Disclaimer: J.K. owns it all
When Nightmares Are A Good Thing
Chapter 22: The Tell Tale Parchment
Harry had never truly realized how much noise breakfast usually entailed until he had sat through it with a hang over.
The others had not yet ventured downstairs but he was hoping they would turn up soon as it was getting late and Molly was becoming suspicious.
So far none of the adults had actually worked out that the missing teens might still be intoxicated from the night before but Harry was sure that one complaint from Ron about a loss of appetite, a headache, or especially the noise level and the truth would be quickly unraveled. Harry had a plan and hoped it would work. He'd already tried to escape and go to Ron, Hermione, and Ginny but Mrs. Weasley had insisted that he sit down and eat a hearty breakfast, to his annoyance.
Mid morning rolled around in time for Hermione to enter the basement kitchen, just barely appearing to arrive at her normal daily time. Hastily, Harry shot her a quick look to warn her before performing a wandless cheering charm. The look on her face went from what could only be described as discomfort to relief. Although the cheering charm did not discard any of the hangover disorders, it would cause a person to happy about the pain, masking any of her real feelings.
"Morning," Hermione said as she sat down, as close as it was humanly possible to being cheerful with hangover.
"Alright?" Harry whispered in her ear under the pretense of leaning across her to reach the pitcher of pumpkin juice.
"What did you do?" she whispered back.
Harry rubbed his hand over his nose in a scratching motion to hide his mouth from the table's view. "Cheering charm. I didn't think you guys would be up to putting on a show so…."
"Thanks," Hermione said out loud as Harry handed her the glass of juice he'd been pouring for her.
"Whatever for?" smirked Harry.
She glared pointedly at him. "For the juice, Harry. Thank you."
"You're Welcome, 'Mione," he replied cheekily.
Ginny was the next to arrive. Harry nudged Hermione before he cast the cheering charm on Ginny. Beside him, he could tell that Hermione was stifling a giggle at Ginny's reaction.
The seat next to Hermione was open for Ginny to sit in. The same conversation that had transpired between Harry and Hermione was passed on to Ginny in hushed tones. A grin stayed on her face until Ron entered shortly after, looking very put out by having to appear alive.
He wasn't as amused as Ginny was, but he did manage to whisper a "Thanks, mate!" to Harry in between a few uncharacteristically meager bites.
The rest of the day passed with the teens separating for some time alone. As hung over as they were, none were in the mood for quality time together. The contents of the prophecy were almost forgotten in the muddle of emotions they were consequently experiencing. Mrs. Weasley poked her head in Harry's room before lunch and, judging by her look of mild astonishment, she had expected to find Ron in there with him, perhaps slaughtering him at chess or thumbing through his latest quidditch magazine.
His time was not wasted, however. Harry found enough time throughout the day to practice apparating into the attic. The fifteenth time that he had managed it, he decided that he needed a challenge. Screwing up his face in concentration, he let his mind wander over possible candidates for his next act of apparation and then left with 'POP!'
The Shrieking Shack was just as he remembered it. In the corner of the room stood the bed that Ron had lain on after Sirius had drug him through the Whomping Willow and broke his leg. The dust on the floor was thicker in most places, almost completely filling in the spots where paw and feet prints had been just two years ago. The broken furniture was still in disarray, with bites out of the legs of the coffee tables and missing chunks of wood.
What had happened two years ago seemed so easy to fix, if he had just realized the first time that night that it was a full moon. Then maybe Wormtail would be locked away in Azkaban and Sirius would have been freed. At least he would be able to enjoy his liberation for two years until Harry got him killed, that is.
An onslaught of memories came flooding to the front of Harry's mind. He quickly thought of another place to apparate to in order to avoid the painful memories. Somewhere safe that he hadn't been to lately- to avoid other memories- where he could escape some of these feelings.
With a 'POP!' Harry instantly apparated.
The first thing that Harry noticed was that the lighting was better and the air held less dust. His eyes, which he had closed during his apparating, nearly popped out of his head when he saw an elegant sitting room around him. Gold curtains covered large windows and a comforting blue sofa sat perched in the very center of the room with two smaller couches on either side. Cream-colored accents highlighted the blue and gold furniture in the room making it look very warm and inviting.
A doorway connecting the sitting room to an unknown hallway attracted his attention. Through it he found an enormous dining room that would put even what Harry imagined the Malfoy Manor looked like to shame.
Dazzling white plates with curly gold decorations around the border lined the edge of a large antique looking wooden table. Shiny crystal goblets and sparkling silverware trimmed the well-set table, causing Harry to wonder if someone was about to sit down to a meal.
"Hello?" Harry called out, very curious as to where he was and why this place would feel safe to him. When nobody answered back Harry cautiously continued to explore, vaguely wondering whose house he was in while taking in the beauty of the home.
It seemed that the house had four or five floors but Harry was exactly sure. In every room that he entered he made sure to knock or to call out, receiving no answer in return. Stranger than a beautiful home having no occupants, there were no personal effects anywhere to be found. No food in the cupboard, no clothing the chests, no parchment and inkwells on the writing desk, and certainly no books or forms of other entertainment. Harry decided that maybe the owners had recently moved out or perhaps had yet to move in so, to test his idea, he resolved to make his last stop the attic where there might be some forgotten boxes or something.
Sure enough, as soon as Harry climbed the last rung of the ladder leading to the attic, he saw an old trunk, made of a soft looking brown wood with tarnished gold hinges. In the front center of the trunk the letters L.E. were etched into the wood in the same tarnished gold color as the latches and hinges.
Walking up to the trunk, Harry passed a hand over the letters. He took a deep breath then wrapped the lock up securely in his fist.
"Aloharmora," Harry whispered.
The lock sprang open and Harry let it clatter to the floor. He lifted the lid of the trunk, quite unconvinced that he was doing nothing wrong by being in and trespassing in someone else's house, forcing entry into a trunk simply because the initials on it matched his mother's.
Harry leaned over to peer over the top. Inside the trunk there were many books stacked tidily along one side of the trunk while the other half had several Hogwarts robes that looked to be small enough to fit a first or second year student,
Before he could even think about it, Harry had reached in and picked up the topmost book on the stack. On the inside of the cover the name "Lily Ann Evans," was written in a bubbly girly flourish. He traced his mother's handwriting for a moment, his breath caught in his lungs as he basked in the feeling of being so temporarily close to his mother.
The robes in the trunk had been hers. The books that were stacked up so neatly that even Hermione couldn't organize them any better, were his Mother's. She had worn the robes that he was looking at. His mother had read the book that he was holding. Harry felt compelled to pick one of the robes just to see if he could remember what she had smelled like. A very faint trail of what Harry thought to be jasmine was just barely detectable but as hard as he racked his mind, he could not remember it. The only thing that Harry could remember of his mother were her last dying words, screamed out in panic, and the eerie green light that took her life.
As much as it pained him to do so, Harry carefully replaced the items before locking the trunk back up.
Had this been his mother's home? Harry had no idea but he was fairly certain it had been a wizarding house when lived in, judging by the set up and wealth of it all, which made no sense whatsoever. If it had been a wizard's home, then how had his Mum lived there? According to everyone who had known his mother, she was muggle born and muggle lived. Was it possible that this was also his father's home or perhaps Lily had been raised by her real parents and that bit about being muggle born was all some scam that everyone except for himself was in on? One thing was for sure; Harry was getting very bored with the lies and half-truths that he was constantly being fed. Harry wanted answers and he wanted them now.
Harry knew not where the house he was in was located but he felt like demanding to know why he hadn't known about it? And why was Dumbledore so intent on not letting Harry know about their relation?
Dinnertime rolled around not quite fast enough for Harry. The longer he had to wait in his room- the apparation back from the attic containing his mother's trunk had been easy- the more he paced and become angry. During his "alone time" Harry developed a plan to be put into action that very night to ensure speedy results.
The hangovers seemed to be slowly wearing off, but not as rapidly as the cheering charms, which had to be replaced before their true grumpiness broke through. It did strike Harry as odd that the alcohol hadn't affected him as much as the other three.
Ron was on his second helping, when Dumbledore arrived. Now, he decided, was the time to set his plan into motion.
"Professor?" Harry said, looking directly at Dumbledore, who was accepting a cup of tea.
Calmly he answered, "Yes, Harry?"
"I…erm…well, I had a question to ask you about my Aunt Petunia that I thought you might be able to answer for me." Harry said, purposely speaking to his plate to give an appearance of embarrassment and sincerity.
"Very well. I shall answer if I can." Dumbledore had steepeld his fingertips together while giving Harry a calculating look.
Harry suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. Instead he took a breath, more to calm himself than for his charade.
"Well, it's like this; is she really my only living relative? Surely I've a great uncle or something out there. Maybe a distant cousin or something?" Harry made sure to leave the end of the sentence open for the Headmaster to insert the answer of 'Yes, you have a set of grandparents!" into the equation.
He was about to finally be told the truth! Harry could see it, feel it. Of course, once everyone got over the shock of the two famous wizards being so closely related, they would be happy for them. Well, not Voldemort nor his followers but they despised both of them enough already.
A quick glance around the table told him that several Order members and Weasley's were curious now, at the pause in the conversation. Tonks was leaning forward on her elbows while Remus cocked his head next to her. Ron's eyebrows were both raised high. Hermione was obviously wringing her hands under the table in suspense. She turned to give him a questioning look that Harry ignored, intent on listening to the man's answer.
"Alas, I am very much grieved to tell you, Harry, that you have none. Your cousin and aunt are the only blood relations of Lily's left. It is possible that there might be some distant relative of James's, but you know very well why a relation of James, especially one so remote, would not be able to keep and protect you."
Disappointment and fury coursed through his veins, each battling for the spotlight. At first, Harry felt the immense sadness that he had felt before when he first learned of their next of kin and figured out for himself that Dumbledore and McGonagall were ashamed of him, just like Petunia and Vernon. In the end, anger about being lied to yet again.
"LIAR!" Harry shouted, standing up so quickly that his chair crashed behind him, causing many at the table to start.
"If you weren't going to tell the truth, you shouldn't have answered at all! I am SICK of all your bullshit lies!" Harry bellowed.
"My boy, I did indeed tell you the truth-" A slightly paler Dumbledore said, his voice a bit more urgent than it had been before.
Harry seethed. "Don't try and go all mind game on me. I get enough of that from Voldemort! I might only be sixteen years old, but I refuse to let you talk me into believe the lies you just told me. I know the truth, Headmaster."
Just then, his goblet of pumpkin juice exploded. Shards of glass flew everywhere, once again frightening those sitting near Harry. Somewhere down at the opposite end of the table, Harry heard Hermione give a small shriek.
Taking that as his cue to leave in order to cool off, Harry picked up his chair off the floor and roughly slammed it back into place at the table.
"Excuse me, please." Harry said to Mrs. Weasley, through clenched teeth. He turned and hurried out of the room just as another goblet burst in his wake.
The hurt at being lied to wasn't nearly as great as the hurt at being denied. What was so wrong with him that nobody wanted to be related to him? Well, Sirius wanted to, but that point was moot, as Harry had recently gotten him killed.
'Maybe they all know what's going to eventually happen to them if they claim me.' Harry bitterly thought.
When he reached his room, Harry slammed the door behind him and threw himself down on his bed, face first.
A knock sounded on his door almost immediately, but Harry made no move to answer it.
"Harry, I know you're very upset with me right now, but I do believe that we need to talk about this. A wise man once said that leaving off with angry words is often a feat to be regretted later in life once there is nothing to be done about it."
"Fine then," Harry muttered into his pillow. "Come in."
The door creaked open and closed. Silence was plentiful as the Headmaster sat down and waited for Harry to sit up and face him for the upcoming conversation.
When his emotions were under enough control, Harry did exactly that. He pushed himself up with his arms and swiveled around to face Dumbledore, sitting with arms and legs crossed in part defiance.
"Harry, I don't know what I have done to make you think that I would lie to you, but I can assure you that I did not. I have always given you answers as truthfully and to the best of my knowledge or none at all. Your Aunt Petunia and Cousin Dudley are the last remaining blood relatives left of your mother's,"
Never before had Harry felt this much disbelief at once. Not even when the deformed body of Lord Voldemort arose from a gigantic caldron.
"Because, Headmaster, I have learned the truth about my relatives. I know for a fact that I DO have other relations of my mother and the fact you continue to lie to me and try to convince me that I do not angers me greatly. You can not blame me for being upset over the lie and for assuming that other things you have told me were quite possibly lies as well." Harry spoke his words very cautiously to make sure that the clarity was good enough for even a toddler to understand.
"Well, Harry," Dumbledore said softly. He leaned forward slightly as he spoke. "You know I lies, but I know that I did not. I can only think of one way to clear up this matter."
Harry quirked an eyebrow. He raised a hand towards his trunk and muttered the parsletongue password. His thoughts were blank as he summoned his phial of veritiserum.
Dumbledore seemed a bit pleased, but he wasn't sure if it was because Harry had caught on to the idea or because he had efficiently brewed veritiserum. The old man accepted the tiny bottle of clear liquid from Harry, who was sure that the Headmaster already had some veritiserum inside his robes but was honoring Harry's disbelief by using his.
"Very well then," Dumbledore said as he uncorked the stopped and clearly dropped two tiny droplets onto his tongue.
A numb sense of foreboding coated Harry's stomach. He waited till Dumbledore's twinkling blue eyes adopted a somewhat dazed look about them to begin his questioning.
"What's you name?" Harry automatically asked.
"Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore."
The second question Harry decided should be something harder, something that perhaps Dumbledore wouldn't want to answer therefore the answer would be slightly incriminating, thus, proving the validity of the truth potion.
"Okay, then tell me what you did at the end of term feast my first year at Hogwarts and why."
"I awarded special points to Gryffindor- specifically Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom, and yourself- for special services to the school. The reasons why I did it at the feast was quite simple; the students and staff had a right to know who they should thank for the safety of the school, but mostly I did it because I wanted to see you smile."
Out of all of the possible answers that would have made sense, the one that Harry received did not. Why would Dumbledore wish to see him smile enough to anger all the Slytherins at the same time? Also, if he wanted to see him smile, why didn't he just tell Harry that he had a Grandfather and a Grandmother who he already knew?
Harry held his breath as he worded he next question so that there could be no misinterpretation.
"Were you lying when you said answered my question earlier about having other possible blood relations, other than my Aunt Petunia and Cousin Dudley?"
"… No. I told you the truth. To my knowledge, you have no other relatives other that your Aunt Petunia and Cousin Dudley."
The breath that Harry had been holding was suddenly expelled with a "whoosh". How could Dumbledore be telling the truth? The genial potion results had shown him to be directly related to Dumbledore and McGonagall through his mother Lily. Had he made the genial potion wrong?
Just as he was beginning to become distressed, an idea came to him.
"Accio genial potion!" Harry said hastily.
The potion came zooming out of the trunk and landed in his outstretched palm.
"Professor, I wonder if you'd mind testing this for me?" Harry asked, no trace of anger only nervousness.
"No," Dumbledore said, still under the effects of veritiserum. " I wouldn't mind at all."
Harry handed the phial over and explained what it was, even though he though the man already knew what it was.
"See, I brewed this over the summer and tested it. It showed me that I still have blood relatives among the living and well… I'd like you to test it and see if it was correct in giving me the results that it did."
The Headmaster inclined his head, to peer at Harry over the top of his crooked nose and half moon spectacles.
Without another word, Dumbledore waved his wand and produced a large sheet of parchment along with a small medicinal looking knife.
Harry bit his lip as he watched Dumbledore make a small prick on the tip of a finger with the conjured tool. A few drops of blood tainted the stark white parchment. A few agonizing seconds later the genial potion was dripped onto the paper, on top of the blood droplets. Harry lifted his eyes up from the parchment just after the flash to see the expression on Dumbledore's face.
At first, it appeared as if noting had seemed odd to the professor. Then, just as Harry was about to start beating himself up for setting up such a disappointment, Dumbledore's blue eyes shot open in shock. That alone was enough to startle Harry. After all, it was everyday that one got to see the serenely calm and collected Headmaster of Hogwarts unhinged but the exclamation of "Oh holy Merlin's beard!" was enough to put Harry over the top.
Wasting no time, Harry scrambled off his bed to peer over Dumbledore's shoulder. There at the bottom was his name branching off of James and Lily, who was connected to Dumbledore and McGonagall.
A long moment of silence passed with both of them, Harry standing and Dumbledore still sitting there, staring at the parchment.
"Do you think it's all a mistake then or did I botch the potion? Maybe I-"
Harry's ramblings were cut off by Dumbledore standing up, with great quickness for a man his age, and capturing Harry in a hug that was somewhere between the intensity of Molly Weasley and the strength of Hagrid. He wasn't positive but he thought he felt a tear soak the cotton of his t-shirt on his shoulder. Harry squirmed a bit under the strength of his Grandfather, but the grip only tightened as if afraid that Harry would get away.
"No, my boy, you made the potion correctly. It seems that you are finally what I've longed for you to be ever since you were born; my Grandson."