Chapter 24 – Voice From Beyond

Summer had died a very sudden death. It was only September, but the skies above Hogwarts weren't usually as grey as they had now become until late autumn or winter. Hagrid was standing outside his cabin, waiting for the small group of fourth years whom he would be teaching Care of Magical Creatures, and rubbing his hands together for warmth. He would also be expecting a visit from Harry later on in the day and could imagine having to apologise for asking so many questions. Every smile had required far more effort since the passing of the old Headmaster, and he was always keen to hear any news that would show it had not been in vain.

He jumped as he suddenly heard a voice at his side.

"Hagrid?"

Seeing nobody about him, he smiled and replied as he looked back towards the castle.

"I do wish yeh'd pay some attention to the rules at some point, Harry. They're only looking out for you, y'know."

"I know, but there's something I really wanted to ask you," came the voice.

"Well, ain't that a coincidence," muttered Hagrid, "Cos I've got a few questions of my own. If you won't be missed for a while then yer welcome to wait inside, bein' that I've still got a class to teach. Oh, and you can take that cloak off an' all."

Harry emerged from his invisibility cloak and, with a grateful smile at his friend, entered the hut.

Tonks was escorting the class across the grounds and looking somewhat perturbed about her duties. She was very tired after having spent most of the night at St Mungo's Hospital, watching over the ailing Mr Ollivander, whose condition was still bordering on critical. Harry felt truly sorry for her as he watched her lead the class towards the forest through Hagrid's window. Really, it was bad enough having to cope with the danger of being an Auror in these times, without having to baby-sit young witches and wizards at the same time.

He sat down and watched Fang, Hagrid's dog, sleeping near the fire. Fang seemed to have recovered fairly well from his injuries sustained in the cabin fire at the end of the previous school year, but even while sleeping, he appeared to be shaken from the experience, as well as having a few patches of missing hair. Harry had always liked Hagrid's cabin, even though he couldn't see himself living in a place like it. He had many precious memories within these walls, and would always remember Hagrid as the first person that he had ever called a friend.

Nearly an hour later, the door opened and the groundskeeper himself walked in. He shivered a little, took off his large overcoat, and hung it up on the wall.

"Well I thought yeh could've at least put the kettle on!" he laughed.

Harry smiled, drew his wand and within seconds, the heavy copper kettle was full of water that steadily boiled over the fire.

"How did the lesson go?" he enquired.

Hagrid cleared his throat awkwardly.

"I err, suppose it could've gone better," he murmured, before adding quickly, "But I DID try and tell 'em what them Bowtruckles were like. Reckon I got another Malfoy in the making among that lot!"

Harry understood what he meant right away. During a lesson with Hagrid in his third year, Draco Malfoy had been attacked by Buckbeak the Hippogriff, after failing to listen to instructions about how the creature should be treated. This brought dark thoughts back to him as he idly wondered what had become of Malfoy. Something very unpleasant, he hoped.

"Now then," said Hagrid, sitting himself down on the other side of the table, "Like I said, there's things I got ter know from you. I've been running errands fer The Order during the summer, and all's I know is that somethin's been keepin' 'em very busy. I've heard rumours, good and bad, but that's all."

Harry was wondering where to begin.

"Percy Weasley was murdered," he said quietly, deciding that there was no point in withholding the information, "Tonks and I found him in the Weasleys' garden."

Hagrid took a very deep breath and bowed his head reverently.

"So it is true," he said mournfully, "I was hopin' they was…never mind."

"Olivander's – " Harry began.

"Oh, I know all about him," cut in the groundskeeper, "There were that much talk flying around the staff that I'd have to be stone deaf not to know every last detail. Poor man, I'm just countin' on 'em settin' 'im right."

It was hard to tell what kind of information Hagrid was really after.

"Erm, I'm only learning four subjects at the moment, and I don't even think it's for the N.E.W.T's."

Hagrid looked at him curiously. This was something he had been meaning to ask about, as he had so far only heard vague whisperings.

"Don't happen to know what that bloody fool Lockhart's doing here, do you?" he enquired, "I thought maybe Professor Flitwick 'ad brought 'im in as a demonstration of how wands can be dangerous in the wrong hands."

"He's one of my new teachers," replied Harry simply.

"What?" said Hagrid, wondering if a beetle had become lodged in his ear, "Did I just hear you right?"

"I'm afraid so," Harry smiled, "Professor McGonagall's telling me to learn all sorts of things that aren't normally part of a Hogwarts education."

"Well, you're no ordinary wizard Harry," said Hagrid warily, "Reckon there's not a dark wizard alive who wouldn't give their right eye to bring you hangin' by yer ankles ter…You-Know-Who."

This was not exactly the kind of encouragement that Harry needed at this point, and he thought that Hagrid, of all people, would know it. He honestly hated that fact that he was thought of as so different from the rest, and there had been so many times in his life when his dearest wish to just blend into a crowd; become part of the scenery. This was now an impossible notion, and he would just have to live with it. Taking a deep breath, he lowered his voice and told Hagrid what had to be told.

"I'm going after him."

A reply came somewhat sooner than he had expected.

"Well of course you are, Harry."

Harry couldn't help but look up suddenly in alarm at this. There wasn't the slightest trace of sarcasm or scepticism in his voice. Had he heard him correctly?

"You needn't look so surprised," Hagrid continued, "Much as I feared that it would happen one day, I knew that it would. If Albus Dumbledore hadn't thought so too, don't you think he would've taken it upon himself? After all, you did more harm to…You-Know-Who when you were only one year old, than anyone has ever done. He might be thinking he can do what he wants now that Dumbledore's gone, but I believe he knows deep down that yer not afraid of him."

This was greeted with silence. Harry didn't think this was quite the right time to admit that he was terrified.

"Listen Harry," said Hagrid, sensing a certain reluctance, and leaning in closer towards him, "You've come face to face with him more times than any wizard who's lived to tell the tale, and I think he must've come to terms with the fact that you were more than just lucky. It was meant to be you, Harry, I'm sure of it."

Again, the boy was a little hesitant to express whole-hearted agreement. He thought perhaps he had better take the helm and steer the conversation into other waters.

"Hagrid, there's something I've been meaning to ask you," he said, taking a slight pause and wondering what kind of a response he would receive to such a question, "Where are my parents?"

"Erm, well, Godric's Hollow," said Hagrid, hoping he had understood what was being asked, "That's where they were buried."

"Yes, I know that, but where? Where could I actually find their graves?"

Hagrid sighed. He hadn't thought about this since the secret was entrusted to him sixteen years ago, but he now remembered it as if it were yesterday.

"I hope you're not planning on going out there on yer own!" he said cautiously.

Harry could feel his rebellious streak rising to the surface, and for a brief moment, he felt genuinely proud of himself.

"What good am I going to be to anybody if I can't even manage to visit my parents' resting place? I'll be careful Hagrid, I promise."

He regarded Harry with the kind of expression that befitted a bird who was watching their children leaving the nest for the first time. He had to face up to the fact that Harry was now grown up, and would now have to face some of the worst terrors that their world had in store.

"Alright then," he said, "but mind you are! Now, when you approach Godric's Hollow from the east, there's a road that runs through to the other side of the village. It's signposted pretty well once you're a few miles off, so you shouldn't have any trouble findin' it. Just as you get to the first houses along the road, you'll see a large uphill field to yer right, with some woods at the top o' them. The muggles have 'ad all of it protected by law, so's no one can build on it, or cut down the trees or nothin'. A little way along, you should find a small alcove of fir trees, and as soon as you walk into it, you'll see two headstones appear in front of you, and that be where the great Lily and James Potter are now resting. Anyone else would need a powerful spell of revealing to make 'em appear…well, nearly anyone."

He stood up and attended to pouring the tea, into typically huge cups for which Harry had never had the need.

"There's only two other people, as far as I know, who could do it without usin' magic, and they would be yer Aunt Petunia and yer cousin Dudley," he said, and, seeing Harry's confusion, added, "Blood relatives, y'see?"

Harry rolled his eyes as he imagined that his Aunt and cousin would be about the last people who would wish to visit his parents' graves.

"So, now you know," he continued, sipping at his tea, "and that would make you only the second livin' soul that does know. But to be honest, Harry, I woulda thought you'd 'ave asked Dumbledore, 'stead o' comin' to me."

The boy looked bewildered, completely unsure of what Hagrid was driving at.

"Do you mean to tell me that you haven't already spoken to 'im?" he growled in surprise, "He might not be able to just fix everything with a flick of his wand anymore, but he's still got the same rights as every Headmaster and Headmistress that's been before 'im!"

The implications of this suddenly dawned on Harry, and his whole face seemed to widen in realisation. How could he have been so stupid?

"His portrait!" he cried, leaping up from his chair, "In McGonagall's study, he's there!"

He grabbed his invisibility cloak and wrapped it around him.

"I'm sorry Hagrid," said his floating head, "but I really must talk to him as soon as I can."

"I understand," Hagrid nodded, "Just so long as you let me know how things are goin'. I'll see you later."

Harry covered his head and rushed out of the door. He had no lessons planned for another hour, so he wouldn't be missed. Now all he had to hope was that none of the other Gryffindor seventh years currently had a free period in which to query his whereabouts. Checking that he would not be spotted by any of the regular patrols, he removed the cloak as entered the castle and hurried along the corridor. As he approached the gargoyle, he sighed with relief as he saw Professor McGonagall walking towards him.

"Potter, what's wrong?" she said, with a definite note of concern.

"Please Professor, I need to see Dumbledore," he gasped, "I just need to talk to him."

The Headmistress looked at him with both sympathy and confusion.

"Listen, Harry, I can see how it would be of comfort to you to see him again; it would be comfort to all of us, but you must understand that all that remains of Albus Dumbledore is the soul residing within his portrait, like a ghost, but nothing more."

Harry couldn't understand how she could assume he thought otherwise.

"I know, but there is so much he can still tell me, I'm sure of it."

She sighed, but smiled warmly at him.

"Very well. I shall leave you to it and take a little walk."

Harry smiled his gratitude and uttered the password. He could feel the hairs standing on the back of his neck as he ascended the staircase to the study. His mentor was dead, but it had always been his opinion that even death could not stop such a great wizard. He opened the door and walked slowly and apprehensively towards the place where the cage of Fawks, Dumbledore's phoenix, had once stood. Looking up to the nearest open space of wall, his heart skipped a beat. There, in a frame of burnished gold, hung the portrait of Professor Dumbledore, sleeping soundly, like all the other faces with whom he shared the room. Harry pulled up a chair opposite it and coughed discreetly.

"Err, Professor?"

The portrait stirred a little, and Dumbledore slowly opened his eyes. It wasn't quite the same as Harry had known before, but he still saw the same look of comforting wisdom in the old Headmaster's face.

"I must say that it is the greatest of comforts to see you now," said the professor with a broad grin, "I say this partly because one enjoys so few comforts in death, but it is also a delight to see that you have lived through the summer."

To hear this voice again gave Harry a strength that he honestly couldn't describe, but at the same time, a sorrow that he couldn't understand.

"I see also that you have been lately searching your heart," he continued, "Tell me, what exactly did you see in the mirror this time?"

This was a question to which the answer was not a simple one. The Mirror of Erised had shown such a clear image the first time Harry had looked into it at the age of eleven. It showed him that his deepest desire was for his parents to be alive again, but as he had walked away from it a few days previously, he had been mystified.

"The reflection kept changing, as if I couldn't make up my mind or something," he replied, "I saw myself with my parents again, only this time, Ginny Weasley was there too. Then suddenly it changed, and I saw myself walking into a room where all these wands were pointing at me. There were things I couldn't really make out, but no matter how foggy the reflection was, or how many times it changed, there always seemed to be this pair of red eyes looking at me from the mirror."

He thought for a moment, then realised the question he should have asked first.

"Hold on…How did you know I'd been looking in the mirror?"

Dumbledore smiled again.

"Forgive me for wanting to observe, Harry, but there just happened to be a vacant frame in the room at the time," he said, leaving a suitable interlude before speaking again, "I was curious enough that you were even looking for the mirror. The reflection you saw must simply be a sign that your heart has become more restless, and you are far more uncertain of what the future will bring. Strange, however, because normally it is only the mind that can be uncertain. Perhaps you are torn between being with those you love and your desire to meet danger head-on, as it were."

Although he had been anxious to realise the meaning of the mirror's reflection, Harry couldn't pretend that this wasn't the least of his worries. After all, it was Dumbledore who had essentially set him on his life's path, and if anyone could help him now, it was this voice from beyond the grave.

"What is…death like, Professor?" he said in hushed tones.

The old man pondered this and peered at Harry over the top of his glasses, as he had often done when he was alive.

"A good deal more peaceful than life, I suppose," he said with a small chuckle, "but I wouldn't burden yourself with such thoughts if I were you, and surely it's not what you really came here to ask?"

This was true enough, but it was the only thing that had so far managed to separate itself from the maelstrom of questions that swarmed in his mind like a cloud of mosquitoes. The Occlumency lessons hadn't made it much easier to order his thoughts properly, and so he took a blind stab in the dark.

"Is there anything more you could've told me about the Horcruxes?" he offered nervously.

Dumbledore was glad to see that Harry's courage hadn't faltered, but he lamented the answer he would have to give.

"I only wish there was, Harry. I'm sure you remember the objects of which I told you, but there is so little that I can say for sure. The only course of action I can suggest, once you manage to retrieve one or more of the Horcruxes, is to bring it directly to Professor Moody, who, from what I hear, is currently teaching you his own brand of magical defence. I must say, it's good to see that you have been left in such capable hands, despite his rather abrasive approach to the Dark Arts."

"And he'll tell me how to destroy them?" replied Harry.

"They are objects that will almost certainly be bound in powerful dark magic, and Professor Moody is something of an expert in that particular field."

Harry nodded, thinking for a moment that this would make the task ahead far simpler, then remembered just how impossible it had seemed to him before.

"Has Professor McGonagall told you what's been going on since…well, since that night?" Harry enquired.

"Yes indeed she has, and from the looks of it, she is doing a fine job of running the school. An incredibly gifted witch, of that there is no question."

Before Harry could voice his following concerns, the old man continued.

"I am told that one of the Order's most faithful servant's has successfully begun his work in earnest. I was rather glad he managed to escape, but you must appreciate that for the moment, that must remain a secret between you and I."

"I don't understand," said Harry, shaking his head.

"I know you and Professor Snape rarely saw eye to eye," said Dumbledore, "and I know that there had always been distrust, even hatred between the two of you. However, like it is so often in our world, people are not always what they seem."

Harry was dumbstruck. He wondered if trauma inflicted at the time of death had somehow slowed Dumbledore's mind. His mentor allowed him whatever time he needed to regain the power of coherent speech.

"Snape?! You still trust him after…he…?!" he blurted out, "I SAW HIM KILL YOU!! AND YOU STILL WONDER WHY I DIDN'T TRUST HIM?! KILLING VOLDEMORT'S MOST POWERFUL ENEMY, HOW MUCH MORE PROOF DO YOU NEED? HOW MUCH MORE TREACHEROUS CAN ANYONE BE?!!!"

Dumbledore likeness didn't flinch at Harry's anger. He could see that calm and careful explanation was required, and also well-deserved.

"Harry, now that I'm dead, nothing can now be lost by laying before you this information, but I beg of you to pay close attention to your study of Occlumency, should need to conceal it from unfriendly minds."

Harry had risen from his chair, but was now sitting slowly back down, retaining an expression of ballistic rage on his face.

"I would ask that you listen very carefully, to the bitter end," the professor annunciated in a far more serious voice, "for make no mistake that there are things you will need to know about Severus Snape, things you must understand before the matter goes as far as the two of you crossing wands again."

When he could be sure that Harry was willing to remain silent, he continued.

"We shall begin, oddly enough, with the last, most unfortunate encounter I had with him, the night that Voldemort's followers were able to infiltrate Hogwarts, owing to the quite brilliant scheming of Draco Malfoy. What you saw that night, Harry, was not what it seemed."

Harry fought to keep his tongue locked behind clenched teeth as he listened.

"As hard as it may well be for you to accept, Snape was merely following my orders when he drew his wand on me. I don't believe anyone else in the Order of the Phoenix would have been able to carry out the task of killing me, and it was no easy task for him either – "

"It seemed pretty easy for him from what I could see!" burst out Harry, unable to contain himself any longer.

"Harry, you will remain silent!" cried Dumbledore.

The boy was no longer looking at him now. He was furious at him for having faith in Snape, furious at him for holding back information for so long, and furious at him for still speaking well of the former potions master in the afterlife. But most of all, he was furious at him for dying.

"Professor Snape had solid motives for doing what he did. There were Death Eaters all around him, any of whom would have stepped forward and done it, but that is a fairly minor point, given that he could easily have overpowered them at any time. I believe you are aware of the nature of an Unbreakable Vow, Harry?"

Harry nodded without looking up.

"Severus Snape has, to my knowledge, made two Unbreakable Vows in his life. One was to Draco Malfoy's mother, Narcissa, pledging that he would do everything in his power to protect young Draco in his quest to kill me, and if necessary, perform the deed himself. This was a job appointed to Malfoy by Lord Voldemort, and I'm sure you'll have guessed from the boy's words of desperation what failure would've meant for him and his family."

Again, Harry nodded as he remembered Draco's fearful voice.

"Both Professor Snape and I had become aware of Malfoy's recruitment into the ranks of the Dark Lord's followers, as well as the orders he was subsequently given, and so he was able to act on the information accordingly when confronted by Malfoy's mother and Aunt, Bellatrix Lestrange. You must appreciate that neither of us wished to see a young, innocent wizard become a murderer, no matter what company he had chosen to keep. So, acting upon my orders, Snape took his place as the supposed Death Eater who would kill me. And it is this, Harry, which leads me to the point of the first Unbreakable Vow that Severus made."

Harry was looking less distracted now, and looked back at the portrait.

"It was made sixteen years ago, almost to the day, in this very room, and under the supervision of Frank Longbottom. After he had seen the terrible error of his ways as a Death Eater and defected to our side, he vowed to me that he would lay down his life to serve the Order of the Phoenix and follow any command of mine without question. After a long and bitter internal conflict following Draco's appearance as a servant of Voldemort, he accepted that this vow would quite possibly involve the murder of the one he served without a moment's hesitation. So you see, I had no idle motives for trusting Professor Snape implicitly. It was both his conscience and the shadow that hung over his very life that ensured his service to the Order."

The expression on Harry's face had fallen to one of helpless bewilderment. He quite simply had no idea what to think or feel. His life had been turned inside out so many times; he feared that he would never have a firm grasp on reality. The voice from the portrait continued.

"Taking my life also served the purpose of ensuring that, once he returned to Voldemort and was working for our benefit, his loyalty to the Dark Lord would never be called into question. So it is with absolute certainty that I can say that Severus Snape, at this very moment, is either spying for the Order or dead."

This was a lot for Harry to take in. Never before had he asked to be excused from this room while there were still questions to be asked, but this time he had to.

"Be sure to speak with me again before long!" called Dumbledore from his frame, as Harry hurried out of the door and down the stairs.

He felt giddy, and had to balance himself against the gargoyle. It was just impossible for him to be thinking so many things at once. The hallway was beginning to spin around him as he attempted to walk away, and his heartbeat had sped to a pace that was dizzying him even further. The stress on his mind made him feel as though his brain was trying to punch its way out through the top of his skull, and he broke into a heavy sweat.

"Help!" he cried weakly, before he keeled over and blacked out.