Kyrie / Lord
Kyrie eleison / Lord, have mercy upon us. Christe eleison / Christ, have mercy upon us. Kyrie eleison / Lord, have mercy upon us.
~~~
It was early on the last Hogsmeade weekend that Dumbledore felt comfortable in leaving the school for Little Whinging. Hogsmeade visits had not been cancelled. Dumbledore felt that getting their mind off things was just what the students needed, especially the seventh years, who knew Harry best and had their NEWTs drawing closer. Two weeks had passed since the death.
"Not going to Hogsmeade, Mr. Longbottom?" Neville, who had been staring out the window at the Quidditch pitch, swung his head around to face Dumbledore.
"No sir." He said simply. Dumbledore clicked his tongue, Neville looked terrible. His hair was sticking out at odd angles, like he hadn't bothered about combing it. His eyes were unfocused and bloodshot and it looked as though he'd lost weight.
"Do you need to see Madame Pomfrey?" Dumbledore said kindly.
"No...I'm, I'm alright." Dumbledore knew he was lying, but let it pass.
"Alright, Neville." He nodded sadly and continued walking, but then he stopped and turned around, "If you ever need to talk about anything. My door is always open."
"Okay, thanks." Neville shrugged, Dumbledore turned to leave, "Professor?"
"Yes Neville?"
"Do you have a minute now?"
Dumbledore vacillated, he'd just told Neville his door was always open, but he had somewhere to go, "Er, actually, I just was going to pay a visit to Harry's aunt and uncle-"
"I want to go!" Neville blurted out before Dumbledore could finish the sentence. Neville's eyes lit up and he looked more awake than he had a second ago. Dumbledore opened his mouth to protest, but then thought better of it. Perhaps it was part of the healing process, some sort of closure, and Neville looked so desperate.
"Very well, Neville-"
"And I think Ron and Hermione should go too... if they want to...."
Dumbledore sighed, perhaps it wasn't a bad idea, and two more couldn't hurt.
"Alright, but aren't they at Hogsmeade?" They had signed up to go, but that was before...
"No." It seemed the three people with the greatest need for a Hogsmeade weekend were precisely the three who didn't end up attending.
Dumbledore nodded, "Why don't you go ask them? I'll meet you in the front hall in fifteen minutes."
"Thanks, Professor." Neville said as he jogged off toward the Gryffindor common room, where he knew Ron and Hermione had been taking turns playing wizard chess and studying for NEWTs.
Dumbledore smiled sadly after him. It seemed he already had the weight of the world on his shoulders, and Dumbledore knew that it could only get worse for him. His age of innocence had come to a close.
---
Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Dumbledore arrived in Little Whinging a half- hour later dressed in muggle clothes. It was bad enough they would be the bearers of bad news, they couldn't go frightening them by looking...subnormal. Ron remembered how tetchy they'd gotten when his family had showed up by floo. Neville, who'd never worn muggle clothes in his life, was fascinated by them. This helped to distract him from the task at hand.
Dumbledore, rang the doorbell at number 4 Privet Drive. A bony woman peeked out from behind a curtain in the kitchen and quickly shut it again. There was no movement from in the house for the next five minutes.
Dumbledore rang the doorbell again, and knocked also. No movement. Dumbledore sighed. This was going to be more difficult than he thought. He waited another five minutes and knocked again.
"I saw someone in there." Neville said looking at an upstairs window, "Why aren't they answering."
"Because," Ron muttered, "They've got a thing against wizards. I bet they recognized me." His bright red hair couldn't have been forgotten that easily.
"What are we going to do if they don't answer?" Hermione asked,
"Wait until they do." Neville said quickly. Hermione looked at him, so did Ron. They'd never heard Neville be so assertive, "Well, they have to know don't they? It wouldn't be right to just leave when we know they're in there."
"We could leave a note." Hermione suggested
"That won't work, that's been tried. They won't open them" Ron said, then added after a second, "We could send a howler, it opens itself."
"A howler? Oh that's real nice Ron. A howler announcing the death of a loved one." Hermione rolled her eyes. "You really do have the emotional capacity of a teaspoon."
"Hey! You don't know these people, Hermione. They-"
Just when they thought the door would never open. It did. On the other side was Aunt Petunia, with a rather sour expression on her face, "Come in! Don't just stand in the front like that!" She craned her long neck through the doorway, peering up and down the street, as if making sure that none of the neighbors had seen them. She shut the door quickly.
"Who's at the door mum?" A voice called from the living room.
"No one of any consequence Dudders." Looking directly at Ron. She turned to Dumbledore, "What do you want?"
"Who's at the door, Petunia-" A large man the looked something like a walrus poked his head out of the kitchen. When he saw the group, his small piggish eyes narrowed. He could tell wizarding folk when he saw it, "Oh, don't tell me, the boy's been expelled from that freak school of his and you need for us to take him in full time. I'll tell you right now, I won't have it." Ron, Neville and Hermione's blood pressure went up by several points, but Dumbledore refused to rise to the occasion, even if it was his freak school.
"If only it were something as trivial as expulsion."
Vernon guffawed, "Well, get on with it then. State your business at once, or I'll call the police."
"That won't be necessary, Mr. Dursley. ah. perhaps it would be best if Harry's cousin was here to hear what I have to say as well." Again, Vernon's eyes narrowed.
"I'll not have my son exposed to the likes of you." he said icily. Dumbledore sighed again... they always made things so difficult, "It's bad enough that ruddy pigeon keeps turning up all this week. No respect for people's private lives"
"Very well then," Dumbledore said crisply, "You can inform your son when you find it convenient. Nevertheless, it would have been easier if you answered my owls." Dumbledore pulled a medium sized jar from out of his breast pocket. It could only have fit there by magic. A look of fear and loathing crossed Vernon's face, "I am afraid I have some terrible news. Harry was involved in the fight against a dark wizard, as you may know already. During a skirmish with the enemy, Harry was struck with a powerful dark curse." Dumbledore paused, "I'm very sorry, but your nephew is dead." Hearing the events of that night again made Ron, Hermione, and Neville go very pale.
There was a stunned silence, punctuated by the canned laugh track coming from whatever show Dudley was watching.
"Why....why don't we all go in the kitchen?" Petunia said, heading for the kitchen herself.
When they were seated around the table, Dumbledore continued, "Perhaps it will be of some consolation to know that the curse kills instantly, he felt no pain." Neville looked like he was going to be sick, "And he died a hero's death, saving a friend." Neville looked like he was about to cry, Dumbledore put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, Petunia held her hand to her mouth, Vernon still didn't look convinced, "If you have any questions, I will answer them the best I can."
"Have the funeral arrangements been made then?" Vernon asked.
"Yes. Harry's body has been cremated." There was no use telling them about how it was cremated. He put the jar he'd been holding onto the table. It was decorated with phoenixes and griffons and the handles were golden snitches.
"And there aren't any charges, are there? We aren't going to be billed for that expensive looking urn?"
Dumbledore's lips went very thin, like McGonagall's and his eyes turned an icy blue, "No, of course not."
"Good. The boy's freeloaded off of us all his life, he doesn't need to do it in death." He'd said the wrong thing. The cup of coffee in Vernon's hand exploded, spraying hot coffee and porcelain shards onto him. He immediately glared at Dumbledore. But Ron and Neville stood up and began talking at once. Ron's face was as red as his hair and Neville had gone very pale and had a wild, sleep deprived look about him.
"How DARE you talk about Harry like he's some kind of-"
"You horrid, horrid monster! How can you say that about a human being-"
"lazy layabout. Harry was the hardest working wizard I know! It's not his fault that Voldemort was after him-"
"Harry was the kindest, most generous wizard I'd ever had the good fortune to know, and if you had any sense of human decency at all, you'd see that."
"If it was up to him he'd be living with his parents. God knows he never wanted to live with the likes of you!"
"He's been more decent a person in his seventeen years than you've been in a lifetime! Now I see why Harry-"
"That will do, you two," Dumbledore said quietly and both Neville and Ron sat back down. Hermione was staring, shocked at Vernon's callousness.
"Did I just hear someone say Harry's dead?" Dudley peeked into the room holding a large bowl of ice cream.
"Yes, I'm afraid it is true." Dumbledore said. He didn't feel quite so sorry for these people as he had a minute ago.
Dudley shrugged and got the chocolate syrup from the fridge, "Oh. Got himself blown up at that freak school, did he?" He sounded just like a younger version of Vernon. He reminded Ron of what Malfoy might be like in Goyle's body.
"Are there any other questions?" Dumbledore said, not as gently as he had the first time he asked.
"What happens to the protective charm?" Petunia asked quietly.
"The charm of course has been broken."
"What will happen to us?" Petunia screeched, "How am I supposed to protect my Duddykins from Voldemort?" Petunia wrung her hands, "Potter, getting himself blown up, just like his parents. Just like them..." She muttered.
There was another ringing silence, "How do you know about V-Voldemort?" Hermione asked.
"How could I not know!? My sister went to your freak school too! She brought home clippings of newspapers, the kind with moving pictures, about how the Dark Lord had begun to target mudbloods and their families. That was when the house next door to us blew up, and there was a great cloud that looked like the oily haired boy's tattoo. She said that they had meant to target us! Can you believe it? All because of some sort of cock and bull story about a prophecy. But they got the houses mixed. And then my sister and her freak husband went into hiding. Where did that leave us? I tell you! Inconsiderate! We could have been killed by that group of snake freaks. And then they were blown up and we got landed with a ticking time bomb. The only consolation was that we were protected from that maniac with a wand! The only decent thing my sister ever did! We vowed to never have anything to do with your lot again. We'd had enough, thank you very much. And then you," She pointed a bony finger at Dumbledore, "you go and send him his letters! You couldn't take a hint that we didn't want him to go. But you insisted. Didn't you! You said it was his destiny! But what happens instead? He gets himself blown up, just like his parents!"
"You're precisely right, Petunia, what happened to Harry is my fault." Dumbledore said quietly, "I refuse to deny my responsibility in Harry's death. I have made a terrible error. More of an error than you can even imagine. If you only knew. But what I have done cannot be undone. The only thing now to is to not allow history to repeat itself." He seemed to have aged rapidly during Petunias tirade, he looked his age, "If that is all, " Dumbledore stood up from the table, "I will leave you now."
"But-" Petunia began, but Dudley cut her off.
"What about Harry's things?" Dudley wanted to know.
"What?"
"His school things... his clothes.. his ...stuff." Leave it to Dudley to think of something like 'stuff'.
"I'm glad you asked that, I nearly forgot. Harry had a will. Wizarding law forbids the passing of wizarding artifacts to muggle relatives. However, if you still wish to hear the reading of the will, you may attend. No doubt your generosity will be rewarded." Dumbledore said with a tinge of acid in his voice the students had never heard him use before, "I've scheduled to be read at Briar and Nettlethorne's Attorney's at Law, they handle cross wizard/muggle cases. It will be at three o'clock next Friday." Dumbledore stood up and the three others followed suit. "We bid you good day,"
"And don't forget your urn." Vernon called after him.
Ron snatched it off the table. He was glad they didn't want it. He didn't want any part of Harry to stay in that horrible house. And so Harry left the Dursley's for the last time.
Kyrie eleison / Lord, have mercy upon us. Christe eleison / Christ, have mercy upon us. Kyrie eleison / Lord, have mercy upon us.
~~~
It was early on the last Hogsmeade weekend that Dumbledore felt comfortable in leaving the school for Little Whinging. Hogsmeade visits had not been cancelled. Dumbledore felt that getting their mind off things was just what the students needed, especially the seventh years, who knew Harry best and had their NEWTs drawing closer. Two weeks had passed since the death.
"Not going to Hogsmeade, Mr. Longbottom?" Neville, who had been staring out the window at the Quidditch pitch, swung his head around to face Dumbledore.
"No sir." He said simply. Dumbledore clicked his tongue, Neville looked terrible. His hair was sticking out at odd angles, like he hadn't bothered about combing it. His eyes were unfocused and bloodshot and it looked as though he'd lost weight.
"Do you need to see Madame Pomfrey?" Dumbledore said kindly.
"No...I'm, I'm alright." Dumbledore knew he was lying, but let it pass.
"Alright, Neville." He nodded sadly and continued walking, but then he stopped and turned around, "If you ever need to talk about anything. My door is always open."
"Okay, thanks." Neville shrugged, Dumbledore turned to leave, "Professor?"
"Yes Neville?"
"Do you have a minute now?"
Dumbledore vacillated, he'd just told Neville his door was always open, but he had somewhere to go, "Er, actually, I just was going to pay a visit to Harry's aunt and uncle-"
"I want to go!" Neville blurted out before Dumbledore could finish the sentence. Neville's eyes lit up and he looked more awake than he had a second ago. Dumbledore opened his mouth to protest, but then thought better of it. Perhaps it was part of the healing process, some sort of closure, and Neville looked so desperate.
"Very well, Neville-"
"And I think Ron and Hermione should go too... if they want to...."
Dumbledore sighed, perhaps it wasn't a bad idea, and two more couldn't hurt.
"Alright, but aren't they at Hogsmeade?" They had signed up to go, but that was before...
"No." It seemed the three people with the greatest need for a Hogsmeade weekend were precisely the three who didn't end up attending.
Dumbledore nodded, "Why don't you go ask them? I'll meet you in the front hall in fifteen minutes."
"Thanks, Professor." Neville said as he jogged off toward the Gryffindor common room, where he knew Ron and Hermione had been taking turns playing wizard chess and studying for NEWTs.
Dumbledore smiled sadly after him. It seemed he already had the weight of the world on his shoulders, and Dumbledore knew that it could only get worse for him. His age of innocence had come to a close.
---
Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Dumbledore arrived in Little Whinging a half- hour later dressed in muggle clothes. It was bad enough they would be the bearers of bad news, they couldn't go frightening them by looking...subnormal. Ron remembered how tetchy they'd gotten when his family had showed up by floo. Neville, who'd never worn muggle clothes in his life, was fascinated by them. This helped to distract him from the task at hand.
Dumbledore, rang the doorbell at number 4 Privet Drive. A bony woman peeked out from behind a curtain in the kitchen and quickly shut it again. There was no movement from in the house for the next five minutes.
Dumbledore rang the doorbell again, and knocked also. No movement. Dumbledore sighed. This was going to be more difficult than he thought. He waited another five minutes and knocked again.
"I saw someone in there." Neville said looking at an upstairs window, "Why aren't they answering."
"Because," Ron muttered, "They've got a thing against wizards. I bet they recognized me." His bright red hair couldn't have been forgotten that easily.
"What are we going to do if they don't answer?" Hermione asked,
"Wait until they do." Neville said quickly. Hermione looked at him, so did Ron. They'd never heard Neville be so assertive, "Well, they have to know don't they? It wouldn't be right to just leave when we know they're in there."
"We could leave a note." Hermione suggested
"That won't work, that's been tried. They won't open them" Ron said, then added after a second, "We could send a howler, it opens itself."
"A howler? Oh that's real nice Ron. A howler announcing the death of a loved one." Hermione rolled her eyes. "You really do have the emotional capacity of a teaspoon."
"Hey! You don't know these people, Hermione. They-"
Just when they thought the door would never open. It did. On the other side was Aunt Petunia, with a rather sour expression on her face, "Come in! Don't just stand in the front like that!" She craned her long neck through the doorway, peering up and down the street, as if making sure that none of the neighbors had seen them. She shut the door quickly.
"Who's at the door mum?" A voice called from the living room.
"No one of any consequence Dudders." Looking directly at Ron. She turned to Dumbledore, "What do you want?"
"Who's at the door, Petunia-" A large man the looked something like a walrus poked his head out of the kitchen. When he saw the group, his small piggish eyes narrowed. He could tell wizarding folk when he saw it, "Oh, don't tell me, the boy's been expelled from that freak school of his and you need for us to take him in full time. I'll tell you right now, I won't have it." Ron, Neville and Hermione's blood pressure went up by several points, but Dumbledore refused to rise to the occasion, even if it was his freak school.
"If only it were something as trivial as expulsion."
Vernon guffawed, "Well, get on with it then. State your business at once, or I'll call the police."
"That won't be necessary, Mr. Dursley. ah. perhaps it would be best if Harry's cousin was here to hear what I have to say as well." Again, Vernon's eyes narrowed.
"I'll not have my son exposed to the likes of you." he said icily. Dumbledore sighed again... they always made things so difficult, "It's bad enough that ruddy pigeon keeps turning up all this week. No respect for people's private lives"
"Very well then," Dumbledore said crisply, "You can inform your son when you find it convenient. Nevertheless, it would have been easier if you answered my owls." Dumbledore pulled a medium sized jar from out of his breast pocket. It could only have fit there by magic. A look of fear and loathing crossed Vernon's face, "I am afraid I have some terrible news. Harry was involved in the fight against a dark wizard, as you may know already. During a skirmish with the enemy, Harry was struck with a powerful dark curse." Dumbledore paused, "I'm very sorry, but your nephew is dead." Hearing the events of that night again made Ron, Hermione, and Neville go very pale.
There was a stunned silence, punctuated by the canned laugh track coming from whatever show Dudley was watching.
"Why....why don't we all go in the kitchen?" Petunia said, heading for the kitchen herself.
When they were seated around the table, Dumbledore continued, "Perhaps it will be of some consolation to know that the curse kills instantly, he felt no pain." Neville looked like he was going to be sick, "And he died a hero's death, saving a friend." Neville looked like he was about to cry, Dumbledore put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, Petunia held her hand to her mouth, Vernon still didn't look convinced, "If you have any questions, I will answer them the best I can."
"Have the funeral arrangements been made then?" Vernon asked.
"Yes. Harry's body has been cremated." There was no use telling them about how it was cremated. He put the jar he'd been holding onto the table. It was decorated with phoenixes and griffons and the handles were golden snitches.
"And there aren't any charges, are there? We aren't going to be billed for that expensive looking urn?"
Dumbledore's lips went very thin, like McGonagall's and his eyes turned an icy blue, "No, of course not."
"Good. The boy's freeloaded off of us all his life, he doesn't need to do it in death." He'd said the wrong thing. The cup of coffee in Vernon's hand exploded, spraying hot coffee and porcelain shards onto him. He immediately glared at Dumbledore. But Ron and Neville stood up and began talking at once. Ron's face was as red as his hair and Neville had gone very pale and had a wild, sleep deprived look about him.
"How DARE you talk about Harry like he's some kind of-"
"You horrid, horrid monster! How can you say that about a human being-"
"lazy layabout. Harry was the hardest working wizard I know! It's not his fault that Voldemort was after him-"
"Harry was the kindest, most generous wizard I'd ever had the good fortune to know, and if you had any sense of human decency at all, you'd see that."
"If it was up to him he'd be living with his parents. God knows he never wanted to live with the likes of you!"
"He's been more decent a person in his seventeen years than you've been in a lifetime! Now I see why Harry-"
"That will do, you two," Dumbledore said quietly and both Neville and Ron sat back down. Hermione was staring, shocked at Vernon's callousness.
"Did I just hear someone say Harry's dead?" Dudley peeked into the room holding a large bowl of ice cream.
"Yes, I'm afraid it is true." Dumbledore said. He didn't feel quite so sorry for these people as he had a minute ago.
Dudley shrugged and got the chocolate syrup from the fridge, "Oh. Got himself blown up at that freak school, did he?" He sounded just like a younger version of Vernon. He reminded Ron of what Malfoy might be like in Goyle's body.
"Are there any other questions?" Dumbledore said, not as gently as he had the first time he asked.
"What happens to the protective charm?" Petunia asked quietly.
"The charm of course has been broken."
"What will happen to us?" Petunia screeched, "How am I supposed to protect my Duddykins from Voldemort?" Petunia wrung her hands, "Potter, getting himself blown up, just like his parents. Just like them..." She muttered.
There was another ringing silence, "How do you know about V-Voldemort?" Hermione asked.
"How could I not know!? My sister went to your freak school too! She brought home clippings of newspapers, the kind with moving pictures, about how the Dark Lord had begun to target mudbloods and their families. That was when the house next door to us blew up, and there was a great cloud that looked like the oily haired boy's tattoo. She said that they had meant to target us! Can you believe it? All because of some sort of cock and bull story about a prophecy. But they got the houses mixed. And then my sister and her freak husband went into hiding. Where did that leave us? I tell you! Inconsiderate! We could have been killed by that group of snake freaks. And then they were blown up and we got landed with a ticking time bomb. The only consolation was that we were protected from that maniac with a wand! The only decent thing my sister ever did! We vowed to never have anything to do with your lot again. We'd had enough, thank you very much. And then you," She pointed a bony finger at Dumbledore, "you go and send him his letters! You couldn't take a hint that we didn't want him to go. But you insisted. Didn't you! You said it was his destiny! But what happens instead? He gets himself blown up, just like his parents!"
"You're precisely right, Petunia, what happened to Harry is my fault." Dumbledore said quietly, "I refuse to deny my responsibility in Harry's death. I have made a terrible error. More of an error than you can even imagine. If you only knew. But what I have done cannot be undone. The only thing now to is to not allow history to repeat itself." He seemed to have aged rapidly during Petunias tirade, he looked his age, "If that is all, " Dumbledore stood up from the table, "I will leave you now."
"But-" Petunia began, but Dudley cut her off.
"What about Harry's things?" Dudley wanted to know.
"What?"
"His school things... his clothes.. his ...stuff." Leave it to Dudley to think of something like 'stuff'.
"I'm glad you asked that, I nearly forgot. Harry had a will. Wizarding law forbids the passing of wizarding artifacts to muggle relatives. However, if you still wish to hear the reading of the will, you may attend. No doubt your generosity will be rewarded." Dumbledore said with a tinge of acid in his voice the students had never heard him use before, "I've scheduled to be read at Briar and Nettlethorne's Attorney's at Law, they handle cross wizard/muggle cases. It will be at three o'clock next Friday." Dumbledore stood up and the three others followed suit. "We bid you good day,"
"And don't forget your urn." Vernon called after him.
Ron snatched it off the table. He was glad they didn't want it. He didn't want any part of Harry to stay in that horrible house. And so Harry left the Dursley's for the last time.