Chapter 20

Girls Are a Huge Distraction

Before Fawkes returned Harry to Hogwarts, Harry asked Professor Dumbledore whether he could inform Ron and Hermione of his "rebirth." Dumbledore immediately requested that Harry refrain from doing so, in order to remain completely anonymous. Thus when Harry awoke after a short sleep the next morning, he tried to decide what he should tell his friends. They would not like it at all, Harry knew, and would accuse him of withdrawing from them, whereas in truth he would love nothing better than to shout out the news to the entire school.

Despite this lingering worry, Harry felt better than he had in months. The knowledge that Dumbledore lived lifted an enormous weight from his shoulders. Somehow Dumbledore would always know what to do. Harry had help! Every Gryffindor noticed his good nature at breakfast that morning, especially given the coldness of his recent behavior.

Chatting with her friends, Ginny instinctively looked up at Harry as he shuffled along the table to take his seat alongside Ron and Hermione. Harry returned the gaze, but instead of remaining impassive or perhaps curtly nodding, he smiled broadly at her. Taken aback by this ancient show of affection, the red head delayed a few seconds before she returned a less enthusiastic grin. Harry smiled at others at the table, which soon hissed with the sound of Gryffindors whispering to one another.

As Harry took his seat next to Hermione and across from Ron, the Head Girl whispered into his ear, "It must have gone well last night from the looks of you." Harry could not avoid smiling again. "Let's talk about it after breakfast. It's still early enough; we'll have about half an hour." Harry nodded his assent.

Breakfast that morning tasted better than Harry could ever remember, and he ate almost as much as his red-headed friend across the table.

"What did you do last night, Harry?" asked Ron, "You're eating like you haven't for a month." Again Harry grinned.

The three friends took advantage of a warmer-than-usual late October morning, walking outside to a deserted courtyard.

"So what happened, Harry? Why are you so cheerful this morning?" asked Hermione as she settled on to a stone bench, pulling her robe around herself, the temperature not being quite as warm as they thought.

"Well, the problem is that I can't really tell you," Harry began, pacing nervously in front of her, "even though I really wish I could," he quickly added. "I can tell you this. Yesterday a person contacted me and arranged our meeting. This person made me promise that I wouldn't tell anybody. I tried to be able to tell just the two of you, but he refused. He said he wouldn't talk to me unless I promised, so I had to promise. I'm really sorry, because I'd like to tell you. Please don't think that I'm trying to hide things from you." He hoped they would buy this story, which after all more or less contained the truth.

They eyed Harry warily, having battled his past attempts to hide information from them, but for some reason, they felt his sincerity this time.

"OK, if you had to promise," Ron acceded, "but what did he say that has you looking like you just caught the snitch?"

"Well, it's not anything so fantastic, but this person knows a lot about horcruxes, at least as much as anyone can know, and he knew Dumbledore," Harry explained, feeling that the last statement in fact reflected the truth in the sense that Dumbledore obviously knew himself. So far he had not had to resort to a bald-faced lie. His friends could not help but notice the life in his eyes that had gone missing since the last horcrux. Whatever had happened to Harry the previous evening, they wholeheartedly supported it.

"He also has other information and knows something about Voldemort's attempt to make horcruxes. After I became convinced that he is on our side, I told him about some of the things we have done. He was really happy about it, said we did a great service to the wizarding world."

"But did he have any information about the other horcruxes?" Hermione pressed, the breeze blowing a few strands of hair across her face, "How do you know that he's really on our side?" The stiffening wind also tussled Ron and Harry's hair.

"I'm sure, Hermione, I checked him out, but I can't tell you how. Just trust me on that point," Harry responded, hoping his comrades would not press him, "and no, he doesn't have any hard information on the other horcruxes." Harry could see the puzzled expressions of his friends and could see them attempting to divine what happened to improve Harry's demeanor so markedly.

"You're wondering why I'm happy, right? Well, I confessed my fears that Voldemort's soul is inside of me, that destroying the two horcruxes somehow weakened me. I've been afraid that each horcrux transformed me little by little closer to being another Voldemort. I thought that if I keep destroying more horcruxes, I might turn dark, because I felt something dark inside me. But he explained to me why I felt that way, and I guess it's just a huge relief to me." He stopped pacing and inhaled deeply. The others could plainly see the tension that had been released from his body.

"So that's why you've been so distant lately," Hermione exclaimed, jumping up from the bench, "We've been terribly worried. You could have told us; we know you'd never become another Voldemort. You and he are like polar opposites, like oil and water." She pulled her robe around herself even tighter. They could hear all of their robes flutter in the swirling air of the courtyard.

"I couldn't help it. After the first horcrux, I felt different, like something had changed inside of me. Then the second one just wiped me out, and I really felt different inside. I'm still weak, but now I believe I've turned a corner. He told me that I have to be patient, that I have to heal physically and emotionally, so that is what I intend to do for the next couple of weeks. Then we'll have to move on. I just hope Voldemort continues to lay low."

xxxxxxxxxx

Throughout Harry's years at Hogwarts, Defense Against the Dark Arts had always been his favorite subject, largely due to his natural talent in that area. The class in his seventh year, however, disappointed him. McGonagall failed in her attempts to hire a full-time professor, which resulted in tag-team instruction by a series of aurors. One auror taught for one or two weeks, only to be replaced by another. They tried to follow an established curriculum, but inevitably, the level of instruction varied greatly, and the class lacked continuity. Harry often found himself daydreaming.

Such was the case during the DADA class the day after his meeting with Professor Dumbledore. Auror Phillip Clarke stood before them, a short, thin, unimpressive wizard. In fact, as the class discovered, looks can deceive, as Auror Clarke demonstrated time and again his considerable abilities. His competence as a teacher, however, did not rise to the same standard, and several students' minds wandered from the lesson, Harry's included. The image of his mentor and friend, risen from the dead, filled his mind.

"Mr. Potter, perhaps you could demonstrate for the class," a frustrated Clarke demanded.

Harry's mind jerked back to reality, and he quickly glanced at Ron sitting to his left.

"Unspoken spells," his friend whispered surreptitiously behind his hand. Harry nodded slightly and reluctantly shuffled to the front of the classroom. Two other daydreamers, a Hufflepuff witch and a Ravenclaw wizard, had also been called forward. Harry could not fail to notice the worry on their faces as they approached.

If Harry could see himself as others did, he would have understood. His black hair had grown even longer, more unruly than ever. Though he had regained some weight, he remained gaunt and thin from the destruction of the locket, and his hollow eyes combined with a few days growth on his chin created an unnerving figure. Moreover, the unlucky young witch and wizard knew they lacked Harry's abilities. They felt like cannon fodder.

"Right, Miss Santoro and Mr. Weaver, you will cast an unspoken spell at Mr. Potter, nothing worse than an expelliarmus. Mr. Potter, you will erect a shield. All without speaking of course. Ready?" The three students nodded. "On the count of three. One, two, three."

Harry flicked his wand casually, thinking "Protego." Miss Santoro and Mr. Weaver screwed their faces in supreme concentration, held their wands stiffly in front of them, and after several seconds of effort, wildly waved the short sticks while they thought "Expelliarmus" with all their might. Mr. Weaver's wand sparked but failed to emit a spell. Miss Santoro succeeded in throwing a weak disarming spell which bounced harmlessly off Harry's sturdy shield.

"Yes, well, this does take practice," Auror Clarke commented, trying not to insult the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. "Let us reverse roles, then. Mr. Potter, you cast the unspoken expelliarmus and you two erect your shields. On the count of three."

Harry delayed intentionally for a few seconds to allow his classmates an opportunity to erect their shields. With a flick of his wand, he silently cast the expelliarmus spell. Surprising himself and causing the rest of the class to jump in their seats, an intensely bold bolt cracked from his wand and in an instant reached the imperfect protective spells of his classmates. The power of the disarming spell easily overcame the weak shields, and the unfortunate duo flew through the air some ten feet, arms flailing and crashing to the floor awkwardly on their backs. Though the scene normally would have created raucous laughter, nobody even chuckled. The eyes of the class first turned left, following the flight of the witch and wizard, and then turned in unison to the right, where Harry stood still, eyes wide in shock. Finally he rushed toward Miss Santoro and Mr. Weaver.

"Are you alright? I'm sorry. I didn't know it would be that strong. I just used the expelliarmus spell." As proof, he held up the two wands of his classmates which had neatly flown into his hand. Auror Clarke also rushed over to help the pair, who after taking inventory, determined that they escaped serious injury.

Never call on Potter again! Clarke mentally noted.

Harry sheepishly returned to his seat, followed by the silent glares of his friends and classmates. Instinctively he searched for Hermione, who upon locking eyes with her friend, changed her worried expression to a reassuring smile. Harry felt a little better.

xxxxxxxxxx

Despite his performance in DADA, the fact of the matter remained that his friends greatly preferred the new Harry to the old one. They generally found him in a good mood; he more or less paid attention in class, and even read his books occasionally. On October 29th, Ron reminded him of the Halloween Ball in two days.

"Are you going to the ball, Harry?" For some reason he looked nervous, and Harry examined him closely.

"Hadn't thought about it," answered Harry warily, "I guess not. I haven't asked anyone, and it's late now, I think. I won't mind missing it this year."

"Are you sure? I think some girls are still available," Ron pressed on, fidgeting with his hands. Harry knew a set-up when he saw one.

"OK, Ron. Tell me what's going on. Obviously you've been sent here on a job. Who is it?"

Ron sighed and confessed, "Ginny. Nobody has asked her because they're all afraid that you'll be upset, and frankly nobody wants to see what you'll do when you're upset. Especially after your performance in DADA the other day."

"Did she put you up to this or Hermione?" Harry asked, beginning to see the full picture.

"Both of them. They've been talking a lot, and they cornered me. I didn't want to do it; told them to talk to you themselves," Ron defended himself, "but they said it would be better if I did it." The two boys pushed away the Transfiguration essays they had just begun.

Harry stared at his friend from across the common room table, considering his options. In truth, he had no desire to attend the dance, not with Ginny or any other Hogwarts female. On the other hand, he felt badly for Ginny that none of the other cowardly boys had asked her, for he knew that going to the ball would be important to her. Switching back to the first hand, he realized that Ginny would consider Harry taking her as a sign that they would reunite as a couple, and he most certainly did not wish to send that message.

"No girls!" he muttered to himself softly, not realizing that Ron could hear.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I can't do it. Now is not the right time. I can't be distracted from what I have to do, and let me tell you, girls are a huge distraction," Harry emphasized knowingly, pointing his finger at his best mate, "I feel bad for Ginny, but if I take her, she's going to want to get together again, and I'm not ready for that." Harry asserted this with a firmness in his voice greater than the firmness in his heart.

"Nothing says you can't have a bit of fun, Harry. You don't have to act the tortured hero twenty-four hours a day. If you don't want to go with Ginny, go with someone else." Ron relaxed slightly, feeling that he had performed his task and could not be blamed for Harry's response.

"I'm not sure any of the other girls would want to go with me the way I look right now, and they probably all have dates anyway," Harry considered. He looked at Ron and the obvious question came to his mind, "Who are you taking?" Ron shifted uncomfortably again, the tension in his muscles reappearing instantly.

"Well, I asked Hermione, since I couldn't think of anyone else and because of my screw-up back in fourth year with Krum and all. Nobody had asked her, so she said OK." Ron's attempt to sound nonchalant about the whole affair did not fool his best mate.

"That's good," Harry responded with a forced smile. His brain agreed with his statement, and he told himself to ignore the pang of nausea that surged unexpectedly in his stomach. "I'm sure you'll have a good time. Don't worry about me, I'll find something to do. And do me a favor; tell the other blokes that they can ask Ginny, that I won't do anything. Maybe Neville could ask her." His stomach rumbled again.

Harry's destruction of the carefully laid plot of the two primary females in his life greatly reduced his popularity with the pair. Especially livid, Ginny threw Harry fiery gazes from afar, but completely ignored Harry on the few occasions they neared each other. Hermione, on the other hand, did not mind expressing her thoughts verbally.

"I just don't understand you, Harry. What would be the harm in taking Ginny to the ball? There's nothing that says you two have to hate each other." She had cornered Harry in the hall, then diverted him to a deserted alcove. The two friends, both clearly upset, glared at each other.

"Look, I don't hate Ginny, and you know it." Harry responded heatedly, doing his best to keep his cool, "I just don't think it's a good idea for us to go together. You know as well as I that Ginny wants me to be more than her dancing partner."

"If you make it clear to her, I'm sure she would understand." The Head Girl stood several inches shorter than Harry, but when enraged, she seemed taller in some way.

"Come on, Hermione, you know that's not true." Hermione's silence conceded that argument. She pressed her lips together in irritation, and narrowed her eyes.

She moved to her next point, "It's just unfair that Ginny can't go to the dance because every boy is afraid that you'll hex them into a coma. The least you could do is take her so that she can go. Maybe a ball means nothing to you, but it means a lot to a girl like Ginny."

"I can't help it if this school is filled with a bunch of cowards," Harry retorted hotly, barely keeping his cool, "I told Ron to spread the word that it's OK. That's all I'm going to do!" He quickly scanned up and down the hallway to make sure that nobody could overhear them.

Hermione finally got down to the real issue, "But what's so bad about getting together with Ginny again, Harry. I think it would be good for the both of you. You need someone to comfort you, someone you can talk to about things." The tone of her voice had changed from irritation to pleading.

Indeed Harry often recalled his brief months with Ginny as his "official" girlfriend, and most definitely he remembered the benefits to it. Yet something inside of Harry warned him not to surrender to these urges.

Increasingly irritated, he countered, "We've been through this before, Hermione. It makes no sense for me to be with anyone until it's all over. I have to remain focused. I can't be worried about a girlfriend's constant needs."

The irritation returned to Hermione's voice, "Oh come on Harry, having a girlfriend wouldn't keep you from fighting Voldemort. What's the worst that could happen?" Harry finally reached his limit.

"You want to know the worst that could happen? Alright, I'll tell you." Harry responded, moving forward a few inches, his eyes wide with intensity. "I COULD BE KILLED BY LORD VOLDEMORT, that's the worst that can happen. And then you know what will happen, Voldemort will take over, and the wizarding world will go straight to hell! And you know what else; he'll kill Ginny, Ron and you. And probably all my friends. So what do you think, should I risk all that just to go to dancing with a FORMER girlfriend who wants to remove the 'FORMER.' If you can find someone to take care of Voldemort for me, I'll be happy to take Ginny and every girl in Hogwarts to every ball for the next hundred years!"

As he continued with his finger-pointing rant, he moved closer to Hermione's face so that she could see the redness in his cheeks, and the veins in his temples. She knew when to give up.

"OK Harry, let's not argue anymore. I argue enough with Ron."

"FINE!," Harry shot back not immediately recognizing Hermione's conciliatory tone. Once he did, he lowered his voice and added, "I mean, right, let's not argue. And actually Ron and you haven't been arguing that much lately." He took a step back, breathing deeply in an attempt to regain his calm.

Hermione bit her lower lip and turned to the side, and Harry knew something bothered her. Since the last word spoken involved Ron, Harry guessed that the red head must be the source of Hermione's nerves. Should he ask about it, he wondered. Part of him did not want to know the extent of their relationship, but curiosity overcame his reticence.

Finally he gave in as he asked as calmly as he could, "What's bothering you?"

She almost said, "Nothing," but caught herself. Instead she stared down the hall, away from Harry's eyes, and asked, "You know that Ron is taking me to the ball, right?"

"Yeah, he told me. I hope you have fun." Hermione failed to respond within a normal length of time, so Harry added, "Is there something wrong with Ron taking you? Aren't you happy about it?" He studied the side of her face intently, but she would not turn towards him.

"I don't know whether I'm happy or not, Harry, that's the problem. It's just . . . , oh, I don't know if I should be discussing this with you," she fretted, her face creased with lines of frustration.

"Look, if you don't want to, that's OK. Don't tell me if you think you shouldn't," Harry responded chivalrously, though by now he was dying to know.

"Well, if I can't tell you I can't tell anyone, and I need to talk about it," Hermione decided, for she wanted to talk about it as much as Harry wanted to hear it. Tilting her head downwards, she proceeded, "I think you know that Ron has kind of liked me for awhile." Harry nodded. "Well, he wants us to be together, you know, officially, like Ginny and you were last year. And I'm not sure I want that. I mean, I like Ron a lot, but . . . Well, like you say, things are complicated right now, and I'm not sure it's a good idea." She shifted nervously and refused to turn towards her best friend.

Harry more or less expected this, without knowing the details, but hearing it from his best friend still jarred him. He should have had no reason not to want Ron and Hermione to "be together," but he realized nonetheless that selfishly he did not. Afraid that he would say the wrong thing, he remained mute.

"I just worry about how that might affect the three of us. We have something so important to do, and now I feel silly worrying about frivolous things like boyfriends and balls. I guess I understand you after all, Harry. Maybe I should just wait until it's all over, like you said." At last Hermione lifted her gaze and turned towards Harry, staring intently at him, expecting a response.

"Hermione, I can't make up your mind about something like that. What I said before applies to me; it's how I need to be," Harry responded with a wave of his arm. "Maybe Ron and you are different. I don't know. No way would I tell you not to be together if that's what you want. That's not my decision. I'll support you either way," Harry explained magnanimously, even though deep down he hoped that she would reject Ron's advances. He would prefer their relations to remain the same for a while longer.

"Thanks, Harry," Hermione smiled, an expression of relief on her face, "that means a lot to me." Apparently she read more into his statement than he intended. The Head Girl gazed thoughtfully at Harry for a moment before adding, "You know, I've never had a boyfriend, not really. I don't consider Krum a boyfriend, even though I think Ron thought we were practically married. I'm a girl, Harry, I'm eighteen years old! I'd like to have a boyfriend sometime. For some reason, I thought it would be easier. More obvious. Maybe I'm just thinking too much, that's what the other girls say, but thinking is what I do best."

"Are you asking me for advice, Hermione? Because if you are, don't! I'm the last person to ask. Cho was a disaster, and I still don't know why. Ginny may have lasted longer but hasn't exactly worked out very well. I'm about as clueless as they come." Hermione smiled.

"You really are clueless about some things, you know. If you could hear what the girls say about you in the loo or dormitories, well, you might have a bit more confidence."

"I don't think I want to know. It scares me just to think about it." Harry joked, "Besides, I'm downright ugly right now after that last horcrux - thin as a rail, hollow eyes, and all. You're the one who tells me that."

"Believe me, Harry, Romilda Vane doesn't think your eyes are a problem. In fact, you may want to shave more often if you want to keep her from having another go at the love potion," Hermione teased, enjoying the discomfort this caused Harry, "I warned you about the effect of that two-day beard."

xxxxxxxxxx

Harry's decision not to attend the Halloween Ball remained firm, largely because he recognized the opportunity to use that time for another purpose - to visit Professor Dumbledore again. This thought more than compensated for the lost opportunity to dance with a lot of nicely dressed, pretty girls. Moreover, the farther away he stayed from Ginny, who remained steaming mad, the safer he would be.

This time, Harry decided to leave Hogwarts without informing anyone, as he knew the entire school would be preoccupied with the upcoming ball. Already at three in the afternoon, the girls began making their way to their dormitories to commence their tortuous preparations. Harry had a roll of parchment in front of him, supposedly writing an essay for Charms. As he predicted, the Gryffindor common room reverberated with noise, and Harry quite reasonably informed anyone listening that he needed to find a nice quiet place to study.

The hallways abandoned, Harry could have called for Fawkes right there in front of the common room, but he decided to slip into an empty classroom. Fawkes appeared at his call, and in a few minutes, Harry once again stood in Dumbledore's small flat.

"Professor," he called, not seeing anyone, "It's Harry."

"Just a moment, Harry, I'll be right out." Harry noted that Dumbledore's voice sounded shaky, and indeed when he walked out of his bedroom, the professor hunched over a cane, laboriously making his way down the hall.

"Are you OK, sir," Harry asked with concern, as the old man slowly limped into the kitchen.

"I have had better days, Harry, but this is the ultimate price of a long life. Let us sit here at the table." They each took a seat around the small breakfast table to the side of the muggle kitchen, Dumbledore easing his way into the unarmed chair gingerly. He managed a half smile, half grimace. "It is a pleasure to see you again, Harry, you seem to be regaining your health."

"Thank you, sir, I am feeling much better, almost back to normal."

"Tonight is Halloween. Hogwarts still allows the traditional ball, does it not? Or has Minerva decided that such frivolities must cease?"

"Yes, there is the ball. All the girls are preparing themselves right now. But I'm not going to it this year," Harry added. Dumbledore gazed at the young man with a hint of worry.

"I can only guess that there must be some problems of a female nature for you to skip the ball. As I recall, you enjoyed them well enough in past years."

"Well, I don't know about that, sir, but you are right, I do have some 'female problems' as you put it. I decided that it would be better to avoid the whole thing," Harry explained.

"Yes, yes, the adventures of youth, Harry. Believe it or not, I suffered them too, in an entirely different world, of course, well over one hundred years ago." Dumbledore's eyes slightly glazed from his memories. "But I do not believe you have come to discuss our respective love lives."

"No," Harry laughed, enjoying the peculiar humor of the headmaster, "I just thought this would be a good time to see you again, since the school will be occupied with the ball. There are a few things that I wanted to ask you."

"Excellent, Harry, but I do hate to discuss business on an empty stomach. Could you do me the favor of handing me the telephone." Dumbledore took the phone and punched in a number by memory, and to Harry's enormous surprise, he ordered a pizza from a local muggle restaurant. "Pizza is one of the great delicacies of the muggle world, Harry, and I shall be most honored to have you consume it with me."

Harry smiled, "You're talking my language, sir. Every teenager loves pizza."

The old man shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Harry thought the living room would be more comfortable for him.

"Let's move to the sitting room, sir," Harry ordered more than suggested, as he stood and helped Dumbledore rise. After assisting the professor to the chair, the old man pulled out his wand.

"It's a bit chilly in here, Harry. I think I'll light a fire."

Quickly scanning the room to be sure, Harry noted, "There's no fireplace here, sir."

"Ah, yes, but Harry, we are wizards," and he grasped his wand making a large swish with a hook while stating, "SITIUS INCENDIO." Harry saw a beautiful fireplace appear for a moment on the far wall, only to vanish in a second.

Harry stood astonished. He had never seen Dumbledore fail to perform a spell successfully, and more than ever he realized the depth of his mentor's illness.

"Let me try, sir. I've never heard that spell." Giving his wand a casual flick, he repeated the incantation while visualizing a miniature version of the Gryffindor common room fireplace. In an instant the fireplace appeared. Harry again flicked his wand and without saying a word a blazing fire crackled. The professor admired Harry's spell work, and beaming at his protege, he nodded his thanks.

"It appears the tables have turned," the frail wizard admitted sadly, "but as you can see, I am no longer the wizard that I used to be." His expression turned serious, as his blue eyes engaged Harry's green, "You can see that I am not well, Harry. Let us be clear about it, I am dying. Hopefully the final day is still some time away, and I believe I can still be of assistance to you. I'm afraid that any help I can provide, however, must be of the mental variety. You will not be seeing me dueling in the Ministry again."

Harry worked hard to suppress the lump in his throat.

"Please let me know if there is anything I can do for you, Professor. I'd be happy to help in any way."

Dumbledore chuckled, "You have enough on your plate, Mr. Potter, do not add another worry to your collection. Rest assured that I am quite comfortable and at peace. Now, if I am not mistaken, I believe there is something on your mind which you wish to discuss."

Harry paused, averting his gaze from the headmaster. He did not know how best to ask his question. His ideas seemed farfetched, even to himself, and he figured the professor would doubt Harry's sanity, but no other strategies had presented themselves.

He felt he needed to begin with a preamble, "I've been thinking things over, Professor. I know you think that Nagini is a horcrux, but we need a way to be sure. I mean, I don't want you to think that I don't believe you . . . "

"Now is not the time to worry about sensitivities, Harry. You are quite correct that I may be incorrect. Go on."

"So, I've been thinking about how we can be sure, and I had an idea. It may be a stupid idea, but I'm thinking that if I could learn how to possess an animal, like a snake, I could possibly get close to Nagini, and since I can speak and understand Parseltongue, I could talk to it and try to figure out if it is a horcrux or not." Harry cringed as the words escaped his mouth, for the idea sounded more farfetched out loud than it did in the confines of his mind. Dumbledore narrowed his eyes, deep in thought.

"Possession of animals is considered borderline dark magic, Harry, though I certainly agree that we must explore all options. Your suggestion has some merit, though surely you already are aware of the danger involved. On top of that, not every wizard is able to possess animals, though I would wager that you can. Possession of snakes is said to be especially difficult. Again, given your special affinity with snakes, I deem it probable that you would be able. Then there is the question of locating Voldemort, and as a result, Nagini."

"That kind of leads to my next question, Professor." If his last suggestion neared the edge, this one jumped right off the cliff. "Do you think you could teach me Legilimency and Occlumency? I've been . . ."

"Ah, you've finally reached that idea," Dumbledore interrupted, "I wondered when you would. You are thinking of using your scar to enter Voldemort's mind, correct?"

Harry nodded, "I know that it sounds crazy, but I've actually made contact with him twice now, but only for a fraction of a second so that he hasn't realized it yet. At least he hasn't tried to enter my mind again." Harry paced to the window, and pulled open the curtain slightly to spy the street below. "I can enter his mind, I know it, sir, but I don't know what to do when I get there. And once he knows that I've done it, he'll come after me with a vengeance, so I have to be ready." He turned back to face the professor. "I think Snape purposely didn't teach me right; he didn't want me to learn Occlumency. If you teach me, maybe I can do it well enough."

For once, Professor Dumbledore did not bother to correct Harry's failure to say the word "professor" before Snape's name. The old man ran the fingers of his good hand through his short white hair, his mind conflicted. He repeatedly arched his eyebrows, and Harry stood nervously awaiting his response. If the professor would not agree, he did not have any alternative plans in mind.

Finally he responded, "I will teach you, Harry, for these are two disciplines that you ought to know regardless, and possession of animals too. However I will do so only on the condition that you do not attempt to enter Lord Voldemort's mind, if ever, until I give you my blessing. Is that agreed?"

The Boy Who Lived nodded his assent with a broad smile, for he had feared Dumbledore would refuse him.

"Of course, Professor, so long as you will not withhold your blessing unreasonably." Dumbledore nodded as well, at which time the doorbell rang.

"Ah, Harry, the pizza has arrived."