Disclaimer: Well, if it were mine, I'd be rich… and right now I'd be surfing in Goa or somewhere, instead of typing this stupid disclaimer…

Seating himself comfortably, Harry asked in a half-joking voice, "So… what can you tell me about myself?"

Chapter 3

Albus Dumbledore

The others didn't take the joke very well. Ron and Neville smiled weakly, while the Hermione and Ginny squirmed uncomfortably. Luna appeared to find a particular knife on the table very interesting and didn't lift up her head.

Hermione responded first. "Um… I don't know if we are the right people to tell you, Harry."

"Then who is?"

"Well, we're meeting Professor Dumbledore tomorrow. He wanted to tell you everything himself."

So that letter was from Dumbledore. And it was likely that Hermione was writing a report of their trip to Azkaban. He was clearly in the middle of a bunch of his supporters.

"Why do you listen to him?" asked Harry asked, exasperated. He noticed with a trace of amusement that the others were temporarily stumped.

Luna looked up at this. "Because he's fighting You-Know-Who, of course," she said, as though surprised that Harry could miss something so obvious.

"Luna," hissed Hermione.

Harry was intrigued. "Who?" he asked interested.

"You-Know-Who," replied Luna innocently.

"No, I don't know who. Whom are you people fighting?"

A silence followed. Harry was getting irritated.

"Blimey, Harry," Ron gulped, "Well… the thing is…" he looked around for some help, when none came, he continued, "It's just that… nobody likes to say his name, and…"

"His name," Ginny interrupted, "is Voldemort."

There was complete silence in the room for two full seconds, before Hermione started berating Ginny. Harry wasn't listening, the name caused him to remember a couple more things…

The half-giant, Hagrid, was explaining to him why he was so special in the wizarding world. His parents had been killed by Voldemort, and when he had tried to kill Harry, the curse had rebounded, leaving Voldemort a mere shadow of his former self. Harry had been left with a scar on his forehead…

The scene shifted. He was in a graveyard, and was tied to a tombstone. A short balding man was cradling his right arm, or rather, where his right arm should have been. He drew a silver dagger from his robes. Approaching him, he made a cut in the crook of Harry's right hand, and then brought out a phial to collect the blood. The man staggered back to a stone cauldron and poured the blood inside, chanting in a shaking voice, "Blood of an enemy… forcibly taken… you will resurrect your foe." A white mist rose from the cauldron, he could see the skeletally thin form of a man, with wide red eyes…

Harry shuddered involuntarily. He opened his eyes, the others were looking at him with concern. He forced a smile on his face, and turned to Hermione, "I'm sorry, you were saying?"

"Harry, I'm really really sorry," Hermione was almost pleading. "I know you wan to know very badly, but Dumbledore…"

"Can I have a mirror?" Harry didn't want to listen to Hermione anymore. Neville nodded and made to leave the room. "It's just that I've no idea how I look, y'know, and…" He looked around at them, and paused to look at Hermione. "It's all right," he said, trying to keep his voice level. I don't suppose another day will make much of a difference… why don't you tell me about this Voldemort fellow instead?"

Ron shuddered. Harry looked at him curiously, was the name sufficient to scare him? Hermione opened her mouth, but Ginny beat her to it. "He's the most evil wizard of this generation. He was defeated sixteen years ago, but he rose again, more powerful two years ago. He tortures Muggles for fun, and wants to rid the wizarding world of Muggle-borns and half-bloods."

Harry was confused. "Why? What's the point?"

Neville chose this moment to enter, carrying with him a full length mirror. He set it down, panting. Harry approached it eagerly. He saw he was thin… to the point of being called malnutritioned. He had intense green eyes, almond shaped. His jet-black hair was messy and long enough to reach his shoulders. He caught a glimpse of his scar, and parted his hair to have a better look. The curse scar, he saw, was lightning shaped and was in the middle of his forehead. So, he had defeated Voldemort when he was a year old. Dumbledore was fighting Voldemort, but he wasn't to trust Dumbledore either. What had Dumbledore done to him that made Harry lose trust in him so completely?

He stepped back and looked at his friends. They were clearly expecting him to ask more questions, about his scar perhaps. He felt very tired suddenly, why was life so difficult?

"I think I'll go to bed now."

Ron led him upstairs to a comfortable bedroom. Harry didn't even pause to take in his surroundings; he flopped down on the bed and immediately fell asleep.

Harry woke up the next day in a much better mood. He would meet Dumbledore today, and perhaps some mysteries would be cleared up.

He heard a knock on the door, and Mrs. Weasley told him breakfast was ready. "In a minute," he called back. He quickly brushed his teeth, and looked at himself carefully in the mirror. He decided he had to do something about his hair, a bandana perhaps? And he really had to get in shape, he was abysmally thin.

He made his way downstairs, to find nearly everyone seated at the table. He helped himself to the pile of toast and was buttering it when Ginny walked in.

"Good mooorning," she yawned, seating herself. Catching Harry's eye, she gave him a quick smile. Harry's stomach did a flip-over, and he managed to upset his glass of water and put his elbow in the butter dish at the same time.

"Sorry," he mumbled to Mrs. Weasley, his face red. Hope that no one had noticed his antics quickly vanished, as Ron, Fred and George howled with laughter. Hermione was shushing them, but she looked as though she was trying hard not to smile as well. Ginny was red with embarrassment, and she was shooting death glares at the twins.

What was so funny? Even if they all thought he fancied her, it wasn't anything to laugh so much about…

Eventually the laughter died down, not quickly enough for Harry. After some time, just the six of them and Mrs. Weasley were left, as the others wished them good day, and disappeared into thin air with a small pop.

"All right, time to leave," Mrs. Weasley bustled about, vanishing the contents of their plates with a wave of her wand.

"How're we getting there?" Ron's voice was muffled, as he was still chewing a rather large piece of toast he had put in his mouth earlier. "Portkey?"

"Ron, you know Dumbledore adjusted the wards around Hogwarts to prevent people from portkeying in," Hermione told him impatiently. "We're using the secure Floo, aren't we Mrs. Weasley?"

"Yes dear," Mrs. Weasley smiled at Hermione, as Ron rolled his eyes. "Better get going now."

"Harry, you have to throw the Floo powder in the fire, step in, and…"

"Step in?"

"Yes, in the fire. And then you say 'Dumbledore's office'. Make sure you say it clearly, you don't want to go anywhere else…" Ron guffawed loudly at this for some reason.

"Here, go after Ron. Show him Ron."

Ron flung a handful of powder in the fire, which turned green suddenly. He stepped right in, shouted "Dumbledore's office," and vanished.

"Keep your elbows tucked in…"

"Keep your eyes shut, you don't to get soot in…"

"Make sure you get out at the right grate, wait till you see Ron…"

Trying to remember everything, Harry threw the Floo powder in the fire, and cautiously stuck his foot in the fire. To his surprise, it felt like a warm breeze. More confident now, he stepped in, and shouted the words.

It was the most bizarre experience ever. He was spinning very fast, there was a roaring in his ears, his stomach churned and cold hands were slapping his face. Suddenly he found himself falling, but was caught by Ron before he fell to the floor, face first.

"Portkeys forever," he said shakily. Ron laughed, as he helped him up.

Harry looked around the room as the others arrived. It was a large circular room, a large number of silver instruments on tables were emitting puffs of smoke. The wall was full of portraits of people, all of whom appeared asleep. Harry was sure some of them were awake, he caught a few surreptitious glances at him.

A sudden weight landed on his left shoulder. Harry saw that it was a beautiful bird, with gold and crimson plumage. It trilled into his ear, a strange unearthly song. Harry felt his heart swell with hope and happiness. He patted the bird gently.

"I see you've met Fawkes, Harry," a deep voice came from behind him.

Harry whirled around. Standing at the entrance to the room was the man he had a picture of in his head. Old, white flowing beard, colourful robes, yes, this was Albus Dumbledore.

At that moment, Harry didn't know what to say. Dumbledore smiled at him, and Harry felt himself smile back, a genuine smile. This man had a certain air around him, he felt calm and safe. Why wasn't he supposed to trust him?

A prickling sensation arose at the back of his head, as he met Dumbledore's blue eyes. Instantly, he knew what it meant. Albus Dumbledore was trying to enter his mind, to read his thoughts and memories…

'Perhaps because of things like this?' he wondered sarcastically.

A/N: Hurray, action starts soon, have planned out the next two chapters… it's going to get more… interesting. Have discovered that lines don't appear on and neither does the tilde character… Can anyone help out?

Thanks to gregthebunny2005, Rachel Sedai, Ice-Phoenix-Tears and Dragonero for reviewing. Hope you liked this chapter…

Rachel: Thanks for the longish review. Nope, haven't seen Paycheck. I have read the Bourne Identity though, I guess you could say it's an inspiration…

shadylion (I need the tilde to signoff… haaalp!)