Disclaimer: The following characters, settings and referenced events are, and always will be, the property of J K Rowling.

– CHAPTER EIGHT –

Hollow Secrets

Harry tried to clear the blockage from his ears without holding his nose; blinking, he noticed that they had Apparated outside the entrance to an old graveyard. Looking around, he saw Ron's face gazing apprehensively towards the dark, towering gravestones marking the final resting places of long-dead witches and wizards. On Ron's far side, Hermione stepped into view in the pale, misted moonlight, her mouth slightly open as she attempted to study the runes carved deep into the lintel above the gateway.

Although it was a warm August night, Harry suddenly felt very cold and pulled his cloak closer about his shoulders. So this was what Lupin had meant by 'enemy territory'. A great wave of despair washed over him and he struggled to fight against it.

A loud cracking sound broke the silence and Harry started. Lupin pressed something into his hand and, looking down, he saw a large piece of chocolate. Taking the hint, he started nibbling it distractedly, more concerned for Ron and Hermione's welfare now that the initial effects of the mist were starting to be chased away by the chocolate.

Lupin looked around at them, concern on his pale features. 'Feeling better?' he asked quietly.

All three of them nodded, although Ron was still glancing around nervously, as if expecting to see a dozen Dementors materialise from the surrounding mist.

'It's all right,' Lupin explained. 'They're at the other end of town. As long as we keep both the noise and our emotions down, we should avoid detection.'

Taking a deep breath, he pressed carefully against the rusty gate, which swung open only slightly, as if reluctant to allow them entry. Squeezing through the gap with reasonable ease due to his undernourished appearance, Lupin led them towards the far right side of the graveyard.

Harry was only briefly aware of strange names and old dates passing at the very edge of his vision; his main attention was focused ahead, trying to see where his parents' graves were. Lupin's purposeful stride left him in no doubt that his former teacher had attended James and Lily's funeral. At least one friend had been there. He assumed Dumbledore had been there, too, but Sirius…

Harry blinked rapidly and tried to stamp down the emotions threatening to bubble to the surface. Hadn't Professor Lupin said they had to stay calm or risk attracting unwanted attention?

Returning his mind to the present, he saw that Lupin had stopped about fifteen feet ahead. Harry's heart suddenly felt too large for his chest. Walking on feet which seemed to be made of lead, he slowly dragged himself forwards – one step…two steps…

He felt Hermione's hand on his shoulder, her shallow breath by his ear.

'Harry, you don't have to –'

'Yes!' Harry cut her off, more sharply than he intended. 'Yes.' He took a few steadying breaths. 'I need to do this.' He glanced at Lupin, who had turned at the sound of their voices, concern once more on his face. Nodding to assure Lupin that everything was all right, Harry grasped his resolve firmly and covered the remaining distance.

And there they were.

Harry looked down at the wide stone slab at his feet. So his mum and dad had been buried side by side, passing eternity as they had lived their lives. He recalled the words Bill and Fleur had vowed to each other only a few days ago – 'till death do us part'. But death had not parted his parents; merely cemented their union, carving it in stone to endure forever.

Blinking, Harry felt a traitorous tear slide down his cheek. He swiped at it impatiently, mortified that Ron should see him crying over people he had barely known and certainly did not remember.

But Lupin had other ideas. 'It's all right, Harry. You were too young to mourn James and Lily when they died. None of us thinks less of you for mourning them now.'

He felt, rather than heard, Ron and Hermione's support for Lupin's statement, but part of him still did not wish to let go in front of witnesses, no matter how close those witnesses were. And besides, he didn't want to alert the Dementors.

Lupin placed his hand gently upon Harry's arm. 'We'll leave you to spend some time alone with them, no more than five minutes though.' His voice dropped to a whisper. 'It is all right to cry silent tears, but try to keep your breathing slow and your heartbeat steady.'

Harry nodded his understanding, his eyes focused upon the names engraved before him.

Then Lupin was gone. Glancing behind him, Harry saw all three of them retreating towards the centre of the graveyard, and he was truly alone with his parents. For the first time since Voldemort had entered his parents' house that Halloween night sixteen years ago, it was James, Lily … and Harry.

Kneeling, he reached a hand tentatively towards the slab, gently caressing the cold stone which separated him from the two people who had loved him most in the whole world. Before he knew what he was doing, he had climbed onto the tomb, curling into a ball and reaching his arm out to lie across the names etched deep into the surface beside him. For a moment, he had a fleeting glimpse of a small boy, little more than a baby, struggling to reach the high rail of his cot, shaking with fear from a bad dream; two strong arms reaching down to him, then lifting up, up, and over a sea of red-gold as his mother rubbed her head into his tummy, making him laugh at both the tickling and thrill of flying; snuggling between two warm bodies, his father's embrace linking with his mother's to hold their little boy safe from monsters.

But there had been one monster they hadn't been able to chase away.

As the memory faded into the distant past, Harry opened his heart and finally let the tears flow – silently and calmly as Lupin had instructed, but falling nonetheless.

He didn't know how long he lay there – it felt like hours or only a few seconds – but slowly, at the edge of his awareness, he heard someone moving swiftly through the overlong weeds between the graves. Looking up, Harry could just make out Lupin's silhouette through the thickening mist and realised he was shivering, though whether from the cold of his parent's tomb or the influence of Dementors, he wasn't sure.

'Sorry to interrupt, Harry,' Lupin's voice held an urgent tone, 'but we need to leave. Now!' Without warning, he grabbed Harry's arm and pulled him roughly to his feet.

Harry straightened his glasses and tried to loosen Lupin's grip but with no success. Stumbling after him, Harry was dragged along almost at a running pace, confusion at Lupin's behaviour mingling with his increasing panic. He tried to see through the thickening mist, but couldn't even see Lupin an arms-length ahead.

Then he heard it; a low, rattling gasp, one of the most frightening sounds in the world.

Still struggling to free his hand, he tried to draw his wand so he could fight off the Dementor, but Lupin stopped him. With more strength than Harry would have given him credit for given his appearance, Lupin threw him to the ground and pointed his wand at the darkness.

Harry barely had time to register that he had landed across a shaking body when he heard a second sound. Part of him had been dreading hearing his father's shouts, his mother's screams or even Voldemort's rebirth since that gasp had broken through the gloom, but he had not expected this. Quietly, pleading, two words reached his ears which made Harry's heart tighten painfully.

'Severus … please …'

All the despair, horror, anguish and loss which Harry had felt when he witnessed Snape murdering Dumbledore threatened to overwhelm him when suddenly Lupin's voice, strong and commanding, shouted, 'Expecto Patronum', joined by Hermione's. Harry was vaguely aware of a bright light burning through his eyelids, but he couldn't shut out the sound of that pleading voice.

Beneath him, he heard the trembling body moan (Ron, it was Ron), and struggled to focus on his friend. Ron was being tormented by unknown demons and was trying to fight Harry. Grabbing the life raft offered, Harry pressed his weight upon Ron and hit him hard across his face. This produced immediate results, for Ron suddenly stopped fighting and started blubbering tearfully.

Unsure what to do next, Harry crawled back off him and bumped Hermione. Looking up, he noticed Lupin turn back towards them as his Patronus faded and died. Briefly, he registered that Dumbledore's voice had also stopped but he didn't have time to ponder his feelings of disappointment; Ron need help. As Lupin broke up another piece of chocolate, Harry tried to lever his friend into a sitting position.

'Here, Ron,' urged Lupin. 'Eat this. It will help you feel better.'

'No.' Ron tried to back away. 'Don't poison me.'

'It's not poison, Ron,' Harry tried to explain. 'It's chocolate. You like chocolate, remember?'

Ron still looked doubtful. 'You poisoned me with chocolate. Made me fall in love…'

'No!' Harry's exasperation at Ron's memory of his seventeenth birthday when he had eaten chocolate laced with Love Potion showed in his voice. 'That was bad chocolate. This is good chocolate.' Harry reached out and took a piece from Lupin's hand. 'See, I'm eating it.' He popped the piece into his own mouth and began to chew, feeling his despair start to dissolve.

But Ron was still shaking and staring fearfully at Harry and Lupin.

'Oh, for heaven's sake!' Hermione sounded as though she was bursting with excitement. (How could she be so happy?) 'Out of the way!' Pushing Harry aside, she grabbed Ron's face in both her hands and kissed him long and hard. At first, Ron's muffled whimper was heard as he started to panic, but it rapidly faded to silence as he reached his arms around her and held on for dear life.

It felt like an hour before they surfaced (Harry's face was surely the colour of Gryffindor's Quidditch uniform) but, finally, they broke apart. Hermione reached behind her, and Lupin emptied the chocolate into her hand. Turning back to Ron, she shoved a large piece into his mouth. 'Now, be a good boy and eat your chocolate!'

Hermione stood over Ron, hands on hips, and stared down at him with a formidable look on her face. Looking up at her, Ron seemed to finally realise that none of them meant him any harm and began chewing. Satisfied that he was going to do as ordered, Hermione dumped the rest of the chocolate into Ron's lap and stepped back, allowing Lupin to crouch down beside him and ensure Ron ate it all.

Harry was a little puzzled as to why, after taking such control of Ron's recovery, Hermione was now handing that control to someone else. He also couldn't understand her excitement. They had just come close to being attacked by a Dementor – Ron had been especially affected – yet she was now backing away, pressing Harry back as she moved. She was also eyeing Lupin as if she was afraid he would notice them leaving.

Harry tried to ask Hermione what was going on, but she quickly placed her hand over his mouth. He could feel her energy and realised she was struggling not to laugh.

Glancing back at Ron and Lupin, Hermione placed a finger to her lips and then beckoned Harry to quietly follow her. With feelings of guilt and trepidation, he complied.

They had just reached the centre of the cemetery where the tallest and grandest tombs were, when Lupin's voice called out 'Hermione, no!'

'Damn,' muttered Hermione, and grabbing Harry's hand, she began running towards where his parents were. But they had only gone a short distance, when Lupin caught up with them. He grabbed Hermione's shoulder and spun her around. As she turned, her grip on Harry made him stumble and he fell headfirst into a large headstone.

Harry could feel blood starting to soak his hair and his head began to pound painfully. Lupin grabbed his shoulder in an attempt to return him to his feet, but Harry shrugged him off. Staring dazedly at the stone, he finally understood the reason for Hermione's behaviour. But it couldn't be – he must have hit his head harder than he thought.

Looking up at them, Harry wasn't surprised to see a look of smug satisfaction on Hermione, but all anger had left Lupin's face; instead, it displayed disappointment and resignation. So he had known.

Hermione's voice broke the silence. 'I'm going to go and get Ron. I'm sure you two will be able to find something to talk about while I'm gone.' And spinning on one heel, she marched off towards Ron.

'Harry,' Lupin began, but Harry didn't want to hear it. Pressing his hand to his head to try to stem the flow of blood, he stared back at the headstone. An ornate icon – half lion, half eagle – graced the top of the marble. Beneath it, carved letters identified the witches and wizards buried below. Casper and Polly Gryffindor had died about one hundred and fifty years ago, Polly predeceasing her husband by five years. Their only child, Primula, had been added almost forty years later.

But it was the name of Primula's husband, buried a quarter of a century before her, which held Harry's attention: PATRICK HARRY POTTER.

Harry felt the coldest he had felt all evening. 'How long have you known?' His toneless voice sounded really loud in the stillness.

'Since sixth year.'

Harry looked up at Lupin. 'So Dad knew?' Lupin nodded. 'And Sirius?' Another nod.

'Dumbledore made us promise not to tell.'

'Why? Why couldn't I know? I mean, I'm a … a Gryffindor!' Harry thought about how that sounded, his anger at Lupin starting to melt away before the warm glow building deep inside him.

'That's why Dumbledore didn't want you to know. You were already the Boy Who Lived. Now you're being called the Chosen One. It was just one more mantel which you didn't need.'

'But nobody else needed to know. It's not like I'd've gone blabbing it to Rita Skeeter or the Daily Prophet. But no. You lot are still trying to make my decisions for me.' He stood up angrily.

'Harry, we're not making decisions –'

'You kept this from me.' Harry started backing away from Lupin. 'If Hermione hadn't found out, I still wouldn't know. You even tried to stop her showing me that tomb. And you reckon you think of me as a man.' He turned and began striding rapidly towards the gateway, not even caring about Ron and Hermione. He just knew he needed to be alone.

He had just squeezed through the gap in the gate when Lupin caught up, Ron and Hermione trailing behind.

'What happened to you?' Ron seemed to have recovered.

'Not now, Ron,' said Lupin quietly as he held the gate for Hermione.

'Didn't you hear, Ron?' said Harry, glaring at Lupin. 'You're not just friends with Voldemort's destroyer.' (Ron winced.) 'No, you're best mates with Godric Gryffindor's great-great-great-great-great-GREAT GRANDSON!' Harry's voice rose in volume until he was almost shouting.

Lupin gave Ron (whose jaw had dropped at this news) a nudge to get him to move through the gateway and then followed, pulling the gate closed behind him.

'You're a Gryffindor?' Ron was staring at Harry.

'Yeah,' said Harry bitterly.

Ron continued to ogle. 'You don't sound too thrilled. I'd love to be descended from a Founder … well, not Slytherin, and maybe not Hufflepuff, but … Gryffindor? WOW!'

'That's enough, Ron.' Lupin took hold of Harry's arm. 'Come on, I'll take you back to the Burrow.'

Harry tore his arm from Lupin's grip. 'What about my parents' house?'

'We can go another time,' he said quietly. 'Right now, I need to get you away from here; you're emotions are too unstable. One Dementor has already found us, and if the rest arrive, I doubt even you will be able to fight them off.' He reached for Harry's arm again, but Harry backed away.

'So much for what you said before. You're still making decisions for me. Well, not anymore. I came here to see my parents' house and you won't stop me.' He whirled around and began marching down the road, mist swirling in his wake.

'You're going the wrong way.' Lupin's voice penetrated the fog.

Harry turned and was surprised to find Remus standing only a few feet from him. 'What?'

'Your parents' place is that way.' Lupin pointed behind him. 'I'll take you there, but you need to calm down. Here, have some chocolate.' He took a block out of his pocket and broke off a piece.

'I don't want any chocolate,' said Harry churlishly.

'You're going to have it anyway.' Lupin forced it into his hand, then turned and headed back to Ron and Hermione.

Harry glared at his back for five seconds before muttering, 'Fine,' and strode after Lupin, angrily grinding the chocolate between his teeth as he went.

x

'I survived that?'

Harry stared disbelievingly at the ruin which had once been his parents' home. He couldn't think of it as his home because he had no memory of it.

'What happened?' Hermione sounded as stunned as Harry felt.

'Basically, the house collapsed,' said Lupin.

That was an understatement. What had once been a two-storey house now resembled something out of a London Blitz newsreel. The top of the roof, which looked like it had been tiled with slate, was level with Harry's nose, balanced precariously on broken beams. Several holes spread across its surface, revealing glimpses of what had once been well-furnished rooms; Harry could make out half of a torn, broken sofa, the cover's pattern hidden beneath several inches of dust.

The front half of the house had no roof at all, just broken and burnt tiles edging what seemed to have been an upstairs bedroom. It looked like the roof had exploded, leaving the room it once covered exposed to the elements. In the centre of the room stood a large bed with two legs missing; torn, moth-eaten sheets hung over its edge. Harry guessed that the bed had once stood under a window because a faded, water-stained length of velvet was bunched up at the head of the bed, several broken pieces of glass caught in its folds.

'Be careful,' Lupin warned as Harry started to pick his way through the rubble, trying to get a better look at that room.

'It looks like a bomb went off.'

Hermione's voice sounded a long way off. Could mist dampen sound as well as vision? And the mist was certainly getting thicker.

Harry stopped and tried to look back towards Lupin, Ron and Hermione. He knew his ears were straining to draw any sound from the surrounding area, but the only thing they heard was Harry's thumping heart. No voices, but also no ragged breath trying to suck the very life from the moist air. Except …

Harry strained his eyes to see through the gloom. He was certain he had just seen movement ahead. Focusing hard, he could just make out a tall, thin, cloaked figure.

Harry's heart froze. Voldemort?' But no! His reason caught up with his fear. It couldn't be Voldemort; his scar wasn't hurting. It must be a Dementor. But why wasn't his fear increasing?

Not wanting to give the Dementor time to attack him while he pondered this question, Harry drew his wand and grasped the knowledge that he was descended from Godric Gryffindor. 'Expecto Patronum!' His voice rang clearly through the mist, but no rampaging stag issued forth. Not even a few dismal sparks. Confused, Harry frowned at his wand. He was certain that had been a very happy thought.

Looking up, he saw that the Dementor had turned at the sound of his voice. The pale moonlight broke through the mist enough to light its features. Harry gasped as he recognised, not a Dementor … but Snape. Thrusting his wand forwards, he shouted 'Petrificus Totalus!' but once again, nothing happened.

Snape turned and began to quickly, but carefully, pick his way through the rubble towards what looked like Harry's old cupboard at the Dursleys. Harry threw his wand aside angrily and began to give chase, vaguely registering Ron, Hermione and Lupin's cries of surprise.

Tripping over a broken beam, he looked up in time to see Snape wrench open the cupboard door. Harry didn't know why, but he knew he had to stop Snape entering that cupboard. Stumbling desperately forwards, he managed to grab Snape's ankle. Snape kicked out at him but Harry refused to let go, causing him to overbalance and fall – down long, bumpy steps, dragging Harry with him.

They rolled to a stop at the base of the stairs, Snape on his back, a muffled 'whoof' escaping his lungs as Harry landed heavily on top of him. High above him, Harry heard Lupin call out to him, but the words of concern stopped as suddenly as if someone had cast a Silencing charm.

However, Harry barely noticed Snape's struggles, Lupin's sudden silence or Ron and Hermione's gasps of shock.

Raising his face off the floor, Harry saw that he was in what looked like an old bomb shelter, dimly lit by a single candle. Against the far wall rested a narrow bed with a trunk at its foot; to one side of the room stood a medieval brazier; books stood in stacks upon the floor. In the centre of the room was an old armchair, on the back of which rested a large scarlet and gold bird.

And in the armchair, his pale blue eyes staring over a pair of half-moon spectacles into Harry's green ones, sat Albus Dumbledore.