Chapter Twenty-Four

A Nice Pair of Woolen Socks

"Well."

Harry looked up as Tabitha walked into her sitting room. Ginny and Hermione were on the couch beside him, pale and wide-eyed. A bruise was forming along Ginny's temple where one of the Slytherins had hit her. Ron was nursing bleeding knuckles and a split lip in one of the armchairs. Harry was ignoring the pain in his chest that he suspected was a cracked rib. They had been waiting there for hours, since Tabitha sent them up just after Dumbledore collapsed.

"Is Dumbledore all right?" Hermione asked urgently.

Tabitha sat down. "He's with Madam Pomfrey," Tabitha said, sounding as though she were choosing her words very carefully. "Professor McGonagall hasn't said much yet to the staff. We're … waiting."

"Is he going to be all right?" Harry asked.

After a long moment in which Tabitha became very interested in the hem of her skirt, she said shakily, "I don't know." She collected herself and added briskly, "This is not to be discussed with anyone outside of this room, understand? It's imperative that the rest of the school thinks Dumbledore just had some sort of spell. As it is, the Daily Prophet is going to have this all over its front page. This is very dangerous."

"And what about Malfoy?" Harry said. "I wasn't the only one who saw that mark on his arm. A lot of other people saw it. Isn't that going to make the Prophet?"

Tabitha shook her head. "Harry, you know the Prophet is with the Ministry, and the Ministry is with Voldemort. Besides," she added, tossing a piece of parchment toward him, "now Malfoy has more protection than ever."

Harry read the parchment quickly.

Tabitha,

Just heard word of Professor Dumbledore. I reckon half

of Britain knows by now. Sorry to say, I've got worse news.

Got to Azkaban just now to take my post guarding the prisoners

and found the place a shambles. Three Aurors dead, three

more barely made it to St. Mungo's, and the Death Eaters

imprisoned last spring are gone. Haven't alerted the Ministry,

as per Dumbledore's orders to keep anything of this sort quiet.

Tell Minerva for me; I'm at the ready if you need me at Hogwarts.

Your favorite cousin.

"They've escaped again!" he said.

"I just received that from Tonks," Tabitha said quietly. "The escape happened after Dumbledore collapsed."

"Someone alerted them," Harry said. "Someone alerted the Death Eaters!"

Tabitha took a deep breath. "Dumbledore had nothing more than a spell, you understand? He will be at breakfast tomorrow morning, looking healthier than ever. The rest of the wizarding world will think he is perfectly fine."

"Won't he be?" Ginny asked.

"I told you, I don't know."

"So how will he—?"

"Tonks," Harry said. Tabitha nodded.

"Tonks?"

"The Professor Dumbledore you see at breakfast tomorrow morning is the real Professor Dumbledore, all right? If he acts oddly—" Tabitha smiled. "Well, more so than usual, it can be explained somehow. But as far as your classmates know, he's not ill."

"We understand," Hermione said.

"Good," Tabitha said. "I can't underscore enough how important this is."

"But Tabitha, I can't understand how Malfoy can just walk away after so many people saw his forearm! They know what that means!" Harry cried.

"Is not fair, is it Harry?" Tabitha yelled. "Well, it's going to stay that way. And it's only going to get worse as long as Voldemort's around. Face it, Harry, right now, there are very few people standing behind us. They would rather believe that everything is just as it was after Voldemort disappeared. They don't want to face the idea that Voldemort may be back, because it seems so unbelievable. And with Dumbledore— " Tabitha stopped herself and lowered her voice. "I just mean, we know the truth. We will tread lightly around Malfoy, keep our eyes on him … but that's all we can do right now." She sighed.

"What about punishments for the fight?" Harry asked.

"The fight. Ah, yes, Harry and Ron, your second fight this term. Luckily for you, Professors McGonagall and Snape have decided not to give anyone a detention. But both teams have lost one hundred points each for their houses … and both have been suspended from Quidditch for the rest of term."

Harry wanted to protest, and he could see Ron did, too, but he knew better. Tabitha had no control over their punishments, and besides, Harry knew they deserved what they got. Nonetheless, he dreaded returning to the common room.

That night, Hermione and Ginny seemed to want to discuss Dumbledore's collapse and the subsequent escape of the Death Eaters, but all Harry wanted was to sleep. Luckily, no one from the Quidditch team was hanging around the common room to ask about their punishment. He and Ron trudged up to the dormitory to find Seamus, Dean, and Neville still awake, discussing the Quidditch match.

"D'you reckon Dumbledore's all right?" Dean said.

"He is," Harry said quickly.

"How do you know, Harry?" Neville asked.

"Tab— er, Professor McNoira just told us."

"Are you in loads of trouble over that fight?" Dean asked. "I mean, it's your second this term."

Harry glanced at Ron. "We've been suspended from Quidditch for the rest of term," he said. "The whole team has. Slytherin and Gryffindor won't have a chance at the cup this year." Dean, Seamus, and Neville groaned.

"I suppose, though, that's not as important as what else happened?" Dean asked eagerly.

"What do you mean?" Harry said.

"Well, we didn't see it," Seamus said. "But we heard that Malfoy— well, that he's got the Dark Mark on his arm. Is it true?"

Harry looked at Ron again. After a moment, he said, "No. It was a spot of mud, is all. Someone must have been seeing things and started a rumor." The other boys looked very disappointed. "I've got to go to bed," Harry said. Without another word, he closed the curtains around his four-poster.

Laying in bed, he tried not to think of everything that was happening. He had to clear his mind. He fell asleep staring blankly at the ceiling.

Though Tabitha had said they would see Dumbledore at breakfast the next morning, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were still surprised to walk into the Great Hall and see Albus Dumbledore sitting at the staff table, laughing, eating, his face full and healthy, looking better than he had all term. Students in the Great Hall were already chatting about well he looked, wondering what could have made him seem so ill the day before.

"Tonks is very good, isn't she?" Hermione whispered, sitting across from Harry. He glanced up at the staff table. Even Dumbledore's nose was perfectly crooked.

"She is," he said.

The Great Hall was nearly full within twenty minutes, and Tonks stood up, her pale blue Dumbledore eyes twinkling. "I hope you are all pleased to see me," she said in Dumbledore's soft rumble. "And I hope you will forgive all the excitement I caused yesterday. As for the other excitement of the day." Tonks paused to look at Harry, then toward Malfoy. "I'm sorry to say that both Slytherin and Gryffindor have lost their Quidditch privileges, as well as one hundred points each."

There was a loud groan from both the Slytherin and Gryffindor tables, while Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw chattered excitedly about their boosted chances of winning the Quidditch Cup. Tonks raised her hand, and the hall quieted down.

"There will be a trip to Hogsmeade village in two weeks. If you wish to go and have the appropriate permission slips, sign up with your heads of houses by the morning of the trip. Now, enjoy your breakfasts."

Ginny sighed happily. "The trip to Hogsmeade should be good. Get away from all this dreadful stuff for a day, right?"

The next two weeks went by very slowly. The sixth and seventh years had their first lessons with Norbert. To Harry's surprise, only four students ended up in the hospital wing with burns. And according to Charlie, the potions were going well; the Order had only one month left before the first batches would be ready.

Harry held two more DA lessons, where he was peppered with questions about the Dark Mark on Malfoy's arm. He reluctantly explained it away as he had with his mates.

Tabitha kept Harry as up-to-date as she could on Dumbledore's condition; she said he was resting in his flat, with a private healer from St. Mungo's always at his side. For the time being, Tonks' disguise was working. Even the Daily Prophetarticle about Dumbledore's collapse became much less sensational when Tonks spoke to a reporter and assured the paper that Albus Dumbledore was in good health.

Finally, the day of the Hogsmeade trip arrived. Harry and his friends promised not to speak of Quidditch or Dumbledore or the Order; they wanted to enjoy a worry-free day in the village, sitting in The Three Broomsticks with steaming mugs of butterbeer.

They went into Zonko's Joke Shop first, but they didn't buy anything. The Weasley's Wizard Wheezes display was the same as it had been on their last trip, though a sign promised new inventions by May. "Wonder what they're working on," Ron said, pointing to his brothers' sign.

They went to Honeyduke's next, where they each spent a small fortune on sweets. They had just left Honeyduke's when Hermione pointed out a new shop. "'Mademoiselle Malkin's Muffs n' Stuff: Robes and Accessories.' Oh, let's do go in." Ginny followed her eagerly.

Harry and Ron rolled their eyes, but went along, anyway.

The shop was small and cozy. A fire roared at the far end, where a pretty young witch sat knitting. Above the fireplace behind her was a family portrait. Harry recognized the mother as Madame Malkin, who owned the robe shop in Diagon Alley, and it was the daughter knitting the scarf that Hermione was now admiring.

"This is lovely," she purred, stroking the dark pink wrap. Ginny murmured in agreement.

"Only four Galleons," Mademoiselle Malkin told Hermione. "Six with the matching hat." She indicated the cap lying beside her.

Ron rolled his eyes again at Harry, though he seemed to become interested in a soft blue sweater. "Nicer than Mum's," Harry heard him mumble, though he turned green upon seeing the price.

Harry wandered the shop aimlessly until Hermione bounded toward him, wearing the scarf and cap. Ginny was beside her in her own blue scarf. "Ready to go?" they asked.

"Sure." As Harry headed towards the door, he noticed hanging upon the wall a pair of large, thick woolen socks. "I'll catch you up," he told his friends.

"We'll meet you at the Three Broomsticks," Ron said, leaving with the girls.

With great care, Harry took the creamy white socks to Mademoiselle Malkin. "My favorite pair," she told him. "I've never knitted more perfect socks. See the toes? I can never seem to get them right, but theses ones … they are eight Galleons, you know. Just for the pair."

Harry handed her the gold. "Thank you."

"Thank you." Mademoiselle Malkin wrapped the socks carefully and passed them to Harry. He held them to his chest tightly as he left the shop.

"What'd you buy, mate?" Ron asked as he joined his friends at the Three Broomsticks.

"Just something for Tabitha," Harry said quickly. "I think her birthday's soon."

"Really? Right near mine?" Ron asked. "I can't believe I'm seventeen already. I can get my license to Apparate this summer, before all of you!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I've been seventeen for ages, Ron. Did you forget that? I plan on getting my license this summer as well."

As Ron chatted furiously about Apparition, Harry kept one hand on his package, thinking about Dumbledore. In his first year, Dumbledore had told Harry that his greatest desire was a nice pair of woolen socks. Harry had been sure then that Dumbledore wasn't being entirely honest, but he couldn't shake the feeling he had now that Dumbledore still would appreciate these socks.

Harry and his friends bought some butterbeer to drink on their way back to the castle. Harry wasn't paying attention to what Ron, Hermione and Ginny were saying, or if they were even talking to him. When they reached the front hall, Harry separated from them.

"Harry, are you all right?" Hermione said.

"Yes, fine, I've just got to … to give this to Tabitha." He hurried upstairs, leaving his friends in a bewildered state.

He had just reached the stone gargoyle that led to Dumbledore's office when he realized that Dumbledore did not necessarily live there as well. Maybe he'd find Tabitha after all; she'd know where Dumbledore lived.

Just then, the gargoyle opened up and Professor McGonagall stepped out. "Mr. Potter," she said, surprised. "Can I help you?"

"I wanted to see Professor Dumbledore," Harry said. "But I wasn't sure—"

Professor McGonagall smiled sadly. There were deep lines around her eyes. "Come along, Potter." She led Harry to the sixth floor, to a corridor past Tabitha and Charlie's flat. They passed Madame Pomfrey a moment later.

"Oh, Minerva," she said. She looked at Harry. "Are you bringing Mr. Potter to see Professor Dumbledore?"

"Yes, Madame Pomfrey. How is he?"

"Awake, and anxious to get out of bed, but I will not allow it. He needs to save his strength. He seems to be doing much better today than yesterday, but I will still watch him, you can be sure of that. He thinks he's still a man half his age. I left him a potion, be sure he finishes it."

"Thank you, Poppy, I will." Professor McGonagall led Harry to the sixth-floor corridor where the dented suits of armor stood listlessly, their swords and scythes hanging at their sides. Around the corner, past the painting of the doe, was a painting of a large, dark cypress tree and a field of red poppies. A great white dove flew in and out of the painting, finally resting on a branch of the tree. The bird looked at Harry and Professor McGonagall with large, dark eyes. "Fizzing Whizbee," Professor McGonagall said. The dove cooed, and a door without a knob of any sort appeared in the wall upon which the paiting hung. Professor McGonagall tapped the door with her wand three times, and it opened up slowly.

Harry followed Professor McGonagall through the flat, which was just as full of interesting things as Dumbledore's office. They ended at Dumbledore's bedroom, where Harry could see the headmaster lying in his bed through the half-open door. A half-drunk potion sat beside him.

"Professor Dumbledore, I've brought someone to see you. And Madame Pomfrey would like you to finish that potion. I'll leave you and Mr. Potter alone." Professor McGonagall closed the door behind Harry.

Dumbledore didn't look any better to Harry. In fact, he looked much worse than he had the day he collapsed. Harry was almost afraid to ask how the headmaster was feeling, but he did.

Dumbledore sighed, a shaky, wheezing sort of sound. "As well as I can feel, cooped up in here," he said. "But Madame Pomfrey and the healers at St. Mungo's insist. My healer's off brewing me another potion to drink." He looked at Harry gravely. "You started another fight with Draco Malfoy."

"I'm so sorry, Professor," Harry said. "I wasn't thinking. I should have been, I know, but I wasn't. I let him get to me."

Dumbledore nodded. "You need to learn to keep your head, Harry. That is the most important thing I've learned over the years. If you keep your head, you will always have an advantage over your opponent. What's that you have?" he said, noticing the package in Harry's hand.

"Oh." Harry suddenly felt embarrassed. What was he thinking, socks? Surely Professor Dumbledore didn't desire these more than anything. With some hesitation, he handed over the package. "A gift for you," he mumbled. "I saw them in Hogsmeade and thought you may like them."

Professor Dumbledore unwrapped the package carefully. He stared at the creamy white socks for a moment, then held them in his thin hands, turning them over and admiring them. He stroked the soft wool, and Harry squirmed uncomfortably when he noticed tears welling up in Dumbledore's eyes. "Thank you, Mr. Potter," he said softly. "This is the greatest gift I've ever received."

"Oh, Professor, really …"

"No, Harry, really. You remember what I told you about what I would see in the Mirror of Erised."

Harry smiled. "I thought of that day as soon as I saw these."

Dumbledore grasped Harry's hand weakly. "Thank you," he said.

Madame Pomfrey and a dark-haired man dressed in the uniform of a St. Mungo's healer walked in. "Mr. Potter," Madame Pomfrey said. "It's nice to see that you want to visit with Professor Dumbledore, but he needs his rest. Come now, out."

"I'll see you, Professor," Harry said.

"Remember, Harry— keep your head," Dumbledore said. Harry nodded. As walked out of the flat, he heard Dumbledore asking Madame Pomfrey to help him slip on his new socks. Harry grinned.

Back in the Gryffindor common room, Harry joined Hermione in watching Ron and Ginny play a game of wizard's chess. They ate their sweets from Honeyduke's and even started some of their homework for Monday. After Hermione and Harry each had an unsuccessful go against Ron at chess, the four of them decided to go to bed. Harry drew the curtains around his bed and thought of Dumbledore.

He was having a strange dream. Hagrid was brewing the Order's potions outside by Norbert's keep. The dragon suddenly became out of control. AJ Moody tried to blast Norbert with a Stunning spell, but the spell went awry and blew up the cauldrons containing the potions.

Just as AJ was stumbling toward the destroyed cauldrons, Harry felt someone shaking him awake. "Ron, get off …" he mumbled.

"Mr. Potter, please get up," came Professor McGonagall's sharp voice. Harry opened his eyes immediately. Ron was in the bed next to him, rubbing his eyes sleepily. "Come down to the common room," Professor McGonagall said softly.

After she left, Harry put his glasses on and gave Ron a funny look. "What d'you reckon she wants?" Ron yawned.

"Maybe it's got something to do with the Order," Harry replied.

Hermione and Ginny were sitting, half-asleep, in a pair of armchairs. Professor McGonagall was sitting stiffly across from them. Harry and Ron flopped down on a small sofa. The four students yawned in unison.

"Something wrong, Professor?" Hermione murmured sleepily.

"I'm afraid there is, Miss Granger." McGonagall's eyes welled up. She dabbed at them with a handkerchief. "Professor Dumbledore died this morning."

Harry's head was still in a cloud. He didn't think he'd heard her correctly. "Sorry, Professor?" he yawned.

"He died just over an hour ago." Professor McGonagall sniffed, and continued to dab her eyes.

"I—I don't believe it," Hermione said softly. Her eyes began to fill with tears as well, and Harry saw that Ginny had already begun crying. Ron's mouth was gaping.

"Died?" he said with disbelief. "But—but it's Dumbledore."

Harry was thinking the same thing. He though Dumbledore would always be there … leading the Order, protecting Harry from Voldemort … Dumbledore couldn't be dead, Professor McGonagall had to be mistaken … Harry had just seen him yesterday …

"What I am about to tell you is very important," Professor McGonagall said. "No one is to know what's happened, do you understand? As far as the other students are concerned, Professor Dumbledore is alive and well. Nymphadora Tonks will continue masquerading as the headmaster. You understand the importance of this, I hope? If Voldemort receives even the tiniest inkling that something has happened—"

"We understand," Ron said softly.

"Good," Professor McGonagall said. "I'd like you all to meet at Charlie and Tabitha's flat after dinner tonight. The Order will be there to discuss … to discuss funeral plans." She dabbed at her eyes again and left them in the common room, still reeling with the news.

Hermione got up from her chair and curled up next to Ron, crying into his shoulder. Ginny looked at Harry with concern. "Harry? Do you need to …?"

Harry didn't hear anything she said. He just stared.