Chapter Five

Coming of Age

July 31, 1997

12:01 a.m.

"Happy birthday, Harry."

Harry felt his insides turn to ice. His heart rate increased rapidly until he thought it would explode. He went to reach for the locket before realizing that he still had whatever it was Aunt Petunia gave him clutched in his hand. He inconspicuously shoved it in his back pocket and raised his wand. No, not now, please not now! I'm not ready, I'm not ready . . . his mind thought frantically. At least Voldemort saw his aunt shove him out the door, and he had to give her props for her unexpected cleverness. Standing in the Dursleys' front garden was the tall, thin form of Lord Voldemort. His Death Eaters - ten or so, it looked like - rallied around him. Harry swallowed, and tried to cover his fear with sarcasm.

"Yeah, thanks. Where's my present?"

Voldemort actually laughed. "Grown up a bit since we last met, eh, Harry? A little more . . . brave, perhaps?" He smirked. "Seeing someone you loved murdered will do that to you, I suppose."

Harry felt his blood start to boil. Beside him, Hermione was almost visibly shaking. Ron was as white as a sheet, and he could hear him muttering, "Oh, my God, it's him. It's him." And Harry realized that this was the first time his friends had seen Voldemort; would have to face Voldemort. His heart went out to them and he knew exactly how they felt - he would never forget the first time he met the man who was once Tom Riddle, face to face in that graveyard. It was the most horrifying experience of his life, and it always would be. The fear started to rise again, and he saw those red eyes narrow, and a smirk play on Voldemort's lips. Harry imeadiately averted his eyes. Not for the first time, Harry really, really wished that he had taken more advantage of Snape's time on their side and gotten better at Occlumency. Hang on, Harry thought, suddenly. If the Death Eaters are here, then one of them may be . . . Harry's eyes suddenly began sweeping the crowd of Death Eaters. They were all masked, of course, there would be no way to tell . . .

"Ah," Voldemort said, silkily. "You're looking for him, aren't you? Severus."

Harry froze, and stared back into those horrible red eyes, willing himself to remain calm. "Where is he?"

Voldemort and the Death Eaters laughed. "Maybe he's here . . . maybe not. Why don't you see if you can find him?" The Death Eaters laughed again, some of them waving as if to say "Over here!" One began singing, "Come out, come out wherever you are, Severus!"

"Your desire for revenge is overwhelming, Harry," Voldemort whispered. "How would Dumbledore feel, if he saw you now?"

"Don't you talk about him!" Harry yelled, pointing his wand at Voldemort's face. Hermione and Ron imeadiately drew in closer around him, wands raised.

Voldemort tutted, drawing another laugh from the Death Eaters. "I have to say I'm a little disappointed in you, Harry. This is who you choose to fight beside you - a traitor . . . and a Mudblood?"

Harry was slowly losing his nerve and calm. How could I have been so stupid? We should have been at the Burrow! And I left . . . I put Ron and Hermione in danger . . . to talk to my Aunt about a wedding and letters. They had members of the Order at the Burrow. Here, they only had each other. And the Dursleys . . . and a street full of Muggles.

Fear clenched Harry's insides. Oh, God, I've led him to a slaughter ground. Hoping Voldemort wouldn't realize the potential damage he could ensue, but realizing that it was probably too late, Harry resorted back to taunting to keep Voldemort's focus away from hurting anyone other than him. "Funny then, that you didn't just come yourself," he snapped, indicating the swarm of black robes that surrounded Voldemort. "Worried?"

"Harry!" Hermione whispered frantically beside him. "Don't entice him!"

"Your Mudblood is very clever, Harry," Voldemort said, drawing out his own wand. The Death Eaters did the same. "Just like your mother." He glanced at the house behind the three friends. "Her sister lives here, doesn't she?" Harry didn't answer. Voldemort knew very well whose house this was, and Harry knew he was just trying to goad him into doing something stupid. "How does it feel to be hated by the only family you have left?"

Harry almost laughed, and it hit him how little Voldemort really understood him if he thought that the knowledge that the Dursleys hated his guts was some kind of blow to him. Oh, sure, he understood Harry enough to have lured him to the Department of Mysteries using Sirius, and to have used Ginny in his second year to lure him into the Chamber of Secrets. Just like Harry knew that Voldemort feared death, used to like hanging bunnies from rafters, and terrorizing children in caves. But the essence of what made Harry who he was . . . Voldemort didn't understand that at all.

"I don't know," Harry said slowly, feeling reckless. "How did it feel to have to rely on someone like Wormtail to keep you alive?"

"Harry, are you mad?" squeaked Ron.

The entourage around Voldemort bristled, but the Dark Lord held up his hand, silencing them. Beside him, Harry could hear Hermione's mantra of "remain calm, remain calm, remain calm." He knew her mind was working furiously. Ron whispered past Hermione, "What do we do?" Harry shook his head.

"Nothing. Don't make yourself a target-"

"No, you've already done that for them, haven't you, Harry?" Voldemort asked, sharply. "I almost feel sorry for dear Willem - returning from his honeymoon to find his family dead."

The Death Eaters laughed and Ron visibly stiffened on the other side of Hermione, who whimpered slightly.

"Ignore him, Ron," Harry said, roughly. "Leave them alone, it's me you want!"

"How cliche," Voldemort drawled. "I suppose this is where I'm supposed to start taunting you with Severus' tale of Dumbledore's destruction . . . about how he begged him to spare his life."

Severus . . . Severus, please . . .

"But, of course . . . you already know about that, don't you," that cold voice continued. "You were there."

Images of that night flashed through Harry's mind before he realized what Voldemort was doing. "NO!" he yelled, covering his ears in vain from the torrents of sound that were coming from inside his own head. He felt Hermione move beside him, then the familiar sense of a spell being used. Whatever Hermione had done, it knocked several Death Eaters off their feet, but Voldemort remained standing. He hadn't even flinched from Hermione's spell.

"Silly girl," he said, silkily. "Your books will not help you here." He raised his wand, Harry instinctively jumped in front of her-

-and then there came a familiar popping sound, and about a dozen members of the Order of the Phoenix appeared in the middle of Privet Drive. In their momentary shock, three Death Eaters were not quick enough and went down by stunning spells. Their fellows quickly retaliated, sending hexes and curses flying. Harry recognized Tonks' voice, and Lupin's, and the clunking gait of Mad-Eye Moody.

"Get the hell out of here, Potter!" he growled, hurling a spell that sent one Death Eater flying.

Voldemort looked bored. He flicked his wand lazily at one Order member, and they went down shrieking, their robes smoking.

"Harry! Hermione! Ron! GO!" Lupin yelled. "We'll find you!"

Harry felt Hermione grip his arm, and then he knew nothing else but the squeezing sensation of Apparition. The last thing he heard was the start of a Killing Curse before he was swept away.

--------------

They landed badly.

Once the two of them reappeared, Harry was flung sideways with the force and felt something in his ankle crack. Hermione remained upright for a moment before doubling over and vomiting all over the ground. Then she collapsed next to Harry.

"I'm sorry," she panted. "That was just so . . . so-"

"Fucking scary?" Harry finished. Hermione nodded.

"You've faced him twice," she stated. Harry looked at her.

"Yeah."

"How?"

Harry somehow managed a grin. "Well, you know - just luck, my brains, and my gut."

Hermione tried to laugh but threw up again instead. Harry shushed her, putting his arms around her protectively.

"Easy, Hermione," he comforted her, looking around at their surroundings. Something looked very familiar. "Where are we?"

Hermione took a shaky breath. "The first place I could think of where we'd be safe: Hogwarts. Well, almost. We can't Apparate to Hogwarts, obviously . . . Anyway, I took us to the road from Hogsmeade to the school."

Now Harry realized why it looked so familiar; he had walked the road to Hogsmeade many times in the past three years. It looked a lot different in the dark. "How far is the school?"

"I don't know. I just thought about here and that's where we went. We might have a bit of a walk. We should get moving," Hermione advised, and Harry remembered what she had said about Apparition being trackable. He tried to stand before remembering that he had broken his ankle, and collapsed to the ground again with a yelp of pain.

"Harry!" Hermione yelled, worriedly.

"I'm fine," he told her through gritted teeth. "Just a broken ankle, I think."

"Here, lean on me," Hermione ordered, helping him to his feet again. He took another look around their surroundings, and realized with a jolt that something was missing.

"Hermione . . . where's Ron?"

Hermione's face had gone pale. "We couldn't Apparate all together, Harry. Side-long with one person is dangerous enough, but three? We would have splinched. And I couldn't tell Ron where we were going, in case they heard . . . " She bit her lip. "I have no idea where he is! I don't know where he would have gone. The Burrow, maybe . . . or Headquarters." She made a pained expression. "We should have gone there."

Harry shook his head. "No. You made the right choice. Ron was probably right when he said they would have destroyed the Vanishing Cabinet. Hogwarts is still the safest place to be. I'm-I'm sure Ron's fine."

"But . . . I heard . . . Harry, I heard a Killing Curse before we Disapparated. What if-"

"Don't, Hermione," Harry said, sharply. "Don't think like that. Ron's a Gryffindor. He got out of there. He's fine." He wasn't entirely sure who he was trying to convince more: Hermione or himself.

Hermione lit her wand and they began the trek up to the castle. The woods around them were dark and sinister looking, which was doing nothing to ease their fears. Harry leaned heavily on Hermione, his ankle aching in pain. "You okay?" he asked her after they had been walking for a while.

"I should be asking you that," she said, nodding toward his ankle. "Do you want me to look at it?"

"I should be all right," Harry assured her. "Once we get to the school, I'll get it fixed."

"Are you sure Madam Pomfrey will even be there?"

Now there was something he hadn't considered. What if they got to the castle and it was deserted? He was sure the house-elves probably lived at the castle, but he had assumed that the teachers stayed during the summer holiday as well.

"Well, if she's not, we'll get to find out how skilled you are as a Healer," Harry said jokingly.

Suddenly, there was the sound of rustling leaves and snapping twigs coming from the woods ahead of them. Harry quickly raised his wand, letting go of Hermione and balancing unsteadily on one foot to allow her to get to hers. A fleeting hope entered Harry's mind.

"Do you think . . . ?" he began, and Hermione glanced at him.

"Expecto Patronum!" they yelled in unison. A silver stag shot out of Harry's wand, followed by a shimmery and silky looking otter from Hermione's. The stag started trotting off into the forest, the otter bounding playfully beside it, and disappeared into the woods. If it was Ron, or another Order member, they would send their Patronus back. Harry and Hermione waited, praying that it was someone on their side. When there was no return Patronus, Harry started racking his brain for all the defensive spells he would have to use. He was planning a method of attack, when Hermione whispered, "There!"

A small, grey shape was making its way out of the woods toward them. It stopped at the edge, looked around for a moment, and then bounded toward Harry and Hermione excitedly, wagging its tail. It shimmered slightly and then disappeared. The two of them exchanged glances.

"Er... did you ever bother to ask Ron what his Patronus was?" Harry asked, sheepishly.

"Yes," Hermione answered, surprising him. She lowered her wand. "It's a dog. Which, to me, would make sense. Ron is very protective, and loyal." She put Harry's arm over her shoulder again, taking the weight off his injured leg. "Come on," she said, and started toward the woods. They were just about to enter the trees when there was a shout of "Lumos!" and a light hit their faces. Harry blinked against the sudden brightness.

"Harry? Hermione? Is-is that you?" asked a frightened voice that Harry immediately recognized as Ron's.

"Yes, it's us! What do you think the Patronuses were for?" he answered, relieved. "Put your wand down! You're blinding us!"

The light was removed and Harry and Hermione tried to blink Ron into focus. He was very pale and his hair was disheveled, and it looked like he had a split lip. "Bloody hell, you two scared me half to death!" he panted. He took in the two of them, noticing that Hermione had to help Harry remain upright. "What happened to you?"

"Fell when we Disapparated," Harry explained. "Hurt my ankle. You?"

Ron wiped the blood away from his mouth. "Apparated into a bush, I think." He blushed. "I tried to Apparate to the school, but I think it... bounced me back somewhere." He stared at Hermione, who had remained awfully quiet. "Aren't you going to huff at me and remind me that I can't Apparate onto school gr-oooph! Get off me, Hermione, I'm fine!"

Hermione had pounced on Ron and enveloped him in a huge hug. "Oh, Ron! We were so worried! I heard a Killing Curse . . ." She trailed off and burried her head deeper into Ron's shoulder.

Ron looked unsure of what to do for a few seconds, but then hugged her back just as fiercely. "We're all okay now, 'Mione." He pulled away from her and looked back toward Harry, who was leaning against a tree for support.

"Want some help?" he said, helping Harry to a standing position.

"Thanks," Harry answered, putting his arm around Ron's shoulder. They re-lit their wands and started back onto the trail. "Seems you had the same idea we did," he continued.

"Er... not really," Ron admitted. "I kind of tried to Apparate to you lot. I guess concentrating on people instead of places isn't the best idea. Like I said, I think I Apparated onto the wards around the school. Next thing I knew I was in the forest."

Something was nagging at Harry, and he couldn't help but ask, "How come you never told me your Patronus was a dog? What if you and I had gotten separated and we didn't have Hermione?"

Ron blushed again. "I dunno... and it's not a dog, really... I think it's a Crup."

"Crups have forked tails," Hermione reminded him. Ron glared.

"Ron," Harry asked, trying hard not to laugh, "did you not want to tell me because you think it's... I dunno... Not impressive, or something?"

Ron gave a one shouldered shrug.

"I like it," Hermione told him. "Jack Russels are cute."

That didn't help Ron's mood one bit. "They're not cute! I tried to look stuff up about them... They're, er, really hyper, apparently. And... they'll bite."

Harry snorted and Hermione shot him a withering look

"They do!" Ron insisted.

"Jack Russels are playful and loyal," Hermione said. "There's nothing wrong with your Patronus, Ron."

"Yeah," Harry quipped. "Playful and loyal, that's you."

"I'm going to drop you," Ron threatened.

"And it goes really well with Hermione's otter."

Ron half shrugged again. "Yeah, I guess. I mean... what?"

This time Harry did laugh. Hermione shushed him.

"We're not in the clear yet," she hissed. "Keep quiet!"

Ron and Harry fell silent and the three of them continued up the trail. Harry figured they had probably walked about half a mile when the gates of Hogwarts castle loomed into view.

Home, Harry thought, happily. It felt so good to see those gates again, and to know that Hogwarts lay just beyond them. Hermione waved her wand and sent her Patronus through the gates and up toward the school.

"Professor McGonagall should be there," Hermione said, hopefully. "She's Headmistress now, after all. I'm-I'm sure there's loads of things she needs to take care of."

"Hagrid will be, whether she is or not," Harry said. "And he's a member of the Order. So, either way, we're safe."

Hermione nodded, but she still looked doubtful.

"This is all my fault," Harry muttered. "I fell asleep-"

"We all fell asleep, mate," Ron pointed out. "We should have been back at the Burrow right after we got done, but we just..." He shrugged.

"We were careless," Hermione finished. "I think we still feel like nothing can harm us. Like everything's going to be okay. We came face to face with Voldemort tonight." Ron shuddered. "Hopefully we won't make mistakes like that again."

"Yeah, hopefully," Harry sighed.

At that moment, Harry noticed a shimmery something coming from the castle. He nudged Ron. The three of them stared as the thing flew down toward the gate.

"It's an owl," breathed Hermione.

"They sent us an owl?" Ron asked incredulously. "What bloody help is that?"

"No," Harry answered, smiling. "It's a Patronus."

The owl was so silvery bright it was almost white, and it glided gracefully toward the three friends. It flapped its wings twice and settled down on top of the gates to the school. The owl dissipated, and the gates imeadiately opened.

"That's new," muttered Ron.

"It must be McGonagall," Hermione said. "New protections... maybe only an Order member's Patronus can open them now?"

She and Ron helped Harry trudged forward. The gates swung shut with a loud clang behind them as quickly as they had opened, and they started up the grounds toward the school. A feeling of calmness enveloped Harry as he took in Hogwarts. It felt like he hadn't been there in years. Still... a gaping hole was in that calm. Dumbledore should be here, Harry thought, miserably. His Patronus should have opened up the gates. They had barely taken more then ten steps when a large shape appeared out of the doors to the entrance. Harry grinned, as Ron and Hermione waved toward the figure.

"Over here!" Hermione shouted. "Harry needs help!"

"Thank Merlin you lot are alrigh'!" a gruff voice called back, crossing the grounds in no more than four huge steps. "Wha' did yeh think yeh were doin', eh? Coulda been killed! Molly was havin' kittens..."

Suddenly, Harry was scooped up off the ground and into a large, moleskin coat. "Hagrid!" Harry tried to object, but it came out more like a muffled: "Hoogle!"

"Wha' happened?" the half-giant asked as he carried Harry toward the castle. Ron and Hermione had to run to keep up.

"Well, we - er - fell asleep," Ron began, but Hermione interrupted:

"Broken ankle. He fell when we Disapparated. It was only my second time doing Side-long, and when we broke off he was kind of still spinning . . ."

"It's alrigh', Hermione," Hagrid reassured her. "Don't blame yerself. Lucky Poppy's still 'ere . . ."

Hagrid remained silent as they entered the castle and the doors closed behind him. He started carrying Harry up the stairs to the Hospital Wing, and Ron and Hermione made to follow, but Hagrid turned back around. "Sorry, you two. Professor McGonagall left me strict orders that yeh were to go up to her office."

"How did she know...?" Ron started, before realizing that was probably a dumb question. "Right. It's us."

Hagrid's beetle black eyes crinkled in a smile. "Don't worry about, 'Arry," he assured them, hugging him closer. Harry was definitely sure he heard a few more bones crack.

"We're not worried," Hermione said. "We're home." She tugged on Ron's sleeve, urging him toward the other direction as Hagrid continued carrying an exasperated looking Harry toward the Hospital Wing.

"Yeah," Ron said, quietly, as they walked toward the Headmistress' office, "I'm more worried about us."

"Don't be ridiculous, Ron," Hermione sighed. "I'm sure she just wants to make sure we're alright."

Ron snorted. "If that were true, why didn't she just let us come along with Hagrid and talk to all three of us up at the hospital?" He shook his head. "No. We're in trouble. The school year hasn't even started and she's probably already going to give us detention."

Hermione threw him a withering look. "She can't possibly do that, Ron. I'm sure it's against the rules. This is Order business."

"Yeah. But we're not in the Order yet, are we?"

They continued toward what was once Dumbledore's office with trepidation. Ron was just wondering how they were supposed to get in without the password, when they rounded the corner and found Professor Minerva McGonagall waiting for them. McGonagall was famous for her stern, icy glares. But the once she fixed upon the two friends now could have put the world into its second ice age.

"Er..." Ron began. "How's your summer been?"

Hermione averted her eyes and let out an almost inaudible groan.

McGonagall's glare darkened. "In," she ordered, nodding in the direction of the office. She muttered the password to the gargoyle, which moved aside to reveal a rotating staircase. McGonagall waited for Ron and Hermione, and then stepped in after them. Ron had been in Dumbledore's - no McGonnagall's - office only twice in his schooling at Hogwarts. For Hermione, having never gotten into enough trouble to warrant a visit, this was her first time and at first she stared around at all the portraits of the previous Headmasters and Headmistresses, including Armando Dippet, Sirius' great-grandfather Phineas Nigellus, and Dai Llewellyn. When her eyes fell on the portrait of Dumbledore, casually snoozing in his frame above McGonagall's desk, she gasped slightly and moved aside for Ron and Professor McGonagall.

McGonagall shut the door the indicated to Ron and Hermione to sit down. She then sat down herself behind the desk and sighed tiredly. "Potter is in the hospital?" she asked.

Ron and Hermione blinked and exchanged glances. "Um, yes, Professor," Hermione answered. "When we Apparated, he fell and we think he broke his ankle."

"Who, exactly, is 'we'?" McGonagall asked. "All three of you tried Side-Long together?"

"Oh, no," Hermione explained. "That's much too dangerous."

"As dangerous as, say, putting yourself in a position where you come face to face with You-Know-Who?"

Hermione became silent. Ron shot her a look that said, I told you so.

"I'm waiting," McGonagall said.

"I..." Hermione began. "I don't know what to say, Professor."

McGonagall sighed again. "With whom was Potter Apparating with?"

"Me," Hermione said quietly. McGonagall's glare softened a bit.

"It's not your fault Potter is injured, Miss Granger. I'm not trying to place blame here. However, you all knew the importance of being somewhere safe tonight. In fact, the Weasleys informed me that you promised to return well before Potter's birthday. Molly is quite beside herself. She didn't notify us earlier because she wanted Potter to spend time with his family. When midnight came and went and you still did not return, she notified the Order at once. Potter, more than anyone, knew the seriousness of his approaching birthday." The iciness in her voice was returning. "And Dumbledore did not die so that the three of you could gamble your lives to recklessly. Now, I want to know exactly what happened tonight."

Hermione bit her lip and looked down while Ron shifted uncomfortably.

"Well?" McGonagall prompted.

"We, er..." Ron started. "We fell asleep."

McGonagall narrowed her eyes. "You fell asleep," she repeated, slowly.

"Uh... yeah," Ron answered lamely.

"Harry needed to talk to his aunt, Professor," Hermione said, boldly.

"So I keep hearing. May I ask what information was so important that it was worth risking your lives?"

Suddenly "He wanted to know why Snape almost crashed his parent's wedding" no longer seemed the good excuse that it had been yesterday.

"It's..." Hermione exchanged glances with Ron. "It was a family thing, Professor."

McGonagall blinked. "So, Potter went to go see his family because of a... 'family thing'?"

Hermione and Ron exchanged glances again. McGonagall sighed.

"I understand that Potter is your friend," she said, "and that you have a certain... loyalty to him and wish to protect him. Might I remind you that school is out for the summer and you are not facing detention. We're all on the same side."

"With all due respect, Professor, why do you need to know what Harry and his aunt talked about?" Hermione asked.

"Miss Granger, has it not occurred to you that You-Know-Who could have lured Potter-"

"He wouldn't have," Hermione interrupted. Ron stared. "Why would he trick Harry into going to a place where he can't be touched?"

"Molly mentioned Potter having dreams," McGonagall said after a while.

"Yeah," Ron answered. "But not about Vold- uh, You-Know-Who. And Harry thinks they're just nightmares because of what happened... in June..." He glanced up at the slumbering portrait of Dumbledore.

Hermione cleared her throat. "Harry had questions about his parents, Professor. And, about the, er . . arrangement of him coming to live with his Aunt and Uncle."

"He wanted to know about the letters," Ron interjected, exasperated. Hermione glared at him.

"Letters?" asked McGonagall.

"Between his aunt and Dumbledore," Ron explained.

"Ah," McGonagall nodded.

"Did you know about them?" asked Hermione.

"Dumbledore always kept his... 'plan' for Potter secret in case anything leaked out. I assumed Petunia Dursley knew vaguely about what was going on, or she would not have accepted Potter."

"Well, that was why we went. Because he couldn't go on his own, obviously. And he needed information," Hermione started again. "It wasn't easy getting her to talk, especially about Harry's mum, so afterward we were just so exhausted that we just wanted to rest. And the next thing we knew it was almost midnight."

"Why didn't you just go back to the Burrow to rest? Or Headquarters?" McGonagall pointed out.

Ron and Hermione remained silent. After a while, Hermione admitted, "We didn't think about that."

"Well, I think that's fairly obvious."

"I don't know," Hermione continued. "It's almost as if we still don't think anything can hurt us. I mean... Dumbledore's gone. And the three of us have been so lucky. It's made us-"

"Arrogant?" McGonagal asked.

"Maybe. But, we're all seventeen now. We also can't be protected forever. And Harry has a right to know about his parents."

"Be that as it may-"

"Professor... he has to go up against Voldemort eventually. We can't keep hiding Harry from things that we think will hurt him or upset him. He's had to deal with a lot. And he's going to have to deal with much more."

McGonagall looked at her for a moment. Then, she gave Hermione a small smile and said, "Who says Gryffindor's can't be wise?"

The three of them sat regarding each other while the portraits snoozed happily in their frames. After a while McGonagall said, "You've been awfully quiet, Mr. Weasley."

Ron grinned slightly in Hermione's direction. "Yeah, that usually happens when she gets going."

Hermione went pink.

-------------

Why does she always give me the same bed, Harry thought. Every time I wind up wind up in the hospital, I swear I always get this same bed.

Madam Pomfrey had spent twenty minutes tending to Harry's ankle. Nineteen of those minutes consisted of a lecture about Harry's apparent obsession to die before the age of twenty-five. The remaining minute was spent healing his ankle. He then had to fight against being given a dreamless-sleep potion, Madam Pomfrey convinced he was entirely too traumatized by his ordeal to be able to rest properly. Hagrid finally convinced her to let him alone, and she had only tutted a little before retreating to her office. Harry then had to endure Hagrid's questioning of the nights events.

"Yeh were careless, tha's all there is to it," Hagrid had said, sternly.

After Harry had relayed the nights events to him, Hagrid asked him why he had even bothered to go back to the Dursleys to begin with.

"Can' understand why yeh'd want to go back there, 'Arry. Ter be honest, I'm righ' glad that you're outta their care. Never understood why Dumbledore put yeh with 'em."

Harry let Hagrid ramble on some more about the Dursleys, smiling occasionally, happy to be back at Hogwarts even if it was after such dire circumstances, when a something occurred to him.

"Hagrid," Harry had asked, "you were Groundskeeper when my parents were at Hogwarts, right?"

Hagrid had beamed brightly. "Yep. Best Quidditch player I'd ever seen, you're dad. Besides maybe you, o' course. And you're mum was the cleverest witch in 'er year. I remember-"

"Slughorn said that she was really good at Potions," Harry had interrupted.

Hagrid had blinked, and then started shifting his feet. "Lily was good at a lot o' things, 'Arry. She was Head Girl, remember."

"I was just wondering... because of something my Aunt said to me." Harry decided that he could trust Hagrid - Dumbledore always had - and told him that Aunt Petunia had let slip before he went to the Burrow that Snape had made an appearance at the Potters wedding.

"What does that have to do with Lily an' Potions?" Hagrid had asked.

Harry didn't reply after that, deciding that he didn't really want to approach that subject after all. And, for some reason, it seemed Hagrid didn't really want to either. Hagrid had left a little while after that, and Harry was pondering why, exactly, he wanted to know about the reasons behind Snape and Lily's conversation, but at the same time, not really wanting to find out. Madam Pomfrey still hadn't come out of her office to dismiss him, so he was laying in "his" bed, staring at the ceiling, when Ron, Hermione, and Professor McGonagall finally arrived.

"I'm not going to have to tell the story again, am I, Professor?" Harry asked jokingly.

McGonagall fixed him with a stern look that didn't quite meet her eyes. "As much as I would like to lecture you, Potter, on the idiocy of your actions . . . I think the message has sunk in. The three of you are to rest here until morning, and then you are going to Floo to Headquarters. Remus sent word just before we came to see you that they've returned, mostly in one piece."

Harry's stomach clenched and he looked down. "I'm sorry."

McGonagall sighed. "It was bound to happen sooner or later, Potter. Perhaps this was for the better. But we all have to be more alert now. This won't be the last time that he tries."

"It wasn't the first either," Harry reminded her with a small smile. "And I survived then, too."

"Yes . . . well. Let us hope that you continue to 'survive', Potter. Now, the three of you go to Gryffindor tower and get some rest. The new password is 'Nit-wit'."

Harry grinned. "He'd like that, Professor."

McGonagall nodded at the three of them, and then left the Hospital Wing. Figuring he was free to go, Harry climbed out of bed and gingerly tested his newly healed ankle.

"All right, mate?" asked Ron.

Harry put more weight on it and took a few steps. "Perfect. C'mon, let's go."

The three friends walked the dark and empty halls of the castle in silence. When they reached Gryffindor Tower, the Fat Lady did nothing but stare at them reproachfully before swinging forward. Harry figured that McGonagall had informed the portrait to expect some visitors, and felt a pang of guilt at the trouble he, Ron, and Hermione had caused everyone.

When they got through the portrait hole, they said goodnight and went imeadiately upstairs to the dormitories. Two of the five beds had been made up and a fire was going. House-elves, thought Harry, with yet another pang. He and Ron undressed silently, bid each other goodnight, and got into bed. But Harry couldn't sleep, and spent the night thinking of the danger he had put himself, his friends, and the Order into. His mission to destroy the horcruxes almost ended before it had even begun because of his curiosity and carelessness. McGonagall had said that the Order had returned to Headquarters mostly in one piece, which meant there had been casualties. He was starting to worry about Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon, and Dudley. It wasn't until dawn that his mind finally shut down from exhaustion, and he fell into a restless sleep.

------------

Harry didn't wake the next day until around noon to find Ron's bed empty and a tray of food by his own. He yawned, dressed in the clothes he'd had on yesterday, put on his glasses, and padded his way down to the Common Room, tray in hand. As he looked for Ron and Hermione, Harry thought to himself that he had never seen the Common Room look more empty. He spotted them in their usual place by the fire, engrossed in a heated discussion. It was nothing new to see Hermione and Ron arguing. To not see them arguing in a volume that could be heard halfway around the world, however, was something of a surprise. Which means they're talking about me, Harry thought, already getting annoyed. They were so engrossed in their conversation that they didn't hear Harry approach, and jumped when he put his tray down and took a seat.

"Morning," Harry said, taking a piece of toast and biting into it.

Ron nodded back in greeting, while Hermione smiled warmly and said, "I think it's a bit past morning. How'd you sleep?"

Harry looked at her.

"I figured as much. I didn't sleep all that well either."

Harry put down his toast and said, "Just say it already - whatever you two were talking about when I came downstairs."

Ron and Hermione exchanged glances. Then Ron shook his head, crossed his arms, and leaned back into his armchair. Hermione sighed.

"Ronald and I were having a... discussion about, er..." Hermione began. Harry raised his eyebrows at her. "Well, about the book."

"What book?" Harry asked, taking another bite of toast, although he knew very well what she was talking about. It made his stomach clench unpleasantly.

"The book," she repeated. "Snape's book."

"No way," Harry said automatically.

Hermione scowled. "You don't even know what I was going to say about it yet."

"Yes I do, because I know you."

Ron shot Hermione alook. Hermione pressed on:

"I thought we discussed this back at the Burrow. You need to know as much as you can about Snape. And . . . while I found that your using that book during Potions to be unethical-"

"Annoying's, more like," quipped Ron, "because Harry was getting better grades than you."

"-and dangerous . . ." Hermione continued, as if Ron hadn't spoken, "and, well, we know now that the Prince was dangerous . . . I think that using it now would be an opportunity. Who knows what other spells Snape put in there, Harry? You can't deny it would be useful."

"Wanna bet," Harry said, stubbornly.

"Look, mate, I tried to tell her you wouldn't hear anything about it," Ron offered. "But, you know how she is."

Hermione bristled. "Yes. Yes, well all know how I am, don't we? How I can not be judgmental, and toss out a possible way to better Harry's chances of survival just because it's Severus Snape's old potion book."

"I think you're being very hypocritical," said Harry. "No more than two months ago, you probably would have chucked that book in the fire. You hated it. Thought the Prince was horrible and told me not to go around using his spells. And now you want me to study it?"

"Why did you keep all your old Potion's notes, Harry?" Hermione demanded.

Harry stopped short. "Sorry?"

"Your notes from Snape's classes. Well . . . my notes really, but that's not the point. They were from Potion's class. Mainly, Snape's Potion's class. Why did you keep them?"

"Because I thought they'd come in useful," muttered Harry.

"But they're Snape's. Why didn't you throw all of them in the fire, like I apparently wanted to do to his book? Which, by the way, you just hid."

"Yeah, because I didn't know at the time who's book it was," Harry argued.

"No, Harry, it was because he hadn't killed Dumbledore yet!"

Harry started tugging at the locket around his neck. "Yeah, well . . . that's why I never did go back after it, before we left."

Hermione sighed. "You're missing the point, Harry. If Snape hadn't killed Dumbledore, and you found out later that it was Snape's book, would you still be acting this way about using it? It would probably make you want to go get it more, because you'd know it would infuriate him if he found out about it. Which it did, if you remember correctly. You liked that book, Harry. You liked the Prince. And now . . . it hurts. And even though you know that there could be tons of really useful spells and counter-curses, you won't even consider using it because it hurts . . . because it's his."

Harry stared into the fire. She was absolutely right, and he knew it. The book had betrayed him. Everything he had thought about the Prince - that he was cool, that he was brilliant - had been about Snape. Harry didn't understand how he could admire someone one instant, and then go down to the dungeons for class and hate that same person with every bone in his body. The Prince and Snape seemed so different. And he felt like if he used the book, even to defeat Voldemort, even just to revel in seeing how it would infuriate Snape, it would be betraying Dumbledore somehow. Dumbledore, thought Harry. What would he want me to do?

He'd tell me to do whatever it took to win the war.

He looked back over to Ron and Hermione, who were staring at him intently. Then he sighed.

"You're right, Hermione," he admitted. "Even though I don't like it, you're right. And Dumbledore would want me to do whatever necessary. So, after breakfast - lunch, whatever - I'll . . ." He paused, swallowing the impulse to change his mind and tell Hermione she was crazy. "I'll go get the book."

Hermione smiled. "I'm proud of you, Harry." Ron just shrugged and nicked a bit of Harry's food.

"Speaking of," he said through a mouthful of egg, "McGonagall's going down to the slimey git's office this afternoon sometime before we leave, I think."

Harry's brow furrowed in confusion. "So?"

"Well, they're trying to get it open, from what I hear," Ron explained. "Snape warded the place. It's taken her and some of the other Order members weeks to get them down. They want to search it; see if anything useful or important is in there."

"Why are you telling me this?"

Ron shrugged. "Dunno. Just thought you'd want to go and have a look for yourself. I do. I'd love to set fire to place, actually, but I doubt they'll let me. Shame, too."

"One step at a time, mate," said Harry. "It's bad enough that I'm going to get that bloody book."

Hermione shrugged. "Well, if you tell me where in the Room of Requirement you hid it, I could go get it for you. That way, you could go down to Snape's office instead and see what you can dig up." She grinned and stole a bit of Harry's toast herself, popping it into her mouth. Harry stared at her incredulously.

Ron shook his head. "Best not to argue with her, mate. It's an art form, see. I think I'm about the only one who's gotten in down by now."

"And you still always loose," Hermione pointed out.

Ron winked at her. "At least we know I'm good at something."

---------------

Later that afternoon, while they were waiting for Lupin to arrive to take them back to Grimmauld Place, Hermione went off to the Room of Requirement with Harry's instructions, and Harry and Ron made their way down to the dungeons.

"It's even creepier when there's no one here," muttered Ron as they walked down the stairs that lead to their old Potion's classroom. "Think Hermione will be able to get in?"

Harry snorted. "She's Hermione. It's not hard . . . I just told her to think of a place to hide something, and it should become the room it was for me. I told her exactly where I stashed it. I'm sure she'll have it in no time."

"Hoping she won't?"

Harry didn't answer.

"Look, I'm with you, okay? I think going to get that book is dumb-"

"No," Harry sighed, "it's not dumb. It's just . . . hard."

"You don't have to use it, you know."

"I probably won't," admitted Harry. "At least not yet. Not till I'm ready."

They rounded a corner to find the office door open. They peered inside to find McGonagall and Slughorn facing a door that Harry assumed lead to Snape' old private quarters.

McGonagall heard them approach and turned. Upon seeing who it was, her face turn into it's usual scowl.

"What do you think you two are doing down here? Remus should be soon. Potter especially needs to be somewhere where he'll be safe."

"Someone once told me that there's no safer place to be than Hogwarts," Harry said, grinning.

McGonagall scowled some more, but Slughorn laughed.

"Harry, m'boy! Hagrid informed me of your little misadventure last night. Just like your father, you are," he said happily, mustache puffing.

Funny, thought Harry, last year I was just like my mum.

"Thought you might need some help," Ron said.

Slughorn and McGonagall raised their eyebrows. "Mr. Weasley, I assure you, that if myself and other members of the Order cannot break into these quarters, it's highly doubtful that you and Mr. Potter could provide much use."

"Actually," Harry said, slowly, having a thought. "Hermione's just gone to get something that might help."

"Really?" asked Slughorn. "I'm intrigued. Just what miraculous gift is Miss Granger bearing?"

"Er... it's a book. One of his books," Harry told them, indicating Snape's room.

McGonagall and Slughorn looked dubious.

"Well, what are you doing to get in?" Ron asked.

McGonagall's lips thinned. "Plenty of disarming charms that you wouldn't be able to attempt for many, many more years, Mr. Weasley."

Ron blushed.

"Professor . . . since you're Headmistress now, shouldn't it let you in anyway?"

"Under any other circumstances, yes. Offices and storerooms will automatically open to the Head of the School upon being ordered to do so. However, private rooms do not fall under that rule, as you can imagine. Although I'm seriously considering making an amendment to that rule," she added angrily, glaring at the door.

"Is it passworded?" Harry asked.

"Now, really!" McGonnagal shouted. "The two of you - well, the three of you, counting Miss Granger - have always taken it upon yourselves to deal with matters that do not concern you. I don't see why-"

"I watched him murder Dumbledore," Harry said flatly. "If anyone has a right to see what he's been keeping in there, I do." He shrugged. "I doubt there's anything of importance in there anyway. Snape's not stupid. He would have taken anything that he needed. It probably just automatically warded itself when he left to go up to the Astronomy Tower."

Slughorn's mustached puffed again. "That's exactly what I said, but Minerva insisted-"

"He's a criminal now, Horace. This room needs to be searched. Besides, we can't have a useable room warding itself against anyone and everyone."

"Have you tried guessing the password?" asked Harry.

"Mr. Potter, do you think I'm daft?"

"Could I try, please?"

McGonagall looked quite put out. "Mr. Potter, the reason we have had to take these wards down manually is because we've tried-"

"Please," he said, forcefully.

McGonagall pursed her lips and glared at him for a moment.

"It can't make them come down any slower, Minerva," Slughorn pointed out.

"Fine," said McGonagall. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but see what you can do, then."

She and Slughorn moved aside. Harry glanced at Ron, who gave him an encouraging nod. Harry stared at the door and tried to think of all the possible things that Snape would have used as a guard word. The easiest and simplest came to his mind first, which was also one that Professors McGonagall and Slughorn probably hadn't tried.

"Half-Blood Prince," Harry said to the door. Nothing happened, except that McGonagall and Slughorn looked at him oddly.

"Half-blood what?" asked McGonagall.

"It was his nickname," Ron waved her off. "Don't ask us. Long story. Go on, Harry."

"Um . . . The Half-Blood Prince?" Harry tried again.

Still nothing.

"Half-blood . . . The Prince . . ."

"I think we've established that's not working," McGonagall snapped.

Harry blew air between his lips, frustrated. "Alright then, um, Sectumsempra . . . Muffliato . . ." Harry racked his brain. "Levicorpus?" he tried.

The door remained firmly in place. Ron shrugged. "It was worth a shot."

"No. I can do this," Harry insisted. He glared at the door. "I hate James Potter!" he yelled at it. McGonagall rolled her eyes.

"Potter, although you probably don't want to hear it, Severus Snape is a very intelligent man," McGonagall stated. "I appreciate that you want to help, but if there is a password to his quarters, I doubt that you or anyone else will be able to guess it. He was very private, and as passwords are not things that are supposed to be easy things to access, I think I can be so arrogant as to say that no one will be able to, er, 'crack the code'." She came forward and put a hand on his shoulder. "It's all right, Potter. Thank you for trying."

"How did you know his nickname?" Slughorn asked.

"From the book that Hermione's bringing," Ron answered. "We found it."

Harry shot him a look.

"Hmmm... not like Severus to leave his things lying around," Slughorn said. "Even back when he was a student. I'm assuming it was an old school book?"

Harry nodded.

"Very odd. Half-Blood Prince, you said? Hmmm... explains a lot, actually."

"What does?" Ron asked.

"I told you that your mother was excellent at Potions," he explained to Harry. "And, as you can imagine, so was Severus. They partnered a lot, those two. Not so much their first couple of years. Around third or fourth, you couldn't give them another partner. And believe me, I tried." He laughed. "It seemed very strange to me, not just because they were a Gryffindor and a Slytherin, mind you. But because outside of Potions class I never saw them together."

"They never sat with each other in my Transfiguration classes," McGonagall added.

"Maybe they both just liked Potions a lot," Ron suggested. "Probably hated each other outside of class."

"Especially when he went around calling her 'Mudblood'," Harry said, angrily.

Slughorn laughed again. "Severus Snape call Lily Evans a Mudblood? Never!"

Harry stared at him. "I saw- I mean, Sirius told me that he did. He told me about fifth year, down by the lake-"

McGonagall groaned. "I remember that. I took one hundred points from Gryffindor. James Potter may have been popular when he was at Hogwarts, but not that day."

"Why do you think he wouldn't call her a Mudblood, Professor?" Harry asked.

"Lily was always coming to Severus' defense when James, Sirius, and the others would play their pranks," McGonagall told them. "Perhaps he felt he ought to be a gentleman."

Not bloody likely, Harry thought.

"For all the good it did him," she continued, a hint of anger in her voice this time. "James never missed an opportunity to trap Severus in some prank or another."

"By Merlin, did those two hate each other!" Slughorn chuckled. "I thought James and Severus were going to start their own wizarding war. It really is a shame you didn't get to know your parents, my boy. For the stories, if nothing else. Well, Minerva, I don't know about you, but I could do for a spot of lunch. I'm sure Severus' door won't mind." He winked and waddled back toward the door that lead to the dungeons.

"Wait, Professor," Harry started, jogging back into the hallway. "What does his nickname have to do with this?"

"Ah!" said Slughorn. "She called him 'Prince' one time, Lily did. Couldn't for the world figure out what she was on about." He shrugged.

McGonagall shook herself out of her nostalgic reverie and came beside Slughorn. "This book Miss Granger's bringing . . . I'd like to have a look at it, if you don't mind."

Damn, thought Harry. "Er . . ."

"That is not a request, Potter. Remus should be here within the hour. I want you, Mr. Weasley, and Miss Granger in my office and ready to leave in thirty minutes."

And with that, the two Professors turned and made their way back up the stairs to the Entrance Hall.

Ron looked at Harry. "What do you reckon?" he asked.

"About what?"

Ron frowned at him. "You know what. Your mum knew is nickname, Harry."

Harry shrugged. "So? I bet loads of people knew it when he went to school."

"Don't be daft. He's a Slytherin. What, you think he and his pals went around the Slytherin Common Room letting everyone know he was half-blood? He's mates with Lucius Malfoy, Harry. I bet you all the gold in Gringotts that no one knew his dad was a Muggle."

Harry swallowed. "Except my mum, it looks like."

"Yeah." Ron thought for a moment. "You think maybe he told her, since she was Muggle-born herself?"

"Why would he? Yeah, Slughorn says they were partners in Potions, but it's not like they were best friends." Harry looked once more toward the door to Snape's quarters. "Come on, let's get out of here. Besides," he continued, as he and Ron were trekking up the stairs, "I don't care what Slughorn says, I heard him call her a Mudblood in that memory. So, why would he tell her that he's half-blood when he clearly hates everything that's not pureblood?" Maybe even himself, Harry mused.

"Yeah, but if that were the case, why would he call himself the Half-Blood Prince?" Ron pointed out.

"Hermione answered that one for us last year. His mum's surname was Prince. So, he would have been proud to be half a Prince. Meaning, half of him was pure."

They trudged back to Gryffindor Tower, where they saw Hermione waiting for them at the portrait of the Fat Lady. Making his mind up about something, Harry grabbed Ron's arm before he could go any further and pulled him back around the corner.

"Ow!" yelled Ron. "What are you doing?"

"Shh!" Harry ordered. "I need to talk to you. Look, Ron . . . I know it's probably none of my business, but . . . you're my best mate. And Hermione's my friend, too."

Ron stared at him, bewildered. "What are you going on about?" he asked.

Harry sighed. "Ron, are you mental or something?"

"What?"

"What is it going to take for you two to stop being stupid? We almost died yesterday. And . . . I know you think that I don't know. But, it's pretty obvious."

Ron shuffled his feet and glanced around the corner. "How obvious?"

Harry gave him a look. "It's so obvious that I'm sure Ginny had a similar conversation with Hermione sometime before we left the Burrow. Only I'm sure hers didn't involve almost being blown up."

Ron groaned and leaned against the wall. "I'm doomed."

Harry made a bemused face. "Why? Ron-"

"You don't get it, Harry. It's just . . . Hermione scares the hell out of me. I don't like the way she makes me feel; I don't know how to act, I hated hurting her last year. I don't even know why I did it! I mean, I was crazy about 'Mione." He shrugged, staring up into the ceiling. "I still am. I guess I thought I could just make it go away."

"Well, the two of you did try pretty hard the last three years."

Ron shook his head. "I didn't know I liked her so much until fifth year and we spent all that time at Headquarters."

Harry snorted. "Fourth year. Yule Ball. And don't even try to argue."

Ron opened his mouth, looking very much like he would like to.

"And I get exactly what you're saying about how Hermione makes you feel. Because Ginny makes me feel the same way," Harry added.

Ron imeadiately shut his mouth again.

Harry leaned against the wall beside his friend. "But you still have a chance with Hermione."

"You could still be with Ginny, too. She's miserable, you know. And you are, too."

"No, Ron. I can't be with her. And you know why. I won't be responsible for the death of another person I love, and that includes you two. I know I can't stop you and Hermione. But, I can stay away from Ginny. And that might keep her safe for that much longer. Like I said, everything almost ended yesterday. When are you going to tell her? Because who knows how many more close calls we're going to have. Who knows if that was our last. You still have some time with Hermione. Don't lose that."

He glanced over at Ron, who looked to be deep in thought, when he heard the sound of footfalls coming down the hallway.

"There you two are!" Hermione said, running over to them, waving the book. "Found it!"

Ron and Harry straightened up off the wall and exchanged glances.

"Great. Now you can turn around and hand it over to McGonagall," Harry said.

Hermione blinked at him, confused. "What?"

"We kind of let slip to McGonagall and Slughorn about it."

Hermione glared at the two of them. Ron, who was blushing furiously, muttered, "Sorry, but they were asking questions."

"Well, we'll just have to say we didn't find it. Harry needs this book. Besides, if they find out that he was using it in Potions all last year-"

Harry shook his head. "They'll do what? Expel me? I've already quit school. And I doubt very much McGonagall doesn't know that already."

"Well . . . can't we explain that you need the book?"

Harry shook his head. "Your guess is as good as mine. We can't tell her about the horcruxes . . . I promised Dumbledore. The only reason you two know about it is because he knew I would probably tell you anyway, and gave me permission. Besides, there are probably dark spells in that book. She won't want me using any of them anyway." He sighed. "We'll just have to hand it over, Hermione. Once she's done having a look, maybe we can ask for it back. Or, I could have Lupin ask for it . . . maybe persuade her that the Order should be able to see it, too, considering Snape was supposed to be one of our own."

"Or she could hand it over to the Ministry, and then we'll never see it again," Hermione argued.

The three fell silent for a moment, before Hermione sighed resignedly. "Fine. I guess we have no choice. But we need to get this book back somehow, Harry. Because I'm not just worried about you facing Voldemort. You're going to have to face Snape as well. And the key to defeating him may very well be in hidden somewhere in his book."

------------

Half an hour later, Harry, Ron, and Hermione (clutching Snape's book) trekked up the stairs to McGonagall's office, where Hagrid was waiting for them. Ron kept shooting furtive glances at Hermione, and Harry had half a mind to just shove them together, order them to start snogging, and be done with it. Hagrid let them in, and the three started up the revolving staircase. Harry knocked on the door when they arrived and entered at McGonagall's command.

The first thing Harry laid eyes on was Dumbledore's portrait, which almost made him walk right back out again. But, Hermione put a hand on his shoulder and urged him forward.

"Harry! Ron, Hermione!" Remus Lupin greeted them as all three made it through the door and shut it.

Harry grinned and hugged the werewolf. "Sorry about-"

"Please, don't apologize, Harry. Your James' son. I expect you to get yourself nearly killed at least ten more times this year," Remus joked, but Harry saw concern in his eyes.

Harry pulled away and gestured to the portrait of Dumbledore, who was snoring loudly in his frame.

"Has it woken up yet?" he asked McGonagall as she was taking the book away from a sullen looking Hermione.

She frowned at it. "Not a word. This is highly unusual. Portraits should start interacting almost imeadiately upon creation. Or, in this case, the death of their doppleganger."

Harry absent-mindedly started fingering the locket again.

"I've tried talking to him," McGonagall continued, "the other portraits have tried talking to him. I even had Aberforth come and try it, although he was quite disinclined to do so. I never much cared for that man. Anyway, nothing's worked."

"Well," Remus began, "I think we've imposed on Professor McGonagall long enough. Or, should I say 'Headmistress'."

McGonagall grimaced. "Please don't."

Remus laughed. "Come on then, you three. We're Flooing to the Burrow, and then Apparating from there to Headquarters. By the way, Ron, your mother says she's going to kill you."

Ron rolled his eyes. "She always says that. I should have died five hundred times already."

They thanked McGonagall and apologized again for what happened. Then, one by one, they took a handful of Floo powder, stepped into the fire, and were zoomed off to the Burrow. Hermione went first, then Ron, and then it was Harry's turn. He stepped into the fire, threw his Floo powder into it, and yelled "The Burrow!" when something very peculiar happened. McGonagall and Remus were both facing him and the fireplace, and in the split second it took for the words to leave his lips and the flames to surround him, Harry swore he saw Dumbledore's portrait, quite awake, put a finger to his lips and give him a wink before he was swept away.