Chapter Twenty-Five

Shaken

"Harry, please say something," Ginny said.

But Harry didn't know what to say. Dumbledore couldn't be dead. He had seemed just fine yesterday--ill, but not near death.

Harry didn't realize what he was doing until he felt Ron pulling him back. "Harry, Harry, where are you going?"

Blinking, Harry saw that he was about to climb through the portrait-hole. He back down and returned to his seat on the sofa. "I--I need to see for myself. If I just go back to his flat--"

"Harry, what are you talking about?" Hermione said.

"I was there yesterday, talking to him. He can't be dead!"

"Professor McGonagall wouldn't lie to us," Ginny said gently.

"But I don't know what to do without him," Harry said. "He was keeping us all safe from Voldemort. He's saved my life and kept me from getting into trouble loads of times … what, what am I supposed …" He looked around wildly.

"Harry, Harry!" Ginny cried, pinning him against the back of the sofa. "Harry, calm down. You're not lost; none of us is. Professor McGonagall and the other members of the Order won't let anything happen to us. They'll keep us all as safe as Dumbledore did." Ginny, however, did not look entirely convinced by herself.

"I just can't believe it," Harry said softly, looking down at his hands. His friends sat beside him on the sofa quietly and, one-by-one, they fell asleep there, all except Harry. He stayed awake, staring at the announcement board, listening to his friends' deep, slow breathing.

A little after dawn, Danny Flanagan, Jamie Doyle, and Francis O'Brien bounded down the stairs from their dormitory with a handful of friends. "Hi, Harry," his teammates said cheerily. Their initial gloom over suspension from Quidditch had faded when they were assured by Professor McGonagall that their positions would still be theirs the following term.

"You're up early … or did you sleep out here?" Danny Flanagan said, noticing Ron, Hermione, and Ginny.

"We were, uh, up late," Harry said.

"Okay, well, see you at breakfast then!" Danny cried. He and his group trotted out of the common room merrily. Hermione stirred as the portrait-hole closed.

"Oh," Hermione murmured. "We fell asleep out here, didn't we?" She yawned. "Oh … I've just remembered. I … I thought maybe it was a terrible dream."

"It wasn't," Harry said shortly.

After a moment, Hermione said, "Maybe we ought to get dressed and go down to breakfast. We're supposed to act as though everything were normal." She nudged Ginny and Ron, and she and Ginny went toward the girls' dormitory.

Ron looked at Harry to say something, but Harry stopped him. With a forced smile, he said, "He's not dead, remember? Everything is normal." He walked to the dormitory, leaving Ron to scramble behind him, wondering just what was going through Harry's head.

The truth was, there was a lot going through Harry's head. He couldn't get much of a grasp on most of what he was thinking, but Sirius kept making his way to the forefront of Harry's mind.

Losing Dumbledore would be so much easier if only Harry had Sirius. Harry just wanted to hear his voice, his familiar laugh.

As he slipped on a shirt he hadn't worn in months, a piece of parchment fell onto his bed. Glancing at it, Harry realized it was the Marauder's Map. "Oh!" he cried.

"What is it, mate?" Ron said.

"Nothing, never mind," Harry said, shoving the map into his pocket as his other mates began to wake. "Ready?"

The Great Hall was as bright and animated as usual. Up at the staff table, only a handful of teachers looked less than cheery. Harry assumed most of them still thought Tonks was Dumbledore.

It was odd, seeing Dumbledore in the Great Hall when Harry knew it wasn't really him, that the real Dumbledore was cold and quiet somewhere, his death a tightly guarded secret.

Harry did not want to go to his classes, but Hermione insisted. Only Harry, Ron, and Hermione knew why Hagrid spent the entire Care of Magical Creatures lesson sniffling and bursting into tears every ten minutes. Finally, Charlie, who was able to act as though nothing had happened, halted class and led Hagrid into his hut. He emerged a few minutes later, alone, and resumed the lesson as if nothing had happened. Harry could hear Hagrid wailing and hiccupping as he likely drank a tankard of firewhiskey.

During Defense Against the Dark Arts, Tabitha, like Charlie, remained composed. She didn't hesitate to take fifty points from Slytherin when she caught a wild-eyed Malfoy whispering furiously to Pansy Parkinson, and when Malfoy was about to protest, Harry saw Tabitha deliberately but casually roll up her sleeves and brush her bare forearms toward Malfoy. It only took a moment to do, but Malfoy understood the intent and clamped his mouth shut. He knew there was still a whisper around the school that someone had seen the Dark Mark on his arm.

While Harry was half-asleep with Dean Thomas in Divination, Ron was in Potions. To Harry's surprise, Ron told him later that Snape seemed very unnerved during his lesson that afternoon. He dropped three vials and accidentally added pixie wings when he was supposed to add crushed nogtail hooves. He didn't take so much as a point from Gryffindor when Neville's potion turned a thick blue rather than a soupy red; he didn't even mutter something nasty under his breath.

"But wait, mate," Ron said. "It gets weirder."

Crabbe, Goyle, and some other Slytherins started throwing beetle eyes around the room. An eye landed squarely between Snape's eyes as he turned from Ron's cauldron. He lunged toward Crabbe and grabbed him by his robe. "Enough!" he screamed. "Twenty points from Slytherin." He threw Crabbe back into his seat and knocked Goyle's cauldron over, spilling the potion all over the Slytherins. A thick fur grew all over their exposed skin.

Ron said the entire class was silent and absolutely still as Snape turned around. "Get back to work!" he barked. The Slytherins begged to be sent to the hospital wing, and Snape waved them off. Everyone else was afraid to speak for the rest of the lesson. When the bell rang, Ron ran as fast as he could to meet up with Harry.

"I can't believe that," Harry said.

"Can't believe what?" Hermione said, joining them from the direction of Arithmancy. Ron told her quickly what had happened.

"I wonder why he's so shaken up?" Hermione said.

"Well, it's obvious," Ron said, lowering his voice. "Dumbledore's the only reason he's in the Order, and the only reason he's still at Hogwarts. No one else trusts him like Dumbledore did. He's probably afraid he's going to get chucked from school, maybe even chucked from the Order."

"It's still strange. You'd think he'd be a bit more composed," Hermione said, frowning.

"Let's go clear out the common room so we can talk about it."

"I can't," Harry said quickly, remembering the Marauder's Map in his pocket.

"But Harry …"

"Listen, I'll see you all at dinner. I, er, have something to do right now." Without another word, Harry bolted toward the seventh floor, toward the Room of Requirement. The corridor he needed was thankfully empty. He stared at the blank wall across from the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. He took a deep breath. "I hope this works," he muttered.

He walked back and forth three times, thinking with all his might, I need to see my dad and Sirius. I need to see my dad and Sirius.

A door appeared in the blank wall. Looking around and finding the corridor still empty, Harry let himself into the room, expecting to find it empty, perhaps with three chairs for himself and the two Marauders he planned to summon from the map.

To his shock, the room wasn't empty.

Two men were sitting at a chess board, staring intently at the quivering little pieces. The older, dark-haired man with the thin face laughed, a bark-like sound. "Got you! Checkmate!"

The younger man, who looked remarkably like Harry, only several years older, threw a knight at the other man. "You have a few years on me now, is all."

"Didn't have chess in Azkaban, mate." There was a bitter tone to the man's voice. He looked like--but it couldn't be true. Harry took a step forward.

The men looked up. There was no mistaking that they were James Potter and Sirius Black, but how was this possible?

"There he is," James Potter whispered. "My Harry, all grown up." He stood and began walking toward Harry cautiously. "My boy," he said, extending a hand toward Harry. Harry instinctively pulled away. "I can't hurt you," James said quickly. "I can't even touch you, in fact. See?" He waved a hand right through Harry's head, but, unlike the icy feeling one got when touching a ghost, Harry felt nothing. "We're not ghosts, or preserved personalities like the ones I'm sure you've found in that map," he said, pointing to the parchment in Harry's hand. "In fact, I don't know what we are. Only that you needed us, and we're here."

"Like the time you came out of my and Voldemort's wands and saved me?"

James smiled. "Yes. I remember that. And look at you--you've grown since then, yes? How long has it been?"

"Two years," Harry said, distracted by Sirius, who was still sitting at the chess table, fiddling with a bishop. "Sirius," he said.

Sirius looked up. "Harry."

James nudged his son toward Sirius. "Go on," he said. "I know you probably need to talk to him more than to me."

Harry walked toward Sirius, and they stared at each other for some time. Finally, Sirius looked away, tears in his eyes. "How could I have done that to you, Harry? Falling through the veil like that? When you needed me? I could have stopped myself, I could have done something … I was just so surprised … Harry, I'm sorry."

"It wasn't your fault," Harry said. "I know you wouldn't leave me on purpose."

Sirius looked guilty. "I didn't feel guilty until just now, when I saw you. I'm happy where I am, you know. I'm with your mum … and your dad."

"And Professor Dumbledore," James said.

Harry looked at his father. "That's why I wanted to see you. Both of you. I thought I could just talk to the map … just hearing your voices would be enough. But to see you both here …" He was too overwhelmed to continue. He could hardly believe he was standing here, talking to his father and Sirius … not just memories of themselves at sixteen, but the men themselves, as they were when … when they died.

"Sit down," James said, and Harry watched as three chairs appeared beside the chess table. He sat down across from James and Sirius. "You feel alone now, don't you?" He sighed. "There isn't anything I can say to you about that, except of course that you have your friends, and your cousin, Tabitha. By all accounts, you know, we shouldn't be here. Like I said, I don't know how we're here, talking to you, especially when our words won't do anything to help you. But we couldn't be happier to be here."

"Do you need to ask us something?" Sirius said. "Is that why we're here?"

Harry shrugged. "I … I don't know. I just don't know what to do now, without either of you, and now without Dumbledore …"

"You have us, though," James said. "See? Just when you needed us, we were here. And we don't actually have to be here to be with you. D'you know what I mean?"

Harry grinned. "Yeah. I only wish … well, I only wish I could touch you."

James smiled sadly. "Believe me, Harry, all I want right now is to give my son a great big hug. I still remember holding you when you were a baby."

"I really haven't got anything to say," Harry said. "But I don't want to leave you, either of you. I'll never see you again, will I?"

"Not until you die," Sirius replied. "But don't let that hang over you. You have plenty to do and see before that happens. Live the life neither of us got to."

Harry looked at the chess table. "Can we play? My friend Ron's been teaching me since our first year; I think I'm quite good now."

James grinned. "All right. Let's have a go."

Harry didn't know how much time had passed while he sat there with James and his father, playing chess and laughing as he listened to their stories from their years at Hogwarts. Harry was glad to hear that James had stopped being such a git in his seventh year because he was madly in love with Lily Evans and knew she would never bother with him if he kept acting like such a bully. He said being Head Boy also helped straighten him out a bit, though the position also made it easier for him to break the rules with Sirius and Peter Pettigrew.

They told Harry about Laura Potter-Black and the rest of the Potter family. Harry found out that he and James actually took after James' uncle, Tabitha's grandfather, and that James had had an older sister. Harry was happy to learn all about his family, but at the same time, he was disappointed he'd never be able to meet them.

Harry was laughing at a story about his grandfather and an enchanted bicycle when something flashed in front of him and a red-and-gold feather landed in his lap. He held it up. "Fawkes," he said softly.

Sirius and James looked at each other. "You're wanted, I suppose," James said. "We've kept you longer than we should have."

"No," Harry said. "I can't leave you, not now. Like you said, I won't see you again until I d--"

"Harry," Sirius said softly. "You can't stay in this room forever with your dead father and godfather. Go on. Haven't you got an evil lord to destroy?"

"But--"

"I'm sorry, Harry. I love you," James said.

"I love you, Dad!" Harry cried, but James and Sirius had vanished, and so had the chess table and all the chairs. Harry stared at the feather on the ground, then glanced at his watch. Dinner had been over for nearly an hour; it was a surprise anyone waited this long to get him.

He looked back into the empty room once before walking out the door. He went downstairs to the sixth floor and tried to let himself into Tabitha and Charlie's flat.

"No entry," the knight said. "The door can only be opened from the inside until the Professors Weasley tell me otherwise!"

"Can you go get Tabitha then?" Harry said. "I'm supposed to be in there."

The knight gave an exaggerated sigh. "All right, I'll go see if the scraggly Potter boy's allowed in." He disappeared behind the frame, and came back a moment later. "Okay, you can go in!" he snapped. The portrait swung open. Tabitha was waiting at the door.

"Where have you been? We've been so worried," she said, shutting the door behind them.

"I was just thinking. I wanted to be alone."

Tabitha nodded. "I understand. Come in. We're nearly done, though." As they walked toward the sitting room, Tabitha whispered, "Did you hear about Snape's meltdown? He's in the hospital wing right now …"

"What? Wh--?"

"Harry! Oh thank goodness, I was so worried," Mrs. Weasley said, hugging him tightly. "Dreadful, dreadful. I can't even believe it. Here, sit, sit." She pushed Harry onto a sofa with Ron, Hermione, and Ginny.

All the Weasleys were there, as were several members of the Order--Mad-Eye Moody, Mrs. Figg, Mundungus Fletcher, Tonks, Professor McGonagall, AJ Moody. "Well, Potter, you missed most of what we've been going over about secrecy," Mad-Eye Moody began.

"I understand," Harry said. "No one's to know Dumbledore's dead; just us here. Everyone needs to think Tonks is Dumbledore."

"Tough shoes to fill," Tonks said sadly, playing with a lock of bright pink hair.

Mad-Eye nodded at Harry. "Which means Albus can't get a proper funeral."

Bill Weasley shook his head. "It's a shame," he said. "Dumbledore deserves the greatest funeral a wizard can get."

"But since that is not possible at this point," Professor McGonagall said, "we'll be having a very small, private ceremony in his honor. Tomorrow night, everyone is to meet in the Great Hall just before midnight. At midnight precisely, we are sealing off the room until we're done. Tabitha and Charlie will escort you downstairs," she told Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. "And, I'm sorry to say, tomorrow night will be last anything is said of Albus Dumbledore's having died until it is safe to reveal the truth. After tomorrow night," she dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief, and her voice was shaking, "Professor Dumbledore is, without question, alive and well."

Back in the nearly empty Gryffindor common room, Harry didn't tell his friends about seeing his father and Sirius, but he eagerly listened to their story about Snape.

"Apparently, he's been acting really nutters all day, not just during my lesson," Ron said. "Really shaky, you know, like he was terrified of something. He attacked Malfoy in the dungeons."

"He attacked Malfoy?" Harry cried.

Ron nodded seriously. "Ernie MacMillian saw it. Happened right before you had Defense Against the Dark Arts with Malfoy. Ernie was going down there to ask Snape a question about last week's homework, and he heard Malfoy and Snape talking. Ernie said Malfoy seemed really chuffed about something, but Snape was saying Malfoy shouldn't be so sure or something, that Malfoy was too cocky for his own good. Malfoy laughed and said Snape should be celebrating, and that's when Snape attacked him. Grabbed him, threw him against the wall and told him to keep his mouth shut. Ernie got out of there right quick. At dinner, everyone was talking about how Snape went crazy on the Slytherins during my lesson, and Ernie told his whole table about what he heard. Got spread down to Gryffindor pretty quickly."

"And Snape is in the hospital wing right now?" Harry asked incredulously.

Hermione nodded. "Went there himself, apparently, right after Ron's lesson."

"They--they couldn't have been talking about Dumbledore, could they?" Harry said.

"The only way Malfoy could know that Dumbledore's … well … I mean, he'd only know if someone told him," Hermione said. "And no one would tell him. Snape, maybe, if Snape were still working for Voldemort, but if Ernie heard correctly, Snape's not pleased about whatever Malfoy's pleased about. It's got to be something else. There's no way Malfoy can know."

"I can't believe anything that's going on," Harry sighed, flopping backward and closing his eyes. He heard a pair of first years behind him, talking quickly about how they'd heard Professor Snape had cursed fifteen students down in the dungeons before being hit with a spell so strong it landed him in the hospital wing.

Ernie MacMillian had probably overheard correctly. And whatever he did hear had probably been distorted by so many people passing the story down … Malfoy and Snape couldn't have been arguing about Dumbledore. Malfoy couldn't know.

Harry left abruptly to go to bed, unable to shake the feeling that Malfoy knew too much.

Potions was cancelled the following day due to Snape's being in the hospital wing. When they weren't in class, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny spent their time sitting outside, playing with the new grass that was just beginning to grow and listening to Norbert fight with his keepers. Harry thought of the potions, and how they'd be done soon.

That night, Harry and his friends pretended to go to bed as usual. At a quarter to midnight, Harry and Ron crept out of bed and put on the green funeral robes they'd worn only months earlier to Percy Weasley's funeral. They met Hermione and Ginny in the common room, where Tabitha and Charlie were also waiting.

The six of them crept silently through the dark corridors, down to the Great Hall. Charlie held the door open for them.

The Hall was lit by a handful of candles. In the center of the room, lit by a pale gold glow, was a small, rectangular box. "Dumbledore's wand," Charlie whispered. "We can't do the proper ceremony here in the Great Hall … just the wand, for now." He shut the door behind Ginny, the last one in.

At one minute before midnight, Professor McGonagall looked around. "Are we all here?" she said softly.

"No--my nephew is missing. Probably going to be late, as usual," Mad-Eye Moody said.

"He has a minute yet," Professor McGonagall said. "But at midnight precisely--"

The doors to the Great Hall blasted open. Harry ducked as a piece of the doors came flying at his head. Everyone scurried back and held their wands up.

"Oh, don't you worry, I'm on time," came AJ Moody's voice. He sauntered into the Great Hall, shrouded in a dark, hooded robe. "After all, we'd have no fun if you'd already put up the shield."

As Harry watched in horror, more than a dozen robed Death Eaters appeared in the doorway to the Great Hall.