at all?" said Hermione, who evidently remembered the card from earlier on.

"Yeah, I saw him shortly before I left. He was talking about leaving me to tie up any loose ends whilst he took a long holiday in Bermuda"

"Loose ends?"

"Yeah, if I hadn't been quite one hundred percent sure that there was something wrong up until that point; Dumbledore's words sealed it for me."

"You think Dumbledore knew?" said Hermione.

"Of course he knew", Ron's voice was filled with awe, "He's Dumbledore!"

"But letting Harry go off to face who-knows-what in some forest in Eastern Europe! I thought Dumbledore had more sense than that!"

"He knew Harry could handle it!"

"Yeah, anyway", said Harry, cutting them off before any bickering could begin, "I felt a bit more confident after seeing Dumbledore, so I apparated that night."

"And when was this?"

"The middle of July, two weeks after we finished at Hogwarts"

"So you spent a month trudging round Albania?"

"Yeah. Professor Lupin was with me for the first week. Unfortunately no-one he knew had heard of this grave. Then it got close to the full moon so he had to return to England. I haven't seen him since."

"So what did you do?"

"I just went from village to village. I knew it was a small place so I avoided the towns and cities. I searched every cemetery I could find. I camped out most nights, though sometimes I stayed at an inn so I could get some hot food. I never stayed long in one place though – the people seemed pretty suspicious of me. Anyway", he paused to count the days, "two days ago I finally found it."

"The grave?"

"Yeah, it was just like the dream; a small village, a ruined church and a cemetery with neat white headstones. Almost in the centre I found her grave."

"So you went to find this valley"


"Well I was about to, but as I was leaving the cemetery something strange caught my eye. It was another headstone, but this one, unlike the rest, was covered in ivy and brambles. It looked like it had been abandoned for years. I went over to it, and cleared some of the stuff from it, but I couldn't read any of the writing on it. I decided to leave it and maybe come back to it later"

"What was it that made you look at it?"

"I don't know – like I said, it just looked out of place - odd"

Hermione nodded slowly, she seemed to be about to ask more but Ron cut in.

"So what did you do then?"

"Well I went off in search of the valley. I climbed up out of the village and into the forest. It was further than it seemed in my dream, probably about five or six miles. Out of the trees ahead reared these two great rocks, coming from the mountains on either side. On them were scrawled strange symbols, like those Egyptian things?"

"Hieroglyphics", Hermione said promptly

"Yeah, like those. Strange symbols, seemed to involve a lot of snakes. It reminded me of the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets, the snakes looked so real."

"You think Salazar Slytherin had some hand in this place?"

"Maybe - I don't know why, but Voldemort had definitely been returning there, ever since he first fell, on the night when my parents…. When I…. When the curse rebounded on him."

"What did you find?"

"Not a lot at first. I followed a track down into the valley. It was very quiet - disturbingly so. There was no sound of animals, even the breeze seemed to have stopped. I kept on going, following the track through the forest until I came out on the other side. I recognised it immediately – that sliver of rock – from the dream"

"But Voldemort wasn't there", said Ron, a worried look on his face, "there was no rotting corpse?"

"No, I had to go into the rock. I had to follow the snake I saw in my dream. So I took out my wand, and went in."

Harry paused, but neither Ron nor Hermione spoke.

"It was a narrow fissure, which led to a tunnel that sloped steeply down. The floor was damp and I kept slipping. Thankfully there was such a noise coming from below that I didn't think I would be heard"

"What was the noise?"

"I came to the end of the tunnel, and waited behind another buttress of rock. Beyond was a cavern, lit by flaming torches. It was complete bedlam. The place seemed to be full of bats."

Harry crouched down on the floor and watched the scene through widened eyes. All of a sudden a voice rang out.

"Enough!" it screamed.

Harry turned, trying to find the source of this new disturbance. The tunnel behind him was dark, so he could see nothing. Turning his attention back to the chamber he saw that the bats had fallen silent and were cowering on the floor. Now that the cavern was clear Harry noticed for the first time the jet black dais that rose from the centre. On it there appeared a blinding arc of light. The intensity of the light was such that Harry had to cover his eyes. When he dared open them again he saw that on the dais there now stood a snake, dark green with sharp ridges along its back. It was the same snake he had seen in his dream, its red eyes flickering with a hidden fire. The voice came again, from everywhere at once.

"Watchers of the night, your undiminishing desire to serve the master has not gone unnoticed. Now at the very end of it he has come to you. Look now upon the last physical manifestation of the dark Lord Voldemort!"

Harry watched as the snake surveyed its audience. Then it started to speak. For a moment all Harry heard was an angry, low hissing, but as he looked into the snakes eyes something happened and he understood, he heard every word.

"And so, this moment has finally come", the snake said, "Even in the depths of my darkest despair, during my last stay in this cave, I never imagined how low I would finally sink."

As he had crouched Harry had wanted to step forward and kill the snake. But now, all he felt was pity. Pity and revulsion at what he had reduced Lord Voldemort to. What he had reduced Tom Riddle, a boy so like himself, to.

Then he watched the snake pounce on the helpless bat it had summoned to the dais. To Harry, in that moment all pity was washed away. As the snake's fangs crushed the convulsing body of the bat, it was to Harry as if the snake was deciding its own doom. Images of people flashed in front of Harry, each one being crushed in the snakes jaw. First his father, then mother, then he saw Frank and Alice Longbottom. He saw Cedric Diggory and Sirius Black. Many more faces came; nameless muggles, Hogwarts students, members of the Order. Then came Ron and Seamus Finnigan. Finally Neville Longbottom appeared and as the snakes jaw closed on him Harry saw his mouth silently word, "For us".

Harry knew what to do. Standing up he faced the snake, raising his wand in front of him. He drew all those peoples' memories into him, and anger and rage at Voldemort coursed through him, as though it had replaced the very blood in his veins. As the snake watched him, helpless, Harry shouted:

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

"Wow", said Ron. Both Ron had Hermione had listened to Harry in shocked silence, neither daring to interrupt as he recounted the events of that night.

"So, he's dead?" said Hermione, and again her voice sounded uncertain.

"Yes. The bats left in a flurry of squawks and shouts and so I was alone in the chamber. I went over to the dais and all that remained was the lifeless body of the snake"

"Did you touch it?" said Ron, the look of awe still evident on his face.

"As I watched it, it erupted into flames. I thought for a minute it might be doing a phoenix trick, but all that was left was a pile of red-grey ashes. I put them into a bag I had in my cloak pocket, and left as quickly as possible."

"Do you still have them?" Ron looked at Harry suspiciously, as though he was expecting Harry to draw them out of his pocket.

"Yes – I am taking them into Ron's Dad so they can identify them as Tom Riddle's. Then the Ministry can finally show people what they want – proof of Voldemort's demise."

As Ron had become more and more interested in the details of his story, it seemed to Harry that Hermione had grown much quieter.


"What are you thinking Hermione?"

"Oh" she said, jerking round to look him, "Sorry, I was just thinking. Do you know what that valley is called?"

"No, I never asked anyone that."

"Who did you meet – I thought you said you travelled alone?"

"Well, it was after I left that place. When I got back to the valley floor the sun had set and the night was deep and dark. It took me much longer to get out; the track wasn't so sure of itself in certain places. Eventually I reached the two rocks that guarded the valley. As I passed through it seemed that something changed. It was as though the land gave a sigh of relief. Anyway, I made my way down the track back towards the lights of the village. I guess I must have tripped over a root or something because the next thing I knew I was lying on my back, it was morning, and an old muggle was watching over me."

"An old muggle?" Ron almost gasped, "What was he doing there?"

"That I don't know. Maybe it was his usual morning walk, although it was about six in the morning." Harry shrugged; he had been too disorientated to wonder why the old man had found him when he did. He should have asked his daughter.

"So what happened then?"

Harry described how the old man had cooled his head with the piece of material torn from his cloak, how he had led him back to the village and negotiated a bed for the day in the inn.

"Then you just apparated back to London?"

"Not quite. I got some food at the inn, but whilst I was eating the daughter of the old muggle came over to me. She spoke English and wanted to let me know it was her father who had looked after me – I guess she wanted me to thank him, which I did. Anyway, I thought that since she could speak English I would get her to translate the epitaphs on the graves I had found the previous night."

"Bertha Jorkins' and the…other one?"

"Yes, Bertha Jorkins' was fairly straight forward. It didn't really reveal much, except that the villagers had thought quite highly of her, though I don't know how long she stayed there.

"But the other grave?" Hermione was leaning forward now, like Harry she evidently felt this was the most important part of his story.

"She wouldn't say what it said out loud. She went all funny, started shouting at me, about leaving and never returning."

"So you don't know what it says?"

"Yes, she was kind enough, in her anger, to write down the epitaph."

"So…?"

"I'll show you the note", Harry said, raising his wand, "Accio cloak!"

Harry's much maligned and travel worn cloak made its way down the garden, landing folded up in Harry's lap. He unfurled it and started going through his pockets. There were many scraps of paper, his tent, spare clothes, sweet wrappers, bits of string and other assorted objects. It wasn't until Harry got to the twelfth pocket that he found what he was looking for. A small scrap of paper, folded tightly. He tossed it over to Hermione who snatched it up and unfolded it. She laid it flat on the table so that Ron, who was leaning over to look, could also see the message. Harry didn't need to look, he could almost see it when he shut his eyes.

Though the power of the dark may wax and wane

This place shall ever remain

A place where living forces dwell

To heal the weak or stengthen the old

Here lies the body of Grindlewald

"Grindlewald? Isn't he the one that Dumbledore defeated?" said Ron; his eyes were bulging with the shock of this latest revelation.

"Yes Ron", said Hermione, who was staring at the note, seemingly unsure what to say.

"I think this explains why Voldemort chose it as his retreat when the going got tough – it had some power thanks to a previous dark wizard's influence."

"This makes it seem like the dark wizard's all stem from one sort of source", said Hermione, finally looked up from the note, "As though one dark wizard's defeat causes another to begin to rise."

"It does seem like that way", said Harry, but then he saw the look on Ron's face, "However knowing about these two particular dark wizards doesn't necessarily mean the same applies to other dark wizards", he continued hastily.

Harry had tried to consider this during the few hours he had had to himself since he'd discovered the connection between Voldemort and Grindlewald, but had failed to reach any significant conclusions. Looking round the table, he saw that both Hermione and Ron were silent, presumably reflecting on Harry's strange stories and discoveries.

After a few moments of silence Hermione spoke, though her voice was hushed, as though she were talking to herself.

"I wonder how the connection between Grindlewald and that valley was maintained."

"Sorry Hermione – I didn't quite hear you", said Ron turning to look at her.

"Oh", said Hermione, evidently realising she had spoken aloud, "I was just wondering how Grindlewald managed to maintain the connection between the valley and himself."

"Isn't his grave close enough?"

"I don't think it is his grave that matters. You said it was five or six miles from the village to the valley?"

"Yes, it was something like that."

"Well for that sort of power there would have had to be something actually in the valley – I wonder what it could have been."

"Maybe something to do with that cavern Harry saw", said Ron.

"Yes – there was that dais – that definitely looked man-made."

"Well I suppose you could be right – although I would have thought it would be something smaller than that. "

"I'm sure there must be more to this valley than we suspect."

"Yes you're probably right Harry, but", Hermione said, exasperatedly, "You didn't even find out the name of it."

"I will talk to Mr Weasley about it tomorrow – since that place has connections with Grindlewald and Voldemort the Ministry will probably want to investigate it."

"That sounds like an excellent plan Harry – I am so glad you are not trying to do anything yourself"

"My adventuring days are over Hermione. I just want a quiet, simple, boring life."

"Well, it remains to be seen whether or not you will get that mate", said Ron, collecting the boxes and Butterbeer.

"Yeah" Harry sighed.

"I almost forgot", said Hermione, "If you look upstairs – I have put your birthday presents, from Ron and I, on your bed. We weren't sure where to send them to so we just kept them ready for when you returned"

"Really?" said Harry, looking up "You shouldn't have. Thank you very much."

"Don't  mention it – I just hope it fits" said Hermione, smiling.

The two of them gathered Hermione's work up and headed back into the house, following Ron who was carrying the remains of dinner. The sun was finally setting, and the sombre tones of dusk were starting to stretch across the garden.

***

An hour later Harry found himself sitting on the front steps of the house, leaning back gazing up at the shimmering points of light spread out above him.

 "What a lovely night", said Harry, cradling his head in his hands.

Ron came out clutching several bottles of Butterbeer. He passed them around and then turned to go back inside.

"Aren't you joining us?" said Hermione, turning round to look at Ron.

"Yeah sure - in a moment - my Mum just called. I'll only be a few minutes."

"Ok, no problem."

"Everybody should spend a month in a hot dry place during the summer", said Harry, taking a draft from his bottle, "When you come back you really appreciate the pleasantries of an English summer."

"I don't think you should have come back. I was having a perfectly good, indoors-y sort of summer before you returned. This is the second night in a row I have been out after midnight looking at the stars!"

"A-ha, and that's another thing. The centaurs were right – it will be a banner headline in the Daily Prophet once I have taken those ashes into Mr Weasley – they said that 'only the serpent can cease to be'. I reckon they saw Mars' intersection with Draco or some such rubbish."

"Hey", said Hermione suddenly looking at Harry "You're wearing my t-shirt – the Firebolt one! Stand up, lets have a look"

Harry reluctantly stood up. The t-shirt Hermione had got him for his birthday had been very nice, but unfortunately was a little too large for him. As he stood up Ron returned from inside the house.

"Look Ron – what do you think?"

"Hermione – you have known Harry for eight  years and yet you still don't know what size t-shirt he wears!"

"I'm so sorry Harry" said Hermione, wringing her hands gently.

"It's ok – I really like it – nice and airy for when you are up on the broom!"

Hermione still looked full of consternation so Harry instead turned to Ron.

"How is your mum?"

"Oh, she is fine – she wants us all to go for Sunday lunch this weekend."

"Oh Ron", said Hermione, "I promised my Mum I would go and see her and Dad this Sunday."

"That's ok Hermione", though the sudden slump in his shoulders suggested he was disappointed, "We can go some other time"

"You mean you want to see my parents too?"

"Of course – they are muggles – it is always fun going round there!"

"Oh, well ok, I better tell her to expect more people. Harry – would you like to come too?"

"Yeah – definitely – your Mum's Sunday roast is to die for", Harry replied, struggling to speak through his rapidly salivating mouth.

"Ok, it's a date", said Hermione happily, taking a long draw from her Butterbeer.

"There was something else Harry", said Ron.

"Yes?"

"My Dad can see you at nine tomorrow morning – he said to go up to his office."

"Right, thanks" ,said Harry, though he was disappointed he wouldn't be getting another lie-in.

Harry remained in silence for a few minutes, relaxing in the tranquillity of the night and the close proximity he had to his two best friends. He thought about the hours before, when he had told them of his summer. He realised now that getting his story out in the open had released the tension that had filled his body since he had left Albania, and that had built steadily during the summer.

The calm was disturbed by Hermione who had stood up

"I have a practical session tomorrow morning so I am going to bed now.

"Yeah, I suppose if I am going to the Ministry I should get some sleep as well", said Harry reluctantly standing up.

He followed his two friends in through the front door and closed it behind him. As he leant against it he felt calm for the first time in many days. He was ready to face the Ministry and to sort this business out once and for all.

Harry Potter slowly climbed the stairs, listening to the sound of running water from the bathroom, and the sound of a wardrobe door banging in Hermione's room. As he reached the top of the stairs he flicked the light switch, sending the hallway into darkness. It was a different darkness to that which lingered in a cavern several thousand miles away, and for the young man who stepped lightly towards his bed, it held no fear.