CHAPTER NINETEEN: ONE STEP FORWARD
Autumn was in full swing and it was a pleasantly cool, mid October Saturday afternoon. It was hard to believe the term had started eight weeks ago. Time seemed to be speeding by. Between classes, private lessons, D.A. meetings and the never-ending search for clues to the remaining Horcruxes, Harry had his hands full.
Tonks, Jillian, Firenze, DeSousa and Professors Slughorn and Flitwick were definitely putting him through his paces. One good thing was that because his private lessons were becoming more demanding, he was finding it easier to get through most of his regular N.E.W.T. classes. The work was still challenging. It just seemed that he was able to grasp class work much more quickly. Defense Against the Dark Arts had always been his stand out subject; but he seemed to be thriving in the others, as well. Even Hermione commented on how good a student he really was when he put his mind to it. She was also quick to point out that she'd told him that years ago, as well; but it took a half dozen teachers brow beating him to focus and concentrate for him to see it for himself.
Potions was still his least favorite class. It had nothing to do with Professor Slughorn, but rather the Half Blood Prince's Potions book, which Harry stubbornly insisted on using. Hermione and Ron thought he was nuts, but he couldn't bring himself to get rid of the stupid thing. For the most part, Harry kept to the author's instructions and tried to avoid following Snape's scribbled alternate suggestions. This meant that he astounding Professor Slughorn less frequently than last year, but Harry didn't really care.
He was more interested in perusing the spells and curses that Snape had scribbled out in the textbook. There was no getting around it; Snape had been well ahead of his peers in that subject. Harry didn't dare try them out. He didn't want a repeat of last year's fiasco with Draco Malfoy. He was however, slowly committing each and every one of them to memory.
The D.A. members were thriving. With no visits to Hogsmeade or Quidditch games, everyone looked forward to filling at least one hour of each Saturday with something useful. They were all working really hard and Harry was proud of each and every one of them.
He, Ron and Hermione had mapped out circumspect routes to the third floor corridor from Gryffindor Tower, the Prefects' bathroom, the antechamber on the far side of the Great Hall, and the corridor leading from Slytherin House, which Harry and Ron had once infiltrated. Luna, Neville, and Ginny had done the same from Ravenclaw Tower, the library, and the corridor leading from the kitchens, which should take care of anyone coming from the direction of Hufflepuff House. The various classrooms were going to be the problem. There were too many to account for, and it would be up to the D.A. members to lead students to the safest and quickest routes.
Despite all the things that seemed to be going well, Harry was feeling really uneasy about the remaining Horcruxes. They seemed to be hitting a brick wall.
About once a week, Harry crept down to the kitchens after curfew to meet with Dobby. Harry had asked the elf to put aside any odd or old cup that he could find within the kitchens. It was a bigger task than he'd expected. The kitchens were large, and it seemed very little was ever thrown away. On each visit, Dobby had assembled an odd assortment of mismatched cups, glasses and chalices. And each time, the search had turned up nothing of significance.
On the other hand, Hermione's interview with Professor Flitwick about Rowena Ravenclaw had turned up lots of additional information. Unfortunately, it had also succeeded in lengthening the list of possible items that might have appealed to Voldemort. Hermione hadn't been wrong. Ravenclaw had indeed been the most multifaceted of the founders.
And even Ron's search for the elusive R.A.B. was getting frustrating. In between meeting with Dobby, Harry was pitching in to work on background research from some of the names on Ron's list. They'd gotten really excited when they started gathering information on a wizard called Randall Anthony Bick. He'd been a Slytherin, whose family had long dabbled in the Dark Arts. Their hopes were dashed however, when it was revealed that at the age of twenty, he'd severed ties with his family and run off with a Muggle woman.
Harry was meeting Dobby again tonight, and if nothing panned out, he'd have to contact Moody about getting him out of the castle and escorting him to Wales.
For now, Harry was on his way to visit Hagrid. He reached the cabin and knocked, but got no response. Then he heard a succession of thumps and realized Hagrid was out back. He walked around the cabin and found Hagrid breaking apart logs for firewood. Each swing of the ax cleaning severed a log in half. Hagrid hadn't heard him approach.
"Hi, Hagrid," said Harry.
"Harry," said Hagrid in slight surprise as he turned around. "When'd yeh get here?"
"Just now," said Harry and he caught the blur that was Fang barreling towards him from the rear of the giant pumpkin patch.
Satisfied that he'd sufficiently slobbered over Harry's clothes, the dog turned and ran back to continue doing whatever had been occupying his attention.
"Do you need help with that?" asked Harry, pointing towards the pile of logs.
"Nah, this is easy work for me," replied Hagrid. "Are yeh up for some archery work, today? It's been a while."
"Sorry about not coming around more," said Harry. "But yeah, I'd like that."
"Nonsense, I know yeh have lots keepin' yeh busy," said Hagrid. "Go ahead, all yer stuff is in the cabin and I've got plenty of extra arrows."
Harry went through the backdoor and found his bow and quiver sitting against a back wall. When he returned, Hagrid had the bull's eye target set up and waiting.
He'd almost forgotten how much he enjoyed this. He'd practiced maybe once or twice since term started, but it only took a few attempts until he found his rhythm again.
Harry heard a familiar sound in the distance and knew who it was.
He waited and called out, "Hi, Firenze."
Hagrid looked in the direction Harry now faced, but it was several seconds later before the centaur rounded the back of the cabin.
"Very good, Harry Potter," said Firenze. "Good afternoon, Hagrid."
"Firenze," said Hagrid, nodding and looking between Harry and the centaur. "I was just giving Harry some practice time."
"Yes, I can see that. May I?" he asked as he walked next to Harry, indicating the bow.
"Sure," said Harry, handing it over. "Hagrid made it for me."
The centaur inspected the bow carefully, balancing it on his palm, and then pulling it taut and testing its resistance.
"It's excellent work, Hagrid," said Firenze.
"Thank yeh," said Hagrid, obviously pleased to have gotten such high praise from a centaur.
"Continue," said Firenze to Harry, handing the bow back to him.
Harry did so and Firenze eventually touched him lightly on the shoulder to get him to stop. The centaur moved further out, picked up the target easel and carried it another twenty yards of so.
"Try it now, please," he said in his usual calm voice, galloping lightly back towards them.
"Er, Firenze…" started Hagrid, but the centaur ignored him.
"Go ahead, Harry Potter," he urged again.
Harry strung the bow, aimed and released the arrow. It sailed and struck the bull's eye, though well off the center mark.
"Again," said the centaur.
They did this over and over, until Harry hit the target's center multiple times.
"Yeh sure do have a knack for this, Harry," said Hagrid from several paces behind his left shoulder.
"Prepare another one," said Firenze, "but do not release it."
Harry complied and the centaur walked directly behind him, placing his right arm and hand against Harry's own and his left hand just beside Harry's left shoulder blade to guide him.
"Close your eyes," directed Firenze.
Harry hesitated for a moment, but did as asked.
"The bow should not feel like a tool. It should feel like an extension of your arm and hand. I imagine this is how wizards view their wands, yes?" he asked.
"Umh, yeah," said Harry. "That's a good way to describe it."
"When I moved the target, I placed it about five yards in front of a tree. Keep your eyes closed and tell me if you can describe the tree."
Hagrid coughed behind them and Harry understood why. They were surrounded by hundreds of trees and Harry had been focusing on the stupid bull's eye. He was about to give up when something suddenly occurred to him. It's as if he could see a filmed image beneath his closed lids.
He remembered the target and the last arrow he'd put through the center. He'd glanced up when the arrow hit home and remembered seeing a canopy of green leaves. That was it. All the other trees near it had leaves that had turned gold and orange, and most of them were at least half bare as their leaves littered the ground.
"It's still in bloom," said Harry. "It's the only one."
"Yes," said Firenze. "And I shall tell you one other thing. There is a knothole in the bark of the tree."
The centaur guided Harry's right arm, released him and said as he stepped back, "Keep your eyes closed. You are lined up center to the bull's eye and the tree behind it. See if you can remember how far up the tree the knothole is."
"Come on, Firenze," said Hagrid. "How can yeh expect him to do somethin' like that?"
"I only want him to try, Hagrid," said Firenze. "It's merely an exercise in concentration. I'm not …"
Harry didn't really hear anything else. Their voices became muffled background noise as he focused to remember more details of the tree. He'd missed the bull's eye target a couple of times and the arrows had sailed into the tree lines. At one point, he'd worried about hitting a squirrel that was scampering up the bark as his arrow whizzed by. The squirrel had scurried up and around the other side, past something dark and discolored. It was the knothole; and if he judged correctly, it was about three yards above the top of the bull's eye.
Harry took a deep breath, raised his bow arm on an angle and let the arrow sing through the air.
"I'll be a hippogriff's uncle," said Hagrid.
Harry opened his eyes slowly, blinking away spots and gazed up at the tree in the distance. His arrow had found the outer edge of the knothole.
"I shall have to read the stars again tonight, Harry Potter," said Firenze.
Harry left Hagrid and Firenze talking beside the pumpkin patch and returned to the castle. They'd been far more impressed with his accomplishment than he was. He didn't think shooting arrows with his eyes closed was going to defeat Voldemort and he wished he were as skilled at finding Horcruxes.
He went into the Great Hall for dinner and was surprised when he didn't see Ron or Hermione. Neville spotted him and waved him over. He was sitting with the Creevey brothers.
"Hi, guys," said Harry.
"Hi," chimed the brothers.
"Harry," said Neville, lowering his voice, "Ron and Hermione ate earlier and left right out. They said something about needing to go to the library and that they'd see you tonight at our regular meeting."
"Okay, thanks."
Harry glanced down the table and saw Ginny seated with Seamus, Dean and Lavender. Things were still weird between them. She was more than willing to talk to him during D.A. meetings and was polite if he asked her any general questions; but the minute it looked like they were moving towards anything more familiar, she seemed to close him out.
McGonagall, rising from her seat and tapping her water glass, interrupted his thoughts.
"Notices will be posted in all the common rooms in the morning," she began, "but I feel inclined to share this news with you tonight."
She had everyone's attention.
"In light of the stringent security measures and limited freedoms enacted this term, and your marked efforts to adhere to them, we've decided to offer you a little something to break up the monotony," she said, giving a rare and slight smile.
"This year's Halloween feast will be expanded into a dinner dance."
The hall erupted into excited and whispered chatter, especially among the girls. McGonagall raised her hands for silence and continued.
"Given the short notice, it will not be as formal as the Yule Ball hosted several years ago. You may come in dress robes if you have them, and costumes are certainly encouraged. Please note however, that full masks will not be permitted. For first through third-years, curfew will be extended until ten-thirty. For fourth-years and higher, it will be extended until twelve-thirty."
Applause rang out around the hall.
"You will find more details on the bulletin boards in the morning. We encourage anyone interested to please sign up for the various committees. And as always, we expect everyone to be on their best behavior."
Through the rest of dinner, most everyone was talking about the Halloween dance. The topic continued on once students made their way to the Room of Requirement for another D.A. meeting.
Harry wasn't listening. He was tuning everything out and running through Defensive spells in his head. Ron and Hermione showed up at seven o'clock on the head and everyone settled down to see what Harry had in store for tonight's lesson.
He'd arranged a makeshift obstacle course that ran from one end of the room to the middle. There were stacks of crates, dressing screens, free standing doorways, old bureaus and even a few boulders placed sporadically. People were looking around the room curiously.
"We're going to run through a multiple attack simulation," said Harry.
"Wicked," said Dean Thomas.
"That's the general idea," said Harry on a slight laugh. "I need you to divide into three groups."
When they'd moved around, there were two groups of eight, and a third with nine, including little William Tanner.
"Now pick two people from your teams as targets," he directed.
Colin and Lavender were chosen as targets for the first group, which also included Neville, Dean, Seamus, Ernie, Justin and Luna.
Harry had Lavender and Colin join him in the center of the room with their backs turned, and he directed the rest of their team to take up hidden positions behind or within any of the items he'd used to line the obstacle course.
"Remember," he said to the room at large, "you may not use any spell or charm that will result in injury. You can color each other in stripes or any other such thing, just nothing to draw blood or cause permanent damage."
Harry held his own wand tighter, just in case he needed to block anyone else's spell or charm.
"Okay," he said to Colin and Lavender, turning them around to face the rest of the room, their team hidden. "Your goal is to make it to the end of the room as unscathed as possible. You can block and deflect any of the spells, attempt to disarm or immobilize your teammates, or just dive out of the way if that's what it takes."
Dean disarmed Lavender within the first few minutes of the exercise. To Colin's credit, he tried to shield her as they continued forward and they got about two-thirds through the obstacle course before Neville jumped out and stopped them both with a well timed "Petrificus Totalus."
Each team had fifteen minutes to simulate the exercise, with four people from each team getting a turn at playing target. It was a lot harder than any of them thought it would be, and that was the point Harry wanted to make. A real battle was going to be unpredictable and uncontrollable, and he wanted them as prepared as possible.
"Good work, everyone," he said to them when the third group had finished their second run through. It was already a little after eight o'clock. "We'll do the same thing next Saturday, so everyone gets a turn."
Ron and Hermione remained behind to help him straighten up the room. He looked up and found both of them watching him.
"What?" he asked.
"Nothing," said Ron, but Hermione was smiling at him.
"Listen, Harry," she said, "I know this is going to sound silly and all, but do you still want to be an Auror?"
Harry did find it an odd question. Given everything that had happened and needed to happen, his future plans were the furthest thing from his mind. Truth be told, he wasn't even sure he'd survive long enough to have one, but he didn't dare tell them that.
"I haven't thought much about it, lately," he said with all honesty. "Why do you ask?"
"Because you should be doing this, mate," added Ron.
"Come again," said Harry.
"This," said Ron, pointing at the makeshift obstacle course, "was a brilliant idea. You're a natural instructor. I think the Ministry should hire you to train its Aurors."
"Yeah, right. Be serious," said Harry.
"It's not that far fetched, Harry," said Hermione. "You could probably give a few of them a run for their money, right now."
"Thanks, but you two are obviously biased," he said grinning and changing the subject as he looked at his watch. "Let's get going."
When they neared the staircase, Harry pulled his Invisibility Cloak from his bag, slipped it on and handed his bag to Ron.
"I'll see you later," he said and headed down the marble staircase as his friends continued on to Gryffindor Tower.
Dobby was waiting for Harry when he entered the kitchens and removed his Cloak.
"Good evening, Harry Potter, sir," said Dobby.
"Hi, Dobby," said Harry, and he took a double take at the huge pile of items strewn across one of the large tables.
"I got everything I could find, sir," explained the house elf. "If what Harry Potter needs isn't here, then it cannot be in the kitchens, sir."
"Let's get started, then," said Harry, sitting at the table and beginning to comb through the items one by one.
Two hours later, disappointment was taking over, yet again. It must have been evident on his face.
"Does Harry Potter need Dobby to look anywhere else, sir?" he asked, with such desire to help clearly in his eyes.
"You've been an incredible help, Dobby, really," said Harry sincerely. "But it's just not here."
"And what does Master seek?" croaked a dreaded voice from behind them.
It was Kreacher, looking as miserable and mental as always.
"That's none of your concern, Kreacher," snapped Harry at the other elf.
Harry didn't believe he would ever be able to forgive the role Kreacher had played in Sirius's death. He knew Voldemort and his Death Eaters had manipulated Kreacher, but it didn't erase the pain or the memory.
"Oh, the little half breed traitor is up to something, eh," said Kreacher.
Dobby had moved in a flash and Harry was barely able to grab hold of him before he launched himself at Kreacher.
"Don't Dobby," he said. "He's not worth the trouble and there isn't anything else Kreacher can do to hurt me. He's already accomplished that."
The pathetic little elf smiled to himself as he relived his treachery.
"Kreacher," said Harry, "do not forget my orders. You are not allowed to talk about, signal, or otherwise communicate with anyone or anything regarding me, anything I say or do, or anything I ask anyone else to say or do."
Kreacher's smile vanished and his eyes refocused.
"Yes, Master," he said disgustedly. "The half breed is too clever for his own good. Perhaps the Dark Lord is cleverer."
Dobby struggled to release himself from Harry's grip.
"Kreacher, go back to your quarters," ordered Harry and the second elf bowed and vanished with a loud crack.
"You should have let Dobby thrash him, sir," said Dobby, shaking with anger on Harry's behalf.
Harry laughed as he released him and said, "Maybe I should have."
He visited with Dobby for a while longer and then made his way upstairs, removing his Cloak and annoying the Fat Lady when he woke her up to gain entrance to the common room. Ron and Hermione were waiting up for him. Everyone else had gone upstairs.
"How'd it go," asked Ron, as Hermione pulled her wand and cast "Muffliato."
"It didn't," he said, collapsing into a cushy chair, not bothering to provide any additional details about his futile search or his encounter with Kreacher. "I'll contact Moody in the morning."
"What about that note about a treasured gift?" asked Hermione.
"Who knows what that could mean," said Ron.
"Not me," said Harry on a sigh, wanting to get off this topic. "I'm surprised to see the common room empty. I'd of thought people would still be hanging around and talking about the Halloween dance."
"Yeah, we got to hear all about it when we got back this evening. The last group headed upstairs about a half hour ago to start trying on dress robes," said Hermione, rolling her eyes. "I was getting really close to casting a silencing charm."
Ron laughed and then said, "Hey, wait a minute."
"What?" said Harry and Hermione.
"You know," said Ron as he shifted on the couch, "everyone's going to be distracted that night. It might be a good time for you to stretch your legs."
Harry was silent for a moment, but then said, "You're right. That just might do the trick. I doubt anyone will notice if I'm missing."
"Fat chance," said Hermione. "Half the girls fluttering around here were whispering and trying to figure out how to get you to go with them."
"Not that again," he said. "Well, I'm not going. Even if I didn't have other things to do, I still wouldn't want to go."
Hermione gave him a penetrating look, but didn't say anything else.
Harry ran a hand across his face in frustration and mumbled, "Who'd ever thought it'd be this much trouble to find one small gold cup with two handles."
"You did," answered Hermione with frankness. "Remember, you said…"
"Harry," Ron cut across her, sitting bolt upright "say that again."
"Who'd ever…" he began.
"No, not that part. Describe the cup again," said Ron, looking very serious.
"It's a small gold cup," said Harry.
"With handles?" asked Ron.
"Of course, how can you have a cup without a handle?" interrupted Hermione.
"Not a handle," said Ron. "Harry just said two handles."
"Yes, it's a small gold cup," said Harry, pausing and trying to recall everything he'd seen in the Pensieve with Dumbledore. "It's got thin gold handles on either side, and it's engraved, supposedly with a badger, but I couldn't see it clearly."
Ron was watching him anxiously.
"Haven't I said this before?" asked Harry.
"No," said Ron. "You've been talking about a small gold cup, but that's it."
"Sorry, so what's that got to do…" began Harry, but stopped cold when he saw Ron's face break out into a wide grin.
"Harry, I think I know where it is," said Ron.
"What?" said Hermione.
"Not what, more like where," he said, his eyes never leaving Harry's. "It's in the trophy room."
They were on their feet, out the portrait hole and racing down the marble staircase within seconds. They made it to the gallery full of suits of armor without running into Filch or his blasted cat.
Harry refused to slow down and skidded through the entrance to the large and echoing trophy room. Ron and Hermione were on his heels.
Hermione reached for her wand, but Harry had already trained his gaze along the walls and the torches lit in succession.
"Where?" he asked, turning to face Ron.
"There," answered Ron, pointing to their left. "It's the third one from the far end."
"Are you sure?" asked Hermione.
"I'm positive," he said. "It's one of the last ones I emptied and cleaned when I had detention with Filch our second year."
Harry walked up to the crowded case. It was full of trophies, plaques, cups and engraved plates.
"It's on the top shelf," said Ron. "almost in the very back."
Harry opened the case and the friends slowly removed items from the top shelf, placing them on the floor around them. Finally, the small cup was revealed and Harry stared at it, his heart thudding in his chest.
"That's it," he said, his throat going dry.
"I wonder how long it's been here," said Hermione.
"Probably since the day Voldemort came back to see Dumbledore, when he pretended to want to return to teach," said Harry. "All he needed was a few seconds of access inside the castle in order to place the cup anywhere he wanted."
"Wouldn't he have put some sort of spell around it?" asked Hermione, clearly remembering the damage inflicted on Dumbledore's hand and arm from contact with Gaunt's ring.
"Definitely," said Harry.
"Then how were you able to touch it?" asked Hermione, looking to Ron.
"Actually, I never did," said Ron. "I gave up before I even finished the top shelf. I looked at the cup and some of the other smaller stuff around it; but I was so sick of polishing and waxing, I just put some bigger items in front of them, hoping Filch wouldn't notice."
Harry had his wand out and was slowly moving it towards the cup when Hermione stopped him.
"Wait," said Hermione. "I'm not sure you should do that."
"Step back," he said to both of them, completely undeterred.
Ron looked at Harry and then moved back several paces, pulling Hermione alongside him.
Harry's wand made contact with the cup, but nothing happened. He turned his wand around and used the thicker end to prod the cup, but it didn't budge.
"You wouldn't have been able to remove it even if you'd tried," said Harry to Ron over his shoulder. "I think it's got some sort of sticking charm on it. Voldemort wasn't planning on having anyone move it."
"What do you want to do?" asked Ron as he and Hermione moved closer again.
"Can you clear the nearest cases out of the way?" he asked, as he slipped between the spaces and made his way around all four sides of the trophy case.
Ron and Hermione pulled their wands and within minutes, they had cleared a path on either side of the case, its neighbors having been levitated to the opposite side of the room.
"Now what?" asked Hermione as Harry reappeared from the rear of the case.
Harry pulled his own wand, thought, "Diffindo," and guided his wand tip along the top of the case, cutting a path in the glass.
He nodded at Ron, who stepped to the other side of the case, and together they lifted the top off the case and moved it across the room. Hermione finished clearing all the other items from the trophy case until only Hufflepuff's cup stood inside it.
"I've got an idea," said Harry.
"What is it?" asked Ron.
He gripped his wand, concentrating on the message he wanted to send and thought, "Patronum Animatim."
The silver stag emerged brightly from his wand tip, looked at Harry and took off to deliver his message to Professor McGonagall. Harry only hoped she was in her private quarters and wouldn't be able to track them down until he had time to attempt what he was planning.
He'd only done this one other time, and even then, he hadn't known how he'd managed it. Harry conjured an image of Dumbledore's face in his mind, took a deep breath and flicked his wand silently.
Ron and Hermione were looking around trying to figure out what he'd done. Their question was answered seconds later when the steel and ruby encrusted sword of Godric Gryffindor appeared in Harry's outstretched left hand.
"What the bloody hell are you going to do with that?" asked Ron incredulously.
"I'm hedging a bet that Godric Gryffindor's power is stronger than that of Slytherin's heir," said Harry. "It was once before."
Hermione and Ron looked at each other, then at Harry and finally nodded.
"Be careful," Hermione said as she and Ron stepped back once more.
Harry didn't think any spell he currently knew would be strong enough to do what he wanted, and he didn't trust his other, still developing ability. He switched the sword to his right hand and walked within range of the trophy case.
He put his wand in his pocket, hefted the sword, took aim and with every bit of strength he could summon, swung the blade directly at Hufflepuff's cup. The blade struck and Harry could feel the impact all the way up his arm and into his shoulder joint.
The next few seconds were a blur. It was as if a bright and silent blast had detonated. He was knocked off his feet and looked up in time to see pieces of glass and debris, some huge, hurdling across the room.
He turned to shield his face and was hit by several smaller pieces before he was thankfully able to wandlessly cast "Impedimenta."
Ron and Hermione had the same idea and their spells, combined with his own, slowed the onslaught of wood, glass and metal until the pieces rained slowly to the floor.
They rushed to his side as he got slowly to his feet, holding his right arm tight against his body, trying to lessen the throb that ran from his fingertips to his collarbone.
"Are you all right?" asked Hermione.
Harry did not answer. He was still holding Gryffindor's sword and it made a slow, piercing sound as its tip dragged across the stone floor, Harry walking towards the broken remnants of the trophy case.
He shifted through the debris with his foot until he spotted what he wanted. It was Hufflepuff's cup, at least what remained of it.
Relief washing over him, Harry smiled and looked at Ron and Hermione, who now flanked him on either side. The cup had been rent in two and the gold was distorted and showed burn marks, almost as if someone had tried to melt it down.
Ron bent down and slowly prodded the pieces with his wand tip. Nothing happened and he picked up the two halves, a grin to match Harry's spreading across his face.
Hermione had tears of happiness brimming along her lashes.
They looked around the room and surveyed the rest of the damage that had been inflicted. At least four other cases had been destroyed, their contents all over the room. Filch was going to have a fit.
Moments later, a silvery-white cat appeared at Harry's side and one message rang loud and clear in his head.
"McGonagall wants me in her office right now," he said.
"We're coming with you," said Ron.
When the reached the top of the revolving staircase, the door was already open and they could see the headmistress, in a tartan nightdress, pacing the width of the office behind her desk. She looked up when she heard their footsteps and started in on them as they made their way forward.
"Mr. Potter, what exactly was the meaning of that message? I thought you were joking until I came down here and saw that Gryffindor's sword was indeed missing. I don't know how you…" she was unable to finish the rest as she fully took in their appearances, especially Harry's.
"Oh, my goodness," she said, coming around the office, pulling out one of the guest chairs and forcing Harry into it, and indicating that Hermione and Ron should take the others, as a third one materialized without effort.
All three of them were dirty and sported small cuts and abrasions on their faces, hands and neck. There were rips and tears in their clothing. And even though Harry's eyes were alight with energy, his skin was as white as a sheet.
McGonagall reached to take Gryffindor's sword from him, and as she did so, his arm shook uncontrollably and he bit his lip against the jarring pain. The headmistress touched his shoulder and upper chest to steady his arm, but pulled back her hand when she felt something thick and wet. It was covered in blood.
Harry's dark shirt had camouflaged a greater injury and until she'd touched it, he hadn't even realized it was there. It burned like hot wax now, and his eyes stung.
Hermione was out of her seat and at his side, alongside McGonagall. Hermione pulled at the larger tear in his shirt, ripping at the fabric until the right side of his chest was exposed.
Ron and Hermione each frowned and McGonagall gasped.
There was a jagged cut that seemed to run from the middle of his right pectoral to the upper ribcage, the deepest part of the cut near the top. Blood had been steadily seeping through the gash and the surrounding skin looked inflamed. McGonagall took a closer look.
"Is that glass?" she asked, and having seen for herself that it was, added, "What in blazes have you three been doing?"
No one answered and Hermione transfigured a letter opener on McGonagall's desk into a pair of tweezers.
"Hold still," she told Harry and she gently probed the upper part of the wound until she had a firm grip on the glass shard and extracted it slowly.
It was long, thin and serrated. Blood flowed more freely and the intense pain lessened immediately. McGonagall pulled her wand and the flow of blood staunched.
"Thanks," said Harry.
"You will need to see Madame Pomfrey to have it healed properly," replied McGonagall. "But that should hold until one of you can tell me what you've been up to."
"It appears you have had a most interesting night," said a voice from the wall of portraits.
Harry's heart leapt when he recognized Dumbledore's calm cadence and turned to see the penetrating blue eyes watching him from within the portrait frame. Ron and Hermione were staring, transfixed.
Dumbledore smiled softly at each of them and then turned his gaze back to Harry, saying, "Your discomfort hasn't managed to mask your excitement, Harry. Am I to assume you had some success this evening?"
Harry didn't trust his voice. He could only nod.
"Excellent," said Dumbledore softly. "Minerva, I'd like a moment alone with Harry, if you please."
A loud knock at the door drew everyone's attention and in walked Argus Filch, clad in his nightdress and his face flushed with anger.
"Headmistress," he began, near hysterics, "vandals have destroyed the trophy room! Mrs. Norris led me to it. I've never seen such damage in all my years here. Who would…"
He stopped ranting as he took in Harry, Ron and Hermione's appearances.
McGonagall covered smoothly, even though she'd had no idea what happened, saying, "Yes, Argus, I'm already aware of the situation. I'm sorry to say it was unavoidable. I'd appreciate it if you kept this to yourself."
Mr. Filch lost some of his fire, but he still wanted to rant.
"Begging your pardon, Headmistress, but I don't see how this can be kept quiet. It's a bloody mess in there."
"We can take care of that," said Ron, getting up, with Hermione joining him.
"I will accompany you, as well," said McGonagall. "Mr. Potter, please stop by the hospital wing before you return to Gryffindor Tower. I'll alert Poppy to expect you."
"Yes, Professor," he answered.
Everyone left the office, Ron discreetly dropping the destroyed pieces of Hufflepuff's cup in Harry's lap. When the door closed, Harry turned back to the portrait of Dumbledore.
"Professor Dumbledore," he said, taking in every detail of the face that was once again animated.
"It is good to see you, Harry," he said.
"Sir, I'm so sorry…" began Harry.
"Harry, nothing that happened that night was your doing. Of that, I can assure you. Do not dwell on it."
Harry paused. There was so much he wanted to say and so many questions he wanted to ask; but instead, he nodded once more.
"I've been watching and listening since Minerva came downstairs and found Gryffindor's sword missing from its glass case. You had her in a right state. Now do tell, what have you three done?" he asked, his blue eyes twinkling.
Harry held up the remnants of Hufflepuff's cup and Dumbledore smiled deeply and closed his eyes momentarily.
"Well done, Harry," said Dumbledore proudly. "I knew you, Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley were up to the task."
Harry relayed everything that had happened, as quickly as possible. He'd so very much missed having this guiding force in his life. Dumbledore listened patiently, and at times, Harry thought he was struggling to stay awake. He remembered what McGonagall had said about the long stretches of sleep and quiet and knew this night's meeting was drawing to a close.
"So, that just leaves something of Ravenclaw's, then," said Dumbledore. "And Nagini, if what we suspect is correct."
Harry did not correct him. He could not bring himself to tell Dumbledore that the locket he'd worked so hard to retrieve on that horrible night had been a fake. He didn't want him knowing he'd weakened himself for nothing, losing his life in the end.
"Yes, Professor," he said. "Hermione has been researching Rowena Ravenclaw and talking to Professor Flitwick. It almost seems like there's too much information to pick through."
"I am not surprised," answered Dumbledore. "Rowena Ravenclaw was a complex and fascinating witch. Her talents were boundless."
"Yes, so we've learned," said Harry.
"It might interest you to know," said Dumbledore on a yawn, "that she and Gryffindor were very close. She was a warrior at heart, and her bravery nearly rivaled her innate brilliance."
Harry thought about that for a moment, finally tucking it away to discuss with Hermione and Ron later. He looked up in time to see Dumbledore's eyes flutter close and his head drop against the cushioned wing backed chair.
"Goodnight, Professor," he said quietly.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Madame Pomfrey had fixed Harry right up, commenting that she wasn't surprised that he'd found some way to injure himself this year, Quidditch or no Quidditch. He was told to expect some aches and stiffness for several days, but he'd be fine. Ron and Hermione had already been attended to when he showed up. They waited with him and by the time they'd reached Gryffindor Tower, were still too excited to go to sleep.
Harry filled them in on his conversation with Professor Dumbledore. He'd expected Hermione to lecture him about not coming clean about the locket, but she and Ron both understood why he'd been unable to deliver that news.
They, in turn, told him all about McGonagall's reaction when she saw the trophy room. She sent Filch off on some wild goose chase for unneeded brooms and then lit into the two of them. She wasn't as mad about the damage, which the three of them repaired in no time; but was adamant that one or all of them could have been killed. She knew Harry was carrying on with whatever he'd been doing with Dumbledore. But she felt strongly that Ron and Hermione should have tried to talk some sense into him.
It was at that moment that Ron snorted back a chuckle and McGonagall gave him a detention. Ron didn't care. None of them did. She could have given them a year's worth of detentions and it wouldn't have put a dent in the pure euphoria they were experiencing in the wee hours.
The trio rode that wave of happiness all week, until Harry came crashing back to earth on Friday evening. It was Halloween night and he'd spent the week deflecting every inquiry about his plans for the dance. He really did not want to go. But at the last moment, he gave in and let Ron and Hermione talk him into going.
"You have to eat, don't you?" asked Hermione. "You can leave anytime afterwards and I promise I won't say a word."
"All right, but I'm not putting on dress robes or a costume, so don't ask," he said.
"Neither are we," said Ron. "It should still be fun, though."
And it was, or at least it had started that way. When they arrived in the Great Hall, the house tables had been removed and there were dozens of oval tables spaced around a large dance floor that dominated the center of the room. Nearly everything, from the table linens to the countless decorations were done up in varying shades of brown, gold, red and burnt orange. Thousands of twinkling lights competed with the stars of the enchanted ceiling.
The only things equal to the room itself were the items that made up the menu. Everything had been renamed, and Harry decided to start his meal off with a bowl of blood soup, previously known as tomato bisque.
Tonks had volunteered to oversee the music and the students couldn't have been happier. McGonagall wouldn't allow a live band on premise, but Tonks had pulled a few strings and gotten the Wizarding Wireless Network to dedicate four straight hours to playing songs that were probably setting most of the teachers' teeth on edge.
Everyone was having a really good time and Harry was half way through his dinner, talking and laughing with Ron, Hermione, Neville, Seamus, Lavender and Dean. They were discussing some of the more interesting costumes -- like Tonks and Jillian dressed as Muggle pop stars -- when a flash of red caught his eye and he looked up to see Ginny entering the room.
He knew she would likely bypass their table and probably sit with the Creevey brothers and Luna across the room. He was mistaken and fairly dumbstruck when Terry Boot approached her, kissed her lightly on the cheek, and escorted her to a table of his fellow Ravenclaws and a couple of Hufflepuffs.
Harry pretended to be interested in whatever Lavender was currently commenting on, plastered a faint smile on his face, and waited for his heart rate to return to normal.
The torches on the far wall flickered out and relit themselves. Most people thought it was a minor trick planned for the night; but Jillian had turned to look at Harry and he could feel Ron and Hermione watching him.
Somehow, he managed to sit still for another half hour; and then, under pretense of needing to speak with Professor McGonagall, who was heading for the double doors of the Great Hall, made to follow her out. However, when Harry reached the corridor he headed in the opposite direction from McGonagall, making his way up the marble staircase, seeking the quiet of Gryffindor Tower.
Harry could hear light, hurried footsteps behind him and knew to whom they belonged. He did not slow his gait or turn around. He gained entrance to the common room and went upstairs to the welcoming solitude of the dormitory. Harry was standing and looking out of the tower window when the dormitory door eventually opened, as he knew it would.
"Harry," said a soft voice, "I don't know…"
"Drop it, Hermione," he said, turning to face her. "It was bound to happen sooner or later. I did break up with her, remember."
"Yes, but not because you don't care about her," she said. "Ron is really annoyed with her. I can't believe she'd do something so childish."
"Don't say that," he said flatly.
"You don't think a part of her did this to try and get a reaction out of you?" she asked in a knowing tone.
"Not really," he said and was rewarded with a raised brow from Hermione.
"Okay, maybe a small part," he finally admitted, "but how's that any different from your little tiff with Ron last year?"
"That was different because Ron was behaving like a spoiled six year old," she said simply.
"It doesn't matter, Hermione," he said. "Ginny should be getting on with her life."
"You can't tell me that didn't feel like a slap in the face," she said.
"Look, we all know why I broke up with Ginny," he said, his temper heating just a bit. "Ginny knows why, too. But the reason doesn't change the fact that we aren't together and aren't going to be together. I have no right to complain about anything she chooses to do. I'm out of it."
Hermione walked right up to him, pulled at the top button of his shirt and lifted the silver chain and pendent from beneath the fabric.
"If it really didn't matter, I don't think you'd be wearing this," she said, her own temper flaring slightly. "Or did you think I hadn't noticed it when I was pulling glass out of your chest last week?"
Harry looked at his equally stubborn friend, removed the chain from her hand and stepped around her. He walked several paces, running his hands roughly trough his already untidy hair before turning to face her again.
"What do you want me to say, Hermione?" he began. "Do you want me to say it hurt to see her with someone else? No problem; it hurt."
"Harry, I'm…" she started, but he wasn't finished.
"Am I going to go downstairs and tell her how I feel?" he continued. "No, I'm not; she already knows. But it doesn't change a thing. I am a danger to her and I'm not going to give Voldemort any added incentive to go after her. Because trust me, I'd rather deal with this hurt than the alternative."
Hermione knew he was talking about his parents, Sirius and Dumbledore and her voice softened again.
"I just don't want to see you lose out on something that could bring you some real happiness," she said.
"It won't be the first time," he said. "It's okay. I'm used to it."
"You shouldn't have to be," she said sincerely, quoting Ron's sentiment from the summer.
Harry adored her for her unwavering friendship and loyalty.
"Go back downstairs and enjoy the rest of the evening with Ron. You two deserve some happiness of your own, you know."
She blushed, but didn't deny anything.
"I'm glad you two found each other," he said.
She smiled, hugged him lightly and left the dormitory.
Harry went back to the tower window and watched the stars dancing across the night sky, wondering if his heart's truest wishes would ever come true.