In the long silence that followed, Harry stood up from the table and walked to the window. He looked out and saw that beyond their bubble of warmth, snow had started to fall again. It ceratinly wasn't anything like the blizzard that preceded, light flakes were floating gently down to the snow-caked ground.
The Heir of Gryffindor, he thought to himself. It seemed too much to believe, not very many years ago he found himself having a hard time believing that he was even a wizard. Harry dimly thought about the prophecy, and whether that figured into this at all. He thought better of it after not very long, the prophecy had been made before he had been born, and it seems that he hadn't been born Gryffindor's heir, but somehow became so through the ancient magic that Dumbledore had claimed was the most powerful of all.
He leaned his head against Horatio's window, tears stung his eyes. He had never realized that Dumbledore had cared for him enough to call him son, even if it was only to himself that he did so. Part of him wished Dumbledore had told him this, but another part of him knew that it would only have made letting go that much harder...
Harry had always felt that he was born into having a lot to live up to, and that definately hadn't changed. He was glad that nobody knew about this, he didn't think he could bear people knowing that somehow along the course of his life he had become Gryffindor's heir.
When he finally turned around, he saw the table empty. Looking around he saw that Horatio was busying himself with the dishes at the sink, and that Ron and Hermione were helping him. He walked over to the table and sat down, putting his head in his hands and breathing heavily. He no longer felt like weeping, but rather felt an incredible pressure in his chest, as though he was lying prone and Voldemort himself was leaning on him, with his foot on his chest, laughing.
When he looked up again, it was up at Dumbledore's portrait. Harry remembered the portraits in Dumbledore's office, and how they had been able to talk. He wondered if he would be able to speak with Dumbledore through this portrait. He walked over, so as to be able to keep his voice low. He looked up and said in a half-whisper "Err...Sir? Professor Dumbledore? Can you...can you hear me?"
Nothing. Dumbledore continued to smile down at him from the portrait, but did not say a word or give any indication that he had heard. Harry thought he should try again "Sir? If you can hear me...please...I need to talk to you." Once again, the portrait continued to say nothing. He thought of all the other portraits that spoke, the ones in Hogwarts, the ones at Saint Mungos, the ones at Number 12, Grimmauld place. Why could they all speak, but this one couldn't?
Harry felt himself becoming angry. Of course the portrait could speak, he had yet to see a wizard portrait that didn't speak. Why was Dumbledore refusing to speak with him? Didn't he realize that he had left Harry more alone than he had ever been? Couldn't he tell that Harry would be helpless without him, that there was no possible way he could continue? He felt foolish and angry with himself as well. Chosen one, indeed! How could he have been so stupid as to believe that he could find and destroy the remaining Horcruxes without Dumbledore's guidance? How dare Dumbledore die, when the job wasn't done!
Harry felt his face screw up and his fists clench. He didn't want to be angry with himself or with Dumbledore but the emotion washed over him regardless. It seemed to build within him without any end. He hadn't felt this angry since Sirius died. The thought of his dead godfather finally drove harry to the point where he could no longer remain silent. How was he supposed to live up to the name of Gryffindor when he had spent 11 years not knowing of magic? How could he destroy Voldemort when everybody around him seemed to die?
Harry let out a sudden cry of rage and pain and grabbed the first handy object and hurled it accross the room suddenly, letting out another cry that he himself didn't hear. He wanted to strike out at his surroundings, he felt as if he had gone insane. He suddenly realized that he had drawn out his wand and was hurling curses at the overstuffed sofa. He dimly heard his voice, cracking and hoarse, yelling out "SECTUMSEMPRA! SECTUMSEMPRA! SECTUMSEMPRA!" Stuffing flew everywhere as gashes appeared in the furniture. He threw his wand down with such force that it scorched the carpet, and went to wipe his face with his sleeve as he reeled around, looking for something else to throw.
Nothing small caught his eye, so he grabbed one of the heavy chairs and flung it hard. It went through a window, and he heard it bounce on the ground outside. He then ran over to a lamp and kicked it over. He suddenly wanted his wand again, he wasn't quite done. He looked around frantically, trying to find it and stumbling over himself.
He once again caught sight of Dumbledore's portrait. Still the same benign smile, the same twinkling eyes. His rampage had no effect at all. This made him even angrier, but also filled him with a deep remorse that he couldn't bear. He suddenly sank to his knees and cried out one last time, he felt his arms outstretch and his legs cramp up as they also tried to piston outwards. His scream pounded in his ears, he felt like he had damaged them. He also felt like he damaged his voice, as he ran out of breath it became nothing more than a rattle. He was dimly aware of jets of light streaming around the house, hitting everything. Was someone trying to stun him? They didn't have very good aim, he thought.
As everything started to go black, he realized that nobody could have that bad aim, the stunner spells must be coming from him. Guess I don't need my wand to cause some trouble he thought dimly as he blacked out.
When he came to, it was darker in the room. He was looking up at the ceiling peacefully when he suddenly remembered how he had come to be on the floor and sat up suddenly, feeling terribly guilty. He looked around wildly and saw that the room looked pristine, event he chair he had thrown was back in it's original spot, the window he had thrown it through mended. As he spun his head around he felt lightheaded and laid back down, his head swimming. Suddenly he felt a cool wetness on his forehead, he opened his eyes again and saw that Hermione was dabbing at his face with a wet cloth. It filled his heart with emotion to see that her face showed not fear, but concern.
"Thank you" he muttered, his throat aching. He was barely able to talk and his words came out as a croak. He looked past her and once again saw the portrait of Dumbledore. Dumbledore continued to smile at him, and he gave harry the briefest of nods. Harry laughed silently, his shoulder's shaking. He was suddenly reminded of a time when he had destroyed Dumbledore's office in another rampage. He thought hollowly that at this rate, if anybody else he cared for died, he might just blow up the entire country.
He sat up again and then slowly got to his feet. Horatio and Ron were sitting on the sofa, looking at him. Ron looked worried, Horatio however, was smiling. This last bit surprised Harry, he had destroyed the man's personal possessions. As if reading his thoughts, Horatio held up his hand in a sort of offhand warding gesture and said "Don't worry about it, Harry. I expected it, why do you think I cleared out of the room so quickly? Grandfather told me about what happened when you lost your godfather. Believe me when I tell you that I understand. After I heard news of grandfather's death, this area was a crater. Luckily enough I didn't hurt anyone."
"I'm still sorry though, there was no excuse..." Harry trailed off.
"You did magic without your wand!" piped Ron. "Not just random things but you were sending stunners everywhere. I didn't know you could do that!"
"Neither did I." Harry sat down on one of the chairs, he saw Hermione go over to the sofa and sit down between Ron and Horatio. "How long was I out?" he asked suddenly, wondering at the darkened sky.
"Oh, a few hours" said Horatio. "It's just about four, I could have woken you up, but I felt you most likely needed the extra rest."
Harry was quiet for a bit, and then he croaked out "I've been thinking.."
"Hang on" said Hermione. She produced her wand and pointed it at Harry's throat and muttered "Chloraseptara." His throat felt instantly better.
"You'll probably want this back, also" said Ron, who tossed Harry his wand.
"Thanks" He sounded like himself again.
"Err, well...I was thinking. At first I was angry, because it seemed like I'd never be able to do this on my own." He saw Ron and Hermione both shoot him looks that very clearly told him that he wasn't on his own. To show that he got the point, he continued "Yes, I know. But anyway, I was thinking that I wouldn't be able to carry on like this, without Dumbledore. He was telling me everything, about the Horcruxes and all. But I'm realizing that if I don't do it, nobody else will. And well...that may be a bit much for a bloke to swallow but, you know what? If I'm the heir of Gryffindor, I reckon I'm at least brave enough to try."
Horatio's smile widened. "I thought so, Harry. Now I wanted to talk to you alone, but I'm willing to bet that you'd want your friends in on this, correct?"
"Right" Harry responded. It was amazing, he felt like a new man.
"Well, while you were out, we did a bit of talking on our own, and Ron and Hermione told me about the letter from R.A.B."
"Do you know who he is?" asked Harry eagerly.
"I'm afriad not, but I did have an idea that might help us figure out who he was. Judging by his intimate knowledge of the Dark Lord and his Horcruxes, you will find that he was most definately a Death Eater. Coupled with the fact that he went against Voldemort and the contents of that note, I'd say he's probably dead. So you should look at Death Eaters who are dead, possibly killed by Voldemort himself, or on his orders. Of course there were quite a few, Voldermort, as you know, shows as little mercy to his followers as he does to his victims. But I thought it might help you narrow it down."
"Yeah, actually Horatio, those are some really good ideas..." harry begain but he interrupted himself when he saw the look on Hermione's face.
Ron noticed too, he turned to her and said "What? You know don't you, you've just figured it out right now! Well don't do what you usually do, actually tell us this time before running off to a library or getting yourself petrified."
She spared Ron an eye-roll before speaking. "I"m not totally sure, Harry but I've just realized that there is someone who fits that description...and you know of him too!"
Harry did a hand-twirling gesture, silently begging her to continue. He had moved to the edge of his seat in excitement.
"Of course, I don't know if he's an R.A.B. completely, becuase I dont' know his middle name and..."
She was interrupted by Ron who half-shouted "Just say the name Hermione, I know you enjoy keeping us in suspsence, but this is sort of important!"
"Black!" she shouted "Regulus Black!"