Well, at least the reviews doubled from last week... (looks at the two people who reviewed chapter 14) thanks... Well, anyway... coming closer and closer to the close of ANP4! (single confetti popper explodes) Yay! Please Review Peoples! muse is desiring to be fed... its like those freaking mags from Phantesy Star Online... three minutes later its hungry again...

Chapter Fifteen

Disappearances

Harry was awoken very suddenly. There was a burning pain in his chest, and as he looked up, Professor Dumbledore was kneeling over him, Faykan and Krum behind him. Harry groaned as he tried to sit up, but Dumbledore put a hand on his chest.

"Lie still for a moment," Dumbledore said softly.

There came the sounds of thundering footfalls, and Harry turned his head to see Hagrid come into view, panting heavily and Fang at his heels. He was carrying his loaded crossbow.

"Professor Dumbledore!" he said, his eyes widening. "Harry! What the…?"

"Hagrid, I need you to fetch Professor Karkaroff," said Dumbledore. "His student and Harry have been attacked. When you've done that, kindly alert Professor Moody…"

"No need, Dumbledore," said a wheezy growl. "I'm here."

Moody was limping toward them, leaning on his staff, his wand lit.

"Damn leg," he said furiously. "Would've been here quicker . . . what's happened? Snape said something about Crouch…"

"Crouch?" said Hagrid blankly.

"Karkaroff, please, Hagrid!" said Dumbledore sharply.

"Oh yeah... right y'are, Professor..." said Hagrid, and he turned and disappeared into the dark trees, Fang trotting after him.

"I don't know where Barty Crouch is," Dumbledore told Moody, "but it is essential that we find him."

"I'm onto it," growled Moody, and he pulled out his wand and limped off into the forest.

Harry finally sat up, the pain in his chest ebbing away. Faykan knelt beside him and helped him stand. Harry noticed that Faykan didn't let go in a hurry after getting him to his feet. "What happened?" he asked, and Dumbledore turned from watching the forest. "You and Mr. Krum were stunned when Faykan and I arrived…"

He was interrupted by Hagrid and Fang returning with Karkaroff.

"What is this?" he cried when he saw them. "What's going on?"

"Ve vere attacked!" said Krum, rubbing his head slightly. "Mr. Crouch or votever his name…"

"Crouch attacked you? Crouch attacked you? The Triwizard judge?"

"Igor," Dumbledore began, but Karkaroff had drawn himself up, clutching his furs around him, looking livid.

"Treachery!" he bellowed, pointing at Dumbledore. "It is a plot! You and your Ministry of Magic have lured me here under false pretenses, Dumbledore! This is not an equal competition! First you sneak not one but in two underage champions into the tournament, and now one of your Ministry friends attempts to put my champion out of action! I smell double-dealing and corruption in this whole affair…"

"Igor!" Dumbledore shouted, halting Karkaroff's ranting, "Mr. Krum was not the only person attacked. Harry was stunned as well, so I do not believe that this was meant to harm your student."

That seemed to pacify the Durmstrang professor, although he was still muttering under his breath.

"Hagrid, please take Harry and Faykan back to the school, right up to Gryffindor Tower. And boys, I want you both to stay there. Anything you might want to so – any owls you might want to send – they can wait until morning, do you understand me?"

"Err, yes," Harry said, wondering how Dumbledore had known he wanted above all to tell Sirius about this immediately.

"I'll leave Fang with you Headmaster," Hagrid said, eyeing Karkaroff apprehensively. "C'mon you two. Stay, Fang."

They marched in silence past the Beauxbatons carriage and back up to the castle. Hagrid was complaining about the foreigners the entire distance, and Harry was quite glad to say goodbye to him in front of the fat lady. Together he and Faykan clambered through the portrait hole into the common room and hurried straight for the secret door to the Room of Requirement, speeding through to find Ron, Hermione and Draco waiting for them. Harry only realized as they sat down to tell them what happened, that his original goal of talking to Faykan had been thoroughly disrupted.

~~Sina tea kirma : This is a line break~~

Draco yawned loudly and rather undignified as he ascended the stairs to the owlery with Harry, Ron, Hermione and Faykan the next morning. They had spent nearly the entire night talking about what happened on the edge of the forest with Mr. Crouch. Draco noticed early on that Harry was rather hesitant to explain what he and Faykan had been doing so close to the forest in the first place, but decided that it was their personal business and not too important in the long run.

"Just go through it again, Harry," Hermione was saying. "What did Mr. Crouch actually say?"

"I've told you, he wasn't making much sense," said Harry. "He said he wanted to warn Dumbledore about something. He definitely mentioned Bertha Jorkins, and he seemed to think she was dead. He kept saying stuff was his fault... He mentioned his son."

"What? The one he sent to Azkaban?" Draco asked.

Faykan nodded.

"He was out of his mind," said Harry. "Half the time he seemed to think his wife and son were still alive, and he kept talking to Percy about work and giving him instructions."

"And... remind me what he said about You-Know-Who?" said Ron tentatively.

"I've told you," Harry repeated dully. "He said he's getting stronger."

There was a pause. Then Ron said in a falsely confident voice, "But he was out of his mind, like you said, so half of it was probably just raving..."

Something clicked in Draco's mind, "I think he was telling the truth Ron. My father was talking to me in letters recent, and from his tone I swore he knew the Dark Lord was going to return, and soon."

"I wouldn't be surprised…" Faykan said. Draco was about to ask what he meant, but they were interrupted by Hermione sudden shushing, as two voiced came closer from the staircase, arguing amongst themselves.

"…that's blackmail, that is, we could get into a lot of trouble for that…"

"…we've tried being polite; it's time to play dirty, like him. He wouldn't like the Ministry of Magic knowing what he did…"

"I'm telling you, if you put that in writing, it's blackmail!"

"Yeah, and you won't be complaining if we get a nice fat payoff, will you?"

The Owlery door banged open. Fred and George came over the threshold, and froze at the sight of them all.

"What're you doing here?" Ron and Fred said at the same time.

"Sending a letter," said Harry and George in unison.

"What, at this time?" said Hermione and Fred.

Fred grinned.

"Fine, we won't ask you what you're doing, if you don't ask us," he said.

He was holding a sealed envelope in his hands. Harry glanced at it, but Fred, whether accidentally or on purpose, shifted his hand so that the name on it was covered.

"Well, don't let us hold you up," Fred said, making a mock bow and pointing at the door.

Ron didn't move. "Who're you blackmailing?" he said.

The grin vanished from Fred's face. Harry saw George half glance at Fred, before smiling at Ron.

"Don't be stupid, I was only joking," he said easily.

"Didn't sound like that," said Ron.

Fred and George looked at each other. Then Fred said abruptly, "I've told you before, Ron, keep your nose out if you like it the shape it is. Can't see why you would, but…"

"It's my business if you're blackmailing someone," said Ron. "George's right, you could end up in serious trouble for that."

"Told you, I was joking," said George. He walked over to Fred, pulled the letter out of his hands, and began attaching it to the leg of the nearest barn owl. "You're starting to sound a bit like our dear older brother, you are, Ron. Carry on like this and you'll be made a prefect."

Draco snorted, they day Ronald Weasley was made a prefect was the day he would stop being a Malfoy.

Fred and George sent off their letter and left abruptly, muttering to each other about annoying younger brothers.

"You don't think they know something about all this, do you?" Hermione whispered.

"About Crouch and everything?"

"No," said Harry. "If it was something that serious, they'd tell someone. They'd tell Dumbledore."

Ron, however, was looking uncomfortable.

"What's the matter?" Hermione asked him.

"Well..." said Ron slowly, "I dunno if they would. They're... they're obsessed with making money lately, I noticed it when I was hanging around with them… when, you know…"

"When you were being a git," Draco supplied for him. "Yeah, but blackmail..."

"It's this joke shop idea they've got," said Ron. "I thought they were only saying it to annoy Mum, but they really mean it, they want to start one. They've only got a year left at Hogwarts, they keep going on about how it's time to think about their future, and Dad can't help them, and they need gold to get started."

Hermione was looking uncomfortable now.

"Yes, but... they wouldn't do anything against the law to get gold."

"Wouldn't they?" said Ron, looking skeptical. "I dunno... they don't exactly mind breaking rules, do they?"

"Yes, but this is the law" said Hermione, looking scared. "This isn't some silly school rule... They'll get a lot more than detention for blackmail! Ron... maybe you'd better tell Percy..."

"Are you mad?" said Ron. "Tell Percy? He'd probably do a Crouch and turn them in." He stared at the window through which Fred and George's owl had departed, then said, "Come on, let's get some breakfast."

"D'you think it's too early to go and see Professor Moody?" Hermione said as they went down the spiral staircase.

"Yes," said Harry. "He'd probably blast us through the door if we wake him at the crack of dawn; he'll think we're trying to attack him while he's asleep. Let's give it till break."

So Draco left them after breakfast to suffer through an hour of Transfiguration and Nott's idle blustering from two tables behind him. When the bell finally rang, he hurried out into the corridors toward the Defense classroom and found the Gryffindors coming from the direction of History of Magic. They all converged on the door just as Moody was leaving it himself. He looked as tired as they felt. The eyelid of his normal eye was drooping, giving his face an even more lopsided appearance than usual.

"Professor Moody?" Harry called as they made their way toward him through the crowd.

"Hello, Potter," growled Moody. His magical eye followed a couple of passing first years, who sped up, looking nervous; it rolled into the back of Moody's head and watched them around the corner before he spoke again.

"Come in here."

He stood back to let them into his empty classroom, limped in after them, and closed the door.

"Did you find him?" Harry asked without preamble. "Mr. Crouch?"

"No," said Moody. He moved over to his desk, sat down, stretched out his wooden leg with a slight groan, and pulled out his hip flask.

"So he must have disapparated then." Said Ron.

"You can't Disapparate on the grounds, Ron!" said Hermione. "There are other ways he could have disappeared, aren't there, Professor?"

Moody's tired normal eye rested on her, Draco noticed the magical one had remained focused on Faykan after they entered the room, quivering quiet eerily.

"You know, your five really ought to consider your future careers," he said finally, confusing them all, "you all might want to consider becoming Aurors, they way you investigate everything."

They all beamed at his praise of them.

"But, there's nothing you five can do for Crouch. The Ministry'll be looking for him now, Dumbledore notified them. You two," he pointed at Faykan and Harry, "just keep your minds on the third task. It should be right up your street, this one, from what Dumbledore's said, and you've both managed to get through stuff like this plenty of times. Broke your way through a series of obstacles guarding the Philosopher's Stone in your first year, didn't you?"

"We helped too," Ron said quickly, "all three of us."

Moody grinned.

"Well, help these two practice for this one, and I'll be surprised if we don't have a Hogwarts victory," Moody said, "In the meantime… constant vigilance. Stick by each other. I plan to keep an eye on things, but you can never have too many eyes out."

~~Sina tea kirma : This is a line break~~

Sirius responded the very next morning. The owl they had sent fluttered down beside Harry at the same moment that a tawny owl landed in front of Hermione with a copy of the Daily Prophet in its beak. She took the newspaper, scanned the first few pages and happily declared that Rite Skeeter had not gotten wind of Crouch's disappearance. She then joined the three boys in reading Sirius' letter.

Harry,

What do you think you are playing at, walking off into the forest with Viktor Krum? I want you to swear, by return owl, that you are not going to go walking with anyone else at night. There is somebody highly dangerous at Hogwarts. It is clear to me that they wanted to stop Crouch from seeing Dumbledore and you were probably feet away from them in the dark. You're lucky you were only stunned; whoever it was could have just as easily killed you!

Your name didn't get into the Goblet of Fire by accident. If someone's trying to attack you, they're on their last chance. Stay close to your friends, do not leave Gryffindor Tower after hours, and arm yourself for the third task. Practice Stunning and Disarming. A few hexes wouldn't go amiss either. There's nothing you can do about Crouch. Keep your head down and look after yourself. I'm waiting for your letter giving me your word you won't stray out-of-bounds again.

Sirius

Harry was inwardly grateful that Sirius had left out the fact that he was near the forest to talk to Faykan and not Krum, it would have led to embarrassing questions from Ron. He was still rather annoyed at Sirius' mild hypocrisy about the out-of-bounds comment. He also snorted at the comment about arming himself for the task; he knew far more than simple disarming and stunning thanks to Faykan's rigorous training.

"Well, that was rather a redundant letter," Harry commented after reading it through three times, "It's almost the same as what Professor Moody told us."

"Yeah, but they have a point you know," Faykan said, "more practice can't hurt, can it?"

They spent much of their free time that day in the Room of Requirement, occasionally with Draco as well, working on learning new hexes and curses for Harry to use in the Tournament, meaning, ones that Faykan hadn't seen a real need to teach them beforehand.

They practiced Confringo, a spell to cause a fiery explosion, the Confundis charm, to confuse opponents, the Conjunctivitis Curse, which blinded the target and caused searing pain behind the eyes, Expulso, the Impediment Jinx, and Incarcerous. Coupling those with the other spells Harry already knew it made for a formidable list of options.

Faykan was certain that they would not need to reveal exactly how much Harry really knew, and Harry agreed, not wanting the extra attention if such secrets were made public. Finally though, it was time for the afternoon classes. Hermione dashed off to Arithmancy while Harry, Ron and Faykan sped up to North Tower and Divination.

The dimly lit room was swelteringly hot. The fumes from the perfumed fire were heavier than ever. Harry's head swam as he made his way over to one of the curtained windows. While Professor Trelawney was looking the other way, disentangling her shawl from a lamp, he opened it an inch or so and settled back in his chintz armchair, so that a soft breeze played across his face. It was extremely comfortable.

"My dears," said Professor Trelawney, sitting down in her winged armchair in front of the class and peering around at them all with her strangely enlarged eyes, "we have almost finished our work on planetary divination. Today, however, will be an excellent opportunity to examine the effects of Mars, for he is placed most interestingly at the present time. If you will all look this way, I will dim the lights..."

She waved her wand and the lamps went out. The fire was the only source of light now. Professor Trelawney bent down and lifted, from under her chair, a miniature model of the solar system, contained within a glass dome. Harry watched lazily as Professor Trelawney began to point out the fascinating angle Mars was making to Neptune.

The heavily perfumed fumes washed over him, and the breeze from the window played across his face. He could hear an insect humming gently somewhere behind the curtain. His eyelids began to droop...

He was riding on the back of an eagle owl, soaring through the clear blue sky toward an old, ivy-covered house set high on a hillside. Lower and lower they flew, the wind blowing pleasantly in Harry's face, until they reached a dark and broken window in the upper story of the house and entered. Now they were flying along a gloomy passageway, to a room at the very end... through the door they went, into a dark room whose windows were boarded up...

Harry had left the owl's back... he was watching, now, as it fluttered across the room, into a chair with its back to him... There were two dark shapes on the floor beside the chair... both of them were stirring...

One was a huge snake... the other was a man... a short, balding man, a man with watery eyes and a pointed nose... he was wheezing and sobbing on the hearth rug...

"You are in luck, Wormtail," said a cold, high-pitched voice from the depths of the chair in which the owl had landed. "You are very fortunate indeed. Your blunder has not ruined everything. He is dead."

"My Lord!" gasped the man on the floor. "My Lord, I am... I am so pleased... and so sorry..."

"Nagini," said the cold voice, "you are out of luck. I will not be feeding Wormtail to you, after all... but never mind, never mind... there is still Harry Potter..."

The snake hissed. Harry could see its tongue fluttering.

"Now, Wormtail," said the cold voice, "perhaps one more little reminder why I will not tolerate another blunder from you..."

"My Lord... no... I beg you..."

The tip of a wand emerged from around the back of the chair. It was pointing at Wormtail.

"Crucio!" said the cold voice.

Wormtail screamed, screamed as though every nerve in his body were on fire, the screaming filled Harry's ears as the scar on his forehead seared with pain; he was yelling too...Voldemort would hear him, would know he was there...

"Harry! Harry!"

Harry opened his eyes. He was lying on the floor of Professor Trelawney's room with his hands over his face. His scar was still burning so badly that his eyes were watering. The pain had been real. The whole class was standing around him, and both Faykan and Ron were kneeling next to him, looking terrified.

"You all right?" Faykan said.

"Of course he isn't!" said Professor Trelawney, looking thoroughly excited. Her great eyes loomed over Harry, gazing at him. "What was it, Potter? A premonition? An apparition? What did you see?"

"Nothing," Harry lied. He sat up. He could feel himself shaking. He couldn't stop himself from looking around, into the shadows behind him; Voldemort's voice had sounded so close...

"You were clutching your scar!" said Professor Trelawney. "You were rolling on the floor, clutching your scar! Come now. Potter, I have experience in these matters!"

Harry looked up at her.

"I need to go to the hospital wing, I think," he said, "bad headache."

"My dear, you were undoubtedly stimulated by the extraordinary clairvoyant vibrations of my room!" said Professor Trelawney. "If you leave now, you may lose the opportunity to see further than you have ever…"

"I don't want to see anything except a headache cure," said Harry.

He stood up. The class backed away. They all looked unnerved.

"See you later," Harry muttered to Faykan and Ron, picked up his bag and headed for the trapdoor, ignoring Professor Trelawney, who was wearing an expression of great frustration, as though she had just been denied a real treat.

When Harry reached the bottom of her stepladder, however, he did not set off for the hospital wing. He had no intention whatsoever of going there. Sirius had told him what to do if his scar hurt him again, and Harry was going to follow his advice: He was going straight to Dumbledore's office. He marched down the corridors; thinking about what he had seen in the dream... it had been as vivid as the one that had awoken him on Privet Drive... He ran over the details in his mind, trying to make sure he could remember them... He had heard Voldemort accusing Wormtail of making a blunder... but the owl had brought good news, the blunder had been repaired, somebody was dead... so Wormtail was not going to be fed to the snake... he, Harry, was going to be fed to it instead...

Harry had walked right past the stone gargoyle guarding the entrance to Dumbledore's office without noticing. He blinked, looked around, realized what he had done, and retraced his steps, stopping in front of it. Then he remembered that he didn't know the password.

~~Sina tea kirma : This is a line break~~

Albus listened patiently to Cornelius as the small man continued to bury his head in the sand rather than listen to the facts Albus and Alastor were presenting him with concerning the disappearances of Bertha and Barty Crouch. The man was a fool, but Albus had no desire to run the Ministry of Britain, therefore he would simply have to put up with the ignorant Minister.

"And what do you thinks happened to Barty Crouch, Minister?" Alastor said, his magical eye whirling to face the door.

"I see two possibilities, Alastor," replied Cornelius. "Either Crouch has finally cracked, more than likely, I'm sure you'll agree, given his personal history, lost his mind and gone wandering off somewhere…"

"He wandered extremely quickly, if that is the case, Cornelius," Albus pointed out calmly.

"Or else, well..." Cornelius flustered, embarrassed at being made a fool of. "Well, I'll reserve judgment until after I've seen the place where he was found, but you say it was just past the Beauxbatons carriage? Dumbledore, you know what that woman is?"

Albus sighed inwardly, Cornelius was not only a fool and in the pocket of Lucius Malfoy, but he was a bigot and a pureblood idealist as well.

"I consider her to be a very able Headmistress, and an excellent dancer," he said quietly.

"Dumbledore, come!" said Fudge angrily. "Don't you think you might be prejudiced in her favor because of Hagrid? They don't all turn out harmless… if, indeed, you can call Hagrid harmless, with that monster fixation he's got…"

"I no more suspect Madame Maxime than Hagrid," said Albus, inwardly rolling his eyes at the idiocy of the Wizarding community to have elected such a dimwitted Minister. "I think it possible that it is you who are prejudiced, Cornelius."

"Can we wrap up this discussion?" growled Alastor.

"Yes, yes, let's go down to the grounds, then," said Cornelius impatiently.

"No, it's not that," said Alastor, "it's just that Potter wants a word with you, Dumbledore. He's just outside the door."

Albus raised his eyebrows and Alastor limped over and opened the door, revealing Harry.

"Hello Potter," Alastor said to him, "Come in, then."

"Harry!" said Fudge jovially, moving forward as the boy entered the room. "How are you?"

"Fine," Harry said, but Albus could see the unease in his eyes. Something had happened that Harry wanted to talk about with him desperately.

"We were just talking about the night when Mr. Crouch turned up on the grounds," said Fudge. "It was you who found him, was it not?"

"Yes," said Harry, then he added, "I didn't see Madame Maxime anywhere, though, and she'd have a job hiding, wouldn't she?"

Dumbledore smiled at Harry behind Cornelius' back, appreciating the boy's trust of others, even if it led some issues that he, Albus, had to clean up at times.

"Yes, well," said Cornelius, looking embarrassed yet again, "we're about to go for a short walk on the grounds, Harry, if you'll excuse us... perhaps if you just go back to your class…"

"I wanted to talk to you. Professor," Harry said quickly, looking toward Albus. He already knew that Harry had wanted this, or else why would he have come to his office.

"Wait here for me, Harry," he said. "Our examination of the grounds will not take long."

They trooped out in silence past him and closed the door.

It truly didn't take too long to examine the spot where Albus had found Harry and Krum stunned, as Cornelius clearly didn't want to waste too much of his time in the investigation. Albus figured that Cornelius had hoped to just blame Madam Maxime and return to the Ministry as quickly as possibly. The man really needed to learn to respect others for reasons besides wealth or blood purity…

Despite the quickness of their search, however, it was still almost an hour before Albus returned to his office. As he entered, he realized immediately that Harry was gone, and that his Pensieve was in the open, the doors of the cupboard ajar. Albus rushed forward, there were memories in there he did not want Harry to witness, mainly the memories that Albus had been accumulating about Faykan Undol. Thankfully there were several more recent memories that were about the Crouches that Harry would have to go through before entering any of the others. Albus bent forward into the memory, landing in one of the many courtroom scenes that he was sat on during the end of the first war.

Harry was there, sitting next to his younger self as Barty Crouch sentenced his nineteen year old son to Azkaban alongside the three LeStranges: Bellatrix, Rodolphus, and Rabastan.

Albus leaned forward and spoke softly into Harry's ear, "I think Harry, that it is time to return to my office." He still startled the boy, who whipped around to look at him.

"Come," Albus beckoned, tugging upward on Harry's elbow, willing them out of the pensieve.

"Professor," Harry gasped, "I know I shouldn't've… I didn't mean… the cabinet door was sort of open and…"

"I quite understand," said Albus, lifting the stone basin of the pensive, and carrying it over to his desk. He motioned for Harry to sit down opposite him after he had set it upon his desk.

Harry did so, continuing to stare at the stone basin.

"What is it?" Harry asked shakily.

"This? It is called a Pensieve," Albus explained, happy to indulge Harry's curiosity. "I sometimes find, and I am sure you know the feeling, that I simply have too many thoughts and memories crammed into my mind."

"Err," said Harry, and Albus figured that his illustration had confused the boy slightly.

"At these times," he continued, indicating the basin, "I use the Pensieve. One simply siphons the excess thoughts from one's mind, pours them into the basin, and examines them at one's leisure. It becomes easier to spot patterns and links, you understand, when they are in this form."

"You mean... that stuff's your thoughts?" Harry said, staring at the swirling white substance in the basin.

"Certainly," Albus confirmed. "Let me show you."

He drew his wand out of the inside of his robes and placed the tip into his own silvery hair, near his temple, pulling out a memory of when Severus informed him about the Dark Marks burning again on the Death Eaters. He placed it inside the Pensive and swirled the thoughts around, summoning it up to the surface.

"A connection I could have made without assistance," Albus sighed after they viewed the memory, "but never mind." He peered over the top of his half-moon spectacles at Harry, who was gaping at Severus' face in the pensive, "I was using the Pensieve when Mr. Fudge arrived for our meeting and put it away rather hastily. Undoubtedly I did not fasten the cabinet door properly. Naturally, it would have attracted your attention."

"I'm sorry," Harry mumbled.

Albus shook his head. "Curiosity is not a sin," he said. "But we should exercise caution with our curiosity... yes, indeed..."

"So, Harry," Albus said, returning them to the present. "Before you got lost in my thoughts, you wanted to tell me something."

"Yes," said Harry. "Professor, I was in Divination just now, and… err… I fell asleep."

Harry hesitated, but Albus reassured him, merely saying, "Quite understandable. Continue."

"Well, I had a dream," said Harry, "a dream about Lord Voldemort. He was torturing Wormtail... you know who Wormtail…"

"I do know," Albus said promptly, his interest peeked. "Please continue."

"Voldemort got a letter from an owl. He said something like; Wormtail's blunder had been repaired. He said someone was dead. Then he said, Wormtail wouldn't be fed to the snake, there was a snake beside his chair. He said… he said he'd be feeding me to it, instead. Then he did the Cruciatus Curse on Wormtail, and my scar hurt," Harry said. "It woke me up, it hurt so badly."

Albus looked at Harry, his thoughts racing as he considered what this vision meant.

"Err, that's all," said Harry.

"I see," said Albus quietly. "I see. Now, has your scar hurt at any other time this year, excepting the time it woke you up over the summer?"

"No, I… how did you know it woke me up over the summer?" said Harry, astonished.

"You are not Sirius's only correspondent," Albus said, smiling. "I have also been in contact with him ever since he left Hogwarts last year. It was I who suggested the mountainside cave as the safest place for him to stay."

Albus got up and began walking up and down behind his desk. Every now and then, he placed more thoughts into the Pensieve.

"Professor?" Harry said quietly, after a couple of minutes.

Albus stopped pacing and looked at Harry, suddenly remembering the boy was still in the room.

"My apologies," he said quietly, sitting back down at his desk.

"D'you… d'you know why my scar's hurting me?"

Albus looked very intently at Harry for a moment, and then said, "I have a theory, no more than that. ... It is my belief that your scar hurts both when Lord Voldemort is near you, and when he is feeling a particularly strong surge of hatred."

This was not the entirety of the theory, but Albus didn't want to frighten Harry right now with his suspicions of the darker aspect of magic that Voldemort may have wrought upon himself, and inadvertently, Harry himself.

"But... why?" Harry asked innocently.

"Because you and he are connected by the curse that failed," Albus said gently. "That is no ordinary scar."

"So you think... that dream... did it really happen?"

"It is possible," said Dumbledore. "I would say probable. Harry, did you see Voldemort?"

"No," said Harry. "Just the back of his chair. But… there wouldn't have been anything to see, would there? I mean, he hasn't got a body, has he? But... but then how could he have held the wand?" Harry said slowly.

"How indeed?" muttered Dumbledore. "How indeed..." his suspicions were confirmed, Voldemort had returned to a physical form, even if it was still weak.

"Professor," Harry said after several more silent minutes, "do you think he's getting stronger?"

"Voldemort?" said Dumbledore, looking at Harry over the Pensieve. "Once again Harry, I can only give you my suspicions."

Dumbledore sighed again, and began to explain all the rumors and disappearances that had been happening all year, Bertha Jorkins, Barty Crouch, and Frank Bryce, the muggle who lived in the same village that Voldemort's parents had lived. Harry then asked about the memories he had witnessed in the pensieve, and Albus was relieved to learn that the boy had only seen memories about the court trails after Voldemort's first fall. They discussed Neville Longbottom's parents, and Albus sighed, remembering how brave and useful Frank and Alice had been, before Bellatrix had shattered their minds with her torture.

Harry was also particularly interested about the knowledge that Severus and Karkaroff were Death Eaters. Albus assured him that they were servants of Voldemort no longer, at least in Severus's case, and that they served the light. Harry seemed to accept this for Severus, yet seemed to harbor doubts about Igor Karkaroff.

"What made you think he'd really stopped supporting Voldemort, Professor?" Harry asked, referring to Severus. Albus held Harry's gaze for a few seconds, and then said in a finalizing tone, "That, Harry, is a matter between Professor Snape and myself."

Harry nodded, accepting that it was not his business to know. He stood up, and so did

Albus.

"Harry," he said as Harry reached the door. "Please do not speak about Neville's parents to anybody else. He has the right to let people know, when he is ready."

"Yes, Professor," said Harry, turning to go.

"And…"

Harry looked back. "Good luck with the third task." Albus said, trying his best not to betray his fear for the boy's safety.