Disclaimer: This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
AN:
Thanks to all of those who reviewed!
Alas, most of your questions I can't answer because they'll be addressed in future chapters.
So I have little to say in this Author's Note, except that, as always, I hope you enjoy this chappie – another fast update, yay!
Part I: Chapter 21
November became a very busy month for Harry, full of events.
For starters, he had approached Mr. Tilly Toke about how he wanted to make a map of Hogwarts. Initially, Harry had been a bit worried that his Charms Professor would angrily refuse or get suspicious, demanding to know why he wanted a map of the school.
However, he had been pleasantly surprised when Tilly Toke, with his usual exuberance and boyish excitement, had declared, "What a wonderful idea!" The man had winked at him knowingly. "You'll be putting it to good use for mischievous deeds, no doubt!"
The professor had chortled wistfully. "Oh, to be young again, full of adventurous spirit and a prank-full disposition! Of course I'll help you, Mr. Riddle – I'll teach you all the Charms you might need and we'll add a couple more for sheer fun!" He had patted Harry on the shoulder. "Why, we can make it an extra-credit project for my class and I'll give you full points for it. But you'll have to do all the work yourself."
Harry had readily agreed, and had been going to Professor Tilly Toke's office during the weeks, right after dinner and before he had to meet Tom in the Dueling Chamber.
His teacher had been quick to not only teach him spells to help him make a magical map, but also to give him plenty of books about all sorts of Charms.
"I shouldn't say this," had said Tilly Toke the first day when he had handed over several thick tomes, "but you're my favorite student, Mr. Riddle." He had beamed a wide, pearly white smile at him. "You have a natural talent for Charms and such thing must be nurtured. I see great potential in you."
Flushing with pleasure at the compliment, Harry had grinned back.
Moreover, not only was learning more Charms giving him much enjoyment, but his Dark Arts lessons with his brother quite unexpectedly proved to be his favorite part of the weekdays.
Not due to the spells and curses themselves – some quite fascinating and others just plain disturbing or outright horrifying – but because Tom was always in a very good mood. During all the lessons, his brother was very nice to him, patiently explaining wand movements and how to best pronounce the spell-words.
Indeed, whenever Harry successfully cast a dark spell, Tom would actually smile at him, looking proudly satisfied.
However, some things had made him uneasy. One day, they had been practicing the Slashing Curse.
"Sectum!" Harry said, flicking his wand just as his brother had taught him, aiming straight at the dummy before him.
A wide, gaping wound opened across the chest of the fleshy mannequin, spurting a blood-like liquid in gushing, copious amounts. A moment later, the dummy shimmered and the wound closed itself up and the stains vanished, as if some invisible house-elf had done the deed.
Harry panted as he rubbed his scar. It always happened when he cast Dark Arts spells: his scar would tingle pleasantly, as if it was vastly enjoying the experience.
It couldn't actually be his scar, he had mused, so Harry had ascribed it to his brother's feelings, given that Tom always looked happy when Harry perfectly executed a curse. It seemed that just how he could tell when his brother was angry, through the scar, he could now also feel when Tom was highly content.
Nevertheless, it wasn't that which disturbed him, but the surge of warm, fuzzy delight and sheer pleasure he had felt when casting the spell.
"It feels so good," he finally breathed out. He dazedly shook his head, before he bit his bottom lip fretfully. "Too good, actually."
"Of course it feels good," interjected Tom, lightly smirking at him. "Power is meant to feel good, little brother."
"I suppose," muttered Harry, frowning before he added anxiously, "but it kinda feels… er, addictive." He shot his brother a disquieted glance. "And the Prewetts twins have told me just that, that the Dark Arts are addictive and that's why there has been wizards who had delved too deeply in the Dark Arts and bad stuff happened to them, always."
Tom scoffed snidely. "That's a load of rubbish. And we're just learning the basics, for now, so there's nothing to be worried about."
His brother waved a hand dismissively before he approached the dummy. "You did well, but it's best if you aim at one of the upper thighs." He pointed a finger just at the place. "Here, or here. According to Grindelwald's book, that's where the Femoral artery is. And if you cast the Slashing Curse there, your opponent will bleed to death in just a few minutes."
Tom paused before he patted the dummy's throat. "Or aim here – thus."
He took several steps back, his dark blue eyes glinting gleefully, as he intoned, "Sectum!"
Such was the force of the spell that the mannequin's head flew off, leaving a hacked neck gushing out a great fountain of blood-like liquid.
At the spectacle, Harry's eyebrows shot to his hairline. "Um, you want me to know how to chop someone's head off?" He quirked an eyebrow at his brother. "Are we planning on decapitating people?"
"We might," said Tom coolly. "If you're dueling against an enemy it's kill or be killed, little brother."
Harry nodded slowly, a bit dubiously. But then he reckoned Tom could be right. His brother seemed quite certain that their involvement with Grindelwald could land them in the middle of a battle. And if not, Tom had said, becoming an excellent dueler was still 'imperative', no matter where life led them.
It wasn't all fun, though. Just the day after that lesson, Tom had found him in their dormitory, when Harry had been on his bed, snacking on an apple whilst he practiced wand movements from one of the books Mr. Toke had given him.
"I've finally received them from Flourish and Blotts," said Tom excitedly. "They cost me a small fortune, but I've already flipped through them and they're worth every galleon."
And with that, he dropped a bunch of thick, glossy books on Harry's bed, and quickly sat down.
"Look," said Tom, as he opened the cover of the first book.
There was a big picture of a beautiful blonde, blue-eyed witch. She graciously smiled at them, as she intoned in a soft, melodious voice, "Welcome to 'Learning German in Three Years: Level One'. Please read the Index to see the full list of Lessons contained in this book. Lesson One: Greetings. Good evening – Guten Abend. Repeat after me."
"Guten Abend," said Tom effortlessly.
"Correct. Perfect pronunciation," said the picture of the witch, charmingly smiling. "You can proceed to the next page of Lesson One."
Then she went still, and Harry was quick to groan, "Don't tell me you want us to-"
"We're learning German," interrupted Tom swiftly, widely smirking at him.
"Do we have to?" whined Harry piteously.
More work – just what he needed! And he had thought magic school would be fun.
"Yes, we do," retorted Tom curtly. "It's a German Dark Lord who's taking over Europe, so it's German what we must learn."
Harry sighed wearily, before his expression brightened. "Isn't there some spell for that?"
"Some spell," began Tom dryly, "that you can cast on your head and it will just suddenly make you know German?"
Harry quickly nodded at him, very hopeful.
"No, brother, there isn't," said Tom tartly, crushing Harry's optimism.
Shooting the books a disgruntled look, Harry's shoulders slumped.
Wholly ignoring Harry's pouting sulk, Tom began stacking up five books. "They have exercises and even corrects your mistakes and bad pronunciation." He plopped those five books on Harry's lap, as he added, "I bought two copies of each. Those are yours."
Then he stuck his own books into his schoolbag and swiftly rose to his feet. He shot Harry a firm look, as he said sternly, "I'll be testing you myself to make sure you're studying German, so you better stop being lazy."
And with that, he left the bedroom, leaving a grumpy Harry behind.
In the next second, Harry suddenly realized that he could actually take advantage of the situation, and he quickly went to his trunk, grabbing the heavy pouch of galleons that Alphard had saved from his monthly allowance, and the book that Dorea had given him.
He intercepted Tom on the stairs, just before he had stepped into the common room.
"Wait!" Harry panted out. The moment his brother halted and shot him a quizzical glance, he said quickly, "If you want me to learn German, I will, but I want something from you in return."
He pushed the book and pouch into Tom's hands, and his brother frowned as he looked down at them. " 'Obscure Brews to Correct the Senses'? What's this?" His eyes narrowed suspiciously as he hefted the pouch. "And where did you get this money from?"
"Dorea gave them to me," whispered Harry instantly. "The galleons, to buy the potion ingredients, and the book – for you."
He quickly explained matters to him, obviously leaving Alphard completely out, and not mentioning either that in thirty-five percent of the cases the potion turned the drinker blind. He had already checked, and that warning hadn't been on the book. And he was pretty certain his brother would outright refuse and yell at him if he ever found out about that tidbit.
Thus, he finally ended with, "It takes six months to brew, but it's not difficult, according to Dorea. Only that the ingredients are very pricey but with those galleons it should be enough."
Tom shot him a calculating glance, before he drawled slowly, "It's a big favor you're asking-"
"What," groused out Harry crabbily, "and learning German during three full years isn't?"
He crossed his arms over his small chest and huffed. He wasn't going to yield. It was just perfect that he could ask Tom to brew the potion in exchange for him learning German. After all, he was owed another favor for searching for the Chamber of Secrets – but he wanted to keep that one for future use.
"Very well," finally said Tom grudgingly. "I'll see to it, and I'll start brewing after the holidays." He shot him a snide look. "At least, I'll never have to see those ridiculous, ugly eyeglasses of yours again."
Aspersions on his beloved glasses not bothering him one bit –he was still keeping them, afterwards- Harry toothily grinned at him, vastly satisfied.
From then onwards, Harry barely had a spare moment. Between learning Charms and going to Tilly Toke's office as he slowly constructed the magical map, studying German, going every day to the Dueling Chamber, having secret Quidditch practice on Sundays, and then also carrying his tasks of looking for the Grey Lady and the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets, he had his hands full.
Furthermore, Harry had the sensation he was being followed.
It had happened several times when he had been meandering about the castle, examining classrooms for any indication of some secret entrance, whilst glancing around, hoping to see a ghostly figure. He had felt the heavy weight of a pair of eyes on the back of his head.
At first, he had spun around hopefully, thinking that perhaps that 'Santi' person had decided to make an appearance, as he had promised. But it wasn't. Once, for a very brief second, he had caught sight of a hem of robes vanishing around the corner, as whomever it was broke into a sprint.
Determined and peeved, Harry had instantly followed, running as fast as he could. But when he reached the corridor, the person was gone. For a moment, Harry thought it could have been Dumbledore.
After all, ever since his encounter with the wizard and the whole Lord Horkos' issue, the Transfiguration Professor had been keeping a close watch on him and Tom. Furthermore, sometimes, during class or from the wizard's seat at the staff's table of the Great Hall, Dumbledore would shoot him brief, concerned looks.
As much as Harry had decided that the wizard meant well, he was grateful that Dumbledore hadn't approached him and pressed the matter.
However, Dumbledore always wore very wacky robes, either of some bright, blinding color or with animated figures like stars, suns, or ginger-bread men, winking, waving or bouncing around along collar and hems. With that wardrobe, Dumbledore would certainly make a terrible spy.
And the robes he had seen had been black – like a student's. But with no other clues to go on with, Harry had been stumped.
It soon vanished from his mind as two events transpired in Slytherin House.
On the Saturday that he had been exhausted from all his activities and had decided to skip breakfast and sleep in, he had finally dragged himself up to the common room an hour later.
There, he had seen that the whole House was in a full-blown celebration. Many were waving embossed, glossed letters, which they all seemed to have received by owl during breakfast.
With glasses of butterbeer in their hands –clearly smuggled from Hogsmeade by some older Slytherin- they were raising them in the air and toasting.
His yearmate, Druella Rosier, was in the very middle, beaming with pleasure.
For once -given that whenever he saw her she would nastily glare at him with a scrunched up face- she looked very beautiful. All golden hair, blue eyes, and delicate, breath-taking features – funnily enough, looking very much like that woman Harry had now began seeing in his dreams, when he felt as if he was being lovingly cradled while a soft voice sung Alice's lullaby.
But between that, and his childhood's nightmare about red eyes and a flash of green that still sometimes crept on him in his sleep, Harry had long since stopped paying attention to his weird dreams.
Just then, Algernon Wilkes had hushed all the rest, before he said exultantly, "Cheers – to the new Rosier Heir!" He shot a glance at Druella, as he asked quietly, "What's his name again?"
"Evan," replied Druella, glowing with pride. "Evan Rowan Rosier."
Algernon nodded, before he cried out, "To Evan Rosier!"
"To Evan Rosier!" chimed all the rest.
A bit bemused by the whole scene, Harry would only find out later in that evening what had happened.
He had met Alphard in the kitchens, as usual, to work on their Herbology homework, and he was quick to inquire.
"Oh, that was because Druella's mother finally had a baby boy," said Alphard as he munched down one of the cream pastries the house-elves had baked for them. "The Rosiers are in their eighties, and they've been trying for ages. So now, Druella finally has a sibling."
Harry's eyebrows shot to his hairline, as he thought about the whole joyous spectacle he had seen. "Is it always a big deal?"
Alphard gave him an incredulous look. "Of course! Because the baby is a male, so the Rosiers now have an heir, at last, and because…" He trailed off, eyeing him strangely. "You don't know? No one has told you, huh?"
"Told me what?" said Harry curiously, pausing in mid sip of his cup of hot chocolate.
"Well," began Alphard slowly, "all wizarding families have trouble having children. There's always plenty of stillbirths and miscarriages." He shot him a pointed glance. "Haven't you noticed that most pureblood students are only child?"
Perplexed, Harry stared at him, before he frowned. "But your family is very large."
Alphard shook his head. "That's only because it's a Black tradition to try as many times as it takes to have at least two or three children, because loads of Blacks have died young. There must be spare children so that there's always at least one surviving heir." His expression turned sad, as he added, "But we still have had plenty of stillborns or squibs in the family line. My mother lost three babies."
Puzzled, Harry pointed out, "But then, why did the Malfoys kill their female children in the past? The Prewett twins told me that."
"They told you, eh?" said Alphard wistfully.
At that, Harry shot him a cautious look.
Soon after they had become friends, Alphard had asked him hopefully, "Do Felicity and Felix ever speak about me? We were friends, you know, when we were younger."
Harry hadn't known quite what to say, because except that day when the twins had told him about Abraxas Malfoy being a half-Veela, they had never mentioned much their other former childhood friends.
He reckoned they would have said something about Alphard, if they knew he was his friend. That, exactly, had been his reply to him, though Alphard hadn't looked much heartened by it.
Furthermore, after the Gryffindor's Halloween party was long passed and gone, and the Prewetts had stopped being so awkward around him due to it, he had gone back to spending much of his free time with them. And Harry was well aware that Alphard suffered a bit because of it.
Just the other week, when he had been playing on the grounds with the twins, engaged in a fun snowball war, he had seen Alphard in the distance, standing by the entrance of the castle, gazing at them with a mournful, longing look.
Alphard sighed softly, before he glanced back at Harry and waved a hand. "That's just because the Malfoys didn't want to have their estates and fortune divided among several descendants. So they always had as many children as it took until a boy was born, and then they discarded the rest. But it still wasn't easy for them." A musing expression spread on his face, as he added, "There are some few exceptions, of course. Like the Prewett line, that has the luck to bear twins now and then. And like the Weasleys, who have no trouble and always have loads of children."
He paused, before he continued adamantly, "But that's just it. In the Old Days, all wizarding families were like the Weasleys. They had bunches of children - eight, ten, twelve!" He snapped his fingers. "Like that! Very easily and without any problems."
Cocking his head to a side, Harry asked intrigued, "So what changed?"
"No one really knows," said Alphard, shrugging his shoulders. "Well, my kind has always believed it's because of the muggleborns-" He broke off, his grey eyes going wide, and he shot him a quick, apologetic look.
Harry shook his head in amusement. "It doesn't bother me, Al. You don't hafta tip-toe around me because of that."
"Alright," said Alphard a bit hesitantly, before he regained force. "Well, you know about the whole Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin thing, right?"
After taking a long sip from his hot chocolate, Harry nodded. "Yup. Slytherin didn't want muggleborns in Hogwarts and they fought about it."
"Exactly," piped in Alphard. "Father told me long ago that Slytherin had several valid reasons. Like not wanting wizarding culture to be corrupted by the muggle one and things like that, but also because Slytherin had been the first to realize what was happening."
The boy paused as he selected another pastry to pop into his mouth, and after he had swallowed it down with a blissful look on his face, he continued, "By then, all these problems in having children –the squibs, the stillborns, the miscarriages, and such- had been going on for some centuries. And Slytherin thought it was because wizarding kind had been marrying muggles and muggleborns, and passing along some deficiency to their descendants which made them have trouble with fertility-"
"Oh!" interjected Harry in sudden realization. "So that's why Slytherin was the first to create Fertility Potions, then? The twins told me that too, though they didn't tell me the reason."
"Yes," said Alphard, gravely nodding at him. "But it was also more than that. Slytherin believed that even if a wizarding family remained pureblooded, without mixing with any muggles and muggleborns, they were still being affected." He scrunched his face up, looking as if he was racking his brain. "Father told me it was something like… like as if the muggles and their muggleborns have some sort of flu, or something in their bodies, that wizards caught when they were around them."
Bewildered, Harry stared at him with wide eyes, before he shook his head. "That doesn't make any sense."
Alphard sighed. "Well, I don't really know that much about it." He frowned, looking as if he was thinking hard again, and he began slowly, "Slytherin believed that they carried some disease, something that wasn't a disease for them, but that it was for wizards and witches, and that it was this that affected us and made us have problems with having children."
Harry frowned deeply, but suddenly a spark of a memory lighted in his mind, as he remembered one of Alice's history lessons about the Conquest of America.
In the next moment, he breathed out, "Oh, like the Indians!" Alphard shot him a nonplussed look at that, and Harry quickly explained, "When the muggles from Europe went to America, loads of Indians died because the Europeans had some bug or something that was bad for the Indians."
Still looking confused, Alphard said hesitantly, "Um, yes, maybe it's something like that."
"But is it true?" pressed on Harry, a mite disturbed. "In the case of muggle and muggleborns with wizards – is there really something that's being passed on by just being around each other?"
"No one really knows for certain," said Alphard with a heavy sigh. "Even now, from what I've heard, plenty of Healers have looked into it and they can't agree. They bicker and argue, but none of them have come up with any solid evidence." He shot him a brief glance, as he added quietly, "But most dark purebloods firmly believe that Slytherin was right, about that and how mixing with muggles and muggleborns make descendants be weak in magical power."
Harry stared at him, a bit astonished, then he shook his head. "But then, did Slytherin's Fertility Potions work in the end?" He frowned musingly, as he added in the next second, "Though from what you've told me, it doesn't seem so-"
"That's just it," piped in Alphard brightly, "they helped a bit but not enough. So, according to Father, Slytherin came up with more solutions. He made Breeder Potions."
"What's that?" Harry asked curiously as he picked up his cup of hot chocolate.
"Well, there're two kinds that I've heard of," said Alphard smiling at him, looking proud of himself, as if he was vastly enjoying sharing his knowledge. "Apparently, Slytherin came to the conclusion that one way to stop wizards from mixing with muggles and muggleborns was to give them another alternative and help them along with it. That is, for wizards and witches to choose magical creatures instead. So the first type of Breeder Potions he created was for that."
He waved off a hand as he added quickly, "Because of course we're different from them. The only magical creatures that are completely compatible with us are Veelas. To have children with them, wizards and witches don't need potions, but for all the rest, they do." Alphard grinned at him, looking as if he found it vastly funny. "There're for all sorts!"
"Really?" muttered Harry bemusedly. Well, given how Tom had looked all disgusted when he had said that 'wizards even rutted with magical creatures', it seemed that there was one point in which his brother didn't agree with their ancestor.
Alphard adamantly nodded at him. "Slytherin apparently thought it was very important because, by mixing with magical creatures, new powerful magical blood was injected in wizarding lines. Of course, since not all wizards and witches liked mixing with non-humans or halfbreeds, Slytherin came up with another type of Breeder Potions. This one for purebloods, for Ganymede wizards and Sappho witches."
"The what and what?" Harry blinked at him, before he brought his cup to his lips as he waited for clarification.
His friend gave him an incredulous look. "You know, wizards and witches that like their own gender. That second type of Breeder Potions was for those kind of couples to be able to have children."
Unfortunately, Harry was caught in mid sip. His hot chocolate went up the wrong way and came out to be splattered all across the table, as he choked out a strangled, "W-what?"
In the bat of an eyelash, a house-elf popped into existence and cleaned the mess with a snap of his fingers. Though Harry was still so stunned by what Alphard had said, that he didn't even thank the little creature.
First, Tom had told him that boys could do the sex thing with other boys, and he still hadn't figured that one out. And now Alphard was telling him that - that-
Paling, Harry stared at the other boy with a horrified look on his face, as he gestured frantically with his hands, finally putting them before him as if encompassing a huge belly, as he stammered, "You mean – you mean that wizards take that potion to get preggers?"
"Mordred save us!" exclaimed Alphard, blanching just as much as Harry. "Not nowadays!" His nose scrunched up. "What wizard would want that? To waddle around and be all fat and moody all the time…"
The boy shook his head, and pointed out with a wizened air, "Pregnant people get very nasty, you know? My brother told me that when Mother was carrying me, she was unbearable and would yell at every little thing." He shuddered. "And she's already bad enough when she's normal."
Harry stared at him, before he bit out testily, "But you just told me that that potion was for-"
"I was speaking about centuries ago!" interjected Alphard quickly. "Those kind of potions haven't been used in ages. At least I hope not!" He shivered. "Nowadays Ganymede wizards and Sappho witches have all sorts of other things they can use, like Surrogacy Rituals, Inheritance or Blood Fusing Rites, and that sort of thing."
At that, Harry didn't even want to ask. He truly didn't want to know. The Wizarding World was honestly a very bizarre place.
Inevitably, though, his thoughts turned to Julian Erlichmann, as constantly kept happening to him lately.
Tilting his head to a side, Harry asked musingly, "Is it a common thing in the Wizarding World for people to fancy their own gender?"
"Common?" Alphard blinked at him. "What a strange question. Um, I don't know. It's not common or uncommon. It just is, isn't it?" He shot Harry a puzzled glance then. "Isn't it the same in the Muggle World?"
"No!" said Harry, shuddering as he remembered what Tom had revealed about poor Terry of their neighborhood. Then he frowned. "Well, I don't know either if it's common. It happens, apparently, but muggles don't like it."
Alphard's eyebrows hitched upwards. "Muggles are so weird." He shook his head, before he added pensively, "I suppose it's because their sort in the Muggle World have no way of having children. I mean, if Ganymede or Sappho couples didn't have children, then other wizards would mutter angrily about it." He waved a hand dismissively. "It's always all about passing on our magical blood. So as long as they do it, no one really cares about anything else."
Dazed, Harry merely shook his head slowly.
Just a week after that conversation, Harry witnessed a scene quite by accident.
Returning from having spent some time with the Prewett twins, playing Exploding Snaps with Felicity while Felix negotiated and traded Chocolate Frog cards with Algie Longbottom, he had come upon Dorea Black and Abraxas Malfoy in the middle of a heated argument. At such late hour, they had been alone in the common room, and didn't even become aware of his presence.
"…the girl is cut out from the same cloth as her Russian mother, I've heard," Dorea Black was saying bitingly. "A nasty piece of work, no doubt. And two years your elder and schooled at Durmstrang, no less. I wonder how you'll manage." She shot Abraxas a mocking, taunting look, before her voice turned stern, "But then, you don't seem to think you have much choice - you either marry the Von Krauss girl or convince Old Maxy to let you have Walburga. Against that, perhaps I'd also be choosing the German chit, but my point is that you don't have to-"
"It has nothing to do with you. Just stay out of my business," interrupted Abraxas Malfoy in a chilly tone of voice, his silvery eyes flashing. "You don't know what you're talking about."
"I stick my nose where it's not wanted because I care about you," snapped Dorea impatiently. "You've been a friend of my nephews since the cradle, and for years I've been waiting for you to grow a backbone and stop allowing your grandfather to pull all your strings. That will be the day when I'll respect you and stay out of your business, Abraxas. And I do hope it happens soon, for your sake, because if you let Old Maxy betroth you to Kasimira Von Krauss, you'll be miserable for the rest of your life. That's for sure."
Abraxas Malfoy's eyes turned as frosty as a wintry lake, before he simply turned around and swiftly took the stairs down to the dormitories, leaving Dorea in the dust, looking angered and impotent with worry at the same time.
As much as it had intrigued Harry at the time, he soon forgot it when Slytherin House had another reason for celebration, which Harry would have dearly liked to know about beforehand. However, he didn't, because Alphard hadn't breathed a word to him that it was his birthday.
Thus, when he got back to the common room on that day, after a long session of working on his map in Professor Toke's office, he found all the Slytherins gathered there, once again with smuggled butterbeer.
Alphard was surrounded by stacks of presents and his siblings, cousins, and aunt.
As much as Harry would have liked, he couldn't openly show himself friendly with Alphard, so all he could do was sit to a side, well apart from all the rest, as he quickly mused about what he could give to his best friend in the school.
After all, he owed Alphard for lending him the Comet 180, for the pouch of galleons to buy potion ingredients, and for his treasured book of 'The Most Extraordinary Chaser Tactics and Maneuvers of the Century!' – even though his current copy was the one bought by Tom, since his brother had burned Alphard's to cinders.
However, there was a huge obstacle: he didn't have a single knut. And he knew that asking Tom for one of his innumerable pouches of galleons would be a waste of breath, not to mention that he didn't have the time or opportunity to buy anything.
Suddenly, an idea struck him like beam of sunlight, and Harry squirmed on his seat excitedly.
It took him great patience to wait until the party started to dwindle in order to shoot Alphard a surreptitious look, as he subtly gestured at the boy to meet him outside.
Harry just had to wait for a brief moment in the corridor before Alphard came stumbling out.
"Prat, you should've told me," chided Harry instantly. He widely smiled at him in the next second. "Happy Birthday! I have a present of sorts for you. We're going exploring."
At that, Alphard's big grey eyes sparkled as he breathed out joyfully, "An adventure! Really?"
"Yup," said Harry, impishly grinning at him. "At least, I hope it will be. But it's already way pass curfew so we'll need Potter's Invisibility Cloak. Could you ask him to lend it to you for this night?"
"Sure!" piped in Alphard. "He won't refuse, I've turned twelve today! Wait for me here."
He was gone so fast that it almost looked as if the boy had done that Apparition thing Tom had told him about.
Twenty minutes later, Alphard returned, running, heaving and panting, but with a wide, triumphant grin on his face as he pulled out the Invisibility Cloak from one bulging pocket of his robes.
"Here," he gasped out, recovering his breath. "Take it."
Unwittingly, Harry had grabbed it just so, that his fingers had brushed one of its corners. Feeling a weird tingle, he stared down at that bit of cloth, seeing again the strange symbol he had briefly caught sight of before, when Charlus Potter had been under the Cloak.
Blinking, he touched it again, feeling once more the prickling sensation on the pads of his fingers, and he gazed at the symbol with puzzlement.
He couldn't really tell what it was, exactly. It wasn't embroidered, but rather just thin threads of glowing silver magic that formed a small triangle, with a circle and perpendicular line inscribed within it.
"Pull the Cloak over us both," urged Alphard, abruptly pulling Harry from his inspection.
Harry did so, quickly, and he saw that the Invisibility Cloak was so large that it more than covered them.
As they started making their way out of the dungeons, Alphard asked eagerly, "Where are we going?"
"Shh," whispered Harry, "we can still be heard." He then shot him a wide grin. "And you'll just have to wait and see, won't you?"
After climbing several floors and making a wholly unnecessary round because Hogwarts had just then decided to shift her moving stairs on them, and after they had had to plaster themselves against a wall and slowly edge along it for a bit when they had crossed paths with Professor Galatea Merrythought, they finally reached the statue.
Harry glanced around, making sure no one was in sight, and at last pulled off the Cloak, as he declared proudly, "Here we are."
Alphard blinked, stared at the statue of the one-eyed, humpbacked witch, and then said with a hint of disappointment, "Gunhilda of Gorsemoor's statue? I've already seen it before."
"That's her name?" said Harry distractedly as he got on his tiptoes and pressed down on the hump that glowed red and gold to his eyes.
Grating against the stone floors, the statue immediately shifted to a side to reveal a dark, narrow tunnel.
Glancing at his friend and seeing his gobsmacked expression, Harry smirked smugly, not knowing how much it looked like one of Tom's.
"A secret passage!" finally gasped out Alphard, astounded. "How did you discover this?"
"By accident," replied Harry vaguely.
"Where does it lead?" breathed out Alphard with wide, bright eyes.
Harry toothily grinned at him. "No idea. That's the adventure. Are you up to it?"
Alphard's reply was an enthusiastic smile that shone like a thousand suns.
Thus, with Lumos spells on their wands, they started making their way. And it was a very long way, quite unexpectedly. Harry had simply thought that it would take them to some abandoned part of the castle, but as minutes ticked by and began to blur together, it became evident that he had been mistaken.
"Tempus!" cast Alphard at one point, whilst Harry maintained the Lumos spell on his wand for them. "It's been forty five minutes already." The boy shot him a disconcerted look. "Where could it be taking us?"
"Haven't the foggiest," replied Harry excitedly. He then shot him a careful look. "Erm, but if you want to turn around and go back-"
"No," said Alphard instantly, before he widely smiled. "I'm sure it will pay off. Besides, it's your gift to me! Let's continue."
Grinning gratefully, Harry nodded.
Just about ten minutes later they reached the end of the secret passageway. They halted and stood before a few steps made of earth that led to a trap door on the ceiling of the tunnel.
The boys glanced at each other excitedly and then rushed forwards at the same time, pushing up against the trap door with all their might. It gave way, and panting with giddiness, they climbed out to be surrounded by darkness and a dead silence.
"Lumos!" they both cast at the same time.
The place was washed with the light coming from the tip of their wands and they glanced around. They seemed to be in some kind of cellar. The room was filled with shelves, stacked with boxes of all colors, amidst wooden crates.
Harry approached a shelf and gazed down at one of the boxes, seeing a label on its top.
"Honeydukes," he read out loud, thinking that it rang a faint bell in his mind. He had heard that name somewhere before, but he couldn't quite remember. He shot his friend a quizzical glance. "Does it mean anything to you, Al?"
"Honeydukes!" breathed out Alphard, instantly appearing at Harry's side to peer down at the box. "It really is! We've found the Leprechaun's pot of gold at the end of the rainbow!"
"Huh?" Harry blinked nonplussed.
Alphard grinned at him widely, looking extremely joyful. "We're in Hogsmeade!" He shook his head, as if he could hardly believe it. "Honeydukes is the sweetshop." He then added in a dark grumble, "Cygnus is always rubbing it in, how he has loads of fun with his friends when they come to Hogsmeade and how I have to wait until I'm in my third year - and he always brings whole bunches of candies but doesn't share with me!"
"Oh, right!" said Harry, suddenly remembering. "For their Halloween party, the Gryffindors bought their candies from here." He glanced around, finding a door at the very end, and then piped in enthusiastically, "Let's go to the store, then!"
Beaming at him, Alphard quickly followed.
As they stepped into the front of the shop, Harry whispered urgently, "Let's make our lights fainter. We don't want to be seen."
After doing so, they each explored the store, breathless with wonder, awe, and giddiness at everything they saw: cauldron pastries, acid pops, chocolate fudge, canary creams, blood-flavored lollipops, cockroach clusters, chocoballs, Drooble's best blowing gum, exploding bon-bons, fizzing whizbees, jelly slugs, ice mice, licorice wands, pepper imps, fudge flies, sugar quills, peppermint toads, and all other of assorted sweets.
"It's too bad that I can't boast to Cygnus about this," commented Alphard distractedly as he inspected a box of sugar quills.
At that, Harry turned around and stared at the boy's back, a warm, affectionate smile soon spreading on his face.
It was just like Alphard to simply realize things without needing to be told, to just know Harry's mind and his wishes. The boy seemed to have a knack for it. Just like now, when his friend implicitly knew that Harry wanted to keep the tunnel a secret from all others.
With a fond smile still on his face, Harry went back to his explorations. It was truly paradise, and without a second thought, he happily began pocketing some Chocolate Frogs.
"What are you doing?" said Alphard, starting at him.
"Taking some," replied Harry absentmindedly. "They're delicious. I had them in the Hogwarts Express-"
"But that's stealing, isn't it?" interjected Alphard in a hushed voice.
Abruptly halting, Harry blinked at him. It hadn't even crossed his mind.
He was so used to nicking stuff with Tom when Alice took them into commercial London that he had stopped wondering long ago if it was wrong or not. And his brother had always said that they were entitled to take things that weren't being looked after. Tom opined that it was the shopkeepers' own fault for not keeping a better eye on their wares.
Harry cast a longing glance at the Chocolate Frog in his hand, as he mumbled softly, "But they taste so good… I love chocolate…"
"Um," said Alphard, for a moment looking a tad conflicted. Then he brightened and gestured at the ancient cash register on top of the counter. "Take them. Next time we come here, I'll leave some galleons there to pay for our stuff. But don't take too many, or they'll notice."
Shooting him a grateful look, Harry pocketed the last of his Chocolate Frogs while Alphard grabbed three sugar quills.
Then the boy gazed out through the window of the shop and shot Harry a yearning look. "Do you think we could perhaps see Hogsmeade?"
"Of course," said Harry warmly. "It's your birthday. We can do whatever you wish." He widely grinned at him. "Let's go exploring then."
He threw the Invisibility Cloak over them and Alphard was quick to stick a hand under the hem to turn the knob of the front door. It didn't give way, and the boy shot Harry a crushed look. "It's locked."
"Oh, I know a Charm that might work," whispered Harry swiftly. "Lemme try." Sticking out his wand, he muttered quietly, "Alohamora!"
A click, and the door slightly parted open. Harry shot Alphard a triumphant grin, while his friend stared at him with big grey eyes and breathed out, "That's a third-year spell!"
"Professor Toke has been teaching me some stuff," said Harry dismissively, then he added excitedly, "Let's go!"
They scurried out of the shop and Harry just halted for a brief moment to cast a locking charm on the front door of Honeydukes.
As they started meandering along the main road, they saw that Hogsmeade was a very charming and picturesque little village, with quaint thatched cottages and pretty stone houses with flowers and small gardens, all covered in snow.
"It's one of the few fully-wizarding towns left," whispered Alphard to him as they walked. "It was founded by Hengist Woodcroft, over a thousand years ago, around the same time that the Founders finished building Hogwarts, I've read."
Suddenly, they both halted as they heard loud noises coming from a pub a few feet away from them. According to its sign, it was 'The Three Broomsticks', and the whole village seemed to be gathered there.
Through the windows of the pub, they saw a crowd of witches and wizards, with pints in their hands, as they surrounded someone who seemed to be making some grand speech. There were also journalists there; some taking pictures with photograph cameras that puffed smoke, others with flying quills that skidded across floating parchments.
"What do you think is going on?" murmured Harry curiously as they crept closer.
It was then when he caught sight of the face of the wizard who had his audience avidly listening to him. A man wearing rich, dark blue robes, gesticulating grandiosely, with funny, thin moustaches that curled into spirals at its tips.
Instantly recognizing him from pictures, Harry said dumbfounded, "That's the granddad of that stuck-up Ravenclaw git, Tiberius. Charlemagne McLaggen. What's the Minister of Magic doing here?"
"Ah, I think I know!" whispered Alphard animatedly. "Just a week ago, The Daily Prophet said that McLaggen had started touring the country. Because he had already vetoed Dumbledore's Law three times, but Dumbledore's faction in the Wizengamot still had the majority. And since the Minister doesn't have the power to veto more than thrice, it seems he chose his only other measure left. He announced there would be a plebiscite."
Harry shot him a pensive frown, racking his brain. "Plebiscite? You mean that thing when people get to vote for or against a law?"
"Exactly," piped in Alphard, nodding. "So McLaggen began his campaign, visiting all wizarding towns and giving big speeches about the evils of Dumbledore's Law and the bad consequences that there would be for us if it was approved." The boy shot the crowd in the pub a musing look. "Hogsmeade must be McLaggen's last stop."
"Oh." Harry glanced again at the wizard and then caught sight of someone right beside him: a curly blonde witch, who looked vaguely familiar to him.
"Who's that standing next to McLaggen?" he murmured, puzzled.
"She's Edgar's mom - that Hufflepuff in our year. Remember him, from Charms?" said Alphard in a hushed voice. "She's Aurora Bones, the Minister's Undersecretary."
Frowning, Harry glanced back at her, intently studying her features, and it suddenly clicked. His mouth hung open. She was the witch whose head he had seen in Dumbledore's glass sphere thing! A spy on McLaggen, then! Well, Dumbledore certainly was a crafty, resourceful wizard.
Not that it bothered him one bit. Actually, he was quite happy with the discovery. After the things Tom had told him about the Minister, with the man not wanting to help muggles in case of war, he didn't think he liked Charlemagne McLaggen much.
Soon after that, they continued meandering along the village's main street, beginning to reach its outskirts.
Abruptly, they nearly jumped in startlement when a door was banged open, and two wizards came out from a dusty, dirty-looking pub that seemed to have a couple of dodgy characters inside.
"I don't want ye to come to my pub again," one of the wizards spat harshly. He was tall and burly, with a mane of long, tangled hair and a scraggly beard, wearing stained, greyish robes that looked to have seen better times.
The man was aggressively holding the other wizard by the arm, as if he had forcefully pulled him out of the pub. But it was this other wizard who was very familiar to the two boys, and thus, several feet away from them, Harry and Alphard froze in their tracks at the same time.
"No matter how many times ye come and sit at one of my tables," said the scruffy-looking wizard, apparently the pub-owner, "it won't make me speak to ye."
Albus Dumbledore gazed at the other wizard with a weary, beaten expression on his face, as if he was carrying a crushing weight. Harry had never seen the wizard like that: with slumped shoulders, slightly hunched forwards, as if wanting to protect himself from hurtful words being volleyed at him.
"I need for us to speak to each other, Aberforth," said Albus Dumbledore quietly. "I believed you desired the same."
Under the Invisibility Cloak, Alphard let out a shocked exhalation of breath, before he whispered quickly to Harry, "Aberforth! He's Albus Dumbledore's brother! I heard about him from Dorea, who has a friend in Beauxabatons. He was their Professor of Care of Magical Creatures for many years. And suddenly, a year or so ago, he just packed up and left. So, he came here to open a pub? That's strange, isn't it-"
"Hush!" whispered Harry in alarm, worrying they might be heard. But given that they were some distance away from the two wizards, it didn't seem as if they had been.
"I believed," continued Albus Dumbledore, "that you had come here to be close to me. To attempt-"
"Ye know very well why I came to Hogsmeade," interrupted the other man sharply, piercing Dumbledore with a hard gaze. "I didn't come here to rekindle our acquaintance, but to keep an eye on ye. To make sure ye don't make the same mistake twice."
"I'm trying to mend our relationship," said Albus Dumbledore softly, a heart-wrenching plea in his voice. "If you would just allow me-"
"The only way ye will ever make it up to me is if ye avenge our sister's death. Kill Grindelwald, and then, I'll forgive ya."
With stunned, bewildered, huge wide eyes, Harry and Alphard glanced at each other.
Aberforth Dumbledore was answered with silence, and the wizard let out a dry, acerbic laugh. "But ye won't, will ya, Albus?" His face became like hard stone. "Not even for Ariana or me, do ye have the strength to kill her murderer." He took a step closer to Albus Dumbledore, hissing out, "Don't have the guts to kill yer past lover, do ya?"
Harry's jaw dropped, Alphard blinked thrice.
"I'm not… I…." Albus Dumbledore didn't seem to find his words. The wizard shook his head slowly, sadly, mournfully, casting his brother an entreating glance, before he seemed to shake slightly, a ripple going through his body, as he forced words out of his mouth, breathing them out, "I fear to see him face to face." He closed his eyes, heaving a deep breath. "Even after so long, I fear what he might say, what he might offer." He slowly opened his eyes again, to gaze at his brother with frightening intensity through his half-moon spectacles, as he added in a thread of a murmur, "Because he can offer a way of having Ariana back, and I would be tempted."
Both wizards seemed to still in the dead silence that reigned after those uttered words, staring at each other.
It was Aberforth who at last spoke, his shoulders stiff, his expression angered, as he bit out, "I know what ye're speaking about. I was there when ye two talked about 'em, when ye plotted how ye would find 'em and use 'em." He skewered his brother with a piercing gaze, as he spat furiously, "Never bring Ariana back with the Stone. I'll kill ya if ye do."
"He doesn't have it," murmured Albus Dumbledore quietly. "But I believe he might have some clues about it's location-"
"Never use it!" bellowed Aberforth irately at him, his big hands clenching into fists, trembling, before he shook his head violently and spat, "That's not the way to make it up to me. I told ye what I wanted already. Kill him! Until then, don't come to my pub, don't speak to me!"
And without a second glance, he swirled around and went into his pub, slamming the door shut with shattering force.
Aberforth's last words seemed to leave Albus Dumbledore devastated, as if someone had ripped his heart out and torn it to pieces. The wizard was staring with unseeing eyes into vacant space, looking smaller, diminished.
Harry's mind was swirling with a mesh of loud, flabbergasted thoughts, a mess of them that seemed to be thundering against his very skull, hardly knowing what to make of everything he had heard. He didn't know where to begin.
Though, he didn't have the chance to even muse for a second, because suddenly, several things happened very quickly, one after the other.
Abruptly, Albus Dumbledore stiffened, and he spun around, a frown on his face, before his spectacled gaze landed on the boys, looking straight at them.
"He sees us," breathed out Harry, his green eyes going wide, half gobsmacked and baffled, half frantic with alarm.
"Let's go before he catches us," whispered Alphard urgently, looking wildly scared and worried, as he tugged on Harry's arm. "Charlus will never forgive me if his Cloak is taken-"
Bang! A door was thrown open noisily, and a cacophony of discordant sounds and voices rang loudly from halfway of the other end of the street. The crowd of The Three Broomsticks were leaving the place, many starting their way back to their homes, whilst Charlemagne McLaggen was posing for the cameras one last time, giving wide smiles as the light bulbs flashed.
Then, from across the distance, the Minister of Magic seemed to suddenly catch sight of Dumbledore, and his smile froze on his face. It became forced then, as the wizard took several steps to one side, clearly obstructing any journalist from seeing and becoming aware of Albus Dumbledore's presence.
In a few moments, the Minister was done giving some more words for the reporters, and the journalists disappeared with cracking sounds.
Harry had the inkling that if they had seen Albus Dumbledore at the other end of the street, they would have remained behind, like wolves scenting blood, because right then, the Minister of Magic began to stride straight towards Dumbledore, a hard expression on his face.
A sound of feet crushing old, fallen tree leaves made Harry snap his head around and he saw Dumbledore coming towards them. The wizard didn't look at all pleased.
With a hitch of breath sticking in his throat, Harry was quick to grasp Alphard by the arm, pulling him along, backwards, with every step Dumbledore took forwards.
"Albus!"
Harry and Alphard froze when the Minister of Magic reached Dumbledore.
"I would like a word with you," said Charlemagne McLaggen sternly. "I've heard some very disquieting rumors about how you're leading a subversive, vigilante group - The Order of something-"
"I do not think this is the proper place to sustain such conversation," interrupted Dumbledore quietly, a glance landing briefly on the boys, before he gazed back at the other wizard, and added courteously, "Perhaps we could go into-"
"Here is just fine," snapped the Minister of Magic irritably. "There's no one around."
"I do believe we should best-"
"Stop dillydallying!" interrupted McLaggen angrily. "I demand to know what you think you're doing with this Order of yours."
The boys were pierced by Dumbledore's glance once more. And for a moment, it seemed the wizard was going to reach for his wand, surely to cast a spell that would prevent them from listening in, but then a pensive expression crossed the man's face for a split second, and the motion was aborted.
Harry and Alphard blinked, to then glance at each other with equally quizzical, wondering, and puzzled expressions on their faces.
"The Order of the Phoenix is no subversive, secret organization," said Dumbledore calmly. "Any witch or wizard willing to aid the cause of preventing the Dark Lord from gaining more power is welcomed to become a member. Of course, once they become members, we do grant them anonymity, if so they wish."
"It's nothing but a group of crackpots attempting to undermine the foundations of my Ministry! To unseat me from my position!" snarled McLaggen, before he pulled himself up to his full height and added in a very low, ominous tone of voice, "I could have you all brought up on charges of mutiny and rebellion against the established authority."
Dumbledore peered at the Minister from the rim of his half-moon spectacles. "I was not aware that forming political groups had become illegal, Charlemagne."
The Minister of Magic's nostrils flared. "I want you to disband it."
"I have no reason to do so," said Dumbledore pleasantly.
McLaggen puffed up like an angered peacock. "Look here, Dumbledore, I've been more than patient with you-"
"As have I with you," interjected Dumbledore in a quiet yet hard tone of voice. He then arched an expectant eyebrow at the wizard. "Have you accepted the Czechoslovakian envoys' treaty?"
The Minister of Magic froze, before his eyes narrowed, as he hissed out, "How do you know? I took every measure to ensure their visit remained a secret. You have someone in my Ministry working for you!" His eyes became mere slits, as he added angrily, "Perhaps it's my own Head of International Magical Cooperation. Don't think I haven't noticed that Faustus Prewett has become one of your more fervent supporters in the Wizengamot, Albus! It's him, isn't it? You've turned him against me – I'll have him sacked!"
"Faustus Prewett does not 'work' for me," interjected Dumbledore calmly. "He is his own man, with his own opinions and convictions. A more loyal wizard to the Ministry of Magic you will not find. Your accusations are utterly unfounded."
McLaggen piercingly stared at him, before he muttered, "We'll see. I'll certainly be looking into his actions." He squared his shoulders as he demanded sharply, "If he's not your spy in the Ministry, then explain to me how you knew about the Czechs' visit."
"Why, last weekend I visited some friends I have in that marvelous country," said Dumbledore placidly, "and since I had some spare time, I decided to pop into the Ministry. Jerabek, the Minister, happens to be an old acquaintance of mine, and it would have been very discourteous of me to not pay him a visit whilst I was in his country."
"Ah! Now I understand why I had the envoys badgering me with their nonsense," spat McLaggen furiously. "You filled their minds with your ridiculous ideas regarding the German Minister of Magic-"
"Grindelwald's official title nowadays is the Austro-German Minister of Magic," remarked Dumbledore pointedly, intently staring at McLaggen from the top of his half-moon spectacles. "That alone, should tell you much."
Looking irked and irritated beyond measure, McLaggen briskly waved a hand. "He was elected by Austrian wizards and witches. I'll hear no more about your baseless accusations regarding that he was the one who killed the former Austrian Minister-"
"Quite right, I see no point in rehashing the discussion we maintained in Dionysius' Abode," interjected Dumbledore firmly. "You know my views on the matter. They haven't changed. However, I still urge you to heed them."
"Produce these so-called 'sources' of yours, and I might consider it," bit out Charlemagne McLaggen. "Who do you have spying on Grindelwald?"
It was that, out of the whole conversation thus far, which suddenly made Harry's chest constrict with a piercing, frenzied worry. Julian! It had to be Julian Erlichmann. Surely Dumbledore wouldn't-
"The identity of my informants must, above all other things, remain undisclosed," said Dumbledore unyieldingly, his expression stony.
If he could have exhaled with profound relief, Harry would have. Instead, he gazed at Dumbledore with big, grateful eyes. He would even hug the wizard if he could. One thing he did, though, was to admire him greatly.
By seeing him in this new light, in this new role, as Dumbledore crossed swords with the Minister of Magic, Harry realized that -despite his earlier misgivings about the wizard, given Dumbledore's reactions when they had met in the orphanage- he had greatly misjudged him, unfairly, subjectively. Now, here was a wizard he could like and respect, a wizard he could even want to follow and support, if he one day had the freedom to do so.
"Then we're at a standstill, yet again," groused out McLaggen bitterly.
"Only because you refuse to pay credence to my assertions, Charlemagne," said Dumbledore, his voice low and gentle. "You do not trust my word, and it saddens me greatly."
McLaggen bristled at that, but remained silent.
Letting out a weary sigh, Dumbledore then inquired softly, "I would like to know how your meeting with the Czechoslovakian envoys proceeded-"
"I sent them packing!" snapped McLaggen impatiently. "What else could I do? They had the gall to ask for an allegiance – for me to send my Aurors if they were invaded by Grindelwald! They're mad! Nothing of the sort is going to happen."
Dumbledore shook his head, looking mournful. "Grindelwald will attack them on March the fifteenth."
Harry stared at him, feeling his body was about to sag in sudden relaxation. Dumbledore knew. Julian Erlichmann must have told him in the end. It didn't come as such a great surprise, but it did lift from his shoulders a heavy burden that he hadn't been aware he had still been carrying.
"Ludicrous!" cried out Charlemagne McLaggen. "Grindelwald is a Minister of Magic, he's not going to invade anyone!"
"He is."
Both wizards gazed at each other in tense, poignant silence, and Harry took that as his cue to leave.
The conversation seemed to be nearly over and given McLaggen's fed up expression, it didn't look as if the wizard was going to remain there for much longer. And he certainly wanted to be long gone by the time Dumbledore was alone again, with a chance to catch them.
Thus, he gripped Alphard's arm and slowly began to pull him away, with careful steps, as to not make a sound. His friend seemed to be of a same mind, because he kept pace with Harry, without uttering a word, the Cloak securely fastened over them.
By the time they reached Honeydukes, Harry was fast to cast a spell to open the door and then swiftly lock it back, before he quickly pulled Alphard into the store's cellar.
It was only when they were deep inside the secret passageway, that they finally pulled off the Invisibility Cloak and halted, to stare at each other.
"Dumbledore decided to let us hear them," said Alphard, breathless with puzzlement. "He wanted us to know about all that stuff they discussed. Why could it be?"
Harry didn't know. He truly didn't. But he didn't waste time wondering about it. He would simply accept it.
Thus, he merely shrugged his shoulders.
In the next second, he skewered his friend with a gaze, and said urgently, his tone adamant and firm, "We cannot tell anyone – about any of the things we heard."
Alphard blinked at him, bemused. "Who would I tell?"
'Your father', would have said Harry, highly worried. Apparently, though, Alphard wasn't even considering that possibility. And Harry was very grateful for that.
So he simply nodded and turned to continue their return back to Hogwarts.
In the days that followed, as November came to an end, Harry was a bit jumpy, with the expectation that Dumbledore would approach him, wanting a word with him –about the things they had heard in the man's conversation with his brother, the many others from the chat with the Minister of Magic, and about the fact that Harry and Alphard had been breaking all sorts of school rules by being in Hogsmeade, compounded to that, their use of an Invisibility Cloak.
However, Dumbledore never did. The wizard had even stopped casting him those concerned looks of before, after the Lord Horkos issue. It was as though nothing had ever happened.
It highly perplexed Harry, but he could hardly complain. In the end, he decided he quite preferred the current situation of utter silence.
His days of peace of mind, though, wouldn't last very long, since December would prove to be a month of revelations and stunning discoveries.