Harry found himself steered by Moody back into the parlour. The bookcase at the end of the room stood open and the candlestick stood on the roll-top desk once more.
"Time to answer some of your questions." Said Moody as he picked up the candlestick and handed it to Harry. "Lead the way." He said gruffly following Harry down the stairs.
The wick burst into flame as soon as Harry had taken hold of the candlestick. With one hand on the smooth stone wall and the other holding the light aloft, Harry slowly descended into the cellar.
Now he wasn't skulking on the stairs, Harry was able to get a proper look around.
The chest, lectern and tapestry were there as before but now Harry could see the ancient fabric was moving slightly as if in a breeze.
"Come on Potter." Said Moody as he pulled the tapestry to one side. Behind it Harry could see row after row of high shelves that seemed to go on forever. It reminded Harry of the Room of Prophecy in the Department of Mystery and he felt a strange reluctant to enter.
From between two rows on the right-hand side stepped Eleanor. "It's alright Harry. You're perfectly safe. This vault is as secure as Gringotts and there's only the three of us in here."
For the first time Harry really saw Eleanor for what she was, a witch. Gone were the comfy shoes, old trousers and jumpers (her usual form of dress) in their place were deep green velvet robes embroidered with runes around the hem and on the bodice. Her long hair was braided and coiled on her head like a coronet.
She looked regal.
Eleanor took Harry's left hand in hers and encouraged him to enter the chamber.
"What is this place?" Harry whispered at last.
"These, Harry, are the genealogical records of every witch and wizard in the land. I am their Curator, Conservator and Archivist." Said Eleanor formally.
"That means she gets to spend most her time with dead people!" quipped Moody, elbowing Harry in the ribs.
Harry visibly relaxed and stepped towards the shelves.
"These shelves" explained Eleanor "tell the fascinating story of the wizarding people of which you are a part. Every birth, every marriage and every death are recorded in these pages. You can follow the fortunes – and misfortunes – of every wizard and witch back through the years to their origins."
"But why are you showing me?" queried Harry.
"Because, Harry, your pedigree …" said Eleanor beginning to answer Harry's question.
Before she could continue Moody interrupted her, "Makes him sound like a damned show dog!"
Eleanor continued, "… Your pedigree goes back for over 1,000 to before the founding of Hogwarts itself."
Harry let out a slow whistle of astonishment.
"Although the Slytherins, Voldemort and his cronies are obsessed by purity of blood" interjected Moody "most of their families can only be traced back for a couple of hundred years at most. Before then there were far more mixed marriages that there are now. The Statute of Secrecy was written in the 1660s in the hope that if the two communities were kept apart that fewer witches and wizards would be blamed for all the ills plaguing the Muggle world. We all remember from our schooldays the story of Wendolyn the Weird and how she enjoyed being burnt at the stake. Unfortunately there is no way to pretend to survive a beheading, hanging or disembowelment. Dead is dead when all is said and done."
"Yes. Quite!" said Eleanor.
"But I still don't understand." Said Harry. "What's all this got to do with me?"
"As the Hall of Prophecy focuses on the future …"
"Possible future!" corrected Moody.
"OK. …Possible future!" conceded Eleanor with a distinct scowl now. "Then this chamber records the definite past. You have learned little of your father's family history since you re-entered the magic world, Harry. Here you can learn all about them and they can tell you of their triumphs and disasters. We use their knowledge in the hope that we do not repeat the mistakes they made."
Eleanor continued, "Among the books, certificates, scrolls and the like, are portraits who can impart first hand knowledge about each of their families."
"Like the portraits of past Headmasters and Headmistresses that hang in Professor Dumbledore's office?" Said Harry with a thoughtful frown.
"Exactly." Exclaimed Eleanor and Moody simultaneously.
Harry had moved to stand between two rows of shelves; the row seemed to be infinite, stretching for miles. The chamber, he came to realise, was vast!
"How can one person possibly look after all this? Posed Harry.
"The answer to that question is quite simple." Explained Eleanor. "One person cannot. One person with a dedicated team of Specialist Elves can however."
"Elves! You had better not let Hermione know." Exclaimed Harry.
"Oh, these are not house elves, Harry. These are Specialist Elves. Back in the days of the Founders a wizarding family saved the lives of not just one family of elves but a whole tribe. In gratitude for their survival the family of the tribe chieftain swore an oath of eternal allegiance to the wizard family. To this day they serve the family but not as house elves, as specialist elves who care for this archive. Let me introduce you to the matriarch."
In a clear, precise voice Eleanor intoned, "Libby, come here please."
At these words a little old elf popped into being at Eleanor's side. On seeing Moody and Harry she bowed low to the ground. Harry could almost hear her old bones creaking.
"A pleasure to meet you noble sirs." Squeaked the aged elf.
"Libby, Harry here wishes to learn more about his family. Can you please direct him to the Potter family records." Eleanor spoke in a gentle voice.
"Certainly Mistress. Follow me please." Said the elf as she moved slowly away.
Row after row, aisle after aisle they walked until they came to a row where all the shelves were labelled POTTER. There were shelves and shelves of documents with parchment scrolls tucked in odd spaces. Dead boxes, files and books were stacked on shelves. There were portraits and cameos. Cups, trophies and shields. At then end of one row was a huge sword in an elaborate scabbard standing next to a suit of armour. Harry even thought he caught a glimpse of a dusty Penseive high on a shelf.
"Er… Libby, can I ask you something?" queried Harry tentatively.
"We is here to answer all questions young sir." Responded the elf.
"I mean, are all these people my ancestors?" Harry indicated the shelves full of Potters.
"Indeed yes, sir. All Potters. Noble house, noble history, most ancient!"
Harry had gone from having virtually no knowledge of his wizarding ancestors to having so much it made his head hurt.
"Thank you for showing me this Libby, but I think I'd like to go back to Eleanor now." Said Harry feeling the start of a headache behind his eyes.
"As you wish young master." But instead of walking, Libby clicked her fingers and she and Harry were back beside Eleanor and Moody at the entrance to the archive.
Moody was smiling. "Made you walk all the way there and then…" Moody clicked his fingers "you're back here. It's just her way of showing off and demonstrating how extensive the archive really is."
"Let's go back upstairs. I'm in need of a brandy." Said Eleanor shivering.
In a very short while the three had returned to the warmth and comfort of the parlour. As the bookcase slid back into place Jenny came to join them. She was carrying a try with three mugs of hot chocolate.
"Didn't think you'd care for a hot drink Alastor. Cognac for you, yes?" said Jenny.
"You know me too well girl!" Moody chided gently.
"How could I not? You've been coming here since I was knee high to a grasshopper." She turned to address Harry as she handed him his mug – without any brandy. "It was Alston's influence that made me decide to become a Police Officer, Harry."
"It's a pity you didn't get to Hogwarts, you would have made a damn fine Auror in my opinion." Said Moody.
"That's what I want to do when I leave school. If I'm allowed back that is." Added Harry sadly.
"Speaking of Hogwarts… that friend of yours, Grainger, can't remember the last time I encountered a mind as sharp as hers, present company excepted." Said Moody with a small nod of acknowledgement to Eleanor. He continued, "She and Arthur and Molly's boy, Bill, have been able to isolate a wizards signature from the residue of magic shown in Priori Incantatem. Bill explained that they had to work out how to de-construct the spell. They then remove each element bit by bit and what you are left with is what each witch or wizard adds to make the spell work. It's the final and unique element originating with the spellcaster that allows them to trace who it was."
Jenny leaned forward in her chair enthusiastically "Is it like a fingerprint or retinal scan? Unique to each individual?"
"Exactly!" Enthused Moody. "The only draw back is that at the moment very few individual signatures are known."
"How few exactly?" asked Eleanor.
"Er. Just the Weasleys, Miss Grainger and me!" admitted Moody, grudgingly.
Harry could almost hear his bubble of hope 'pop' as it vanished. "That's it then." He muttered as he viciously poked the fire, his face turned away from the others to conceal his disappointment.
"Exactly!" said Moody but his voice was jubilant not depressed. "We can conclusively prove that you did not cast the Avada Kedavra curse on the Dursleys. What we cannot yet prove is who did!"
"What good is that though when Voldemort still has my wand!" moaned Harry as he threw the poker down onto the hearth with a clang.
"Harry…!" said Eleanor pleadingly.
"Sorry. It's just that …" began Harry but he didn't know how to explain.
"I know. You're given a straw to clutch at only to have it snatched away in the next second." Eleanor said in a calm and pacifying tone of voice.
"Well, that's why I wanted us all gathered here for." Said Moody. "I'm expecting some news on that front to come through any minute." He glanced at Eleanor oak-cased grandfather clock that stood against the wall next to the desk; as it struck 10 o'clock a burst of fire appeared in the centre of the room. As the flames disappeared a long red-gold phoenix tail feather floated gently to the floor. It was attached to a small scroll of parchment.
At Moody's behest Harry picked up the scroll and feather and handed them to the aged ex-Auror. Moody pulled out his wand and tapped the roll. The seal broke and the parchment unrolled.
"Good news, Alastor?" asked Eleanor.
"The best, old girl! Only the very best!" Said Moody. Harry's heart was beating fifteen to the dozen and he couldn't help it but his hopes were rising higher than ever.
"We received a coded message from Remus a few days ago," continued Moody with an all-too-rare smile on his misshapen face. "He was safe and… he'd managed to locate Sam!"
Harry was ecstatic; it was one of those wonderful occasions where he felt he could produce a World Class Patronus but Moody had more news to share. "Remus had planned to simply find Sam. It was then going to be the job of a separate team to actually go in and get him out. But that was not what happened."
"Well?" chorused Harry, Eleanor and Jenny.
"Well, one area in which Remus excels is in the art of reading people and gaining their confidence. Remus took his time and got to know the movements of the serving staff at Malfoy Manor. One of the kitchen staff was a young witch whose brother had not long become a werewolf. We don't know who bit him; it certainly wasn't Remus. The Malfoys didn't know about, or more likely didn't care about this young man's distress or the stress that it caused to his family. When Remus head of their plight he helped them understand what Lycanthropy is all about and how, with help, an almost normal life could be led."
As Moody continued with his story Eleanor, Jenny and Harry sat spellbound.
"Remus got Wolfsbane from Snape and stayed with the young man through his first change. They say the first change is the most painful due to the tearing of the muscles, tendons and sinews, as well as the lengthening of bones. Subsequent changes are apparently considerably easier."
Harry remembered most of this from the essay he had to write back in third year for Snape but it always saddened him when he thought what Remus had to endure each full-moon.
"The two young people asked Remus if there was anything they could do to repay him for his kindness and compassion," stated Moody who then sat back in his chair and slowly sipped his cognac.
"AND…?" Harry almost shouted at the aged Auror while kneeling on the heart rug and looking up into Moody's eyes.
"Alastor. Stop being so cruel," demanded Eleanor.
"Alright, alright. Well, Dumbledore had made a portkey to take Sam straight to the hospital wing at Hogwarts. Remus hoped to use it to rescue Sam but only if he could do so without putting himself at risk. Well Cynthia – that's the girl's name – not only managed to get the portkey to Sam but she used it to get herself and her brother away from Malfoy too!"
"But Voldemort doesn't know yet does he?" added Harry with a grin.
"You tell me laddie? You tell me?" asked Moody, one eyebrow raised questioningly.
"I don't think he can know 'cos he's gonna be madder than hell when he finds out and that's bound to trip the link." Stated Harry.
"The other bit of news you might be interested in is that as well as getting the portkey to Sam, she was also able to substitute the fake wand for your real one!"
That was it.
Good news overload.
Jenny and Harry both jumped up and they danced around the room like a couple of kids.
"Oh Alastor!" Eleanor was too choked up to say much more, tears were pouring down her cheeks.
"I'M FREE! I'M FREE!" Harry was screaming to the rooftops. Even Moody's twisted and scarred face was wearing a grin from ear to ear.
The joy was almost palpable but at that moment another burst of flame appeared with a second scroll.
"Not bad news this time I hope" said Eleanor.
"Nope, just a note from Dumbledore to confirm that Sam, Remus, Cynthia and Jonathan – that must be the werewolf and his sister – are all safe at Hogwarts. Safe but not so sound. Apparently their escape wasn't as trouble-free as we first thought." Moody looked up to see a look of panic on Harry's face.
"Remus is fine, his werewolf constitution helps there as was the case for Jonathan. Unfortunately Cynthia and Sam didn't get away quite so well."
Harry's mood had swung from one extreme to the other. Immediately he started berating himself for endangering Sam by simply becoming involved with him. Eleanor could see the path Harry was taking and gently placed one hand on his shoulder in support before saying to Moody, "Go on Alastor. How is Sam?"
"By all accounts his injuries seem mainly to stem from his incarceration in appalling conditions. He is mal-nourished and has infected sores on his wrists and ankles from the shackles used to restrain him. He also has pneumonia from being kept constantly cold and damp. Other than that, he's fine."
Before Harry could respond, Jenny asked "what about the girl? Cynthia?"
"Took a Reductor curse to her lower right leg. Foot's gone as is the shinbone. Most of the knee's damaged beyond healing. She's alive thought and should pull through."
The poker had been lying on the hearth; Harry picked it up and went to viciously prod the embers. Gently but firmly Eleanor took it from his hand and returned it to the stand.
"What happened to Cynthia has nothing to do with you Harry," stated Eleanor unequivocally.
"How can you say that?" challenged Harry, angrily. "If I hadn't…."
"These two young people have been able to break free from servitude at Malfoy Manor and start a new life. What's wrong with that?" asked Eleanor.
Harry could stay still no more. He was on his feet, running his hands through his hair repeatedly, and threatening to burn a hole in the hearthrug with his pacing back and forth.
"But she nearly died! And she's lost half of her bloody leg!" yelled Harry.
"So what?" stated Moody bluntly. "I lost a leg. Does that make me any less of a man?"
"No. Of course not, but…"
"But nothing. She's alive boy, she's young, she has her brother, who stands a better chance of survival now he's away from Voldemort and Malfoy, that means her life expectancy just about doubled!" She'll want to celebrate, not to commiserate. And you should too."
"I suppose." Muttered Harry dully.
"This is real life not a fairy tale where they all lived happily ever after," said Moody before adding gently "But you can see for yourself when you're back at Hogwarts."
"But I'm still under house-arrest aren't I? I mean, we've got my want back but that doesn't prove anything yet? Does it?" asked Harry tentatively looking at both Moody and Eleanor.
"Alastor, what if the Wizengamot don't accept Bill and Hermione's evidence? What will happen to Harry then?"
This question came from Jenny who had been sitting listening intently to everything that had been said.
"We'll cross that bridge when – and if – we come to it. No point in worrying yet," said Moody stoically.
"No point? No point?" repeated Harry as he recommenced his pacing. "I hate all this not knowing!"
"Ellie, do you have any of Poppy's Dreamless Sleep Potion left?" asked Moody quietly.
"Of course. I'll get it." Eleanor went to stand up but Jenny was up and walking to the door.
"Stay there, I'll get it" she said as she left the room. It only took a couple of minutes until she returned with the familiar bottle of purple potion.
"Go and get ready for bed, Harry. I'll bring this up to you shortly. Tonight you definitely need some dreamless sleep," said Jenny commandingly.
Harry wanted to protest that he wanted – no, needed! – to dream so he could talk to Ginny but, with Eleanor, Jenny and Moody on his case, he knew he stood no chance.
He dragged his weary body up to the bathroom next door to his bedroom. He leaned on the edge of the basin and stared at his reflection.
His tired brain combined the weary image in front of him with a classic 'wanted' poster and he could almost hear the voice of Uncle Vernon. 'Look at him, long-haired layabout. Always knew he was no good. Jail's the only place he belongs' A second later Harry could have sworn he heard Aunt Petunia add, 'Good riddance to bad rubbish I say.' Aunt Marge's voice concluded: 'always said bad blood will out!'
Harry gripped the edge of the sink as the pain in his head grew and grew. He screamed out in pain.
It was akin to being held under the Cruciatus Curse.
Harry clamped his jaws together and the muscles in his neck stood out like tight ropes. He threw back his head and screamed.
He screamed long and he screamed loud.
In the dim distance he could hear banging, people's voices but the screaming inside his head drowned the sounds out.
Then silence and Harry knew no more.
A/N : Sorry for the lack of update last week but I have been ill for the last month and was completely 'out of it' on Monday.