There was a stillness to the morning, which couldn't be matched by any other part of the day—the moment just before the sun crested over the horizon, welcoming the beginning of a new day.
Sitting on an old rickety garden chair that had obviously been broken and transfigured more times than he could count, Harry enjoyed the last vestiges of silence before the birds roused from their nests and the garden gnomes woke up to do whatever garden gnomes do.
Harry had woken this early out of pure excitement. In just a few hours he would be using magic again.
His trunk had already been packed and was currently sitting on the front stoop. He'd only needed to add his schoolbooks and a special package gifted from Fred and George to what he'd taken from Privet Drive.
The sun had risen high enough now that Harry could feel its warmth on his face and was forced to squint his eyes.
It was silent out here, but he knew it was a different story inside the Burrow. Even from his spot in the garden, he could imagine the clanging, stomping, yelling and complaining as last minute packing was scrambled to be done.
It was a short while later he heard the soft crunch of feet approach him, and the scent of lavender replaced the smell of wet grass to which he had become accustomed to.
"You look like an old man, Arry," Fleur's sweet voice teased from behind him. "I zhink you are already grumpy and broody enough."
"I was always told girls liked the dark and mysterious types," he replied.
"Whoever told you zhat clearly knows nozzing about women. I could not zhink of any self-respecting witch who would enjoy spending time wiz a sullen and sad boy."
"You certainly spend enough time with me," Harry joked.
"I 'ave to make ze best with ze company I 'ave avaialble," she quipped back.
Harry fought to bite back a laugh at the thought of Ginny and Fleur spending time together. They'd avoided even breathing the same air as each other the last two weeks.
They sat together in silence for a few moments before Harry spoke up again, "I'm trying to imagine what you would look like as an old woman, but for the life of me I can't seem to do it."
"I would give up eef I were you. You will never see it," she stated plainly.
Will I even be alive by then? he thought. He knew she hadn't meant it that way, but a dark part of himself wondered if it were true.
"Why?" he said instead.
"I 'ave seen your prescription Arry, I am certain zat you will be blind by zhen."
Harry spun around in his seat to the sight of her cheeky smirk. In that moment, with her hair and eyes alight in the morning sun, Harry was struck by just how beautiful she was.
"Any normal bloke would have stopped talking to you by now," Harry said.
"Per'aps, but you are not like any normal wizard, Arry."
Harry paused, not knowing what to say in response.
Luckily, he was saved from answering by Mrs. Weasley who came bustling outside.
"Harry, darling, what are you doing sitting outside so early in the morning, you'll catch a cold!" She waved a wooden spoon as she hurried past Fleur and took Harry by the shoulders. "Come along, come along, the food is ready and waiting."
Hermione was already at the table, book in hand, and they ate together in relative silence before Ron and Ginny came popping in and out, grabbing food in between their packing.
Ron had forgotten his broomstick and needed to sprint to the shed to find it; and just as he came back into the house, Ginny walked down the steps, stopped at the sight of him and cursed beneath her breath, running outside as well.
"Eez eet always like zis?" Fleur's voice tickled Harry's ear.
"It used to be worse with the twins." Harry laughed at the look of horror on her face.
"Oh my, is it that time already!" Mrs. Weasley cried from the front door. "The Ministry is here!" She leaned over the bannister and yelled upstairs, "Hurry up, I won't have you keeping them waiting!"
"Good morning! Come inside, please, we're just about ready." Harry could hear Mrs. Weasley speaking to their escorts from outside. "What are your names? Did no one else from the Ministry join you?" she questioned with a hopeful tone in her voice.
"Oh—no one else?" Mrs. Weasley sounded disappointed. "Well that is perfectly alright. Would you care for some breakfast?"
Making his way outside, Harry saw two large, black limousines and a group of four very serious looking wizards standing at the front of the house and speaking to Mrs. Weasley.
"Harry, I'd like you to meet Auror Fardale, Hammer, Proudfoot and Conner. They'll be taking us to Kings Cross."
Harry approached the Aurors, who were all wearing plain wizard's robes rather than their traditional red uniforms. They all gave him a short nod and grunt in greeting.
"Sorry to turn down your offer of breakfast, Mrs. Weasley, but the Minister has us on a tight schedule and I think it would be best if we got moving," Auror Fardale said in a friendly voice.
If the impatient twitches on the Aurors faces were anything to go by, it took much longer than they had been hoping to get all of the Weasley's out of the house and into the cars with their belongings.
Auror Conner looked set to explode when they suddenly had to stop, because Ginny needed to run back into the house and grab her pet Pygmy Puff. Auror Fardale snickered at his partner's expression, but a glare from Conner shut the laughing man up quickly.
The ride was fairly quiet, with Harry staring out the window and watching as the magic of the car weaved them in and out of traffic.
"So what does it feel like to be called the Chosen One?" Auror Fardale broke the silence, laughter gleaming in his eyes as he looked at Harry.
"Feels better than what the Ministry was calling me before," Harry said, doing little to hide the distaste in his voice.
The dark eyes of Auror Conner turned and inspected Harry for bit longer than he felt comfortable with, before speaking up, "The blame lies at the feet of Cornelius Fudge, not the Ministry."
"I had to deal with far more than just Fudge," Harry challenged, flexing his right hand, where once he'd had the words I must not tell lies carved into his skin.
Auror Conner flicked his gaze to Harry's hand. "Fudge is gone and so is his administration. The Ministry is not as it once was, you'd do well to understand that."
"Oh, come on Reg, lighten up a bit," Auror Fardale interjected, sending Harry an apologetic smile. "If there's any person who can reasonably distrust the Ministry it would be him."
Auror Conner simply grunted and turned his attention to the window.
Fardale turned back to Harry. "That being said, Reg does have a point. Things are different under Scrimgeour; they're… getting better. The transition would have been easier had Madam Bones still been around, but we're getting there.
Harry nodded. He'd overheard Mr. and Mrs. Weasley talking about Madam Bones' death a few nights ago and the massive repercussions it had on the Ministry.
The remainder of the car ride passed in silence as they flew through London traffic and towards Kings Cross Station.
On arrival, the Aurors quickly and efficiently unloaded the cars and led them through the portal to the Hogwarts express, parting the growing crowds and drawing much attention in the process. It was only when Harry came into view that the whispers started to spread around them.
"Alright, Potter," Auror Conner grunted as he lifted his trunk on to the train, "try not to be an idiot and die."
Sending stern glares at gawking passersby, he sharply turned on his heel and left. Filling the space of his partner, Fardale approached and patted Harry on the shoulder.
"Put that Chosen One name to good use and bed a few witches for me. I'll see you around kid," he saluted before running off to go join his team.
Turning around to board the train, Harry was stopped by the touch of a cool hand on his own.
"Be careful, 'Arry. I 'ave heard too many stories of ze danger you get up to."
"I can't promise you that Fleur. The year hasn't even started, who knows what sort of trouble I'll find myself in." He smiled, only half-joking.
"Simply remember zat there are those 'oo care deeply for you outside," Fleur said as she cupped the side of his face with her hand and kissed his cheek softly.
A harsh whistle from the train shook Harry to attention, and with one final wave goodbye, Fleur turned and left the platform with Mrs. Weasley.
Most of the compartments were already full, Harry noticed. While passing along the carriages in search of his friends, he could feel the weight of eyes following him down the rows of compartments.
He gritted his teeth and pretended to ignore the stares he was receiving and hurried along deeper into the train, not wanting to linger any longer than needed.
Just as he was exiting one car and entering the next, not paying close enough attention, Harry collided with someone ahead of him.
Looking down, Harry was met with the flushed face of a sporty looking brunette. "Oh! I'm so sorry Megan," Harry apologized, helping her to her feet.
"It's totally fine Harry," she assured him as she straightened her robe. "I can probably guess why you were sprinting down the hall," she giggled.
Harry rubbed the back of his head. "It's a little much isn't it?" he said with annoyance.
"Who would have known, the great Harry Potter's greatest weakness is the adoring stares of his biggest fans."
Harry chuckled at her cheek. "Just don't go around telling people that."
"Frankly, I think it's easy enough to tell—but say… how about I'll keep my silence if you let us win the Quidditch Cup this year?"
"You know I can't do that Megan. McGonagall would skin me."
"Fine," she pouted, "I have a better idea! You'll come down to Hogsmeade with me on the first weekend."
Oh, so that's what this is, realization dawned over Harry who was slightly stunned by her forwardness. He didn't remember Megan ever being so bold.
She was gazing at him expectantly.
Looking at her in a way he hadn't before, he could see how some found her pretty—she certainly wasn't unattractive.
"Er—sure," he said eventually, not wanting to be rude.
"Great! My sister wantsto meet you," she said excitedly.
"Gwenog?" Harry asked, now confused. Megan nodded.
Gwenog Jones, the International Quidditch star, Beater for England and the Hollyhead Harpies, wanted to meet him?
"She's wanted to meet you for a few years now, actually. She tries her best to make it to each Hogwarts match, but hasn't had the chance to catch you yet. I've never seen her so furious after the house league was ruined last year with Umbridge's bans."
"Oh—well, I'm looking forward to it," he said.
Excusing himself, and promising to catch up more at Hogwarts, Harry continued down the train, before finally finding his friends in the second-to-last car.
Through the window he could see they looked to be in the middle of an animated conversation.
Sliding open the compartment door, they fell silent. Ron and Ginny were particularly red in the face, while both Neville and Hermione sat uncomfortably between them, and Luna, off on her own, was reading the Quibbler upside-down in the corner.
"What happened?" Harry asked, taking a seat.
"Nothing," Hermione said quickly, pretending Ginny and Ron weren't staring daggers at one another behind her. "Malfoy got under Ron's skin is all."
"Don't even get me started on him," Ron fumed, his face turning a few shades darker. "You'd think with his dear old daddy in Azkaban he would be less of an arse, but he's worse! Strutting around like he's on top of the world. Then Ginny—"
"Then nothing!" Ginny interrupted, yelling over Ron. "Ginny is allowed to do what she wants and if I want to see my boyfriend it's none of your business! Maybe if you found yourself a girlfriend, you wouldn't be so worried about my life."
Ron's eyes bulged in apparent shock, his mouth opening and closing without any words coming out.
"Hello, Harry," Luna's dreamy voice floated from behind her magazine, lowering the tension of the cabin. "Daddy wanted me to tell you how sad he was Stubby Boardman passed away, our best articles for the Quibbler were about him. I agree with daddy, but mostly because Stubby always seemed to make you smile."
Harry looked to Luna softly and said, "Thank you."
Neville cleared his throat from the bench across him. The attention of the room turned to him and he paused, before saying, "I was with the Hufflepuffs earlier, and I had some people ask me about the Ministry."
"I bet you it was that git Smith," Ginny said spitefully.
Neville didn't say anything, but the look on his face was enough.
"What did he want to know?" Harry asked.
"He was saying everyone at Hogwarts deserves to know what happened there."
"And what did you say?" Ron asked seriously.
"I told him to do one."
A goofy grin spread across Neville's face as Ron slapped him on the back.
"But… I do think it might be a good idea to tell people from the D.A. Even though they weren't at the Ministry, they were still with us last year," he added.
"I agree with Neville," Hermione said intently and looked to Harry. "It would stop a lot of people from bothering you."
Luna hummed in agreement, as did Ron and Ginny.
"I think it's a good idea," Harry said, letting that settle before he spoke next, "you can tell them why we went whenever you decide to meet again."
Hermione's eyebrows shot up. Only she seemed to catch the meaning of his words.
"Harry, I think they'd rather hear it from you," she prodded.
A knock on the door cut them off.
Crowded around the outside of their compartment was a gaggle of schoolgirls, led by one particularly bold Gryffindor with a pretty face and rich, curly dark hair. The Gryffindor girl waved to Harry, winked, and blew him a kiss, while her friends giggled all around her.
"Who was that?" Harry asked his friends, utterly bewildered, once the girls left.
"Her name is Romilda Vane," Hermione replied, hardly able to contain her laughter. "She's a fourth year."
"You think she might fancy you? I was getting mixed signals," Ron said innocently.
Harry elbowed his friend stiffly, who'd completely lost it at this point and was near tears.
Another knock sounded at their door.
This time it was Colin Creevey, who awkwardly poked his head into their compartment.
He beamed brilliantly at Harry. "Hi Harry! I've got a letter for you from Professor Slughorn. He told me it was important to get it to you right away."
Harry thanked Colin as he left and opened the envelope.
"Well…" Hermione said, eyeing the parchment with great interest.
"It's an invitation to meet Professor Slughorn on the train for lunch," Harry said slowly. He hadn't been anticipating this. "I suppose I'll go…"
"Of course, you will!" Hermione shrieked. "You can't turn down a request from a Professor like that—it's rude!"
She'd hardly given him a moment before pushing him out the door.
Harry wandered the train for some time. He didn't quite now where the carriage Slughorn wanted to meet in was but figured he would stumble into it at some point. He was approaching the front of the train when a voice called out to him.
"Potter! Hey, Golden Boy—in here!"
Looking to his right, the door to a compartment was slid open and inside were a collection of Slytherins.
"He's called the Chosen One now, Daph, didn't you know?" a brunette witch said with a smirk.
"Hi Tracey," he said to the smirking girl, before turning to the first. "You know, if I didn't know any better, I would think you're mocking me."
Daphne Greengrass looked at him in amusement, her sapphire eyes twinkling beneath strands of black hair.
A soft chuckle from the corner of the compartment brought his attention to a dark-skinned boy, Blaise Zabini. "You should know by now, Potter, almost everything Daphne says or does is mocking someone."
"He's right," Tracey piped up, "it just so happens it's you she's mocking most of the time." Tracey laughed as her friend sent her a cool glare.
"We heard word that your little defence club isn't running again this year," Daphne said.
Harry narrowed his eyes. "Where did you hear that, I haven't told anyone yet."
Daphne looked pleased with herself. "You just told us now."
"There's going to be lots of sad and lonely witches now that they've lost their chance for one-on-one Potter tutoring," Tracey joked, while Daphne looked distinctly unimpressed.
"A good chance for you, Blaise," Harry said.
"Your concern is appreciated, Potter, but not necessary. Fighting Dark Lords is your forte, getting girls to drop their knickers is mine."
"Normally I would insult Blaise over being so disgustingly smug, but in this case he is correct. One would only have to look at a particularly weepy Ravenclaw girl to know how much of a romantic you are," Daphne added.
Taking a closer look in their cabin, Harry spotted a similar looking letter to his discarded beside Blaise's feet.
"Slughorn sent you one too?" Harry asked.
"Yes, apparently I am interesting and talented enough to garner the attention of the esteemed potions master," Blaise drawled.
"Brilliant, you can come show me where his cabin is and then tell him all about your talent for getting girls to drop their knickers."
Tracey snorted.
"Showing a bit of wit for once, Potter. I think spending time with us has rubbed off on you."
It was only a short walk to the Conductor's Compartment, where Slughorn was said to be waiting for them.
Upon entering, they were met with something far too lavish to be stuck within a locomotive full of school children. Soft spun silk of gold hung from the walls, shining in the light of floating candles hovering from the ceiling. A large, circular table sat in the center of the room, filled with expensive looking food and drink.
He knew Slughorn was a lover of the finer things in life, but the man certainly put on display here today.
Harry had never seen Blaise look so excited as the Slytherin quickly found a seat between Cormac McLaggen and Marcus Belby.
Slughorn eyed Harry and patted the empty seat by his side. "Come, Harry, come sit, my boy! It is so good to see you! You as well, Mr. Zabini, I have known your mother for years and it is so nice to put a face to the boy she speaks so highly of."
"Now that we are all here," Slughorn announced, eyeing them greedily. "I would like to formerly introduce myself. My name is Professor Horace Slughorn. I had been the Head of Slytherin House up until my semi-retirement and after years of independence I've decided to return to my old post. Today is mostly a casual event for me to become acquainted with some of the school's more outstanding students."
And that is exactly how the afternoon went by; with Slughorn chatting away with students about important family members, hobbies, businesses, and future aspirations. Harry had tuned most of it out, choosing to pay more attention to the elven wine put out for them.
By the time the sun had started to dip in the sky and Slughorn had given his final speech, Harry felt as though a fog had settled over his mind.
"Come here, Harry, I have something for you," Slughorn called out rather loudly, once the compartment had cleared.
He bent over and started rummaging through a small cupboard and after a few seconds, he emerged with a pair of small vials, each filled with a clear blue liquid.
"One of my more recent inventions. I too have a fondness for wine at times," he said with a slight hiccup. "Take some now and you'll be drowsy by dinner and completely asleep by the time you reach your dormitory—you'll thank me in the morning."
Harry laughed and quickly downed the potion.
The liquid had only just hit his throat when his head cleared, but as the seconds ticked by, he could feel his eyelids grow heavy.
Harry left the carriage and saw a number of students pulling their school robes from their trunks. They would be arriving in Hogsmeade soon.
He'd only made it past a handful of compartments when he noticed just how heavy his limbs had become. He could almost feel the potion slowly seeping through his veins.
I don't think I'll make it to desert at this rate.
Distracted by the effects of the potion, Harry nearly missed as Draco Malfoy slipped suspiciously out of an empty, dark compartment at the far end of the hall. In his hand, was a silk bag he clutched closely to his chest.
He wasn't sure what made him do it, but Harry forced his lethargic body to follow. Checking to see no one was paying him attention, Harry slipped his invisibility cloak from his pocket and threw it on.
They continued on for some time, with Malfoy glancing furtively over his shoulder every so often, until they reached the dining car.
As Malfoy slid open the door, Harry just managed to slip in before it closed on his invisible form.
The entire car was filled with Slytherins, lounging over tables and cushioned seats. Sneaking carefully, Harry spotted Malfoy sitting in a booth with Theodore Nott and Pansy Parkinson.
Wanting to get closer and listen in to their conversation, Harry crawled up a luggage bin above where they were sitting. His body, far too relaxed from the potion, struggled to pull him up and over the metal bars, smacking his knee into a nearby trunk as the train suddenly lurched.
The conversation beneath him stilled and then continued.
"Draco," Pansy simpered, "can we go for a… walk tonight?"
"I can't," Draco answered shortly. "I have to do something. We can go tomorrow if that's alright?"
"Do you promise?" Pansy's voice came out an octave too high.
"Yes, we can do whatever you want, just not tonight."
"This year is going to suck," Nott spoke up moodily. "Snape isn't teaching Potions anymore, so my mark is going to drop, and Potter is going to be extra insufferable this year with all this attention."
Harry could hardly hear what they were saying, his mind fighting the urge to doze to the gentle swaying of the train.
"Do you think that Chosen One crap has any weight to it?" Nott asked Malfoy. "Father won't tell me anything."
Malfoy shrugged, a smug smile on his wormy lips. "I don't think Potter is anything special."
The train lurched again, this time slowing down to a stop.
"Go ahead, Pansy, find a carriage for us. I'll join you in a minute," he said, watching his girlfriend leave.
Malfoy's wand snapped towards the door, locking it.
His eyes half-closed, Harry only caught up to what was happening far too late. Sluggishly he tried to roll out of the way of Malfoy's spell, toppling out of the luggage bin and onto the floor in a heap.
He reached for his wand, but by then it was too late. Malfoy had his pointed at his nose.
Harry could hardly pick himself up, his mind swaying.
"Didn't your mother tell you it's rude to eavesdrop, Potter," Malfoy spat. "Oh—she's dead."
With a final desperate push, Harry tried to knock Malfoy's wand out of his hand, but only managed to make himself fall over, too exhausted to move.
"Petrificus Totalus."
Harry's body snapped together like a board.
"Enjoy the return trip, Scar Head. I'll make sure you have someone there to pick you up."
Malfoy stomped down with his boot and sent Harry to a welcoming darkness
In what could easily have been an eternity later, light filtered into Harry's vision. Everything was a blur, but slowly he could make out the beginnings of a heart shaped face in front of his.
"…your nose is worse than the Beater I dated a few years back…"
Harry thought he recognized that voice.
At least it means I'm not dead.
"Tonks?" Harry finally managed to put a name to the face smiling down at him.
"The one and only," she said, lifting Harry to his feet.
"How did you know where to find me?" he asked as they stepped outside.
"The Order had some of us watching the train, making sure you made it safely to Hogwarts," Tonks explained. "I didn't see you get off, so I told the conductor to hold the train. The blinds were down in that carriage and I checked it out—it's a good thing I did. You want to tell me how you ended up there?"
"Not really," Harry grumbled, sucking in sharply after gingerly touching his nose. "Have you ever worked with Auror Fardale?" he asked trying to distract himself from the pain.
Tonks considered his question a moment. "We've never been on an assignment together, but I've spoken to him at the office a few times. Nice guy, easy going, demon with a wand if he ever takes a situation seriously enough. Why?"
"No reason really, just met him today. He was one of our escorts —really friendly compared to Auror Conner."
Tonks laughed at that. "Yeah, Conner is a bit of a stick in the mud, but he's one of the best and most experienced in the department. He took Bones' death really hard."
As they approached the wide iron gates of Hogwarts, Harry looked to Tonks and said, "I feel like this won't be the last time I'll."
"You might see me here and there." She winked and turned to face someone approaching them.
"Potter, late already are we?" The cold, soulless drawl of Professor Snape was not the return to Hogwarts he'd been hoping for.
"You may leave, Tonks," Snape said, his stony gaze following her until she was out of sight.
"20 points from Gryffindor should suffice for such early rule breaking." His black eyes narrowed in on Harry, and with a vicious swipe of his wand, Snape snapped Harry's nose snap into place with a sickening crunch.
Harry nose was pulsing for the remainder of the walk to the castle.
Doing his best to slip into the Great Hall unnoticed, Harry sneaked his way to the Gryffindor table where is friends were sitting. He grabbed a napkin and pressed it to his nose hoping stem its bleeding.
"Harry, what happened?" Ron whispered loudly, staring wide-eyed at the dripping blood.
"You never came back to the compartment," Hermione said. "We waited for you by the carriages, but figured you'd already gone up. Are you alright?"
"I'm fine, Hermione, really," Harry said quietly, hoping to keep people's attention away from them. "I—I tripped and broke my nose while leaving Slughorn's compartment."
"You tripped?" Ginny looked at him skeptically. She poked her fork in his direction, a loose piece of turkey swinging in the air with it. "You expect us to believe you tripped?"
"Listen, it doesn't matter what I did to my nose. I'm fine," he said sharply.
Feeling his mood turn sour, Harry spun around in his seat and looked around the Great Hall.
Raking his eyes over the Ravenclaw table beside them, Harry waved to Megan. Not far away, Luna was speaking to a few of the new first years. Her eyes briefly rose to meet Harry's, giving him a knowing look.
The Hufflepuff table was oddly subdued. Clumps of students spoke in huddle, occasionally peeking over to Susan Bones who sat off to the side with her best friend Hannah Abbot.
Finally, gazing across the hall, Harry scanned the Slytherin table. Malfoy sat near the end, bookended by the hulking figures of Crabbe and Goyle, busy chatting with Parkinson and Nott and several other shady looking Slytherins. Beside them, Tracey was babbling away to Daphne, who was staring directly at Harry.
There was something about the way she looked at him that made Harry feel as if she could see right through him. It was difficult to tell from this distance, but he thought she might have been looking at his nose. Their gaze lingered far longer than necessary and was only cut off by the clipping of heels and familiar Scottish brogue.
"Mr. Potter." The stern face of Professor McGonagall looked down at him through her square spectacles. She glanced quickly at his nose. "It is nice of you to finally join us. The headmaster would like to see you in his office after the feast."
"Thank you, Professor," he said. "It's nice to see you."
McGonagall's eyes softened. "Likewise, Mr. Potter, enjoy the rest of your evening," she said, returning to her seat.
"What's Dumbledore want?" Ron asked.
"No idea," he lied.
Harry left just after the first serving of desert. He climbed the grand staircase to the seventh floor, thinking of what to expect. He'd agreed to work with Dumbledore, but the events of last year still played freshly in his mind.
There was a single conclusion Harry had come over the summer holidays. Dumbledore was just as human as everyone else.
The gargoyle guarding the entrance to the Headmaster's Office leapt to the side as he approached, revealing a tall spiraling staircase.
"Come in, Harry," a gentle voice floated through the door.
Without a knock, Harry entered.
Behind a great oak desk sat Albus Dumbledore with Fawkes by his side, towering over papers stacked so high it looked as if a slight breeze could push them over; and scattered all around him and throughout the room were books opened and marked to specific pages.
"I would say you are looking well, Harry, but it would seem that your penchant for finding trouble has already acted up," the old man chuckled. "Severus does a fantastic job fixing injuries, but a word of advice for the future, if you are looking for a milder experience, I would recommend seeing Poppy first."
"It certainly wasn't pleasant," Harry cringed. "Next time I might just leave it the way it is."
"Perhaps you should, there seems to be a lack of good men with crooked noses in our world," Dumbledore smirked, tapping his distinctly crooked one with a gloved finger. "Alas, there are a few things I would like to discuss with you this evening. First of which is Severus' appointment as Defence Against the Dark Arts professor."
Harry made a face.
Dumbledore smiled kindly over his whiskers. "I would like to ask you to keep an open mind, despite the unpleasant history between you and Severus."
Harry snorted at what was possibly the understatement of the century.
"I'll keep my mind open as long as Snape does, sir."
"Professor Snape, Harry," Dumbledore corrected. "But good, I appreciate your sacrifice. You might even be pleasantly surprised. He may well be the most qualified teacher for the position I have hired in decades."
Harry nodded and felt himself yawn.
"The long ride can be quite draining, so I will do my best to finish up quickly." Dumbledore scribbled away quickly at the bottom of a page, before setting it down and turning his full attention to Harry. "Your lessons with me will take up much of your leisure time on top of your scheduled classes, as such I have taken the liberty of naming Katie Bell the Quidditch Captain for Gryffindor. I hope you understand?"
Harry was surprised he had even been considered for Quidditch Captain. He'd assumed it would be going to Katie in the first place. "That isn't an issue, sir. I was never one for Quidditch tactics anyways, I just go out there and catch the snitch."
"Beautiful in its simplicity, Harry. That does ease my mind, especially in regard to Minerva." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled behind his half-moon glasses. "She was rightfully enraged when I told her of my decision, and she made it very clear that she would only cooperate if you agreed with my decision. Now that we have covered that issue, another question I have is if you are planning on continuing your defense study club this year?"
"I wasn't, actually," Harry said, still feeling guilty about it all. "I figured I would be too busy with our lessons."
"I think that is for the best, though your friends may keep meeting if they please," Dumbledore said slowly, before standing and walking across his office to a bookshelf, his finger skimming rows of ancient and frayed spines as he hummed to himself.
He pulled out two battered looking books.
"There is some reading I expect you to do," Dumbledore explained. "This is an incredibly valuable collection—the only copy of its kind. I do not expect you to fully understand everything written within its pages, even I struggle with much of the theory at times," he chuckled, passing over what looked to be more of a very thick journal than a book. Hundreds of handwritten pieces of parchment were sticking out of its sides, the leather binding only kept in place by a wrapped piece of twine.
He looked down fondly at it before continuing, "I caution you with what I'm giving next—it is a gruesome read, but worthwhile for that same reason."
"This…?" Harry said, his stomach twisting at the title. Spelt in crimson across the cover, with what could have been dried blood, was Secrets of the Darkest Art. It felt as though it had been bound in human skin.
"You will not perform any of the magic within its pages, nor will anyone be aware of its existence outside of this office," Dumbledore said in a stern voice.
A moment passed, and his usual grandfatherly appearance returned. "At times, we must learn to understand our enemy if we wish to have any hope in defeating them," Dumbledore continued, taking his seat once again. "The Dark Arts are a seductive magic and have perverted a great many wizards and witches who did not approach their power with caution. We will be faced with those who wield it freely, as such it is my responsibility to prepare you for that inevitability.
Harry could almost taste the corruption leaking from its pages.
"We will get through this together, Harry," Dumbledore said calmly, while dipping a quill in ink and picking up a fresh piece of parchment with his gloved hand. "Now, I believe it is passed curfew and I wouldn't want to keep you any longer than necessary."
Dumbledore returned to his writing, which Harry took as a dismissal.
"Goodnight Headmaster," he called as he left the office.
Harry went down the stairs and through several empty corridors, before slipping behind a tapestry hiding a secret passageway. Exiting, Harry could see the Fat Lady at the end of the hall dozing softly within her frame.
"Password?" she said sleepily, having been woken up by his approach.
"Er—" Harry stopped to think, realizing with a jolt he hadn't asked Ron and Hermione for the new password. "Well, you see, I was just in a meeting with Professor Dumbledore, he kno-"
The portrait opened at Dumbledore's name.
With a sigh of relief, Harry rushed up to his dormitory, where the boys were already fast asleep. Harry quickly changed and hopped into his four-poster bed. Wrapped beneath his warm covers, he closed his eyes thinking of the new books he'd been given, hidden within his trunk in the folds of one of Dudley's old jumpers.