Chapter 32

You're a Good Person

Once again, a mad scramble to locate Madam Pomfrey ensued upon Harry's return to his home. The faces of Arthur and Molly Weasley betrayed their astonishment upon being awakened in the middle of the night only to find Narcissa Malfoy captured and Harry deathly ill from the effects of a magical wolf bite. The healer no longer resided at Hogwarts, which currently stood vacant except for Hagrid and a few house elves. Arthur and Molly knew exactly what to do however, and within half an hour, Madam Pomfrey raced up the stairs to Harry's room, which by now she knew well. She whipped off her black cloak and tossed it carelessly over the back of a chair.

"How long ago did the bite occur?" she urgently asked Ron and Hermione, who stood nervously by Harry's bed, each with a chunk of chocolate in their hand to relieve the effects of the dementors. They had removed their jackets and gloves but remained in their black jeans and shirts, their faces still rosy from the frigid mountain weather in Scotland.

The young wizard lay unconscious but breathing well enough, his face pale in the lamp light. Ginny tensely sat at the foot of the bed, still in her blue night clothes with her hair unbrushed and looking something like Hermione's. The younger witch had been quickly filled in by her brother and friend as to what had happened. The thought of the dementors chilled her to the bone.

"We don't know for sure; he never had a chance to tell us, but I think within the last three or four hours," Hermione explained, "We can't be any more specific than that. He was conscious until about forty-five minutes ago." Madam Pomfrey had already opened a vial of a purple potion.

"For his sake, I hope you are correct. If fewer than six hours have passed, we should be able to treat the bite with no lasting consequences." She immediately poured some of the potion on the puncture wounds on Harry's left arm, the holes bubbling with blue foam when the mixture combined with the wolf venom. "That will do for the external wounds," the healer explained, "but the internal damage is what really matters. Mr. Potter will not be pleased when I pour this down his throat. It is an especially unpleasant potion. Please assist me in holding him down."

Ron grabbed one arm and the girls the other, while Madam Pomfrey propped her patient's head on a pillow. She then expertly opened his mouth, tilted his chin back to the perfect angle, and poured the remainder of the vial down his throat. She immediately jumped back, and with good reason. Harry awoke from the horrible taste of the medicine, like tree bark and dirt.

"ARRGH," he yelled, contorting his face as the potion traveled down his esophagus. He began to cough so hard that his stomach convulsed. His three friends held him as best they could while he thrashed about trying to comfort him, but the convulsions lasted for more than a minute.

Finally as he regained control of his abdominal muscles, he managed to croak, "What was that?"

"I am sorry, Mr. Potter," Pomfrey informed him in her business voice, "but this is the only treatment for magical wolf bites. It appears that we have begun the treatment quickly enough, but I must warn you that the treatment is most unpleasant. You will need to drink a vial of this potion twice per day for a week, in the morning and evening, in order to remove the venom completely. The good news is that I expect a full recovery." The healer failed to smile at her most frequent patient.

"Are you sure death isn't better than having to drink that stuff for a week?" Harry complained, trying to get the taste out of his mouth, "Can somebody get me a glass of water." His voice sounded weak, but clearly he had his wits about him. Immediately Dobby, who had been standing unnoticed in the corner of the room, sprung forward with the water, which Harry accepted with gratitude. He looked at his onlookers for a moment, but began to feel sleepy, an effect of the potion.

"Where is she?" he slowly asked.

Arthur answered, "The Order has her for now. We'll make her available to you if you need to question her."

"Al' righ'." mumbled Harry, his last words before he dropped into a deep, restful sleep. Pomfrey nodded in satisfaction and then turned to Dobby, who everyone could see had taken charge of Harry's care and well-being.

"The potions will be on the table over here. Mr. Potter MUST drink them all. He will not wish to. But understand that he will have lasting internal damage if he should fail to complete the treatment. The next dose should be taken in about twelve hours. He will sleep for several hours each time he takes a dose."

Dobby nodded his understanding with a look of determination which left no doubt that Harry WOULD be drinking the potions whether he liked it or not. After a few moments, the adults left the room, leaving Ron, Ginny, Hermione and Dobby beside Harry's bed. Dobby checked on Harry one last time, waiving his hand over him for some reason, perhaps an elvish charm of some sort, and then disappeared. Issamir, however, had reemerged from his hiding spot, and slowly slid along Harry's left arm and up to his chest, where he coiled himself, staring defiantly at the humans mutely witnessing the odd behavior.

"Why is the snake doing that?" Ginny asked the others, not appreciating the fact that a reptile had claimed some sort of right over Harry.

Hermione witnessed the scene thoughtfully and replied, "Serpents are said to be extremely loyal to a wizard who saves its life. Magical wolves and snakes are mortal enemies (we learned that in third year), so my guess is that the wolf was going to kill the snake, Harry left the snake to protect it, and this is what happened. It would be like Harry to do that." The others nodded their agreement, and stood silently for a minute.

Finally Ron's face creased with determination, and he made a decision.

"Look, Harry's going to be laid up for a week, but that doesn't mean that we can't do some things ourselves. We have Mrs. Malfoy now. The Order will let us question her, and she can tell us where the Hogwarts medal is, maybe even lead us to it. We were pretty much useless at that bloody castle, and it's about time we did something to earn our keep." His face reddened with embarrassment when he realized that once again Harry had to bail them out. Hermione vigorously nodded her agreement.

"You're absolutely right, Ron, and we're going to get started today, just as soon as it's light."

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"Basically we convinced her that she had no reason not to cooperate with us. She had already told you where the medal is anyway, so it made no sense not to tell us too. Took us right to it, and there it is." Ron pointed at the framed Hogwarts Medal which he had just placed on the table.

Three days had passed since returning from McNaughton Castle, and Harry's condition improved considerably, but the need to take the vile potion for an entire week caused him to sleep about fourteen hours per day. He happily sat up in his bed during one of his waking moments, with an hour or two before Dobby would be back to ensure that his master completely swallowed his next dose, making this one of the least enjoyable weeks of Harry's life.

"Let me see it," he requested.

Ron handed the framed medal to his friend. Harry took a good look at it: the last horcrux. He would not be able to attack this one for awhile, he knew, but he could not help but shiver with the thought of it. Would it be as bad as Slytherin's locket? Running his hand above the medal, he sensed the telltale aura of the horcrux. It was the real thing.

He handed it back to Ron, commenting, "I don't even want to think about it now."

"You shouldn't, Harry, you have to get better first," Hermione admonished him, "We're not going to leave the medal in your room, just because knowing you, you'll put it on in the middle of the night when we're asleep." She smiled while saying this, but she meant every word.

"Fine," Harry laughed, "Put it under your pillow if you want."

The four friends lapsed into momentary silence, allowing Ginny to gush, "I can't believe you three really did it. Capturing Mrs. Malfoy right out of the castle. It's just amazing." Her eyes shone with admiration for her brother and friends.

By now, Harry had provided the basic play by play of that evening, but he had not felt up to discussing the ramifications of it all.

"I've been wondering something, Harry," Hermione commented, taking the opportunity provided by Ginny, "Why did you say those things to Lucius Malfoy but then modify his memory? He won't remember anything, so he can't tell Voldemort what you said."

Harry looked gravely at her, wishing that he had not spoken about that. For a long time he remained silent staring at the wall next to the door, but finally he mumbled just two words.

"Bertha Jorkins."

At first his friends glanced at each other in confusion, until Ron and Hermione both understood at the same time.

Ron could only utter one word: "Wow!"

Ginny knew nothing of the Bertha Jorkins story and admitted as much. Harry appeared to have no intention of explaining, so Hermione took it upon herself to provide an abridged version.

"Bertha Jorkins was a witch who worked at the ministry a few years ago. Barty Crouch, Sr. modified her memory one time, so that she would forget a lot of things that he didn't want her to know. Peter Pettigrew happened upon her in Europe after he had found Voldemort among the rats in Albania. Voldemort was able to break the memory charm and learn that information. That was a big reason why the whole thing with Cedric Diggory happened."

"But how did he do that?" the younger friend asked, not reading between the lines.

Ron made it plain for his sister, "Vol . . . Voldemort broke the charm viciously, torturing her and driving her insane. Then he killed her."

Ginny's mouth fell agape as she realized what Harry had done. Lucius Malfoy would be subjected to the same process until Voldemort could break the charm, at which time all the dark lord would discover would be Harry's taunt. Malfoy's mind would be destroyed, and his body discarded. She peered at Harry with narrowed eyes, not realizing that the young man could be capable of such an act. To his right, Harry glimpsed Hermione, whose eyes had opened wide in a stunned expression.

Harry himself had mulled over his actions ceaselessly in his waking hours. Why had he done it? Though a spur of the moment decision, but he knew exactly what he was doing. He willingly sentenced Lucius Malfoy to a slow and painful death.

This is a war, he tried to convince himself, People are not nice in wars. They do things that otherwise they would not do. This was an effective way to get at Voldemort, to cause him to worry. Malfoy would not have treated me any better. To which he answered himself, You have sunk to his level.

He felt the penetrating eyes of the two girls on him, so he threw his head back on his pillow and closed his eyes.

Finally he explained in a strained monotone, "I don't know why I did it. I just did. It happened so fast, and wizards were right outside the door. I didn't think it through. Now as I look back, I wish I hadn't done it. It would have been better just to kill him, but it's too late now." Harry kept his eyes closed, not daring to experience the disappointment in the eyes of the most important people in his life. He had let them down.

The friends stood in an uncomfortable silence, and in Harry's mind, he imagined that they shook their heads in disgust. Finally Harry felt someone sit on the bed beside him, his hand lifted by a girl's hand he knew to be Hermione's. Her thumb entwined with his, and she held his hand with both of hers.

She spoke slowly and carefully, "I'm not going to condemn you, Harry. We weren't there. We didn't have to go through what you did. We weren't bitten and scratched by a poisonous wolf. We didn't possess a snake for hours. You did all of that. Maybe what you did was wrong, but I'm not going to blame you. I can't blame you, because I was not in your shoes. You were under tremendous stress, and you just acted. I understand why you did it. Don't think that I think any less of you, because I don't. I've never admired you more for what you did in that castle, and for saving us from the dementors. Again."

Ron placed his hand on Harry's shoulder, and echoed Hermione's remarks, "She's right, mate. Who knows what any of us would have done in the same situation? I might have killed the git right on the spot. You're a good person, Harry. This doesn't change anything."

Harry kept his eyes tightly shut when he felt Ginny grasp his other hand, softly agreeing, "I know I looked shocked for a minute, Harry, but Ron and Hermione are right. You are still the best and kindest person I know."

A single tear squeezed out of each of Harry's eyes as he shut his eyes even tighter trying to suppress his emotions. He had intentionally sent a man to a tortuous death. He knew what he was doing. How could his friends just wave it off like that? An involuntary sob escaped his lips, as another tear followed the trace of the first. Hermione instinctively released his hand and lay down on her side, sliding one arm under Harry's head and wrapping the other around his back. She pulled Harry's head to her shoulder and let him cry softly. Ginny slid in behind Harry and ran her fingers through his black hair, while Ron looked on with a brick in his stomach.

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"Looks like it is healing well," Professor Dumbledore opined as he viewed the marks on Harry's arm. He had just finished his potion therapy and felt almost back to normal. Another four or five days, according to Madam Pomfrey, and he would be one hundred percent.

Dumbledore sat transfixed as Harry related the story, shaking his head at times in astonishment.

When the young wizard completed the tale, the old man clapped his hands once and exclaimed, "Quite an adventure, Harry. May you not have to suffer another!"

"I'll not disagree with you there, Professor," Harry responded in a monotone. The old man eyed Harry intensely and could sense that something still bothered his protege.

He subtly inquired, "Is there anything else you wanted to tell me?"

Harry had not intended to mention anything about it, but for some reason, he felt compelled to relate the entire Lucius Malfoy incident, only just containing his emotions. Dumbledore gazed upon the teen severely, but when Harry finished, he remained silent for a good time. Harry again felt that he had let an important person down, and sat with his eyes focused on the carpet between his feet. Finally Dumbledore repositioned himself and reached out to Harry's shoulder.

"Look at me, Harry." The young man reluctantly lifted his eyes into the ancient face. "You may have noticed that in all of the stories I have told you over the past months, I have never related to you my dealings with Grindelwald. Have you ever wondered why?" Harry nodded. "Well, I do not plan to do so today either. As you know, you and I have been compared often, one of the similarities being my so-called defeat of Grindelwald half a century ago. It is not a time I wish to dwell on, for many reasons."

By now Harry had controlled his emotions, consumed by curiosity as to what Dumbledore would teach him, for he knew that another of his valuable lessons had commenced. But the frail wizard paused for a long time, the fingers of both of his hands touching his short white goatee. Harry began to wonder whether he intended to continue at all.

Finally Dumbledore pressed ahead, "I have never divulged this to anyone, Harry, and I would appreciate that you never tell another soul. Not even Mr. Weasley or Miss Granger." Harry nodded his agreement, but the professor again paused before speaking.

"I once tortured a man to obtain information. I applied extremely painful hexes and curses on the man for at least an hour. The man screamed from my treatment, and in the end he yielded the information." Dumbledore's voice quavered while he spoke, the only time Harry could ever remember him so emotionally troubled. "Time was at a premium, and I had no opportunity to obtain veritaserum, an extremely rare and difficult potion to obtain in those years. The man was an accomplished occlumans such that legilimancy proved useless. As it turned out, the information proved to be of minimal importance. When I released the man back to the enemy forces, I knew that he would be killed for having cracked under my pressure. I sent him to his death, and in fact I learned that he had been brutally killed not even a week later." He had Harry's rapt attention now, and the young man hung on every word. Dumbledore breathed in deeply, but he had mastered his earlier disquiet.

"I suffered for this, Harry. In my own way, I suffered almost as much as the unfortunate victim." Dumbledore's eyes glazed slightly as he searched the depths of his memory. "For months I attempted to justify my actions, but in the end I realized that no justification existed. Only years later did I come to terms with it. I hoped that the good which I accomplished in my 'Grindelwald years' outweighed the bad; I believe it to be so."

"Thus you see, Harry, that I will not judge you. The stress of war causes the best of men to act irrationally and improperly." The professor redirected his attention to the young man seated to his right, whose eyes looked right through the old man's face. "I will not attempt to justify your actions, nor do I believe that you wish me to. What you must understand, Harry, and this is of greatest importance, is that you are still the person you were before that day. Just moments after this act, you saved the lives of your two best friends. Just as the worst of murderers may still perform acts of kindness, the best of men may still commit acts of cruelty. Life is not black and white; it is full of colors and complexity. You must learn from your actions, just as I never committed the act of torture again, but you also must put it behind you."

Harry remained silent for a long time, and Dumbledore did not interrupt his thoughts.

Finally the young wizard softly responded, "Thank you, Professor. That helps me a lot, knowing it isn't just me. My friends have not turned their backs on me and neither have you. I feel like I need to put it behind me, but it will take some time."

"That it will, and that is to be expected. But we must move on. Have you acquired the medal."

"Yes. Ron and Hermione forced Mrs. Malfoy to take them right to it. The medal is at my house right now."

"If it is acceptable to you, Harry, I would like you to bring the medal here so that I can study it before you attempt to destroy it. Would you do that for me?"

"Sure," Harry shrugged, "no reason not to. I'm not ready to take it on yet."

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YOU KNOW WHO SUFFERS LOSSES

The Daily Prophet has learned that He Who Must Not Be Named recently lost several trusted servants, including his right-hand man, Lucius Malfoy. While facts cannot be verified to the Prophet's standards in normal times, several sources have reported that Malfoy, well-known to our readers as a confidant of former Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge, was executed at You Know Who's orders, and perhaps at his own hand. The reasons for this action are not yet known.

More surprising, Malfoy's wife, Narcissa Malfoy, is missing and believed to have been kidnapped by resistance forces. Her current location is unknown, and the dark lord is rumored to be furious as a result. This follows the earlier report, which the Prophet has not yet been able to verify, that the Malfoys' only child, Draco Malfoy, was killed a few weeks ago.

Resistance forces also have captured or killed at least a dozen less well-known death eaters. Nevertheless the leaders of the resistance, who for obvious reasons wish to remain anonymous, emphasize that their successes in no way have affected You Know Who's ability to attack, and further instances of the dark mark have been reported throughout Britain. Lamentably, the Prophet lacks the resources at this time to report such attacks. All witches and wizards are urged to remain extremely vigilant in all activities, as has been repeatedly stressed in these pages.

"I guess that's what passes for good news nowadays," Harry commented as he handed the thin newspaper back to Hermione. The four friends sat around the kitchen table even though they had finished breakfast long before. Physically Harry felt fine again, but his nerves frayed as he realized that soon he must attempt to destroy the final horcrux.

"It's not much," Ron agreed, "but at least it's something. My dad says the Order has been able to learn quite a bit from Mrs. Malfoy, but she wasn't aware of You Know . . . , Voldemort's plans. The Order has been able to capture several death eaters and stop a few attacks. Still it's a drop in the bucket."

"Look, mates. We have to move on," Harry decided, "I'm fine now, and we can't put this off forever. But I promised that I would take the medal to the man that I've been seeing. He wants to check it out for some reason, and so far he's been extremely helpful to me, so I told him I would take it there. I'll go over this afternoon and should be back in the evening. Tomorrow we'll do it."

The three friends stared nervously at their leader. Hermione wanted to convince Harry to wait longer, but she remained silent. Madam Pomfrey had pronounced Harry completely recovered, and to be safe he waited several more days to regain all of his strength. No reason to delay further existed.

"OK, Harry. I just wish we could put it off forever."

Harry nodded, "Me too."

Later that day, Professor Dumbledore carefully examined the Hogwarts medal, still in its frame. He waved his good hand repeatedly above the horcrux, muttering to himself. Harry could not help but notice that Dumbledore had dressed in his finest robes. As he rarely left his small muggle apartment, Harry normally saw the old man in a common house robe. In fact, Harry wondered how he had these dress robes in the first place. Winky must have fetched them. Given Dumbledore's concentration on the subject at hand, Harry refrained from asking questions.

Satisfied with what he learned so far, Dumbledore next removed the cardboard backing from the frame and carefully held the thick silver chain from which the medal hung. He held it high for both of them to view.

"Do you think it will be like the locket?" Harry asked with trepidation.

"There is no way to know, of course, but perhaps not. Each horcrux seems to have its own character. The locket seemed to be released in a sudden burst when it was opened," Dumbledore opined as he stared intently at Gryffindor's image. "The medal cannot be opened, so my guess is that the horcrux will enter more slowly. Unfortunately there will only be one way for me to find out."

"For YOU to find out?" Harry asked in a burst, "You mean for ME to find out. I'll have to do it."

"Actually, Harry, we are both correct, for I am going to fight the horcrux first and then you will finish it off. I think this will be a most effective way to deal with it."

Harry jumped to his feet, exclaiming, "But sir, with all due respect, you are in no condition to battle a horcrux. It would be too much for you." Harry paused a moment before finishing, "It will kill you." He spoke these final words slowly, as the realization of what the professor had in mind sunk in. Albus Dumbledore gazed serenely at Harry Potter, noting the changed expression on the young man's face.

"That almost certainly will be the end result, Harry. But I am confident that I will be able to damage the horcrux substantially before I expire. If I am correct, and I am quite certain that I am, the weakened horcrux will reenter the medal. At that point, you will put the medal on your chest, and given your youth and power, you will be able to destroy it quickly and with a minimum of ill effects."

"No, sir! I will not let you do this!" Harry insisted, pacing rapidly across the floor of the small sitting room, "I can do it alone. I've destroyed the diary, the cup, the locket and Nagini. You don't have to do it!" His voice pleaded, but one look at the old man and he knew that Dumbledore's mind would not be changed.

"Sit down, Harry," the professor requested calmly. Harry did not move for several moments, but reluctantly he sat on the sofa so that Dumbledore would continue. "I have thought this through thoroughly. What you do not understand, my dear friend, is that my death is near. As I sit here, my body is nearly consumed by various cancers, a result of the potion in the cave and preexisting conditions. These cancers are not treatable, and I would not treat them if I could. My death is one or two weeks away at the most, perhaps days."

Harry eyes widened in shock, for while he knew the professor's condition had deteriorated; he felt that his death still would not occur for a few months. His death would always be a few months away.

"This is how I want to die, Harry. This will be my last act of service to the magical world. By weakening the horcrux, I will save you the severe price which you have paid in the past. It is all about you now, Harry. In my hand rests the final horcrux. When you have destroyed it, Voldemort will be mortal, able to die. But he remains an extremely dangerous foe, and you must not be weakened by the task of destroying this horcrux."

"But, but," Harry sputtered desperately, "You don't have to do it now. There's so much I don't know. So much I want to ask you."

Dumbledore smiled kindly; "What would you like to know?"

"Well, everything!" was the best Harry could express, "Such as, how did you do all those things at the Ministry against Voldemort. I mean, making the statues block his spells, and that molten . . . molten whatever that stuff was. All of that."

"Do you think that is how you will defeat Voldemort, Harry?"

"No, I don't. But I'd like to know anyway. It could be helpful to me, but that's not why I ask. I just want to know. Curiosity." Harry thought he sounded dim, but words did not form in his brain. Again the old man smiled.

"If that is your reason, Harry, then I am happy to show you all that I can. I planned on putting this medal on tonight, but I see no reason why we cannot delay until tomorrow night. Ask me anything and everything, and I will do my best to explain."

Harry smiled weakly. At least Dumbledore would not die NOW. Tomorrow did not seem much better, but the young man determined to mine the old man for as much knowledge as he could. Finally he reluctantly surrendered to Dumbledore's plan.

"OK, sir, you have made up your mind, and I must respect it." Harry and Dumbledore stared at each other for several seconds, each not knowing what to do now. Finally Harry managed to ask, "So how did you do those things at the Ministry?"

Hours passed late into the evening as Professor Dumbledore showed Harry advanced magic beyond description. He demonstrated for Harry how to perform many incredible feats of magic, though because of his frailty he no longer could do them himself. Harry, however, could accomplish almost everything with a bit of coaching from the master, transfigurations, complicated and unusual spells, and conjuring.

At nearly midnight, Dumbledore yawned and informed Harry, "If I am to live another day, then I intend to enjoy my last night of sleep. Your friends will be worried about you, Harry. Now is time to return to your home. Come back tomorrow morning, and we will spend the day on these matters. At night, we will deal with the horcrux. I will not delay longer." He spoke these last words with sternness, implicitly instructing Harry not to attempt to persuade him to change his decision.

Harry walked glumly up the stairs of Number 17 Grimmauld Place to his room. He knew that Ron, Hermione and Ginny would be waiting for him, probably in the room the girls shared. The door opened after he knocked on it, and the three had spread about the room. Still in his clothes, Ron had fallen asleep on Ginny's bed, forcing the red head to Hermione's, where the two had been chatting quietly. They clearly had showered and prepared for bed, each wearing comfortably loose t-shirts as their pajamas, displaying an ample portion of their legs. Harry did not notice.

"How did it go?" asked Ginny, pulling the boy by the hand to Hermione's bed. Ron did not stir.

"Pretty well," Harry responded quietly and as casually as he could, "He thinks that there may be a way to weaken the horcrux before I have to put it on. We're going to work on it tomorrow at his flat, then I'll decide when I want to do it. Maybe tomorrow night." Both girls knew Harry's moods well, and they could see that something bothered him.

Hermione made room for Harry on the bed and asked, "What's wrong? Did something happen?"

"Nothing is wrong," he answered untruthfully while running a hand through his unruly black locks, "It's just getting near the end. I don't know how much longer before I have to face him. Soon probably."

"We'll take care of the horcrux first, Harry. One step at a time. We'll deal with the rest of it afterwards." Harry just nodded his head.