Chapter Eight - Quidditch Game
As the days went on, Harry realized exactly what Professor McGonagall was talking about in one of the letters when she wrote, 'It is understood you have an immense workload.' When he looked back, he was surprised how he got through all the regular and extra lessons, Quidditch, and DA meetings without snapping.
Every Monday he had his Occlumency lesson with Dumbledore for no less than an hour and a half. Then Sunday and Wednesday evenings were taken by DA meetings. And then Quidditch was becoming very demanding. Ron kept scheduling extra practices for the team. Harry agreed they could use them. He also kept Harry busy with coming up with new plays, ways to practice, and strategies. Add homework and the occasional detention to all this and Harry was lucky to get any sleep at all. The homework piled rapidly despite the fact that he spent every bit of free time trying to keep up with it. If it weren't for Hermione helping him, he'd never have been able to get through it at all.
The windy, stormy weather was not abating and the first match of the Quidditch season, Gryffindor vs. Slytherin, was creeping up. Although it was only the first match, it was probably the most important of the season to Gryffindor. No game against Slytherin ever proved to be easy. They fell back into their typical ways. They never missed a chance to ambush a Gryffindor team member. But this time the Gryffindors gave it right back. This enmity resulted in a good many odd growths, a few missing limbs, some busted lips, one feather covered Gryffindor team member, and a hairless Slytherin captain. By the week of the match, weeks of detentions were booked up.
Professor McGonagall became so aggravated, she told the team members of both houses that they would be suspended from the upcoming match if it even looked like they were going to curse another student. And so it turned out she definitely meant it. When Jack Sloper and the Slytherin keeper began throwing hexes at each other during lunch, she banned both from the upcoming game. So the fighting came to a slow, at least when there was a chance of a teacher seeing. Harry was relieved it was only a minor loss from the team, and not someone more important.
After one particularly brutal practice, as Harry was heading into the locker rooms to change, he overheard Kirke and Leonard talking in an undertone.
"...bad captain. Johnson did better," Leonard was saying.
"Weasley's the one that's leading this team. He knows what he's doing. Harry's a seeker. Plain and simple. Captaining is not for him," Kirke said.
"He's a great seeker, just not made for captain," Leonard agreed.
Harry coughed, causing them to stop talking and he entered the door, acting like he hadn't heard. He saw that Ron was sitting in a corner pouring over a playbook he made up, proving Kirke and Leonard were right.
Harry made up his mind. With all his other work, he had no time to put into captaining a team anyway, but Ron did.
"Hey Ron. Catch!" he said, tossing the badge towards him. Ron reached out and snatched it. As keeper, his reflexes had obviously improved since joining the team. He looked at it bewildered.
"You take it. Trust me, you'll do much better," Harry grinned.
"You serious?" Ron asked, raising his eyebrows.
"Yeah. I have no time and to be honest, you know more about the whole Quidditch thing than me. I'm a seeker. Plain and simple," he quoted Kirke and laughed to himself as he saw the beater turn red in the face by the doorway.
"I think you've taken a few too many bludgers to the head," Ron said, though he was beaming as he pinned the badge onto his Quidditch robes.
By the Saturday of the match, every team member was feeling nervous. The game was sure to prove to be a brutal one, and Harry was glad he had so many reserves on the team. As usual for the first match of the season, the wind was whipping furiously and rain was pelting to the ground, but they had practiced in it many nights and were ready.
The match was scheduled for directly after lunch. Ron made sure the team ate at least a little bit before leaving for the lockers. He took his new captaincy very seriously. Harry thought he could even be more fanatical than Wood had been, but then he remembered back to his first few years of Quidditch and shook his head. When Ron began a twenty minute lecture on the best strategies to use against Slytherin, though, Harry was sure he was exactly like Wood in his zeal.
There was only fifteen minutes until the match began. Ron's pacing around the locker was driving Harry mad. Fred and George had left right after the speech to get some air, as they said. Harry doubted that. Those two were never not up to something. As Ron made another trip past the door, Harry stopped him.
"Cut it out. You're driving me nuts," he said. Ron seemed to come out of daze.
"Oh, right," he muttered and sat with his diagrams and plans around him, shuffling through them and muttering. Harry was about to tell him to start pacing, that it was better, when Fred and George came in, arms full of shiny packages.
"Just made near fifty galleons out there!" George exclaimed, "They really like these things. Course it's probably not for the candy."
"What is it?" Dennis asked.
"Self-Coloring-Candies. Though that's not the best part," Fred said, "They come with a card. Quidditch cards."
"Oh! I want some!" Graham said.
"Me too!" piped Dennis.
"But they're not just any Quidditch cards. They're Hogwarts Teams Quidditch cards. Seven Sickles each. But one for each Gryffindor team member free, compliments of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes," George said, handing a pack to each member. Even Ron was drawn from his daze to take a pack.
Harry took the round silver package handed to him, and tore it open. A blue ball fell out into his hand. He asked, "What did you call these again?"
"Just try it," Fred urged, "They're safe."
Harry reluctantly popped the ball into his mouth and almost choked on it when he saw that hands were a bright blue color. A look around and he saw he wasn't the only one. Ron was a funny orange color, not just his hands, but his whole body. Harry figured he looked much the same.
"Fred! George! What are these?" Ron demanded. Ginny, the only one with enough brains not to put the candy in her mouth, was laughing at them.
"Relax, ickle Ronnie! It wears off in sixty seconds," Fred said, laughing.
"Hey look! I got Terry Boot!" Natalie, the reserve keeper said, brandishing her card to Ginny.
Harry looked down to his, "Zacharias Smith..."
On the front was his picture, name, and position. He flipped it over and on the back were stats and a few key points about his playing.
Zacharias Smith
Sixth Year Chaser of Hufflepuff
Speed- 7
Flying- 5
Handling- 6
Accuracy- 6
Power- 8
Overall- 6.5
Smith holds Season record of longest thrown successful
goal of the Quaffle against Ravenclaw keeper, Terry Boot.
"Eurgh, Malfoy.." Ron said, crumpling the card and throwing it aside.
"We had to be fair about it so we asked Madam Hooch to help us. She was the one who decided on the final stat numbers," Fred said.
"Hey, I've got you Natalie!" Dennis said, rushing over to show her the card.
"Anyone got me?" Ron asked.
"We have many more here. Seven Sickles each," Fred said, waving a silver pack before them.
Harry couldn't help but buy five of them. He thought Fred and George had really had a great idea this time. He opened them all, removing the card, and leaving the candy inside. Colin Creevey, Fred Weasley, Lisa Turpin, Roger Davies, and Whitley Nott. Harry smiled and stuffed the other cards in his pocket. He watched Whitley zoom around on her broom in the picture on the card for a few seconds before turning it over and reading the back.
Whitley Nott
Seventh Year Beater of Slytherin
Speed- 8
Flying- 9
Handling- 8
Accuracy- 9
Power- 10
Overall- 9
Nott's dead center aim is only beaten by the outstanding
power of her swing. Possibly one of the strongest players on the field.
Harry turned it over again and was watching the picture of her flying, when Ron tapped him on the shoulder with his broom.
"Time to play," he said, giving a nervous smile. He looked to see what Harry was watching and frowned, "Harry, don't let your girlfriend get in the way of your playing."
"I wouldn't do that," Harry said angrily as they marched out into the Quidditch Pitch.
Harry could just barely make out the stands, full of students sporting scarlet and emerald and he was sure he could see a few odd colored faces in the crowd. He took off his glasses and performed the water proof spell Hermione showed him. Mounting his broom, he awaited the blow of Madam Hooch's Whistle. Ron and the Slytherin captain were shaking hands in a death grip.
The thunder was booming loudly and the rain hadn't slowed all day. Once the whistle blew, Harry was off into the sky. He couldn't see very far around him. Below, the Shapes were zooming around. An unfamiliar voice could barely be heard doing commentary.
"It's Graham Pritchard of Slytherin with the Quaffle, going for the goal, Stolen by Weasley. Ginny, that is. Four Weasley's on the Gryffindor team this year. Quidditch talent in their blood. Ginny goes for the middle goal. Quick pass to Aira Bowden who shoots for the left hoop but blocked! Slytherin back in possession."
Harry scanned the field in search of the snitch. It was best if this game was over as quick as possible. He turned around to see the bat of a beater coming straight for his face. He ducked quickly and narrowly avoided having his head splattered on the field.
"FOUL! OH, COME ON! HE ALMOST TOOK POTTER'S HEAD OFF!"
And sure enough, Gryffindor was awarded a penalty shot. Ginny Weasley took it, scoring Gryffindors first goal. Harry never let his gaze stop anywhere too long. He had to keep an eye out, not only for the snitch, but for attacking Slytherins, too.
"10-0 Gryffindor! And Pritchard has the Quaffle, zooming straight to the end of the pitch. A Bludger knocked at him from Fred or George and he swerves around it but he does not see the second one coming from the other twin! That'll teach him to hog the Quaffle. Bullstrode was wide open. Now Mafalda in possession. Makes it to the goal. Score! 10-10 tied!
"And now Ron Weasley gives the Quaffle to Bowden. Pass to Dean Thomas. To Ginny. Back to Thomas. Bowden gets it back and -ouch- nailed with a Bludger! Nott looks like she enjoyed that. The Quaffle is picked up by Bullstrode."
For minutes that seemed to Harry, hours, it went on. It was only fifteen minutes into the game when Gryffindor needed a replacement Chaser. Aira had taken a third Bludger to her arm, though she scored twice, but it now hung limply at her side. Ron called for a time out. Harry flew down to the ground and landed with a splash next to Ron. He waved for Graham Leonard to come over, as Aira was escorted to the hospital wing by Professor McGonagall and Hermione.
"Okay, team! Listen up!" Ron said, "If they're not going to play fair, neither are we. Do what you have to, to win. They sure as hell are."
The team flew into the air with high spirits. Fred and George swinging their bats dangerously. Harry made the mistake of flying too near the Slytherin keeper and it resulted in two of the Bludgers being pelted in his direction. As he swerved one, Fred appeared to deflect the other.
"Fantastic save by Ron! And the Quaffle is seized by Graham Leonard, who speeds halfway down the field and passes to Ginny. She goes for the goal but Bullstrode stops her by flying right into her! Ginny nearly takes a fall! She still has the Quaffle, and she smashes it into Bullstrode's face! Good for her!"
Harry saw Ginny take off and score before Madam Hooch could call a penalty. Millicent Bullstrode had blood pouring from her nose.
"70-90 Gryffindor! And a penalty shot to both teams!"
Harry ignored all else. He had seen a glint of gold near the Slytherin goal. He nearly took off for it before he realized Malfoy was much nearer it and he wouldn't be able to get there in time. He watched as the tiny flutter of gold disappeared from sight.
"Gryffindor misses! 80-90 Gryffindor! And what a shot by Vincent Crabbe! He threw his bat at keeper Ron Weasley! Weasley looks to be injured but he steadies his broom! And he speeds down to the ground, picking up Crabbe's bat! He's after the Slytherin beater! His brothers are after him, trying to stop him!"
Harry couldn't help but stop to watch what was happening. Fred had Ron by the collar and George was prying the bat out of his hands. Harry saw that his foot stuck out at an odd angle, but he seemed unaware of it. Finally, Madam Hooch got the bat from Ron and gave it back to his rightful owner. She awarded a shot to each team, but first demanded that Ron find a replacement keeper, because his ankle was broken.
"I DON'T NEED MY FOOT TO PLAY QUIDDITCH!" he yelled before flying back up to his goalpost. Harry had to admire his fervor for the game. Not even a broken bone was stopping him and that confirmed he was more fanatical than Wood.
A few minutes later and Slytherin needed to replace a chaser and a beater and Gryffindor had lost Graham Leonard. Crabbe and Mafalda had double teamed him, sending him into a fifty foot dive. Fred and George had then both hit a Bludger at the same time toward Crabbe. It whaled him in the stomach and sent him into Pritchard, who took the same fall as Leonard.
And while Harry watched this happen, a Bludger came flying at him from behind. It just barely missed his shoulder, and he turned to see Whitley grinning at him. Harry fell to searching for the snitch again.
"Blaise Zabini is in for Pritchard and Gregory Goyle for Vincent Crabbe! It's Colin Creevey with the Quaffle. He's taking it down the field. Not fast enough though and stolen by Zabini! Then to Mafalda. She scores! 180- 140 Slytherin!"
Harry cursed. They were forty points behind and had only two good Chasers, though Colin did make an effort. Harry saw Malfoy dart across the pitch. Harry went after him. At first, he thought he was going after the snitch, but there was no sign of it. He was headed right after Colin, who froze in the air. Harry reached for the end of Malfoy's broom, just as Colin tried to turn and get away. Colin fumbled for a moment before falling off. Harry seized the tail of Malfoy's broom and shook him off. Malfoy went straight down but his broom, on the other hand, soared away and met the same fate Harry's had in his third year, the Whomping Willow.
Madam Hooch caught both Malfoy and Colin with a spell to slow them before they hit the ground. Malfoy looked around, apparently for his broom and Harry laughed. The Slytherin captain called for a time out. Harry flew down with the other team mates.
"Great job, Harry!" Fred beamed at him.
"You killed his broom!" Ron said.
"That'll be a definite advantage!" Ginny said.
"What about Colin?" Ron frowned, "Is he okay?"
"Fine. He just got scared," Ginny said.
"Everything's go, here," she said and a few second's after, the whistle blew. Harry took flight beside Malfoy, looking at the new broom he was using. It was Comet Two-Sixty, a school broom.
"Penalty shot to both teams!" Lee announced. Both scored. Another few minutes passed slowly, with Harry searching for that damned snitch.
"Slytherin scores! 230-210 Slytherin! And Thomas with the Quaffle. He sends it flying into the left goal post! A Gryffindor goal! ANOTHER FIGHT! Goyle, Zabini, Fred, and George!"
Harry looked down to see the four brawling. He couldn't believe what a match this was turning out to be. And then Malfoy streaked past him, flying towards the stands. Harry was about to take off after him, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw the snitch fluttering inches away. He reached out and grabbed it easily. He threw his fist up with the glittering ball, and saw Malfoy's stunned face look up.
"POTTER'S GOT THE SNITCH! A GRYFFINDOR WIN! Final score of 230-370!"
Harry flew to the ground, one of the few uninjured players. That was a first. Ron limped over to him, brushing away the crowd around him. The three beaters and one chaser lay in the grass, not looking very well. Colin looked exhausted. Ginny and Dean were helping Fred and George to their feet, while McGonagall and Hooch reprimanded their behavior.
"Hospital wing! Serves you right! Fighting like that!" McGonagall scolded.
Fred and George looked like they had been battling with the Whomping Willow and lost. Goyle and Zabini looked no better. As a matter of fact, almost every player was hurt in someway. Harry went to the locker room with the remaining players and hurriedly changed.
What was left of the Gryffindor team entered the Great Hall to cheers and applause coming from three of the four house tables loud enough to rival the storm encasing the castle. Every surly face of the Slytherin table was sending nasty glares at them. Whitley had her eyes narrowed in the team's direction until Harry caught her eye and she forced a half-smile that looked more like a grimace and turned away a split-second after.
"Good luck with that," Aira muttered to Harry, watching Whitley jab viciously with a fork at her plate.
Harry opened his mouth to say something but a familiar rustling noise caught his attention. He looked up curiously to the source of the noise. Squinting, he could just barely make out the outline of a group of near a hundred owls right outside the enchanted ceiling. They swooped into the hall, bearing those dreaded black envelopes. Harry felt the blood drain from his face and his heart dropped into his stomach. The owls swooped through the hall, dropping portentous letters in front of students, none of whom were sitting at this point. All talking had stopped abruptly as the owls arrived, but as they realized what the owls bore, a panic broke out in the Great Hall.
An owl swooped down and for a moment, Harry thought it was going to drop a letter in front of him, but the letter landed at Aira's feet. She snatched it up and fled out of the hall. Many students followed her lead; some were collapsed into friends arms, crying.
At the staff table, Dumbledore was on his feet. He was talking hurriedly to Professor McGonagall when, not one of the black, but a plain white letter was dropped in front of him. He snatched it up rather quickly and opened it. Harry made his way through the crowded hall towards the staff table. He wanted to know just what the hell was going on, but he stopped in his tracks when he saw Whitley clutching the contents of one of the black envelopes in a trembling hand.
"Whitley!" he called above the few heads that separated him from her.
She turned to him and he could see tears brimming in eyes. In seconds, Harry was at her side. No words were spoken; she only buried her face into his shoulder. His arms seemed to automatically fall around her comfortingly.
"M-my Aunt," Whitley's sob was muffled in his robes.
"I'm sorry," Harry whispered.
He paid little attention to the others in hysterics around and barely heard Dumbledore's words as he gave one of his small consoling speeches to the students before him. When everyone was directed to go to their own dormitories, Harry reluctantly left Whitley to get to her dormitory, though one of her Slytherin friends accompanied her compassionately.
"Harry!" Ron yelled from a crowd of students, sticking out with his flaming hair. He shoved his way through to Harry and nodded his head towards a corner of the hall, where Dumbledore was disappearing through a set of oak doors. Harry wanted desperately to chase after him and demand to be told what was going on and may have if McGonagall hadn't called spoken to him, seeing where his gaze fell.
"To your dormitory, Potter. I shall be up in a moment. I still do not have a full account of what happened myself," she said sharply, answering his unasked question.
"Yes, Professor," he said, following, with Ron, the departing crowd of grieving students.
"Seamus lost his father," Ron said quietly, as Seamus passed soberly, grasping the horrid letter in his hand. As Harry looked around him, he registered exactly how much grief had been spread in the last fifteen minutes. Sombre expressions and sad faces were all about, many students crying themselves sick over their losses.
"Where's Mione?" Harry asked Ron, as they, with the rest trudged up the stairs to Gryffindor tower.
"She went after Aira, after she ran from the hall," Ron answered.
It was nearly half an hour before Professor McGonagall showed up in the Gryffindor common room.
"I would like all of the students to know that I am deeply sorry for all losses and if any student would like to talk, they are welcome to. I hope the older students and prefects will offer their comfort to younger students also," she said, "All classes are canceled for the week. A train will leave tomorrow at noon to take students to King's Cross to meet parents (Here Seamus stifled a sob.) and other family. The train will make a return trip on Saturday at ten."
She then turned and left the common room. She didn't say a word as to what happened to cause so many deaths. Harry figured she either still did not know herself or she was purposely keeping them in the dark.
Harry and Ron soon went up to their dormitory to go to sleep. They both agreed it had been a long day and were ready for it to come to an end. After a few hours of normal sleep, Harry found himself in an unfamiliar room. Across from him sat a man he did not recognize, though his eyes had the same twinkle Harry often saw in his headmaster's. Before him was a ball of bluish light.
"It is time I show you this," the man said quietly, "When your parents died, a prophecy was made about you. Now it is time you have heard it."
The man cracked the ball open like an egg and out drifted a woman and she said huskily, "The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. . . . Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies. . . . The Dark Lord shall not thrive if not he unites with the one with the power to vanquish him. . . "
That hiss belonging to Lord Voldemort penetrated Harry's ears, "So that is it, Potter? I shall be seeing you soon, then."
Harry woke with a leaping sensation in his stomach, a happy feeling. He knew it was not his own. He shook himself and sat up, his dream still burning clearly in his memory. He tried to comprehend what it was about. It must have been another memory he lived through like the other ones, he thought, but he didn't know who's memory it was. Who is it that must coexist with Voldemort? Who's memory was it? he asked himself over and over. Whatever Harry had just seen, Voldemort had obviously seen it too and he was happy about it. Harry knew he had to tell Dumbledore this time, but he still hesitated.
After a few moments of contemplation, he headed out of the dormitory and quietly hurried through the deserted common room. The portrait swung open and he hurried down the corridor for the headmaster's office, without regard for curfew. He was nearly at the corridor when Filch showed up.
"Potter! What do you think you're doing?" he yelled.
Harry ignored the caretaker completely and ran right past him to the stone gargoyle's outside Dumbledore's office.
"Skiving Snackbox," he panted and stepped onto the staircase. Before entering the headmaster's office, he knocked a few times.
A quick look around told him Dumbledore was out. Harry wasn't surprised. He decided to leave a short note, so Dumbledore would know he needed to speak with him. He walked over to the large desk and took a quill, ink, and parchment. He wrote:
Professor Dumbledore,
I need to talk to you. I had one of those dream things again. Voldemort was happy. I think he found out about a prophecy of him and someone else, but I don't know who. You said I should let you know if I had any more of the dreams, so here. Now you know.
Harry
He left it on plain sight on the desk and was about to leave when Fawkes came flying through in through an open window. He dropped a sheet of parchment on Dumbledore's desk. Harry was tempted to see exactly what it was and he would have resisted the urge if the phoenix hadn't flipped it over so the signature on the bottom could be seen, as he picked up Harry's scribbled note. He took off out the window with the parchment and faded into the darkness. Harry didn't care that the bird had just taken his letter. He was more concerned with what was written on the letter.
He picked it up and read:
Albus,
Molly and I received your warning just in time. We grabbed what we could and left for Grimmauld Place. The house was destroyed along with many possessions, but we are thankful that is all. Bill was here when we arrived, not in good shape. A Death Eaters was at his home. He tried to get information about Harry from him, Bill was able to get away, though. One of the few who did during this attack. Percy arrived shortly after. The Grangers will be here in the morning. Remus will be escorting them. Any more news I'll send immediately.
Arthur
Harry dropped the letter and left the room. All he could think about as he descended the stairs was the trouble and danger he had brought upon the Weasley family and now the Granger's. But as he entered the chilly corridor, it was shoved aside in his mind for the moment. At the end of the hall, Snape was stalking towards him. Obviously, Filch had notified the teachers that he was out of bed.
"Potter..." he said portentously, "Out of bed this late. I cannot say I am surprised. Let's here your story this time."
Harry said nothing, only glared at the man he loathed. Snape met his glare and repeated himself, "I said let's here you story this time, Potter."
"I don't think it's any of your business, actually," Harry shrugged and made to leave, but Snape's hand flew to his shoulder and pulled him back.
"When I tell you to do something, do it. You may be used to getting your way with everyone else, but don't expect that from me," he snapped.
Harry brushed his hand off as if it were something disgusting and said simply, "Good night, professor."
"You conceited little-" Snape was cut off by the opening of the gargoyle again.
"Hello, Harry. And, ah, Severus. I believe it is very late to be strolling about. What brings you out of beds so late?" Dumbledore asked.
"Potter is out of bounds again, headmaster," Snape said, looking angry at being addressed as if he were the one doing wrong.
"Yes, of course. A point from Gryffindor, then. Good night, Severus," Dumbledore smiled.
Snape looked furious. Without saying a word he veered around and swept down the hall, muttering angrily.
"Harry, Fawkes has just given me your letter. I do think you will need to tell me in detail what you saw," Dumbledore led him up the stairs back into the office. He motioned for Harry to take a seat opposite him.
"So you've had other dreams like this one?" Dumbledore asked.
"Yeah. I told you about the one where I was bitten by a werewolf. Well, I had more...where I was Hagrid, Sirius, and I don't know who I was in one, but I was at The Burrow," he explained, "But I just had one now that made Voldemort really, really happy. I don't know who I was, but I was sitting in front of a man and he had a prophecy. He said it was time I heard it. And when it broke, it said...well, it said something kind of like the prophecy about me but at the end it said that the dark lord can't...thrive unless..."
"The Dark Lord shall not thrive if not he unites with the one with the power to vanquish him..." Dumbledore said.
"That's it. But how do you know?' Harry asked.
"Because the memory you lived out was mine. A particularly strong one of mine, I might say. When I was seventeen, my uncle showed it to me," Dumbledore said.
"But then I'm not the only one with the power to kill him?" Harry asked.
"That prophecy was not about Voldemort and myself. Voldemort is not the first Dark Wizard to come about, nor will he be the last. That prophecy was about me and Grindelwald. That, however, is not important. The fact that Voldemort is happy about hearing of it is odd. I believe he may think that is the prophecy made about you and he, which means he thinks that unless you join him, he shall not thrive," Dumbledore said as if thinking aloud.
"Do you know why I keep having these dreams?" Harry asked.
"The more I think on it, the more I am sure that he is using a ridiculously simple spell. It makes one relive strong memories of those they are close to. He did not know that you know of the prophecy between yourself and him but he knew that I did. So he did it in hopes that you would relive the one where I hear the prophecy from Professor Trelawney. But, I daresay, that has backfired," he said.
"Right. So now Voldemort is going to want me on his side and not dead and that is good," Harry said.
"Not exactly. You will need to keep up with the Occlumency and work very hard at it. Voldemort has ways of persuading people that are very powerful," Dumbledore said.
"I'd never join him," Harry said.
"I am only saying he has very powerful ways. You will need to block him," Dumbledore said.
"Professor, what happened? All those letters, there must have been some kind of attack?" Harry asked after a few seconds pause.
"Yes. And it was a very well organized attack. From what I have found, Death Eaters across Britain all attacked at once in different locations. all muggle-related people. That is all that I know for certain," Dumbledore said, "Is that all, now, Harry?"
Harry wanted to ask what happened with the Weasley's and Grangers, but that would mean letting Dumbledore know he had read the letter. Instead he only nodded and got to his feet, "Night, Professor."
"Good night, Harry," Dumbledore said.
Harry paid little attention to where he was going. His feet seemed automatically to lead him to the Gryffindor common room. He fell into his bed, glad there were no lessons the next day, being very tired.
As the days went on, Harry realized exactly what Professor McGonagall was talking about in one of the letters when she wrote, 'It is understood you have an immense workload.' When he looked back, he was surprised how he got through all the regular and extra lessons, Quidditch, and DA meetings without snapping.
Every Monday he had his Occlumency lesson with Dumbledore for no less than an hour and a half. Then Sunday and Wednesday evenings were taken by DA meetings. And then Quidditch was becoming very demanding. Ron kept scheduling extra practices for the team. Harry agreed they could use them. He also kept Harry busy with coming up with new plays, ways to practice, and strategies. Add homework and the occasional detention to all this and Harry was lucky to get any sleep at all. The homework piled rapidly despite the fact that he spent every bit of free time trying to keep up with it. If it weren't for Hermione helping him, he'd never have been able to get through it at all.
The windy, stormy weather was not abating and the first match of the Quidditch season, Gryffindor vs. Slytherin, was creeping up. Although it was only the first match, it was probably the most important of the season to Gryffindor. No game against Slytherin ever proved to be easy. They fell back into their typical ways. They never missed a chance to ambush a Gryffindor team member. But this time the Gryffindors gave it right back. This enmity resulted in a good many odd growths, a few missing limbs, some busted lips, one feather covered Gryffindor team member, and a hairless Slytherin captain. By the week of the match, weeks of detentions were booked up.
Professor McGonagall became so aggravated, she told the team members of both houses that they would be suspended from the upcoming match if it even looked like they were going to curse another student. And so it turned out she definitely meant it. When Jack Sloper and the Slytherin keeper began throwing hexes at each other during lunch, she banned both from the upcoming game. So the fighting came to a slow, at least when there was a chance of a teacher seeing. Harry was relieved it was only a minor loss from the team, and not someone more important.
After one particularly brutal practice, as Harry was heading into the locker rooms to change, he overheard Kirke and Leonard talking in an undertone.
"...bad captain. Johnson did better," Leonard was saying.
"Weasley's the one that's leading this team. He knows what he's doing. Harry's a seeker. Plain and simple. Captaining is not for him," Kirke said.
"He's a great seeker, just not made for captain," Leonard agreed.
Harry coughed, causing them to stop talking and he entered the door, acting like he hadn't heard. He saw that Ron was sitting in a corner pouring over a playbook he made up, proving Kirke and Leonard were right.
Harry made up his mind. With all his other work, he had no time to put into captaining a team anyway, but Ron did.
"Hey Ron. Catch!" he said, tossing the badge towards him. Ron reached out and snatched it. As keeper, his reflexes had obviously improved since joining the team. He looked at it bewildered.
"You take it. Trust me, you'll do much better," Harry grinned.
"You serious?" Ron asked, raising his eyebrows.
"Yeah. I have no time and to be honest, you know more about the whole Quidditch thing than me. I'm a seeker. Plain and simple," he quoted Kirke and laughed to himself as he saw the beater turn red in the face by the doorway.
"I think you've taken a few too many bludgers to the head," Ron said, though he was beaming as he pinned the badge onto his Quidditch robes.
By the Saturday of the match, every team member was feeling nervous. The game was sure to prove to be a brutal one, and Harry was glad he had so many reserves on the team. As usual for the first match of the season, the wind was whipping furiously and rain was pelting to the ground, but they had practiced in it many nights and were ready.
The match was scheduled for directly after lunch. Ron made sure the team ate at least a little bit before leaving for the lockers. He took his new captaincy very seriously. Harry thought he could even be more fanatical than Wood had been, but then he remembered back to his first few years of Quidditch and shook his head. When Ron began a twenty minute lecture on the best strategies to use against Slytherin, though, Harry was sure he was exactly like Wood in his zeal.
There was only fifteen minutes until the match began. Ron's pacing around the locker was driving Harry mad. Fred and George had left right after the speech to get some air, as they said. Harry doubted that. Those two were never not up to something. As Ron made another trip past the door, Harry stopped him.
"Cut it out. You're driving me nuts," he said. Ron seemed to come out of daze.
"Oh, right," he muttered and sat with his diagrams and plans around him, shuffling through them and muttering. Harry was about to tell him to start pacing, that it was better, when Fred and George came in, arms full of shiny packages.
"Just made near fifty galleons out there!" George exclaimed, "They really like these things. Course it's probably not for the candy."
"What is it?" Dennis asked.
"Self-Coloring-Candies. Though that's not the best part," Fred said, "They come with a card. Quidditch cards."
"Oh! I want some!" Graham said.
"Me too!" piped Dennis.
"But they're not just any Quidditch cards. They're Hogwarts Teams Quidditch cards. Seven Sickles each. But one for each Gryffindor team member free, compliments of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes," George said, handing a pack to each member. Even Ron was drawn from his daze to take a pack.
Harry took the round silver package handed to him, and tore it open. A blue ball fell out into his hand. He asked, "What did you call these again?"
"Just try it," Fred urged, "They're safe."
Harry reluctantly popped the ball into his mouth and almost choked on it when he saw that hands were a bright blue color. A look around and he saw he wasn't the only one. Ron was a funny orange color, not just his hands, but his whole body. Harry figured he looked much the same.
"Fred! George! What are these?" Ron demanded. Ginny, the only one with enough brains not to put the candy in her mouth, was laughing at them.
"Relax, ickle Ronnie! It wears off in sixty seconds," Fred said, laughing.
"Hey look! I got Terry Boot!" Natalie, the reserve keeper said, brandishing her card to Ginny.
Harry looked down to his, "Zacharias Smith..."
On the front was his picture, name, and position. He flipped it over and on the back were stats and a few key points about his playing.
Zacharias Smith
Sixth Year Chaser of Hufflepuff
Speed- 7
Flying- 5
Handling- 6
Accuracy- 6
Power- 8
Overall- 6.5
Smith holds Season record of longest thrown successful
goal of the Quaffle against Ravenclaw keeper, Terry Boot.
"Eurgh, Malfoy.." Ron said, crumpling the card and throwing it aside.
"We had to be fair about it so we asked Madam Hooch to help us. She was the one who decided on the final stat numbers," Fred said.
"Hey, I've got you Natalie!" Dennis said, rushing over to show her the card.
"Anyone got me?" Ron asked.
"We have many more here. Seven Sickles each," Fred said, waving a silver pack before them.
Harry couldn't help but buy five of them. He thought Fred and George had really had a great idea this time. He opened them all, removing the card, and leaving the candy inside. Colin Creevey, Fred Weasley, Lisa Turpin, Roger Davies, and Whitley Nott. Harry smiled and stuffed the other cards in his pocket. He watched Whitley zoom around on her broom in the picture on the card for a few seconds before turning it over and reading the back.
Whitley Nott
Seventh Year Beater of Slytherin
Speed- 8
Flying- 9
Handling- 8
Accuracy- 9
Power- 10
Overall- 9
Nott's dead center aim is only beaten by the outstanding
power of her swing. Possibly one of the strongest players on the field.
Harry turned it over again and was watching the picture of her flying, when Ron tapped him on the shoulder with his broom.
"Time to play," he said, giving a nervous smile. He looked to see what Harry was watching and frowned, "Harry, don't let your girlfriend get in the way of your playing."
"I wouldn't do that," Harry said angrily as they marched out into the Quidditch Pitch.
Harry could just barely make out the stands, full of students sporting scarlet and emerald and he was sure he could see a few odd colored faces in the crowd. He took off his glasses and performed the water proof spell Hermione showed him. Mounting his broom, he awaited the blow of Madam Hooch's Whistle. Ron and the Slytherin captain were shaking hands in a death grip.
The thunder was booming loudly and the rain hadn't slowed all day. Once the whistle blew, Harry was off into the sky. He couldn't see very far around him. Below, the Shapes were zooming around. An unfamiliar voice could barely be heard doing commentary.
"It's Graham Pritchard of Slytherin with the Quaffle, going for the goal, Stolen by Weasley. Ginny, that is. Four Weasley's on the Gryffindor team this year. Quidditch talent in their blood. Ginny goes for the middle goal. Quick pass to Aira Bowden who shoots for the left hoop but blocked! Slytherin back in possession."
Harry scanned the field in search of the snitch. It was best if this game was over as quick as possible. He turned around to see the bat of a beater coming straight for his face. He ducked quickly and narrowly avoided having his head splattered on the field.
"FOUL! OH, COME ON! HE ALMOST TOOK POTTER'S HEAD OFF!"
And sure enough, Gryffindor was awarded a penalty shot. Ginny Weasley took it, scoring Gryffindors first goal. Harry never let his gaze stop anywhere too long. He had to keep an eye out, not only for the snitch, but for attacking Slytherins, too.
"10-0 Gryffindor! And Pritchard has the Quaffle, zooming straight to the end of the pitch. A Bludger knocked at him from Fred or George and he swerves around it but he does not see the second one coming from the other twin! That'll teach him to hog the Quaffle. Bullstrode was wide open. Now Mafalda in possession. Makes it to the goal. Score! 10-10 tied!
"And now Ron Weasley gives the Quaffle to Bowden. Pass to Dean Thomas. To Ginny. Back to Thomas. Bowden gets it back and -ouch- nailed with a Bludger! Nott looks like she enjoyed that. The Quaffle is picked up by Bullstrode."
For minutes that seemed to Harry, hours, it went on. It was only fifteen minutes into the game when Gryffindor needed a replacement Chaser. Aira had taken a third Bludger to her arm, though she scored twice, but it now hung limply at her side. Ron called for a time out. Harry flew down to the ground and landed with a splash next to Ron. He waved for Graham Leonard to come over, as Aira was escorted to the hospital wing by Professor McGonagall and Hermione.
"Okay, team! Listen up!" Ron said, "If they're not going to play fair, neither are we. Do what you have to, to win. They sure as hell are."
The team flew into the air with high spirits. Fred and George swinging their bats dangerously. Harry made the mistake of flying too near the Slytherin keeper and it resulted in two of the Bludgers being pelted in his direction. As he swerved one, Fred appeared to deflect the other.
"Fantastic save by Ron! And the Quaffle is seized by Graham Leonard, who speeds halfway down the field and passes to Ginny. She goes for the goal but Bullstrode stops her by flying right into her! Ginny nearly takes a fall! She still has the Quaffle, and she smashes it into Bullstrode's face! Good for her!"
Harry saw Ginny take off and score before Madam Hooch could call a penalty. Millicent Bullstrode had blood pouring from her nose.
"70-90 Gryffindor! And a penalty shot to both teams!"
Harry ignored all else. He had seen a glint of gold near the Slytherin goal. He nearly took off for it before he realized Malfoy was much nearer it and he wouldn't be able to get there in time. He watched as the tiny flutter of gold disappeared from sight.
"Gryffindor misses! 80-90 Gryffindor! And what a shot by Vincent Crabbe! He threw his bat at keeper Ron Weasley! Weasley looks to be injured but he steadies his broom! And he speeds down to the ground, picking up Crabbe's bat! He's after the Slytherin beater! His brothers are after him, trying to stop him!"
Harry couldn't help but stop to watch what was happening. Fred had Ron by the collar and George was prying the bat out of his hands. Harry saw that his foot stuck out at an odd angle, but he seemed unaware of it. Finally, Madam Hooch got the bat from Ron and gave it back to his rightful owner. She awarded a shot to each team, but first demanded that Ron find a replacement keeper, because his ankle was broken.
"I DON'T NEED MY FOOT TO PLAY QUIDDITCH!" he yelled before flying back up to his goalpost. Harry had to admire his fervor for the game. Not even a broken bone was stopping him and that confirmed he was more fanatical than Wood.
A few minutes later and Slytherin needed to replace a chaser and a beater and Gryffindor had lost Graham Leonard. Crabbe and Mafalda had double teamed him, sending him into a fifty foot dive. Fred and George had then both hit a Bludger at the same time toward Crabbe. It whaled him in the stomach and sent him into Pritchard, who took the same fall as Leonard.
And while Harry watched this happen, a Bludger came flying at him from behind. It just barely missed his shoulder, and he turned to see Whitley grinning at him. Harry fell to searching for the snitch again.
"Blaise Zabini is in for Pritchard and Gregory Goyle for Vincent Crabbe! It's Colin Creevey with the Quaffle. He's taking it down the field. Not fast enough though and stolen by Zabini! Then to Mafalda. She scores! 180- 140 Slytherin!"
Harry cursed. They were forty points behind and had only two good Chasers, though Colin did make an effort. Harry saw Malfoy dart across the pitch. Harry went after him. At first, he thought he was going after the snitch, but there was no sign of it. He was headed right after Colin, who froze in the air. Harry reached for the end of Malfoy's broom, just as Colin tried to turn and get away. Colin fumbled for a moment before falling off. Harry seized the tail of Malfoy's broom and shook him off. Malfoy went straight down but his broom, on the other hand, soared away and met the same fate Harry's had in his third year, the Whomping Willow.
Madam Hooch caught both Malfoy and Colin with a spell to slow them before they hit the ground. Malfoy looked around, apparently for his broom and Harry laughed. The Slytherin captain called for a time out. Harry flew down with the other team mates.
"Great job, Harry!" Fred beamed at him.
"You killed his broom!" Ron said.
"That'll be a definite advantage!" Ginny said.
"What about Colin?" Ron frowned, "Is he okay?"
"Fine. He just got scared," Ginny said.
"Everything's go, here," she said and a few second's after, the whistle blew. Harry took flight beside Malfoy, looking at the new broom he was using. It was Comet Two-Sixty, a school broom.
"Penalty shot to both teams!" Lee announced. Both scored. Another few minutes passed slowly, with Harry searching for that damned snitch.
"Slytherin scores! 230-210 Slytherin! And Thomas with the Quaffle. He sends it flying into the left goal post! A Gryffindor goal! ANOTHER FIGHT! Goyle, Zabini, Fred, and George!"
Harry looked down to see the four brawling. He couldn't believe what a match this was turning out to be. And then Malfoy streaked past him, flying towards the stands. Harry was about to take off after him, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw the snitch fluttering inches away. He reached out and grabbed it easily. He threw his fist up with the glittering ball, and saw Malfoy's stunned face look up.
"POTTER'S GOT THE SNITCH! A GRYFFINDOR WIN! Final score of 230-370!"
Harry flew to the ground, one of the few uninjured players. That was a first. Ron limped over to him, brushing away the crowd around him. The three beaters and one chaser lay in the grass, not looking very well. Colin looked exhausted. Ginny and Dean were helping Fred and George to their feet, while McGonagall and Hooch reprimanded their behavior.
"Hospital wing! Serves you right! Fighting like that!" McGonagall scolded.
Fred and George looked like they had been battling with the Whomping Willow and lost. Goyle and Zabini looked no better. As a matter of fact, almost every player was hurt in someway. Harry went to the locker room with the remaining players and hurriedly changed.
What was left of the Gryffindor team entered the Great Hall to cheers and applause coming from three of the four house tables loud enough to rival the storm encasing the castle. Every surly face of the Slytherin table was sending nasty glares at them. Whitley had her eyes narrowed in the team's direction until Harry caught her eye and she forced a half-smile that looked more like a grimace and turned away a split-second after.
"Good luck with that," Aira muttered to Harry, watching Whitley jab viciously with a fork at her plate.
Harry opened his mouth to say something but a familiar rustling noise caught his attention. He looked up curiously to the source of the noise. Squinting, he could just barely make out the outline of a group of near a hundred owls right outside the enchanted ceiling. They swooped into the hall, bearing those dreaded black envelopes. Harry felt the blood drain from his face and his heart dropped into his stomach. The owls swooped through the hall, dropping portentous letters in front of students, none of whom were sitting at this point. All talking had stopped abruptly as the owls arrived, but as they realized what the owls bore, a panic broke out in the Great Hall.
An owl swooped down and for a moment, Harry thought it was going to drop a letter in front of him, but the letter landed at Aira's feet. She snatched it up and fled out of the hall. Many students followed her lead; some were collapsed into friends arms, crying.
At the staff table, Dumbledore was on his feet. He was talking hurriedly to Professor McGonagall when, not one of the black, but a plain white letter was dropped in front of him. He snatched it up rather quickly and opened it. Harry made his way through the crowded hall towards the staff table. He wanted to know just what the hell was going on, but he stopped in his tracks when he saw Whitley clutching the contents of one of the black envelopes in a trembling hand.
"Whitley!" he called above the few heads that separated him from her.
She turned to him and he could see tears brimming in eyes. In seconds, Harry was at her side. No words were spoken; she only buried her face into his shoulder. His arms seemed to automatically fall around her comfortingly.
"M-my Aunt," Whitley's sob was muffled in his robes.
"I'm sorry," Harry whispered.
He paid little attention to the others in hysterics around and barely heard Dumbledore's words as he gave one of his small consoling speeches to the students before him. When everyone was directed to go to their own dormitories, Harry reluctantly left Whitley to get to her dormitory, though one of her Slytherin friends accompanied her compassionately.
"Harry!" Ron yelled from a crowd of students, sticking out with his flaming hair. He shoved his way through to Harry and nodded his head towards a corner of the hall, where Dumbledore was disappearing through a set of oak doors. Harry wanted desperately to chase after him and demand to be told what was going on and may have if McGonagall hadn't called spoken to him, seeing where his gaze fell.
"To your dormitory, Potter. I shall be up in a moment. I still do not have a full account of what happened myself," she said sharply, answering his unasked question.
"Yes, Professor," he said, following, with Ron, the departing crowd of grieving students.
"Seamus lost his father," Ron said quietly, as Seamus passed soberly, grasping the horrid letter in his hand. As Harry looked around him, he registered exactly how much grief had been spread in the last fifteen minutes. Sombre expressions and sad faces were all about, many students crying themselves sick over their losses.
"Where's Mione?" Harry asked Ron, as they, with the rest trudged up the stairs to Gryffindor tower.
"She went after Aira, after she ran from the hall," Ron answered.
It was nearly half an hour before Professor McGonagall showed up in the Gryffindor common room.
"I would like all of the students to know that I am deeply sorry for all losses and if any student would like to talk, they are welcome to. I hope the older students and prefects will offer their comfort to younger students also," she said, "All classes are canceled for the week. A train will leave tomorrow at noon to take students to King's Cross to meet parents (Here Seamus stifled a sob.) and other family. The train will make a return trip on Saturday at ten."
She then turned and left the common room. She didn't say a word as to what happened to cause so many deaths. Harry figured she either still did not know herself or she was purposely keeping them in the dark.
Harry and Ron soon went up to their dormitory to go to sleep. They both agreed it had been a long day and were ready for it to come to an end. After a few hours of normal sleep, Harry found himself in an unfamiliar room. Across from him sat a man he did not recognize, though his eyes had the same twinkle Harry often saw in his headmaster's. Before him was a ball of bluish light.
"It is time I show you this," the man said quietly, "When your parents died, a prophecy was made about you. Now it is time you have heard it."
The man cracked the ball open like an egg and out drifted a woman and she said huskily, "The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. . . . Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies. . . . The Dark Lord shall not thrive if not he unites with the one with the power to vanquish him. . . "
That hiss belonging to Lord Voldemort penetrated Harry's ears, "So that is it, Potter? I shall be seeing you soon, then."
Harry woke with a leaping sensation in his stomach, a happy feeling. He knew it was not his own. He shook himself and sat up, his dream still burning clearly in his memory. He tried to comprehend what it was about. It must have been another memory he lived through like the other ones, he thought, but he didn't know who's memory it was. Who is it that must coexist with Voldemort? Who's memory was it? he asked himself over and over. Whatever Harry had just seen, Voldemort had obviously seen it too and he was happy about it. Harry knew he had to tell Dumbledore this time, but he still hesitated.
After a few moments of contemplation, he headed out of the dormitory and quietly hurried through the deserted common room. The portrait swung open and he hurried down the corridor for the headmaster's office, without regard for curfew. He was nearly at the corridor when Filch showed up.
"Potter! What do you think you're doing?" he yelled.
Harry ignored the caretaker completely and ran right past him to the stone gargoyle's outside Dumbledore's office.
"Skiving Snackbox," he panted and stepped onto the staircase. Before entering the headmaster's office, he knocked a few times.
A quick look around told him Dumbledore was out. Harry wasn't surprised. He decided to leave a short note, so Dumbledore would know he needed to speak with him. He walked over to the large desk and took a quill, ink, and parchment. He wrote:
Professor Dumbledore,
I need to talk to you. I had one of those dream things again. Voldemort was happy. I think he found out about a prophecy of him and someone else, but I don't know who. You said I should let you know if I had any more of the dreams, so here. Now you know.
Harry
He left it on plain sight on the desk and was about to leave when Fawkes came flying through in through an open window. He dropped a sheet of parchment on Dumbledore's desk. Harry was tempted to see exactly what it was and he would have resisted the urge if the phoenix hadn't flipped it over so the signature on the bottom could be seen, as he picked up Harry's scribbled note. He took off out the window with the parchment and faded into the darkness. Harry didn't care that the bird had just taken his letter. He was more concerned with what was written on the letter.
He picked it up and read:
Albus,
Molly and I received your warning just in time. We grabbed what we could and left for Grimmauld Place. The house was destroyed along with many possessions, but we are thankful that is all. Bill was here when we arrived, not in good shape. A Death Eaters was at his home. He tried to get information about Harry from him, Bill was able to get away, though. One of the few who did during this attack. Percy arrived shortly after. The Grangers will be here in the morning. Remus will be escorting them. Any more news I'll send immediately.
Arthur
Harry dropped the letter and left the room. All he could think about as he descended the stairs was the trouble and danger he had brought upon the Weasley family and now the Granger's. But as he entered the chilly corridor, it was shoved aside in his mind for the moment. At the end of the hall, Snape was stalking towards him. Obviously, Filch had notified the teachers that he was out of bed.
"Potter..." he said portentously, "Out of bed this late. I cannot say I am surprised. Let's here your story this time."
Harry said nothing, only glared at the man he loathed. Snape met his glare and repeated himself, "I said let's here you story this time, Potter."
"I don't think it's any of your business, actually," Harry shrugged and made to leave, but Snape's hand flew to his shoulder and pulled him back.
"When I tell you to do something, do it. You may be used to getting your way with everyone else, but don't expect that from me," he snapped.
Harry brushed his hand off as if it were something disgusting and said simply, "Good night, professor."
"You conceited little-" Snape was cut off by the opening of the gargoyle again.
"Hello, Harry. And, ah, Severus. I believe it is very late to be strolling about. What brings you out of beds so late?" Dumbledore asked.
"Potter is out of bounds again, headmaster," Snape said, looking angry at being addressed as if he were the one doing wrong.
"Yes, of course. A point from Gryffindor, then. Good night, Severus," Dumbledore smiled.
Snape looked furious. Without saying a word he veered around and swept down the hall, muttering angrily.
"Harry, Fawkes has just given me your letter. I do think you will need to tell me in detail what you saw," Dumbledore led him up the stairs back into the office. He motioned for Harry to take a seat opposite him.
"So you've had other dreams like this one?" Dumbledore asked.
"Yeah. I told you about the one where I was bitten by a werewolf. Well, I had more...where I was Hagrid, Sirius, and I don't know who I was in one, but I was at The Burrow," he explained, "But I just had one now that made Voldemort really, really happy. I don't know who I was, but I was sitting in front of a man and he had a prophecy. He said it was time I heard it. And when it broke, it said...well, it said something kind of like the prophecy about me but at the end it said that the dark lord can't...thrive unless..."
"The Dark Lord shall not thrive if not he unites with the one with the power to vanquish him..." Dumbledore said.
"That's it. But how do you know?' Harry asked.
"Because the memory you lived out was mine. A particularly strong one of mine, I might say. When I was seventeen, my uncle showed it to me," Dumbledore said.
"But then I'm not the only one with the power to kill him?" Harry asked.
"That prophecy was not about Voldemort and myself. Voldemort is not the first Dark Wizard to come about, nor will he be the last. That prophecy was about me and Grindelwald. That, however, is not important. The fact that Voldemort is happy about hearing of it is odd. I believe he may think that is the prophecy made about you and he, which means he thinks that unless you join him, he shall not thrive," Dumbledore said as if thinking aloud.
"Do you know why I keep having these dreams?" Harry asked.
"The more I think on it, the more I am sure that he is using a ridiculously simple spell. It makes one relive strong memories of those they are close to. He did not know that you know of the prophecy between yourself and him but he knew that I did. So he did it in hopes that you would relive the one where I hear the prophecy from Professor Trelawney. But, I daresay, that has backfired," he said.
"Right. So now Voldemort is going to want me on his side and not dead and that is good," Harry said.
"Not exactly. You will need to keep up with the Occlumency and work very hard at it. Voldemort has ways of persuading people that are very powerful," Dumbledore said.
"I'd never join him," Harry said.
"I am only saying he has very powerful ways. You will need to block him," Dumbledore said.
"Professor, what happened? All those letters, there must have been some kind of attack?" Harry asked after a few seconds pause.
"Yes. And it was a very well organized attack. From what I have found, Death Eaters across Britain all attacked at once in different locations. all muggle-related people. That is all that I know for certain," Dumbledore said, "Is that all, now, Harry?"
Harry wanted to ask what happened with the Weasley's and Grangers, but that would mean letting Dumbledore know he had read the letter. Instead he only nodded and got to his feet, "Night, Professor."
"Good night, Harry," Dumbledore said.
Harry paid little attention to where he was going. His feet seemed automatically to lead him to the Gryffindor common room. He fell into his bed, glad there were no lessons the next day, being very tired.