Hermione located a copy of the paper, and Harry forced himself to look at it.
The celebrations of Voldemort's apparent defeat took up almost the entire paper, but barely a mention was made of Harry's fate. It was as if everybody had been so busy celebrating that they forgot to wonder what was to become of the child whose parents' murder had saved them.
Tucked in amongst the articles and photographs about the downfall of Voldemort, a small story reported the Department of Mysteries had recently obtained a rare artefact thought to have once belonged to Rowena Ravenclaw. It looked like it had only been put in to take up a small space that otherwise would have been left blank, and didn't mention what the artefact was or why it was suspected to be Ravenclaw's.
"It's not much to go on," said Harry. "But I can just imagine the twisted mind of Riddle hiding a part of his soul in the Ministry of Magic. Probably thought it was in one of the safest places on earth, and he did have a Death Eater working in there – Rookwood."
"It' pretty hard to believe that he'd leave a bit of his soul just lying around in the Ministry waiting to be discovered," said Ron. "Not after all the effort he went to hiding and protecting the other ones."
"But don't you see, that's exactly the sort of thing he would do?" said Harry. "I can bet he would have been laughing at the Ministry practically worshipping a piece of his soul, thinking it was part of one of the founder's artefacts. It would have been so wrapped up and protected by red tape and bureaucracy that almost nobody would have been allowed to actually study it, just in case they damaged it or something."
"Yeah, Fudge probably had it on display in his office," said Ron sarcastically. "Anyway, how are you going to get in there to look for it? Last time we were lucky the place had been cleaned out so that you could get lured in. That's not going to happen this time."
"I have an idea," said Harry.
Ron groaned and Hermione looked more than a little worried.
-
Harry tried to walk through the Ministry of Magic as if he belonged there. In a sense he did, but with Percy returning occasionally in his Polyjuiced form, he was taking bit of a risk.
Ron and Hermione were there too, but they had come via the public Floo and were off 'Visiting' Mr Weasley. The idea was to have them close by, in case he needed them, but really Harry knew it all came down to him and him alone.
"Just walk around like you own the place," Ron had said. "Strut like Malfoy and nobody will bother you."
Harry practiced trying to hold a slight sneer on his face, but found it much harder than he thought it would be. Draco must have spent hours in front of the mirror to be able to do it so much.
Instead, he decided to walk fast and look busy. He avoided eye contact with anybody and pretended to be concentrating on the parchment he was holding. It had been something Hermione said she had once been told that people often did when they wanted to appear busy.
It seemed silly to Harry, especially since if everybody knew it, how could it work, but as he marched along staring at the meaningless page with a serious expression, nobody bothered him at all. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed a lot of other people also clutching papers with looks of intense concentration on their faces- it almost made him lose his composure and laugh out loud.
Forcing the smile from his face, he began retracing his path from many weeks before and managed to find his way to Percy's office. Luckily he had picked a day when the still injured man had shown up at work in his natural form.
"Harry," said Percy, as Penelope ushered Harry inside without asking any questions. "What are you doing here?"
Percy's office seemed even more crowded, although it also appeared to have been expanded greatly. Scrolls and files filled every open space and were also piled up on the floor in unsteady stacks as tall as Harry. The man himself looked completely healed, although he moved with some stiffness.
"Percy, I want to go into the Department of Mysteries."
Percy narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "What for?" he asked.
Harry gulped and brought up the saddest memories he had to aid his acting abilities. "I would like to see the Veil of Death, to say goodbye - to Sirius," he said, almost sobbing out the last word. "There was never a funeral, you see…"
For a second he thought he may have overdone it, as Percy just stared at him. Then Percy's eyes widened as he realised what Harry was saying
"Ah- yes well. Um, I will have to speak to the Minister to get permission, but I am sure he will be amiable to a short visit," Percy stumbled out.
Harry sighed in unfeigned relief.
"Thanks, Percy. I appreciate the help, since I wouldn't have the first clue of where to even start to get permission and didn't want to bother the Minister if he didn't need to be," said Harry, still hoping to get out of having to meet with Scrimgeour.
The Minister wasn't in, but his undersecretary, Amos Diggory, couldn't have been more obliging. Harry had a very bad moment when the father of his Wormtail-murdered schoolmate and Triwizard co-champion insisted on Harry going to his office, but all the man wanted to do was shake his hand and explain he understood Harry's pain completely.
"After all," Mr Diggory said sadly, "if you hadn't brought Cedric's body back, we may never have had the opportunity ourselves. I can only imagine how much worse that would have been."
It didn't make Harry feel any better, especially since he was intentionally misleading the man.
"I don't suppose I could get a tour of the department first?" Harry asked. "Last time I was there, it was under rather different circumstances, and I have heard that you have opened up some of the old sections since then too…"
Percy was very hesitant, but Mr Diggory readily agreed, apparently eager to help.
"Of course," the older man said. "You have been working here long enough for us to know that you can be trusted. Isn't that right Mr Weasley?"
Percy struggled to maintain his composure, but had to agree or appear to contradict his superior.
Harry found it as difficult to enter the Department of Mysteries as it had been for him to return to the Ministry that first time after he left Hogwarts. Unwanted memories kept intruding on him, despite his training.
A senior department member, who would only introduce himself as Mr Gregory, was giving the tour, Percy having returned to his office after making the arrangements. The old wizard reminded Harry of an absent minded professor he had once seen on television, never seeming to know exactly what was happening around him, but excited all the same, especially since he was giving the great Harry Potter a tour of his beloved department.
"The new Minister has done wonders for us," the man told Harry. "He has returned funding to the levels it was ten years ago, right before Fudge started taking it all away."
Harry couldn't help notice the bitterness in his voice when he said the former minister's name.
"We have even been allowed to unseal the Hall of Magical Objects."
Harry's mind went into overdrive and he had to calm his breathing. "What's that?" he asked, hoping to sound just mildly interested.
They had just been through the planet room, where the sky and stars where examined in minute detail, and were back in the black revolving door room with the blue candles giving their shimmering light. The doors and candles blurred as the wall spun around them, momentarily giving Harry a rush of vertigo.
Mr Gregory held his arm and waited for the doors to stop spinning, then walked forward to open the one directly in front of him.
Beyond lay a wide, long hallway lined on both sides by cabinets and shelves taller than Harry, looking for all the world like a massive pigeon roost, as every shelf was divided into boxes of varying sizes.
Walking into the long hallway behind Mr Gregory, Harry was immediately overwhelmed by the immense feeling of magical energy coming from the shelves, making his hair stand on end. Almost every pigeon hole contained an object of some shape or description, some spinning, some glowing, and others looking they were trying to escape.
A book with a heavy golden chain threaded through it snapped at his elbow angrily as he walked past.
"The Hall is where we keep magical items that have been certified as possibly having great significance to the magical community."
Pausing to regain his equilibrium, Harry focussed on one of the objects directly in front of his face. It looked remarkably like one of headmaster Dumbledore's silver instruments he used to have sitting on his desk, and just like the one he had seen before, this object suddenly puffed out a small cloud of smoke that congealed into an almost recognisable image before disappearing. A small label on the front of the shelf read 'Monitor of Oswald the Orange circa 1231bc'.
"You wouldn't believe how many supposed bones of Merlin we have here. I have been told it is enough to make four full skeletons."
"Why are they here?" asked Harry, rushing to catch up with Mr Gregory who had continued to walk while Harry had stopped.
"A number of reasons really. One is that they are safe here and can be kept for future generations, but the main reason is because many of them contain powerful magic that is worth studying. We don't even know what many of them do, let alone understand how they were made."
They had come to a point almost twenty yards in down the hall, which continued much further. Mr Gregory took a large batch of keys out of his pocket and, after a few moments of fumbling for the right one, unlocked the dirty glass door of the cabinet in front of him. He continued to talk as he unlocked the door and carefully took out a small round object the glowed golden in the light of the torches high up on the walls.
"This is a very special item that you should find particularly interesting," the old wizard said, sounding even more excited as he held out his hands. Between his fingers and struggling slightly, was a furry looking snitch.
"It's a snitch?" asked Harry.
"The very first one," said Mr Gregory nodding vigorously. "This was the first, fully working prototype developed by Bowman Wright in the little town of Godric's Hollow."
Fascinated, Harry reached out a finger and touched the walnut sized metal ball with awe and reverence. He could see the silvery wings fluttering madly, trying to escape Mr. Gregory's firm grip. Here was the thing that could be rightfully said to have been the final step in the evolution of the modern game of Quidditch.
"Shouldn't it be on display in a museum or something?" he asked. "Somewhere people could see it?"
"Goodness no!" said Gregory, looking shocked at the suggestion. "Somebody might try to steal it and end up damaging it. It is far too important to leave out in the open."
"Do you have anything from the Hogwarts founders?" asked Harry, forcing himself to take his attention off the marvel held in front of him and not dwell on what else might be locked away in the hallway.
"Oh we have many, many things that are meant to have once belonged to them, but none that have been verified," answered Gregory as he put back the priceless artefact. "Although we have spells and tricks to verify history and ownership of objects, we have been unable to prove anything we have definitely once belonged to any of the Hogwarts builders."
Harry felt his hopes fade.
"Although there is a rumour that Godric Gryffindor's sword hangs in the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts, we have never been allowed to check it for authenticity."
"Can I see the other things?" asked Harry.
Mr Gregory nodded excitedly and hurried away down the hallway, signalling for Harry to follow him.
"I can certainly understand your interest in the Founders," he said. "Just out of school aren't you?"
"Still there actually," answered Harry. "Just on summer break. I'm not really that interested in them; it's just that they are the most famous wizards and witches I know of, besides Merlin of course."
He knew his attempt at denial sounded very weak.
"Of course lad, and everybody seems to have a piece of Merlin don't they? I'll show you the collection, then maybe you would like to see something a bit more fascinating, eh?"
Harry nodded and followed him another dozen or so yards down the hall. A whole section of shelf appeared to be dedicated to the Hogwarts founders. Dozens of lockets, boxes of hats, belt buckles of every shape and size; there were more things in that section than Hermione had been able to find in all of her research, and that didn't include the racks of clothing that Mr. Gregory pointed out to him.
"Is it all magical?" asked Harry, dumfounded at the huge quantity of items.
"Yes, although many are just standard spells you still find around today, everything has something unique about it that has made it worth investigating," Mr Gregory answered, taking a feathered cloak off the rack. "Take this, for example. It is not often you will find a cloak that lets you take the shape of a bird!"
With a swirl and a soft pop, Mr Gregory disappeared and a falcon hovered in his place. Harry gaped as the falcon let out a shrill cry and then popped back into the shape of the smiling wizard holding a cloak.
"Impressive, eh?' he asked, smiling broadly.
"Brilliant," Harry answered, the awe in his voice not at all faked. "Are you really a falcon, or is it just an illusion? Can you fly down the hallway and back, and do aerobatics, or is it not as real as an Animagus transformation?" he asked enthusiastically.
Mr. Gregory smiled and twirled the cloak again, apparently enjoying the idea of the challenge. A second later he was flying off down the hallway.
Harry wasted no time and quickly began searching for the rune covered staff he had seen in Hermione's picture. Lying on top of each other, along a shelf a bit further down, he found several staffs.
To his despair, there was at least three that looked similar enough to the picture to be indistinguishable, and a few others close enough to be considered as likely. Harry hesitated, what could he do? He hadn't expected to find anything like this horde.
He hurriedly tried to stuff all of them into a large magical pocket he had prepared in his robes. The fourth one caught on the edge of the pocket and torn it open, spilling the ones he had already put into it all over the floor.
Almost whimpering in panic, Harry started shrinking them and putting them into any available pocket. The scream of the bird as it completed its flight and started its return journey echoed through the hall just as he shrunk the last one.
"Amazing," he told Mr Gregory, holding the last staff behind his back and hoping his sweating and nervousness would be mistaken for excitement. "You could easily catch the snitch with that on."
"It is one of my favourites," Mr Gregory said, stroking the feathers of the cloak fondly. Suddenly he seemed to realise where he was and what he was doing. "Er, it would probably be best if you didn't mention my little, er, demonstration," he said looking at Harry rather guiltily.
"Of course not!" said Harry reassuringly, while trying to stuff the staff into his back pocket.
Moody's repeated warnings about putting wands too close to his buttocks suddenly came back to Harry as he forced the wand sized staff into the pocket, and he had a vision of being carted off to Azkaban with a severely bleeding backside and a newspaper heading nobody would dare print for fear of ridicule.
"I really appreciate that you have taken the time to show me around," he said, finally managing to make the staff fit without somehow setting it off.
Mr Gregory showed Harry several other prized artefacts in the hallway, but Harry was severely distracted by the bulging pockets full of stolen goods threatening to burst the seams of his clothes. He was sure that any second now the wizard would notice the visible bulges and ask him what he thought he was doing.
When they left the Hall and started visiting other rooms, Harry found he couldn't stand it any longer and decided to interrupt.
"Mr Gregory, I really do appreciate you showing me all of these really interesting things, but I am going to have to leave soon, and I need a bit of time to visit just one more place, please?"
Mr Gregory looked slightly disappointed, but then understanding. He took Harry to the Veil room without further comment. Standing on the topmost tier of the amphitheatre-like room, Harry gazed down into a scene from his nightmares.
His vision swam dangerously and for a second he could once again see Sirius falling through the tattered curtain suspended from the crumbling archway on the raised dais in the centre of the pit.
"Are you all right, Mr Potter?" ask Mr. Gregory.
Harry shook his head. "No, not really. Could I please have a moment, alone?" he asked.
Mr Gregory looked like he was going to object, but then changed his mind.
"Of course, son. Take all the time you need. I'll wait for you outside."
Harry began the slow decent down the steep incline as the old wizard closed the door behind him. The veil shifted gently, as if in a slight breeze, and Harry again had the feeling somebody was standing just on the other side of the archway, behind the veil.
The faint whispering voices coming from the veil didn't tempt him this time. He could hear them, but he didn't feel the same compulsion he had felt the first time he had encountered it.
"Not today," he said, taking a deep breath.
Ignoring the voices, he took one of the stolen staffs from a pocket and enlarged it. Hermione had taught him a spell specifically for this. It was a relatively new spell, developed for use in hospitals and by Aurors. The main purpose was to test if a soul still inhabited the body of possible Dementor victims, but it had worked just as well on the other Horcruxes, showing a soul lived inside of them.
Harry could not cast the spell silently, no matter how much he had practiced, so using it while in the Hall of Magical Objects would have been too great a risk. Alone in the veil room, he finally had a chance to put it to good use.
"Ostendo sum vestri animus!" he said, waving his wand precisely over the staff.
To his surprise, it glowed a deep red, indicating a soul was present. Harry cast the spell again to make sure, and then cast it on a couple of the other staffs to check that it was working properly. Only the first one he had tried glowed.
Excitement filled Harry as he picked up the staff and walked towards the veil.
"Sirius, I sure hope that if you are in there, you know what to do with this," he said, then tossed the pole through the centre of the archway. The tattered veil shivered briefly as the staff hit it and disappeared, then settled back down to its normal gentle movement. Harry sighed and had turned to walk away, when a long, dreadful, piercing scream echoed through the chamber.
The sound chilled Harry like only Dementors had ever done before. He clearly remembered the other time he had heard that almost exact same sound. It was identical to the one the Diary Horcrux gave out when it had been destroyed; it was the sound of a piece of Voldemort's soul dying.
A rattling noise echo around the chamber, startling Harry. On the other side of the archway, he caught a glimpse of the staff he had just thrown through the veil, rattling as it landed on the dais. It had passed through!
The door to the room burst open, and Mr Gregory ran into the room. "Mr Potter, are you all right?"
Thinking quickly, Harry screamed in apparent rage and despair and threw himself to the ground.
"Why, Sirius, why?" he yelled. "Why did you leave me now when I needed you the most? Why?" He let out great heaving sobs as he hit his hands on the ground repeatedly.
It was quite a performance, and appeared to convince Mr Gregory, as Harry caught a glimpse of the embarrassed wizard quickly leaving the room.
Sighing in relief at his narrow escape, Harry walked around the archway and picked up the staff. It looked identical to before, but when he cast the soul detection spell, it no longer glowed red.
Satisfied his plan had succeeded, Harry repaired his magically enlarged pocket and carefully packed all of the miniaturised staffs into it, except for the ex-Horcrux which he kept in a separate pocket to make sure it did not get mixed up with the others. He would find a way to return them, once all of this was over, but for now he would have to keep them or risk being discovered.
As he moved to leave the dais, the voices from the veil seemed to get louder, calling him. It sounded like a familiar voice saying his name.
"Sirius?" he asked, taking a step closer, "Are you in there?"
The murmurs grew louder, becoming a cacophony of indistinguishable voices.
"Sirius?" he called, stepping so close that he could reach out and touch the cloth stirring gently in the unfelt breeze.
Pain lanced through his head, making him pull back his arm before it made contact with the veil. His scar exploded with agony, feeling like it did whenever Voldemort was close. Harry fell to his knees clutching his head in both hands, trying desperately to drive the pain out of his mind by shear force of will.
The voices reached a crescendo, some calling him into the veil and others now seeming to be telling him to go away. Harry felt the compulsion through his pain, and instinctively fought it. He threw himself backwards away from the archway, and instantly felt the pain recede and finally disappear.
Panting, Harry took a few minutes to calm himself before standing up.
The voices still murmured, beckoning him to walk though to meet them, but they did not have any hold on him now.
For no reason whatsoever, Harry raised his wand to cast a spell on the object that had haunted him in dreams and had cost him so much.
"Ostendo sum vestri animus!"
When the archway glowed red, Harry nearly fainted with shock.