Hello, all! Some of you may have noticed that I have not posted my usual updates lately. This is because for the past two weeks I was vacationing in the United Kingdom. For those that are interested, yes, I had a lovely time. But I'm back now, which means I'm back to writing. Thank you as always for your patience and for your continued interest in this story. Enjoy the update, and I hope you'll stick with me as we approach the end of Year 6.
Chapter One Hundred and Fifty- The Seer Overheard
Over the next week, school gossip was dominated by only one story. Draco, only son of the proud Malfoy line, was dating a Weasley. Perhaps Draco could have borne the scrutiny better if he'd had the support of his friends, but the revelation that Draco was dating his sister had led to a colossal row with Ron, and by extension, his companions in Gryffindor. Harry tried to sympathize with Draco's plight, but in all honesty, it was refreshing to have someone else be the center of attention for a change.
"... so then he says that Draco should have asked his permission before dating his sister, but then Ginny says that Draco didn't need anyone's permission but her own, and if you ask me, she's perfectly right. But now Draco and Ron aren't talking, and Draco's been moping around the dormitory like a defanged dragon."
It was the following Friday, and Harry was cheerfully scrubbing out old grindylow tanks while serving detention with Snape. He didn't think the professor was interested in hearing his gossip, but he hadn't stopped Harry from prattling on about Draco's relationship woes, either.
Harry had already been forced to relinquish Snape's copy of Advanced Potion Making, and though his performance in Potions was noticeably inferior than before, Harry did not regret the loss of the book. After all, Goyle was still recovering in the hospital wing.
He thought he might have to deal with Crabbe, but after being separated from all his allies, Crabbe proved to be relatively harmless. Thick as he was, even he seemed to understand that trying to confront Harry, Blaise, and Draco alone would be detrimental to his health. Not that Harry was in any position to retaliate against him. He could not think of the spell he had used against Goyle without a shudder, and he was not eager to engage in a duel again.
As for Snape, Harry was relieved to find that there had been no lasting change in his behavior toward him. He didn't know whether Snape had finally destroyed his old textbook, but in the days following his first furious outburst, he had once again resumed his outward calm. Even now, at a pause in Harry's story, he merely stated, "Let us hope Draco does not feel the loss of his friend Weasley too keenly."
"Oh, he's miserable," said Harry happily, "But Blaise and I tell him that Ron will come 'round eventually. Until then, all we can do is tease him without mercy."
"Well, then," said Snape, sitting back in his chair as he inspected an antique clock resting on one of his shelves, "It sounds as though I shouldn't keep you any longer. Where would Mr. Malfoy be without your considerate ministrations?"
Harry's eyes found the clock, and he observed, "But it's early! I still have another thirty minutes of detention…"
Snape raised a brow. "If I had known you enjoyed cleaning dirty grindylow tanks this much, I would have assigned you a more gruesome task."
"It's not that," said Harry quickly, "I just wondered why you're, y'know… Going easy on me?"
"Has it crossed your mind that I have better things to do than attend your detentions, Potter?" Snape asked with a touch of his customary sarcasm.
"You mean something better than talking to me?" asked Harry cheekily. "Not a date, surely?"
Snape's expression remained indifferent, and Harry was disappointed. The joke was losing its effectiveness, and he knew that he would soon have to find a fresh way of tormenting the professor. But Snape's next words brought Harry's mischievous plans to a grinding halt.
"Madam Pomfrey tells me that Goyle will be well enough to leave the hospital wing soon. It was my intention to speak with him before he rejoins his classmates."
His tone was smooth and even, containing neither reprimand nor reproach, but the mere mention of Goyle's name between them filled Harry with a sentiment of dread. He nodded his head in acknowledgement of Snape's statement, but did not trust himself to say more. Clumsily, he finished scrubbing the tank he had been working on, then excused himself from Snape's office.
He tried to tell himself that the sick feeling in his stomach was merely guilt. Not once in the past week had he gone to visit Goyle in the hospital wing. There was bound to be some awkwardness when he returned to their dormitory. But Harry knew his concerns ran deeper than that. Though he knew it was wrong to use such a harmful spell, even against an enemy, the fact remained that Goyle had been prepared to use one even worse. And Harry still didn't know what he had been doing in the Room of Requirement.
He had been prepared to make his way back to the common room, but now he paused. The nagging sense of foreboding would not leave him. Forming a quick resolution, he pivoted on the spot, turning his steps back toward the stairs. He would just make a slight detour through the seventh floor corridor. Just as a precaution. Just to check…
His sudden anxiety propelled him forward with more speed than intended. He was practically running as he hurried up the staircase, only to collide with a mournful looking Draco as he reached the first floor.
"Oh," said Draco, staggering back slightly. "There you are, Harry. I tried looking for you in the library, but then I remembered your detention with Snape…"
"Just finished," Harry interrupted, impatient to continue on his mission to the seventh floor. "What did you need?"
"Dumbledore wanted me to give you this," said Draco, passing a sealed slip of parchment to Harry, "He said it was urgent. I think he wants to see you in his office."
Harry accepted the missive, though he didn't need to read it. An urgent message from Dumbledore now could only mean one thing. He had found another horcrux.
Draco, his thoughts occupied with his own minor troubles, left Harry standing in the hall after completing his errand. Perhaps he had noticed Harry's sense of urgency and expected him to hurry off to Dumbledore's office, but Harry lingered. He felt an almost irrepressible desire to check on the Room of Requirement, but the importance of his work with Dumbledore surely took precedence…
While he stood, irresolute and at war with himself, he heard the sudden sound of angry muttering coming from further down the hall, followed by a loud clinking sound. He turned in the direction of these curious sounds, only to see Professor Trelawney skulking around the corner, stumbling over one of her many trailing shawls. She froze when she spotted Harry standing before her, clutching Dumbledore's unopened message between his fingers. Then she hiccupped.
"Er… professor?" Harry asked, concerned by the way Trelawney seemed to sway on her feet, "Are you alright?"
"Ah…" Trelawney breathed. Even from a distance, Harry could detect the smell of sherry. "Yes… Or rather, no… You see, I was… I was strolling along, brooding upon certain dark portents that I glimpsed in the… the, erm…"
The angry voice that Harry had heard previously vanished as the professor, with considerable effort, attempted to adopt her usual ethereal tone. She struggled to complete her thought, but Harry wasn't really listening. He was staring at the empty glass bottles that the professor was carrying in her arms. The clinking sound must have come from them, whilst the professor tried unsuccessfully to hide the evidence of her debauchery in the folds of her shawl.
"Professor, if you're looking for the entrance to the kitchens, it's in the other direction," Harry said, trying to be helpful.
He meant no offense, but Trelawney seemed to think he was accusing her of something nefarious, for she drew herself up with a proud and haughty air, declaring, "The kitchens! What have I to do with the kitchens? I was on my way to see the headmaster!"
"Dumbledore?" said Harry. The idea that Trelawney had also received a note from the headmaster seemed unlikely, until he recalled that it was she who had made the prophecy concerning himself and Voldemort. Was it possible that Dumbledore hadn't found another horcrux, but was instead summoning Trelawney and Harry for another purpose entirely? Perhaps he should have read the note…
"Yes, of course Dumbledore! What other headmaster is there?" Trelawney said, her airy tone vanishing as she swayed and hiccuped again. "I've had it! I won't stand for it anymore! I will not be treated so unfairly!"
For a moment, Harry feared that she was about to start complaining about Firenze again, but then she jostled the glass bottles in her arms and continued, "As for these… I was rearranging my rooms, and I hoped to… to deposit certain… unused items…"
"In the Room of Requirement?" asked Harry as a sudden notion occurred to him.
"I… Well… I didn't know students knew about…"
"Not all of them do," said Harry. "So what happened? You couldn't get into the room?"
"Oh, I got in all right," said Professor Trelawney with another slight hiccup, "But there was somebody already in there! I walked in and I heard a voice, which has never happened before. Not in all my years of hiding… Of using the room, I mean."
Harry was now certain that his instinct had been correct. Goyle must have been discharged from the hospital wing sooner than Snape anticipated, and had used his freedom to head straight to the Room of Requirement.
"What was the voice saying?" Harry asked.
He worried that his eager attention would raise Trelawney's suspicions, but the dissipated professor didn't seem to notice. In fact, she seemed rather flattered that someone had taken an interest in her story.
"I don't know that it was saying anything," she said with a slight sniff, "It was more like… whooping."
"Whooping?"
"Gleefully."
Harry felt his stomach drop. It had to be Goyle. There was no other explanation. But what had caused him to feel so elated, so soon after being nearly killed in their duel, Harry could only guess. He only knew that it didn't bode well.
"I called out, demanding to know who was there," Trelawney continued, still oblivious to the changes in Harry's expression, "But it was like the room was swallowed in darkness, and then I was hurled head-first into the hall! I won't stand for it, I tell you!"
Harry's mind was made up. There would be no point in going to the Room of Requirement now. It would be better to head to Dumbledore's office directly and tell him everything. Perhaps now Harry's evidence against Goyle would be taken seriously.
But when he offered to accompany Professor Trelawney on her visit to the headmaster, a change came over her. Though she had insisted that she was on her way to meet Dumbledore mere moments before, she now declared in a haughty tone, "No! The headmaster has intimated that he would prefer fewer visits from me, and I am not one to press my company upon those who do not value it. If Dumbledore chooses to ignore the warnings the cards show…"
She paused to fumble about her robes, dropping one of the bottles in the process. The thick glass did not shatter, but clattered loudly to the floor. Harry watched it roll across the ground before Professor Trelawney triumphantly withdrew a deck of cards from her many shawls and pressed one into Harry's hand.
"Over and over again," she said in a melodramatic whisper, "No matter how I lay them out… Calamity… Disaster… The destruction of something considered immutable…"
Harry looked at the card in his hand. On its face was a tower struck by a bolt of lightning, like the scar upon his forehead. Harry had no particular regard for tarot cards or divination in general, but for some reason, the sight of the crumbling tower sent a chill down his spine.
"I really think Dumbledore will want to hear this," Harry insisted. "I was just about to see him, myself. Why don't we speak to him together?"
With Harry's encouragement, Trelawney agreed to accompany him down the hall, toward the headmaster's office. Harry returned the card to her, watching as she shuffled it back into their deck. As they walked, she drew another card at random, then shook her head.
"The Tower, again…" she muttered, loud enough that she clearly wished for Harry to hear. "I am afraid the nag… Or rather, the centaur," she amended, seeing the shadow that had passed over Harry's face, "He knows nothing of cartomancy. I asked him, one Seer to another, if he had not sensed the distant vibration of coming catastrophe. But he seemed to find me almost comical. Yes, comical! Perhaps he has heard people say that I have not inherited my great-great-grandmother's gift. Those rumors have been bandied about by jealous charlatans for years. You know what I say? I say, would Dumbledore have let me teach at this great school, put so much trust in me all these years, had I not proved myself to him?"
Harry kept his silence. He knew the truth. In most situations, the rumors that Professor Trelawney so vehemently denied were perfectly true. She was little more than a bitter old fraud. But once, and only once to Harry's knowledge, she had delivered a genuine prophecy. Though she remained perfectly unaware of the fact, the reason she had her job was walking right next to her.
"I well remember my first interview with Dumbledore," continued Trelawney, her voice taking on a wistful air as she reminisced. "He was deeply impressed, of course. Deeply impressed… I was staying in the Hog's Head, which I do not advise by the by… But funds were low. Dumbledore did me the courtesy of calling upon me in my room. He questioned me… I must confess that, at first, I thought he was ill-disposed toward Divination. I remember I was starting to feel a little odd. I had not eaten much that day, you see, and the room was hot, but then…"
Harry was now paying proper attention to her ramblings. He knew what had happened next. Professor Trelawney had made a prophecy during that interview that would change the course of Harry's whole life. What had it been like, from her perspective? What did she remember?
No amount of speculation could have prepared Harry for what she said next.
"... But then we were rudely interrupted by Severus Snape!"
Harry came to a standstill. In a hollow voice, he asked, "What?"
"Yes, there was a commotion outside the door, and it flew open! There was that uncouth barman standing with Snape, who was waffling about having come the wrong way up the stairs. Though if you ask me, he was eavesdropping on my interview with Dumbledore! You see, he was seeking a job himself, at the time. No doubt he hoped to pick up some tips… Well, after that, Dumbledore seemed much more disposed to give me the job, and I could not help thinking… Harry, dear? Are you alright?"
She had continued walking, heedless of Harry's shock. When she finally realized that he was no longer by her side, she paused, turning to look back at him, only to see a look of blanched horror on his face.
Understanding hit Harry all at once. From the beginning, it was all Snape's fault. Snape had overheard the prophecy. Snape had carried the news of that prophecy to Voldemort. Snape had sent Voldemort after Lily and James Potter…
Pettigrew's betrayal was nothing compared to this. Without that prophecy, Voldemort might never have considered the Potters enough of a threat to hunt them. Without the prophecy, there would have been no reason for Voldemort to try to destroy Harry as a baby. If Snape had never told Voldemort, then Harry's parents would not have died.
He forgot all about his appointment with Dumbledore. Abandoning Trelawney in the middle of the hall, he turned his steps back in the direction they had just left, heading straight for the dungeons. He found Snape there, still at work in his office, his proposed trip to the hospital wing apparently postponed.
"IT WAS YOU!" Harry screamed the moment he stormed into the room. "YOU TOLD VOLDEMORT ABOUT THE PROPHECY! YOU TOLD HIM TO GO AFTER MY MUM AND DAD!"
Snape's gaunt face went as pale as a ghost. He didn't speak, not even to deny the accusation. His silence only enraged Harry further.
"All this time…" Harry continued, his chest heaving with each breath as he struggled to control himself, "All this time… I thought you were helping me because you still loved my mother. But that's not true, is it? You were just trying to make yourself feel better! Because you got them killed!"
Snape's mouth fell open. He seemed to have recovered from his initial shock, and was now prepared to speak, but Harry would never submit to his lies again.
"I don't want to hear it!" Harry bellowed. "I don't want to hear any more of your damned excuses! My father used to bully you? Well, congratulations! You got him killed! And you only had to betray my mother to make it happen!"
Harry could bear the sight of Snape no longer. He turned his back on the professor, pausing with his hand on the door as he added sneeringly, "Oh, and I wouldn't bother going to the hospital wing. Goyle's already left. Why don't you run along and tell your master that whatever it was he wanted Goyle to do, it's apparently succeeded? I'm sure he'll be so pleased!"
And with that, Harry stormed out of the office. He was thoroughly disillusioned. Though he and Snape hadn't started out on the right footing, for some time now, Harry had begun to consider him as a sort of mentor. Now, with this horrible revelation, all of that was at an end.
Harry spent the next few minutes aimlessly pacing the halls. He didn't know where to go. He couldn't return to Snape's office. He didn't trust himself not to start a fight. The common room seemed out of the question. He couldn't bear to sit among his friends, cheerfully teasing Draco as if nothing was wrong. He briefly considered taking refuge in Hagrid's cabin, but Hagrid was too much an acolyte of Dumbledore's. If Harry vented his frustrations to him, he would merely insist that Dumbledore knew what he was doing, and that he had been right to trust Snape. That there had to be some explanation…
Harry felt another surge of anger. Dumbledore must have known. He must have realized Snape was listening in on his meeting with Trelawney. That it was he who revealed the prophecy to Voldemort. And yet he allowed Snape to teach at Hogwarts. Let him assume the role of Head of Slytherin House. Let him get close to Harry, when all along he was the reason Harry's parents were dead…
Harry had a new purpose as he directed his steps toward the headmaster's office. Whether Trelawney had continued her journey alone or not, he didn't know, but the office was empty of all visitors when he arrived. Outwardly, he was calm. But on the inside, he boiled with rage.
"Well, Harry," said Dumbledore in an insufferably polite tone as Harry stepped across the threshold. "I promised that you could come with me."
For a moment, Harry didn't comprehend him. He was so consumed by the knowledge he had just acquired, he forgot about the horcruxes. Recalling the message he had received, still unopened, he asked, "You found one?"
"I believe so."
"Where? Which one is it?"
"I am not sure which it is, though I think we can rule out the snake. I believe it to be hidden in a cave on the coast many miles from here. The cave in which Tom Riddle once terrorized two children from his orphanage while on their annual trip. Do you remember?"
"Yes," said Harry, the memory struggling to assert itself over the concern most prevalent in his mind. "How is it protected?"
"I do not know. I have suspicions, however… Harry, I promised you that you could come with me, and I stand by that promise. But it would be wrong of me to warn you that this will be exceedingly dangerous."
"More dangerous than allowing a Death Eater to teach children?" Harry asked with cutting animosity.
Dumbledore stared at him in shock, and Harry experienced a bitter sort of joy that he had managed to discompose the headmaster, even a little.
"Harry? What has happened?"
"Snape! Snape is what happened!" Harry replied, his voice rising as he lost what little control he had gained over his emotions. "He told Voldemort about the prophecy! It was him! He listened outside the door, and you knew! You knew this entire time!"
Dumbledore's expression did not change, but Harry thought his face reddened underneath his white beard. For a long moment, he did not speak. Then, after allowing Harry to catch his breath, he said in a quiet voice, "When did you find out about this?"
"Just now," said Harry. "Trelawney told me. He knew about the prophecy and he told Voldemort, and that's why Voldemort killed my parents, isn't it? Don't deny it! You knew! You knew, and you let him teach here!"
"I am not denying anything. But Harry, please listen to me. Professor Snape made a terrible…"
"Don't you dare tell me it was a mistake!" Harry screamed. "Forgetting your friends' birthday, that's a mistake. Fumbling the quaffle during a big match, that's a mistake. But joining the Death Eaters? Hurting people? Letting them die? That's not…"
He paused. For some reason, the image of Goyle, bleeding on the ground from wounds that Harry had inflicted, flashed across his mind. Dumbledore took advantage of the slight pause to say quickly, "Professor Snape was still in Voldemort's employ the night he heard part of Professor Trelawney's prophecy, it's true. Yes, he hastened to tell what he knew to his master. But he did not know, he had no way of knowing which boy Voldemort would hunt from then onward. Or that the parents Voldemort would destroy in his murderous quest were people that he knew, even cared about…"
"He hated my dad!" Harry countered.
"And he loved Lily," said Dumbledore softly.
Harry was silenced. He could still feel the anger, the resentment, roiling inside him. But now it was blunted by grief.
The fact that he reacted with silence, rather than surprise, told Dumbledore all he needed to know. The headmaster sighed, then said, "I should have known… I have not been blind to the growing… How should I put it? A bond between yourself and Professor Snape… Given his history with your father, such an attachment would be impossible, unless you had somehow guessed the truth about his feelings for your mother… I wish you had seen him, Harry. If you had seen his anguish when he learned who Voldemort had selected as his adversary. He begged me to warn them, to hide them. And I tried, Harry. But as you know, your parents placed their faith in the wrong person… Snape's allegiance had already traded sides before the death of Lily Evans. But when I failed… When she was killed, regardless of my efforts… I cannot convey to you the depth of his despair."
Harry shook his head, as though to deny the truth of Dumbledore's words, but now that he was in a calmer frame of mind, he could not recall Snape's behavior without some doubt. He hadn't attempted to defend himself. He had humbly submitted to Harry's accusations, as though he deserved punishment… But something still wasn't right.
"So he would have been fine if Voldemort picked someone else?" Harry asked. "If it had been Neville's parents instead of mine? Would he still be a Death Eater, even now?"
Dumbledore shook his head sadly. He seemed older, somehow. And tired. So very tired.
"Ah, Harry… What good would it do to speculate on what can never be? Voldemort made his choice. He chose you. And it is Voldemort, and Voldemort alone, who deserves your anger. It is his horcruxes that we must destroy."
Harry was still not entirely satisfied. Voldemort had caused much suffering, but did that mean people like Peter Pettigrew were excused for acting cowardly? For choosing power and their own personal safety over the lives of their friends? Harry didn't think so, but Dumbledore was right about one thing. Arguing now would not change the past. For now, he needed to focus on what he could control, and hunting horcruxes certainly seemed better than pacing the halls by himself.
"Alright," said Harry, taking a deep breath to steady himself. "So where do we go from here?"
Dumbledore paused, as though considering whether it was wise to bring Harry with him in such a compromised emotional state.
"Do you still wish to come with me tonight?"
"Yes."
"Then you must listen to me. I take you with me on one condition. You must obey any command I might give you at once, and without question."
Harry nodded his head silently.
"Very good. You have your invisibility cloak, I take it?"
Harry always carried it with him these days. At Dumbledore's insistence, he threw the cloak over his head. Soon, they had left the headmaster's office, and were heading toward the school's oaken front doors. Dumbledore led the way down the stone steps and into the still summer air.
"Will we be Apparating?" Harry asked as they passed the gates bordering the school grounds.
Dumbledore kept his eyes forward, as though he were merely out for an evening stroll, quite alone. Softly, he replied, "Yes. You can Apparate now, I believe?"
"I can," said Harry, who had successfully apparated during lessons many times now, "But I haven't got a license."
"No matter. I can assist you, again."
They turned out of the gates onto the twilit, deserted lane to Hogsmeade. For a moment, Harry expected them to apparate right away. Instead, Dumbledore continued to walk leisurely toward the village, never pausing until they reached the High Street. Night deepened over the landscape. Lights twinkled from the windows of nearby cottages. As they approached the Three Broomsticks, the doors opened, spilling a shaft of light onto the street outside.
"Go on! That's enough of you!" stated the voice of Madam Rosmerta, ejecting a grubby looking wizard from her bar. Upon seeing Dumbledore, her stern expression was replaced by one of greeting.
"Hello, Albus! You're out late."
"Good evening, Rosmerta. Forgive me, I'm off to the Hog's Head. No offense, but I'm looking for a quieter atmosphere tonight."
A raucous burst of laughter issued from inside the bar. Rosmerta rolled her eyes and replied without a smile, "You and me both."
A moment later, Harry had followed Dumbledore onto the side street on which the Hog's Head sat. The wooden sign above the door creaked a little, though there was no breeze to disturb it. Rather than head inside, as Harry nearly expected him to do, Dumbledore paused.
"Take my arm, Harry," he said, "But don't remove the cloak. Not until we're gone."
Harry obeyed his command without question, as promised. Together, they turned on the spot, and the horrible sensation of being squeezed through a tube was upon him again. He could not draw breath. He was being compressed past the point of endurance. Then, just when he thought he would suffocate, the invisible cage around his chest burst open. He was once again standing in the cool darkness of a summer evening, breathing in lungfuls of fresh, salty air.
"Alright, Harry?" asked Dumbledore as Harry removed the cloak from his shoulders. "Then let us begin."