Chapter 10

Harry woke in an unfamiliar bed. Blinking at what he supposed was morning light.

He felt and saw Luna sitting on the narrow mattress to his left, and Hermione to his right. Neville and Pansy stood behind Luna, Professor Sinestra and Professor McGonagall behind Hermione.

Madame Pomfrey bustled and bullied her way to the sickbed, "Oh, do stand aside and let me work, shoo, shoo!"

"Don't you 'shoo' me, Poppy Pomfrey."

"You may be Headmistress, but, you're in my domain now. Now, shoo!"

Of course, neither Hermione nor Luna would be shooed past the chairs beside Harry's bed.

"Fine, then, just don't get in the way."

Harry looked around Hermione at Professor McGonagall, "Headmistress?"

"Yes, Mister Evans, you needn't sound so surprised. Headmaster Dumbledore is, ah, taking a well deserved rest."

Luna asked the question that was on everyone's mind, "That was Voldemort, wasn't it?"

The Headmistress nodded, "Yes, I'm afraid so. It would appear that this is the second time a relation of Lily Evans has killed him."

"But, I didn't do anything, I just didn't want that thing to get Professor Sinestra."

Aurora said, "There's something about you that he, or rather, it, couldn't bear to touch. Where it touched your skin, it burned…"

Harry touched the tender parts of his face and neck where igniting tendrils had touched him.

"There will be very little scarring, just a slight discoloration of the skin, Mister Evans."

"Thanks, Healer Pomfrey. Odd thing about burns, they feel like they're still burning even after the fire's out."

Poppy nodded, then asked, "Any pain?"

Harry shook his head, "More like a dull throb. What happened to the floaty, brainy thing?"

Professor Sinestra repeated, "It caught fire."

"And the sheathes that surround nerves, indeed, the whole brain, is just so much tallow."

Neville spoke up, "It went out like a flaming comet, Harry, the smell of burning fat was enough to put a bloke off chips for a year."

"So, he's gone… for good?"

Minerva looked thoughtful, then resolved, "Am' nae richt share he's deid"

Poppy declared Mister Evans well enough to be discharged from her care.

He hopped down off the bed and said, "A comfortable bed, Healer Pomfrey, but I don't think I'll be back anytime in the foreseeable future."

As the Merlins were leaving, the Headmistress remarked, "Odd thing about Professor Quirrell's turban. It was blazing bright, but no one near it was burned, or felt any heat, come to that."

Hermione raised both eyebrows and asked, "Really? Sounds like coldfyre."

"And there was a tight braid of what looked like cat hair, smouldering at the Headmaster's feet."

Harry looked pensive, "Someone wanted the Headmaster to believe that Professor Quirrell was on fire."

Minerva concluded, "Or someone suspected there was something beneath Quirrell's turban, and wanted it exposed publicly."

Pansy asked, "Headmistress, how is it that a powerful, magical being, like Voldemort, could go undetected here at Hogwarts for months? Someone must have suspected."

Minerva half-smiled, "Apparently someone knew something, or we would still be blissfully ignorant of the threat among us."

"What will happen to the Headmaster?" Neville asked.

"He's been ordered, by the Board of Governors, to 'take a holiday,' and while he's at it, to submit to a complete examination. If, after that, he is deemed fit, he will resume the post of Headmaster."

"And if he's not?"

Minerva gave a Gaelic shrug.

The students left and Minerva turned to Poppy, "Schedule complete examinations for all staff members, immediately. From now on, anyone wishing to teach at Hogwarts must pass a full physical, mental and magical examination, annually."

"Excellent idea, Headmistress, hop up on the table."

"What, now?"

"Yes, now. I'm just carrying out the orders of my superior. On the table. Up. Now!"

With a sigh, Minerva submitted to the tender care of the School Healer.

At the end of the day all the professors, the caretaker, Argus Filch, and the Groundskeeper, Rubeus Hagrid, were all given a clean bill of health.

Much to Poppy's surprise, Albus Dumbledore came last. His expression was dark as he said, "I begged the Board of Governors for the courtesy of having you conduct this travesty." He shook himself, and sighed, "Forgive me, Madame Pomfrey, I'm not angry with you."

The healer smiled and said, "You have been avoiding me these past few years, Headmaster."

The man nodded, and Poppy couldn't help but think, "I've never seen him looking so old."

At the end of the examination, she called for Minerva.

The Headmistress was as surprised as Poppy to see Albus Dumbledore in the Hospital wing. The old Headmaster was looking very… subdued.

Without waiting for any distracting greetings or pleasantries, the Healer said, "We need to talk."

She looked sternly at Dumbledore. "First off, Albus, how long have you known?"

"I suspected that my… reasoning, wasn't what it once was ten years ago."

"And that's when you started self-potioning?"

The old man nodded, "It helped, for a while. For a fair, few years."

Poppy turned to Minerva, "Professor Dumbledore is suffering from Senile Dementia, he can no longer be expected to head a school. He may be well enough, for a time, to teach - four or five years, perhaps. But his condition, from now on, will need to be reviewed every six months."

Albus smiled wryly, "This year, I could teach Potions or Runes, but not after next year. Indeed, as my capacity diminishes, I can see myself, in twenty more years, as the Keeper of Keys and Grounds."

The horror of Dumbledore's condition was driven home as the old man sobbed, "I may have done more damage already than can be undone. I simply don't know what I don't know."

And it all became clear. Leaving the Potters, as bait, for Voldemort to find. Packing Harry off to his murderous relatives. Bringing the Philosopher's Stone to the Castle, again, as bait for Voldemort. Foisting more and more of the responsibilities for running the premier magical academy in the United Kingdom on his Deputy.

And worse, doubting more and more, every day, if he were making the right choices, if he could make the right choices for… everyone!

Minerva put her arm around her old mentor, "You will finish this year as Headmaster, just be sure to continue leaving all the decision-making to me. We will inform the Board of Governors, who will, I'm sure, agree to allow you to retire, gracefully, as Headmaster, and, perhaps, continue in some advisory capacity.

Grateful tears streaming down his whiskered face, Albus Dumbledore nodded.

Poppy prescribed a cheering draught, which she shared as a libation with her two senior-most patients and friends.

"To our continued good health!" she said, as they downed their drafts.

"Now, where to find a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher?" Minerva mused aloud.

"Contact Amelia Bones, find out of any of their Senior Aurors are on the sick or injured list. The other professors can take turns teaching the class until a suitable replacement can be found."

Minerva beamed, and Albus did too as he chuckled, "Not bad for an old man with diminished capacities, eh?"

Poppy said, "You'll have good days, and bad. You should view most of your behaviour, decisions and actions from the past few years as suspect."

Dumbledore thought hard, then opened his eyes wide, "I have to contact Nicholas, Nicholas Flamel. I have to tell him…"

Minerva laid an calming hand on the Headmaster's shoulder, "I'll see if he and his wife, Perenelle can join us for dinner."

"Very well," he said, nodding, "I think a short nap may be just the thing…"

The witches watched as Albus Dumbledore, looking all of his 148 years, shuffled out of the hospital wing.

"He was a great and a good man, once." Poppy said, "That's how he should be remembered."

"Aye," Minerva agreed, "indeed."

)O(

Neville accepted the thick envelope and thanked the delivery owl. "Be sure to stop by the owlery for food and water before you go."

The bird bobbed his head once, squawked, then whistled before flying off.

Pansy, ever at his side, looked at the envelope. "Aren't you going to open it?"

"It's from Nan, I think I know what it's about."

"Well, I don't!"

With a chuckle, he untied the twine binding the thick parchment envelope and removed the top-most document, "Um-hum, document with intent… Tendering suit of Marriage… Ancient and noble lineage… Puh, Pah, what?"

Neville had gone pale.

"Am I that bad?" Pansy asked in mock exasperation.

He barely whispered, "It's not from your family."

"What?"

"It's from the Patils." He handed her the documents.

…with our most fervent wishes that this will redeem current and future claims upon the life debt owed on the occasion of the evening of the 31st of October, Nineteen Hundred and Ninety One.

"But I didn't do anything," he groused, "You and Hermione iced the floor, Harry and I both brought the troll down with a summoning charm…"

Pansy finished the thought, "But you went into the bathroom and brought her safely out."

"Because Harry told me to! He was busy spinning the damn troll!"

By now all eyes in the great hall were on Neville, as his volume had increased with his growing incredulity.

"Never the less, you went in, and you brought her safely out. I'm sure that, in her eyes at least, you are the real hero."

Neville pounded his forehead on the table in front of him, "But I don't want to marry Parvati." In a small voice he said, "I, I want to marry you."

Pansy's eyes grew wide as saucers.

"Not today, mind you, but, eventually. I want my betrothal contract to be with you."

Pansy did something that she'd never done before in her life, she pulled Neville into a tight hug, laid his head on her shoulder and sobbed, "…me too…"

Not releasing Pansy from their mutual embrace, Neville asked, "What do we do about Parvati?"

"We'll read over the contract, if there's another way to satisfy the life debt, then we'll do that. And just because someone else wants you to marry, doesn't mean you have to, you know, marry."

They ended their embrace, and Pansy began to pour over the parchments, "This is not a contract, it's a statement of intent, similar to the one you sent my father a few days ago. Your grandmother hasn't signed it, she sent it on to you for your consideration. That's all."

He slumped in relief. "So, we have time?"

"At least six years." Pansy said with a smile.

Neville let out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding, then looked down at the table, and said, "Alright, pudding!"

Pansy shook her head at the abrupt change of topic, and mood, then thought, he's eleven, of course he'll be distracted by a pudding. Ooh, treacle!

Neville and Pansy had a celebratory treacle pudding and agreed it was the best ever.

)O(

The Goblin Seneck poured over the documents spread out on the desk before him. 'Red flags' had popped up here and there. Arguably, moneys taken for the care and feeding of the Potter Scion were legitimate, if somewhat excessive. Most paid to one Petunia Dursley. It might be interesting to have his human counterparts at Barclays in Little Whinging do an additional audit.

"Humph," he groused, "How many invisibility cloaks does this family have? Great Grandfather John Harold Potter had one, Grandfather Harold, Father James… No, that's not right. Even the finest demiguise weave loses its light bending ability after thirty years, and this… By the Blessed Matriarch!"

The Seneck rang for his clerk, "List all significant ancestors, patriarchal and matriarchal in the last thousand years."

The clerk, reciting from memory, started with Harry, and gave a millennium's worth from the patriarchal line. When he got to Peverell, Ignotius, the Seneck said, "That will be all."

So, the old story is true, and one of the Hallows is the property of our most favoured client.

The Goblin Seneck recalled his clerk, "Order a trace on lot six, item fifty-seven, one invisibility cloak, a Potter Family heirloom. Find who has it, repossess it on behalf of our client."

The diminutive clerk bobbed once then vanished.

)O(

Classes continued, Professor Lupin welcomed the Merlins into second year, second term History of Magic, and smiled. "You lot knew there would be a research assignment in second year, didn't you? I was about to announce the research topics for second term, but I daresay you're well nigh done. Am I right?"

"Almost, Professor, we have several points to go over with you during office hours."

Harry handed Remus a tightly wound scroll so thick that it resembled nothing less than a tree branch.

The professor's eyes widened, "Is this the whole thesis?"

Harry shook his head, "No, sir. Only my contributions to date. Hermione's is twice as thick and her writing is much smaller, and neater, than mine."

Feeling the weight of the research in his hand, all Remus could think was, There go my next five weekends.

"I'll start on yours this Saturday, Mister Evans, then tackle Miss Grangers."

Harry smiled, it would be nice to have an outsider, an independent observer to go over their research. If he came to the same, or even similar conclusions, then they might begin to change the water.

)O(

Change the Water.

The night before, in Dreamscape, Luna set three small cauldrons to boiling. Into one boiling pot, she placed three peeled potatoes, into another, three eggs, and into the third she put three teaspoons full of Earl Grey.

She covered the cauldrons and removed them from the heat.

Fifteen minutes later she removed the lids and called her friends over to see.

In the first pot, where the potatoes had gone, there was a mishmash of crumbling potato.

"The potatoes went in firm, rigid. But under heat and pressure, fell apart."

Luna removed the second lid.

"The eggs, which had been fragile are now hard, fixed into a single shape, one that conforms to the still fragile shell."

Removing the third lid she ladled its contents into five teacups.

"Do you see?"

Hermione saw it first, then Pansy. Harry and Neville looked at each other, "It's tea." Harry said.

Luna squealed happily, "Exactly!"

Neville still looked lost, but then got it the same time as Harry.

"It changed the water!" both boys nearly shouted together.

Luna concluded, "Something awful is coming, something horrific. We can either fall apart, retreat into our pathetic little shells, or…"

"We can change the water."

Hermione added, "We must be the catalyst for change and what we have to change is, well, basically, everything."

Luna nodded, "Either that, or move to an island someplace and watch our way of life implode from afar."

Harry shook his head, "No. This is my home. Hogwarts, Britain, even Little Whinging.

"This is my family." He took Luna and Hermione's hands, then nodded to Neville and Pansy, "All of you, and I'm not running away from that, not now, not ever."

)O(

In a dark chamber, foreboding and dank, a frightened woman stood in the center of a circle of twelve cloaked and hooded figures.

As one, the twelve intoned, "Prophesize."

"I, I can't. I don't have the gift," the woman was sobbing now, "I've tried all my life, studied cards and tea and crystals and none of it works, not for me." She looked up, anger in her eyes, magnified as they were by thick glass lenses, "You want my grandmother, Cassandra, but she's gone, and with her, the sight."

Lower now, but somehow, more menacing from the lack of volume, "Prophesize!"

Sybil Trelawney crumpled to a heap of beads and shawls, her bony shoulders jerking as she sobbed louder.

"Prophesize!"

Sybil stilled. Then stood, tall and strong. Her voice became a chorus of the voices of all the seers in her blood. She pointed an accusatory finger at the witches and wizards encircling her.

"The wheel is, even now, known to them, those who can see it, can use it. The least shall become the greatest and the greatest shall go to ground. The rising and falling shall cease, and everyone who has driven the wheel shall be ground beneath its weight. The Wheel is known to them, those who can use it."

Trelawney's eyes burned with sanctimonious fervour, then dimmed. She seemed to shrink as her shoulders stooped.

"I, I beg your pardon, who are you, and where am I? How did I get here?"

"Thank goodness we've found you. You're fine, Cousin Sybil, you are among friends, you got lost, gave us a a fright. Come, let me help you find your way home, oh, before I forget… Obliviate!"

)O(

The next morning, as Luna and Hermione rose, dressed and were preparing for their day, Hermione called, "Brother Michael?"

The Corpulent Friar, never far away, phased through the ceiling, "Yes, My Lady Hufflepuff?"

"Friar, why can we only visit Dreamscape when we're here, at Hogwarts?"

The girls entered House Merlin's common room to find Harry, Neville and Pansy waiting for them.

Brother Michael, following along with them, continued, "The simple answer is that you can find Dreamscape anywhere, but you can only find each other, and, of course," the other three spirits joined the Merlins in their discussion, "all of us, in Dreamscape while at Hogwarts."

Luna smiled, then asked, "Brother, what if one of you were to accompany us home, say, for the summer holiday?"

Friar Michael looked pensive, "It would have to be a spirit free enough to leave the grounds, most of us are bound to Hogwarts and its environs."

Helena said, "I know of one, who might be willing. If nothing else, it would be an interesting experiment. I'll inquire while you are all in class today, we should have an answer by the end of this week."

The morning began with Potions Class, Luna was thrilled to have her first lesson with a Potions Master and Severus found himself caught up in her infectious enthusiasm.

"Class," he began, and the students, a combined Gryffindor / Slytherin class sat attentively. "We are indeed fortunate that the House of Merlin has joined us this term. Do not be fooled by their size or apparent age. In first term The House of Merlin produced, independent of class, some of the most demanding of potions.

"While this class was struggling to produce a single acceptable calming potion, Miss Lovegood, aided by Mister Evans and Miss Parkinson brewed medicinal quality Draught of Living Death."

He looked around the room, "Who can tell me a single application for such a draught?"

Professor Snape didn't even look at the front row where he knew the Potions Masters in Training would be, "Someone outside the House of Merlin?"

He regarded his star pupils, "Well, it appears we have our work cut out for us this term."

A beefy hand went up in the back of the room, "Sir?"

"Yes, Thompson?"

"Sir, the Draught of Living Death can be used to induce a 'healing coma.' So that people can stay unconscious while serious injuries are being treated."

"Very good, Thompson, take five points for Slytherin."

Severus regarded the room at large, "A glimmer of hope, at last."

The class reviewed the calming potion from the previous term, and, as the practical lab began, Hermione noticed that a scrum formed around the reagent's cupboard. She also saw that, when the students went back to their tables, many had greater quantities of essence of chamomile or lotus extract than needed. Leaving others with less than adequate materials.

Each student had their own cauldron, but gas burners were in short supply, so that most tables only had one. Having to share a single burner meant that potions could not get consistent heat when necessary.

Every student had his or her book open and was trying to read directions while chopping or pouring or stirring.

Ten minutes prior to dismissal, another scrum formed at the back tables and cupboards as reagents and materials were shoved back into place. Some not so good natured shoving was also taking place between Gryffindors and Slytherins.

At the end of class, Harry spoke for the Merlins. "First, the students in this class see everything as a competition, who gets the most, first. That sort of nonsense."

Hermione stepped forward, "In a gourmet restaurant, there are different people with different responsibilities, prep chefs who slice and dice and portion out ingredients."

Neville spoke up, "Gas burners are in short supply, I'll write my Nan, she's on the Board of Governors, we'll have enough burners by the end of this week."

Luna said, "I know a simple duplicating charm, that will allow the other students to copy pages from their potion's book, that way they only need have a single sheet of parchment at each table with the instructions for whatever they're brewing on any given day."

"Miss Granger," Severus asked, "can I impose on you to write up a rotating schedule for, what did you call them, 'prep chefs?' I would suggest having one from each house."

Hermione nodded, "I'll have a rota ready before Thursday's class, sir."

"Excellent, take five points for House Merlin… Each."

They all chorused, "Thank you, sir."

"Oh, I have no doubt but that you'll earn every point. Now, off you go, can't be late for the Headmistress' class, can we?"

At the end of the day the Merlins reconvened in the potions lab.

Hermione took up where she'd left off at the end of the previous term, "We've rendered the ingredients for Polyjuice Potion, now the tricky part, twenty-eight reductions over twenty-eight nights, corresponding with the phases of the moon. Should be easy for you, Luna."

Luna grinned, "At least you didn't say Looney."

Harry pulled Luna into a one armed hug, "That'll never happen."

A ghostly, silver-grey Scottish Terrier came in through the transit over the dungeon door and spoke in Minerva McGonagall's voice, "I've received a package for you, Professor Snape, perhaps you could get it out of my office?"

"Of course, Professor McGonagall, can you have a house elf deliver it to the Potion's Lab? We're in the middle of a reduction at the moment."

"Very well."

Thirty seconds later, the dungeon door opened and a large crate seemed to bob on its own through the door into the middle of the room. A tiny voice asked, "Where will the Professor be wanting his crate, sir?"

"Right there will be fine, thank you."

A cheerful voice answered, "Always happy to help, sir!"

Severus looked at the crate, "Mister Longbottom, would you mind terribly opening the crate? I suspect it's from your grandmother."

Sure enough, there were enough burners and accessories to last for countless terms to come.

"I'll watch the reduction if you will all please set out the new equipment."

The five Merlins did as asked, checking the old burners for wear and tear, binning the ones that were beyond repair.

When all the new equipment was in place, Hermione and Luna set up two tables between the supply cupboards and the class.

"This is where the student helpers will measure out and distribute ingredients for the lab of the day. I've taken the liberty to reproduce lists of materials needed for all the labs over the next two months."

Severus Snape half smiled and nodded, "Excellent, I think all the Potions Labs will be much more efficient from now on. Take an additional twenty points for House Merlin."

By the end of the following day, the school was abuzz with news of the changes in Professor Snape's class.

"He's practically human."

"Maybe someone got into the polyjuice, and it's not really him?"

"He awarded points to a House other than Slytherin, not only that, he docked Nott for a safety violation… His own House!"

At the Professors' table, Minerva commented, "You seem to be in fine fettle t'dae, Severus."

"I am," he said, "I had all but forgotten what it was like to teach a group of students who genuinely want to learn, more than that, to stretch themselves to achieve more."

"Careful, Severus," Remus said from his other side, "You almost smiled just now."

Professor Snape looked askance at Lupin and rolled his eyes, "Heaven forbid."

Thursday's class was one for the record books.

As the group entered, Thompson, from Slytherin and Bell, a Gryffindor, were singled out for prep-duty. Imagine their surprise when it was revealed that Thompson would be measuring and distributing reagents for the Gryffindors and Bell would be serving the Slytherins.

During the lecture period, Hermione took notes for Thompson and Pansy took notes for Bell.

The end result was, when lab period commenced, it was neat, orderly and efficient.

The proof, as they say, is in the pudding. And, for the first time in this school year, every second year student got a passing grade on their potion.

Cleanup went as smoothly as setup.

Professor Snape stood up, just prior to dismissal. "At the end of the day, ladies and gentlemen, cooperation is the key. Well done, well done all of you."

Luna looked around at her Housemates, "I'm not sure, but I think we've begun to change the water."

Harry nodded, "It's a start."

)O(

Sirius Orion Black loved his monogram. Shirts, cufflinks, towels, handkerchiefs, all proudly proclaimed him to be a genuine S O B.

"If you knew my mother, you'd understand." He would say when asked.

The fact that his animagus form was a dog only made it more appropriate.

This day found him before the Geezergamot, ah, Wizengamot, putting forth a proposal for Harry James Potter Memorial Day.

Normally, following first and second reading of the proposed Bill, there would be debate.

No one offered anything but their most enthusiastic endorsement for a day that would honour the Saviour of the Wizarding World. The only point of contention was the choice of days. There were those who wanted to celebrate Harry Potter Day on the Thirty-first of October, but many thought his remembrance would be diminished during the Sabbat of Samhain. So it was agreed to put the Thirty-first of July as HP day.

The Harry Potter Memorial Day Bill was passed unanimously, to be delivered to Her Royal Majesty for Her approval.

"Any good that we can do, from now on, let us do so in the sure and certain knowledge that my Godson would be proud of us."

)O(

The Cabal; nine wizards and three witches, smiled when they heard the speech.

"How eloquent, he is. We must consider him for Chief Warlock in the future, for he has effectively created a martyr for the cause without realizing it. Harry Potter, the pure and perfect sacrifice, struck down by the very muggles he had saved. Oh this is too ironic for words."

)O(

Thanks go out, as always, to Tommy King, Brit-picker emeritus. Whenever Minerva McGonagall becomes emotional, her Scottish Brogue comes to the fore.

So I offer this translation: "Am' nae richt share he's deid" means, "I'm not rightly sure he's dead."