Chapter 30 – A Dumbledorian Discourse

Kreacher woke everyone up early the next morning. So early, in fact, that Harry had only managed to get three hours' sleep by the time the elf 'helpfully' woke everyone up.

"It is a bright new morning and the day is young," screeched Kreacher cheerfully as he whizzed from room to room banging on each door. "The year is new and in this house, we greet it with warmth and cheer."

Harry could see why Sirius had such an acrimonious relationship with the old elf. He was an ornery little being with a contrarian streak bigger than Dudley's trousers. But then, their relationship was likely the product of both of their actions, and Harry didn't doubt Sirius was at least a little at fault. But that as was charitable as Harry was prepared to be on that New Year's Day morning, since he was tired and his mouth felt dry.

He groaned.

Kreacher went back through the house knocking on all the doors one more time, although he stopped once Sirius mustered the strength and energy to order him back to sleep for a few hours. That was all well and good, but Harry couldn't get back to sleep. Not that he didn't try, of course, but the most he managed was an hour of scattered dozing until roughly eight o'clock in the morning.

Harry wrenched himself out of bed. He put on a pair of slippers and made his way down to the kitchen for a cup of tea and something to eat. He didn't bother asking for Kreacher, as the elf made no secret of his disdain for Harry. Instead, Harry looked in the cupboards and in the pantry for something he could make himself. He was used to making his own snacks and breakfast, anyway, and didn't need to rely on elf labour for it.

So that was easy enough.

In theory, because in practice Harry had no idea where Sirius and Dumbledore kept anything in the kitchen. And there was the added complication that Kreacher would no doubt have his own system that he'd want to keep. After half an hour's searching through the kitchen, the adjoining pantry, and even the annex to the cellars where Kreacher ordinarily lurked, Harry found everything he needed to make some bacon and sausages sandwiches.

So then he set about making himself something for breakfast. There was no sign of Sirius, nor of Remus, so Harry assumed they were still sleeping. They'd both grown quite drunk as the night went on, and they hadn't managed to get to bed even by the time Harry had gone to bed around three in the morning. So Harry didn't think they'd be making many moves at all until at least midday.

Dumbledore was trickier, since although the elderly wizard hadn't stayed up quite as late as some of the others, Harry hadn't heard him rustling about the expansive house. Not that Dumbledore ever made much noise anyway.

Harry made a couple of extra portions just in case the smell wafting through the house woke anyone up, and when he was finished cooking, sat himself down at the kitchen table to eat. Harry didn't mind eating his breakfast alone, not even in the somewhat dingy kitchen at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place.

It gave him some time to think, time to process everything he had seen and heard the night before. And there had been a lot of things he'd seen and heard. There was some unfinished business between Sirius and Remus, something the two men kept referencing and then rowing back from as if nothing had been said at all. Infuriating to sit and listen to, but Harry supposed it was ultimately none of his business.

Conversations between Moody and Tonks, and Moody and Dumbledore, had been very interesting indeed, but Harry lacked the proper context needed to actually understand what was going on. He could have asked, he supposed, but that seemed rude. He'd heard stories of the first war, of the first Order, and learned about his parents' roles in it.

That had been a lot to process, and Harry didn't think he'd finished with it. There were more stories there, more things that various members of the Order could tell him. While Harry was thinking on the members of the Order he'd met – from Arthur Weasley to Ernie's mum and dad – a voice jolted him from his reverie.

"Ah, good morning, Harry," said Dumbledore. "I had not expected anyone else to rise so early, given the night's celebrations." He sat down at the table opposite Harry. "An advantage of youth, I should think."

"Good morning, Prof—er, sir," Harry said. He gestured to the plate with bacon and sausage sandwiches on it. "I made extra just in case anyone woke up."

"Ah, no thank you, Harry—I have already eaten," said Dumbledore. "Kreacher brought me a delightful breakfast of poached eggs on toast this morning."

That was the most elf-like thing Harry had ever heard of Kreacher doing.

"Why does Kreacher work so well for you and not for Sirius?" Harry asked. "That's not normal for elves, is it?"

"I am nicer to Kreacher than Sirius is," Dumbledore said. "Far be it for me to criticise a man in his own home, but I would think that if Sirius were a little kinder in his approach to Kreacher he would get better results."

Harry thought on that. That did make sense. It was how people in general worked, so he supposed it wasn't strange that that's how it would work for elves, too. Except that Harry knew some people treated their house elves terribly, and the elves still worked without complaint.

Kreacher seemed to be a special case. Harry wondered why but pushed it to one side for the moment. He could do further research later if he had time. It wasn't important anyway.

"But that is neither of our business," Dumbledore continued. "So instead of dwelling on that I shall be happy that we have crossed paths this morning. Satisfied though I am with your skill at occlumency, we have more to discuss. Specifically, I must ask—you have had no further visions or dreams of Voldemort? Or of Lucius Malfoy and the horcrux amalgam?"

Harry shook his head. He'd had none, not since the first. The strict regimen of occlusion had done the trick. The connection between him and Voldemort was, if not sealed, at least partially blocked. And the fact that Harry had stopped dabbling in legilimency probably helped matters somewhat too. Not that Harry was going to mention that to Dumbledore.

"Not a single dream, sir. Only that first one. After I noticed the connection I could… er, I could sort of feel it, like you said. But I can't feel it anymore. Even when I'm not occluding. Which, er, isn't ever now—I'm always occluding since Snape told me…" Harry said. That had been a key demand of Dumbledore's, and Harry thought he'd managed to meet it. With a closed connection, and a proficiency in occlumency, Harry thought he was now ready to be included in deeper conversations.

He still thought the connection could have proven useful in some way, but if Dumbledore thought otherwise, Harry wasn't going to argue. And it was nice to know he'd blocked off an avenue for Voldemort to spy on or manipulate Harry's actions.

"Excellent," Dumbledore said. He didn't even follow up on Harry forgetting to call Snape 'Professor', which he usually did. Perhaps life on the lam had mellowed him. He said nothing more, and instead merely sat opposite Harry.

"So, er…" Harry said. "I was wondering… what were some of the things I couldn't know until I was better at occlumency? Can I know them now?"

"You have earned that much, I think," agreed Dumbledore. "What would you like to know?"

"Um…" With the opportunity to learn right in front of him, Harry wasn't quite sure what to ask. He had assumed Dumbledore had had a list of things he wanted to tell Harry.

Harry sighed.

"How are you sorting the treason stuff?" Harry asked. "If you don't mind saying. It's just, well, it seems like that's the biggest thing going on right now. Er, after whatever Voldemort is doing."

"I have spoken with Valerian—Spellman, of course—and he has agreed to fight my case on my behalf," Dumbledore said. "You need not fear: as much as I have enemies, I have friends as well. As for how it is going, well—that is another thing entirely. Cornelius seems quite content to believe that I am seeking his position, and until he can be disabused of that notion, I think I shall have to remain in hiding. Frankly, I am surprised that they don't have dementors out looking, but perhaps Cornelius hasn't quite lost all his sense."

That Fudge had any sense at all was news to Harry, but then, people did say he was a canny politician. That was just half the problem. The idea that he could send dementors out looking for Dumbledore was a big worry indeed, as Harry wasn't at all confident the Ministry had proper control over the Dark creatures. If they got a sniff of the rich feeding ground that was the muggle world… but that was a concern for another day.

"Right," Harry said. "Do we know what Voldemort wants?" Harry asked next. Lucius Malfoy's actions were on display at the Ministry, so it was simple enough to see at least part of what he was up to. The motivations and whatever was going on behind the scenes was more difficult, but there was at least something there to be getting on with. But Harry had absolutely no idea what Voldemort was up to, at least not since he'd had his vision.

"We have a spy working to ingratiate himself deeper into Voldemort's counsel," Dumbledore said. "The process is slow, as Voldemort is disinclined to trust, but we have made progress. Voldemort's plans seem to revolve around the second prophecy, the prophecy he received from Professor Trelawney in your first year at Hogwarts. More than that I cannot say for I do not know."

A spy. Not just a spy, but a spy within Malfoy Manor, actively engaged with Voldemort himself. That narrowed the list of potential spies quite significantly.

"A spy? Who?"

"I am not prepared to say," said Dumbledore. "Proficient with occlumency though you are, there are other ways of extracting information and the identity of our spy must be a well-kept secret. Know that the spy is someone I trust completely."

Grudgingly Harry supposed that was fair. He was still going to have a think on who it could possibly be, since Dumbledore hadn't said he wasn't allowed to speculate, but he let the question go.

Harry nodded. That was reasonable. "Did the spy say anything about what the other prophecy says? Just so we know what Voldemort is up to—I don't really believe it's important otherwise."

"Voldemort has been keeping that information secret," Dumbledore said. "I daresay that is something not even the horcrux fragment inside Lucius Malfoy has been told."

That Voldemort would want to keep information from himself was something that didn't surprise Harry at all. Voldemort would want to be the one holding all the cards, the one with all the information. Especially given his incorporeal state. Not surprising at all, and yet still frustrating.

"Peter Pettigrew has let slip that there are lines in the prophecy regarding blood and venom," continued Dumbledore, "but quite what this could mean we are unable to decide. It is vague, as prophecies usually are, and without the surrounding lines a proper reading of it is impossible. So we have not been able to use what we know to attempt a pre-emption of Voldemort's plans."

Harry considered that. Wormtail knew the prophecy, or at least part of it. Given that he seemed to be some unholy cross between Voldemort's servant and nursemaid, Harry supposed that wasn't the most surprising thing.

But the words Wormtail had let slip… Blood and venom. It was vague, but familiar somehow, though he couldn't place why. But there were other lines of the second prophecy that they did know. If they could decipher some sort of a meaning to those, perhaps they could discover something of Voldemort's plans.

"Do you remember when I said… er…" Harry said. "Back at the end of my first year. I said what Voldemort said about the second prophecy. Something about a book? Do we know more about that?" It seemed like it could be important. A book of spells Voldemort had compiled during his travels, perhaps, or the key to a ritual to restore his body. Books could be about literally anything, but a book important enough to Voldemort to be mentioned in a prophecy had to be about something spectacular.

Dumbledore had viewed Harry's memory of the interaction and so Harry knew he'd understand what Harry meant. "Since we know the rat mentioned was Wormtail."

"A very good question," Dumbledore said. "As to the nature of the book—we do not know. The spy has asked certain questions but has received no useful answers. I myself have been using the opportunity afforded by my… shall we say, sabbatical? Yes, I have been using my current sabbatical to peruse the Black family library and make an inventory of books which could perhaps be the subject of the prophecy. Thus far nothing has stood out—or at least not for that reason, as the Blacks have managed to collect a veritable treasure trove of illicit and Dark materials. So that there is a book we can be sure of, or Voldemort would not have taken the prophecy seriously; more than this, we cannot know. My answer therefore has been a rather long-winded attempt at saying: no."

Another disappointment. It seemed as if Voldemort had the advantage, that Dumbledore and the Order were stumbling about in the dark. Despite their spy amongst Voldemort's ranks it looked like Voldemort was managing to keep his affairs secret.

"But if Voldemort went right to the Malfoys," Harry said, the thought having just occurred, "then do you think maybe they've got something to do with the book? Since we know that Voldemort only went to see Lucius Malfoy after he got the second prophecy. Since he spent the rest of his time hiding… so… there must have been something in the prophecy that made him go to the Malfoys."

Dumbledore nodded along at Harry's suggestion.

"Yes, very well reasoned. That is along the lines of what I have thought as well, though of course we cannot be certain that the Malfoys have anything to do with the 'book' mentioned in the prophecy specifically. There are potentially many lines unaccounted for, and it is possible that Voldemort sought Lucius Malfoy's aid for reasons unrelated to the prophecy," Dumbledore said. "After all, even those who believe wholly in the power of divination do not necessarily plan out their every action according to some bit of divinatory wisdom."

"I suppose," said Harry. What Dumbledore had said was true. Voldemort could have gone to the Malfoys for a completely ordinary and mundane reason. As a staging area to pursue whatever threads the prophecy had offered. "Is there any other way of getting the prophecy? Just so we know what Voldemort might try to do."

Dumbledore was silent for a few moments. Harry belatedly recognised it as hesitation. Then eventually, he nodded.

"There is. There is a room at the Ministry of Magic hidden deep within the Department of Mysteries which keeps a record of all prophecies uttered on the shores of these islands. It is possible that the prophecy made by Professor Trelawney in your first year has coalesced and is available for viewing by its subjects," Dumbledore said. "Although it is equally possible that it has not."

"I'm not sure I follow, sir," Harry said. "How does—what I mean is, if only Voldemort knows the contents of the prophecy, how can there be a record of it in the Department of Mysteries?"

"Old, complex magic," Dumbledore said. "Laid down long ago by wizards many times removed from us in this present day. Similar magic exists elsewhere in the world, although not everywhere. In brief, all true prophecies made in these isles eventually find their way, through a rather esoteric process, to the Department of Mysteries. You must understand that I am no expert in this—the activities of the Department of Mysteries are a mystery even to me."

Dumbledore paused.

"But I am given to understand that their study of prophecy allows them to identify the subjects of a given prophecy even if they are unable to listen to the contents of the prophecy directly."

"So we can just go and get the prophecy, then," Harry said. "Can't we? Or I can, anyway—I know you're, er—you know, the treason thing."

"Perhaps," said Dumbledore, although from his tone Harry knew he didn't think it wise. "Understand that the Hall of Prophecy within the Department is a secret—one which you are not supposed to know. Should you attempt to apply to the Department of Mysteries to view a prophecy you will invite further scrutiny. You should not know that the prophecy exists, nor that the Department of Mysteries has a record of it, and certainly not that they know you are its subject."

Harry leaned back in his chair and stared at the remnants of his sandwiches glumly. It was a perfectly reasonable explanation, but Harry didn't have to like it.

"And of course, given the Ministry's current obsession with treason and dissent, I am not sure now is a good time to invite them into your affairs," Dumbledore continued. "Although I am the primary target I would not want you to become caught up in anything more than you have already."

Harry sighed.

"I know that you're right," Harry said, "but it's just… it feels hopeless. Voldemort's out there doing God only knows what; Lucius Malfoy—or whatever weird thing he is now that he's got Voldemort inside him—is on the Wizengamot and interfering with things at Hogwarts and, well, all over the country; we've got Umbridge running loose at Hogwarts and, sir, things are getting bad; you've been accused of treason and stripped of all your posts…" Harry shrugged. "It just seems like nothing's going our way."

"It does seem that way," agreed Dumbledore, quite cheerfully. "We have not had the successes I would have liked, that is true. And yet we have not been thwarted at every turn. We have won some very important people to our cause—some of whom have joined the Order itself. Did you not see Kingsley Shacklebolt last night? And Arthur Weasley? Both are very well-respected at the Ministry, and both are committed to the fight against Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Alastor still has many contacts and the Ministry and uses them regularly to our advantage. Without his assistance I am quite sure that we would be much less well placed than we are. We are not friendless, though I admit at times it seems that perhaps we are."

"Well, I suppose there is that," said Harry.

"There is the mother of your friend Tracey—Gwenllian Davis has agreed to work with us from within the Ministry. She is well regarded there and is well placed to push back on some of the Ministry's more onerous legislation," said Dumbledore. "And of course, the Macmillans. Did you know that Algernon Macmillan attends many parties and events with the wealthy and connected, and that he is working tirelessly to promote our agenda? The right words to the right wizard and good things happen. So I would not despair just yet if I were you."

Harry wasn't overly optimistic that Algie chatting up drunk wizards and witches at society parties was going to be in any way helpful to the anti-Voldemort cause, but he supposed Dumbledore had been at the whole politicking malarkey many years longer than Harry had. Decades. Literally decades. A century, even. So Harry assumed Dumbledore knew what he was doing. And if they really did have people inside the Ministry, people like Gwen and Kingsley Shacklebolt and even Arthur Weasley, that was a start.

It wasn't quite as spectacular as an elected Member of the Wizengamot, but perhaps flashy wasn't always best.

"Alright," agreed Harry. "It's not as bad as I was thinking. It's just… easy to get disappointed when the news is bad." He shrugged. "It is what it is. What about Wormtail? Is he getting out and about? Can the spy help us capture him maybe? Then Sirius can be…"

"Alas, Peter Pettigrew very rarely leaves Malfoy Manor," said Dumbledore. "From what I understand, near enough his every waking moment is spent attending to Voldemort. In what little time he has to himself he does not seem overly fond of leaving the confines of Malfoy Manor. Rest assured that we are looking for opportunities to clear Sirius's name."

Looking for opportunities. That was a brush off if ever Harry had seen one, but it was probably still as much as could be managed. Disappointing.

More than disappointing. Awful.

Harry supposed the only good bit of news when it came to Wormtail was that he did leave Malfoy Manor, even if it was only for a few moments at a time. That meant there was at least an opportunity for him to be caught, for Sirius to be exonerated.

"I suppose all we can do is try," Harry said.

"Indeed," said Dumbledore. "And I must say, you have made remarkable progress in all areas. To have become an occlumens so young is rare, and this in addition to everything else you have to worry about. You should be very proud. And of course, you have succeeded in protecting your mind from the connection with Voldemort—this is truly magnificent work."

Harry felt like Dumbledore was overstating things somewhat to make him feel better. Real achievements though they were, Harry wasn't sure that they were worthy of quite so much praise given the wider situation.

But then, at least Harry was no longer in any danger from the connection between him and Voldemort. That was unequivocally good news. Even if Harry did think it could have been used offensively against Voldemort, it was also a very good thing that Voldemort couldn't use it against Harry. So that was good.

Excellent, even.

Harry took another of the sandwiches he'd prepared and nibbled on it while thinking.

"Professor, what was the—what I mean is—the connection. What is it? I know you said we can't know, since it's something probably no one has ever seen before, but you've got to have some idea what it could be. Right? So…" Harry asked. He'd thought on this many times since learning the connection had existed. A connection which allowed Harry to see through Voldemort's eyes, and know what was inside Lucius Malfoy's head?

A strange thing. A very strange thing indeed. Clearly something to do with Harry's scar, as that was the key piece connecting Harry magically to Voldemort.

Silence from Dumbledore. The elderly wizard seemed to be considering Harry's question very deeply indeed, as he was silent for far longer than Harry had ever known him to be after being asked a question. Harry got through another sandwich in the time it took Dumbledore to speak. He waited in silence so that he didn't distract Dumbledore from what he had been about to say.

"Let me say, first, that the answer to your question is something that I do not know. I think that in all of the world there are few people who could answer this question satisfactorily," Dumbledore said eventually. "I would not go so far as to claim to be one of them. That being said, I have what is perhaps an educated guess."

"I understand, sir," Harry said. "I just want to—I mean, I've not got a clue about any of this. This is magic I've never heard of before. I just…"

"I shall do my best to help you understand," Dumbledore said. "The connection between you and Voldemort is, I think, entirely accidental. This is not something that Voldemort would have wanted to create; indeed, I do not think he could have created such a thing even had he wished to. The creation of a horcrux is a terrible, damaging thing. It tears the soul—necessarily. That is how the magic works." He paused.

"And yet souls are not designed to be fragmentary: they seek to be whole. I have read accounts of Dark wizards which suggest that their souls are seeking wholeness forevermore, and this is a sad thing. But it goes a long way to explaining why, at the moment of his death—in what was already an extremely unusual circumstance—that what was left of Voldemort's soul reached out and left its mark upon you. The soul of an infant is vibrant indeed, a veritable beacon in such a scenario. Were it not for his horcrux I am quite confident that the connection would have died with Voldemort. Alas, it did not."

Harry thought on that. It made an intuitive sort of sense that a broken soul would seek out wholeness once again. And the vibrance of youth, infancy, contrasted with the fading spark of a soul at the literal threshold of death… that was powerful indeed. Sympathy of a similar sort was used often in alchemical reactions and many other kinds of magic besides. That it functioned in such a way at the deepest, most basic levels of human experience was hardly unusual.

Voldemort's soul, stripped from its body in his dying moments, had reached out and touched Harry through the connection created by the Killing Curse. That had left a physical mark, of course, but clearly also a spiritual one. Or a magical mark. A sympathetic connection between Harry and Voldemort, one which had persisted after the destruction of Voldemort's body. Probably due to Voldemort's horcrux.

One of those weird, nearly unique, things that could happen at the very edges of known magical phenomena. And one that had just so happened to happen to him.

Harry still felt like he didn't really know what the connection was, but then, Dumbledore had said that he couldn't properly answer that question. Possibly nobody could.

Harry sighed.

"Is it dangerous?" Harry asked. "Just it existing, I mean—not if Voldemort tries to use it."

"Probably not in and of itself, no," Dumbledore said. "The danger is if Voldemort learns of its existence. Fortunately you are well on your way to mastering occlumency. I expect that if, in the fullness of time Voldemort learns of the connection, you will be able to repel his intrusion. And of course, when Voldemort is dead—and die he will, do not worry on this—I believe the connection will be of no further consequence."

"Right," Harry said. "That's good news, then."

He was quiet for a while as he thought over everything Dumbledore had said. For his part, Dumbledore seemed also quite content to sit in silence. Harry wasn't sure if he had sought Harry out specifically, or if their meeting in the kitchen had been an accident, but Dumbledore seemed unconcerned with getting himself breakfast or tea or anything of the sort. He just sat there.

"Is there anything else I should know, Professor?" Harry asked. It was a broad question, but Harry felt it was an appropriate one. There would surely be many things going on that Harry couldn't even think to ask for, some of which Dumbledore would no doubt be willing to tell Harry about if only he asked. "Before I go back to Hogwarts."

Dumbledore shook his head slowly.

"For now, no," he said. "You have learned of the Order of the Phoenix and its Headquarters; you understand something of our activities within the Ministry and even within Malfoy Manor; and I am quite content that you are up to date with our current understanding of Lord Voldemort's plans. All that is required of you for now is to return to school, perform well in your OWLs, and survive the auspices of the High Inquisition." Dumbledore smiled. "And these are all things I think you can do, and with no small success."

Harry found himself disappointed. As interesting as all of those bits of information were, Harry had expected something a bit more … earth shaking. Something with a bit of heft to it. Not merely the name of a group whose existence he already knew of with some of its membership. But then, perhaps Harry had simply expected too much. And he did know some of what the Order was doing to combat Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Work to counteract Malfoy and his influence over the Wizengamot.

"Do we know if they've got anyone inside Hogwarts?" Harry asked. "Because I think that, er, you know that one Inquisitor—Inquisitor Arlecchino? There's something off about him. If Voldemort's got someone inside the castle then I reckon it could be him."

"It is certainly possible," Dumbledore said. "Whether Voldemort has an agent within Hogwarts, however, is something which we do not know—it has not been discussed with our spy. I shall ask Professor Snape to monitor Inquisitor Arlecchino."

Harry nodded. That was great news. At least someone on the staff Dumbledore trusted would be looking into Arlecchino. Maybe even the other Inquisitors and some of the new teachers, too.

"There was one other thing I was wondering about," Harry said. "What we're doing with Umbridge and the Inquisition. Should we keep on being a nuisance? Or do you think maybe we shouldn't? I was a bit worried maybe something we had done made your treason thing worse…"

Dumbledore smiled.

"I was being removed from my posts regardless, Harry," Dumbledore said. "It is of course up to you, and I would always suggest that your studies be your primary concern… and yet, if you can manage to continue your activities safely I would say it is worth doing. Anything which shows the dear High Inquisitor that her presence is unwanted, and that her position is not assured, is a good thing. But should you decide to continue you must be careful—I can do nothing to help you if you are caught. Because of my, as you put it, 'treason thing'."

Dumbledore pulled a pocket watch from his robe pocket.

"Ah! I have taken a longer break from my studies than I had wished to," he said. "If there is nothing else you would like to discuss I will return to the library—there are still some books I wish to catalogue. I shall have Kreacher bring me my tea there."

"Er, no, I think that was it, Professor," Harry said. "Thank you for telling me everything."

"It is what you deserved," Dumbledore said, "having performed so admirably in your studies at occlumency. And you are, of course, inextricably involved in affairs. Forewarned is forearmed, as the muggles say!"

Dumbledore stood from the table, nodded to Harry, and then disappeared from the kitchen. Harry watched him go, then took another look at the plate full of food on the kitchen table. Harry sighed and then ate some more.

Harry settled into life at Grimmauld Place for the remainder of the Christmas holiday, which was only a couple of days anyway. For the most part Dumbledore was nowhere to be seen, spending the vast majority of his time ensconced within the Black family library, but Harry didn't mind. They'd discussed everything that needed to be discussed already, and Harry wasn't keen to go over it again and again.

At least not until Dumbledore had some new information.

So Harry enjoyed himself and spent time with Sirius and Remus, stopping occasionally to greet the odd Order member who dropped by on Order business. They played cards in the living room, ate meals in the kitchen, and Harry even helped both men tidy up around the vast townhouse as Sirius still hadn't finished making the house liveable after years of being neglected by Kreacher.

And Kreacher, Harry found, was much more pleasant when interacted with away from Sirius. Still nowhere near nice, the elf was at least manageable if approached in the right way. After a handful of such interactions Harry was beginning to understand just how Dumbledore was able to coax a bit more out of the old elf than Sirius could.

Not that Harry was going to bring that up with Sirius, of course. His godfather seemed set in his ways regarding the elf. So Harry left that well enough alone. And it was really none of his business anyway.

On the very last day of the holiday Sirius showed Harry to a room in the house he hadn't been in before.

"I wanted to show you this before you left again for Hogwarts," Sirius said to Harry as they stood just outside the door. "In this room is…" He paused. "So, it probably won't surprise you to learn that the Blacks have always been a bit obsessed with lineage. 'Toujours pur', and all that. Lately it's been all… well, you know. Don't need to go over that again now. But it's not always been that way."

That most of Sirius's living relatives – and even most of the dead ones from recent generations – were pureblood zealots was hardly news to Harry. With people like Bellatrix Lestrange and Narcissa Malfoy counted among them, that much was obvious. But even so, Harry wasn't quite sure what Sirius was getting at.

"Er, right," Harry decided to say.

"Yeah. So. Anyway," Sirius said. "This is the drawing room. I've not shown it to you before and it's not really a room we use, even with the Order. But it's got something cool in it." Sirius opened the door to the drawing room and ushered Harry inside.

The drawing room was dated. It reminded Harry a little of Mrs Figg, the woman who sometimes looked after Harry and Dudley when they were very young, and how she'd decorated her own front room. Floral patterns and a slightly musty smell. As a room it was unremarkable… except for the impossibly large and grand tapestry hung along its walls.

"The Black Family Tree," Sirius said. "Goes all the way back to the Middle Ages. Starts with the first known Black, apparently. Not sure how accurate it is that far back, but it's cool, isn't it?"

Harry nodded slowly as he tried to take it in. The tapestry was huge, and even a quick glance at it told Harry he could easily get lost in its many names and branches.

"I don't expect you to look at all the names, right," Sirius continued, "but I wanted to show you something." He pointed at a section of the tapestry. "If you look over there you can see we're related, sort of."

Harry read from the tapestry where Sirius had pointed. There, in delicate black thread, were two names. Charlus Potter and Dorea Black. Beneath theirs, another name – Jacob Potter.

"Charlus was my great-uncle," Sirius said. "Married to my great-aunt Dorea. But he was your great-uncle as well, through your dad. James always loved that we had Charlus and Dorea in common. Said it made us cousins as well as friends."

Harry looked over the names on the tapestry once again. Charlus and Dorea Potter. Relatives of Harry's – and Sirius's – Harry had never known. Both were dead, according to the tapestry, along with their son, Jacob.

"What happened to them?" Harry asked. "And their son?"

"Died in a Floo accident," Sirius said. "They weren't the only ones who died. There was a big scandal about it. Faulty Floo powder—someone went down for it. Bloke's still in Azkaban, actually."

A cousin Harry had never known. A whole branch of the Potter family snuffed out by faulty Floo powder.

"That's a shame," Harry said. He walked around the room taking more of the tapestry in. "Who made this? It's amazing."

"No one makes it," Sirius said. "Well, I suppose it technically makes itself—some sort of magic that tracks the bloodline. Not sure how it's done, to be honest. Might be there's a book in the library that says how, but I've never looked."

Harry nodded along. That made sense, he supposed. It wasn't a surprise that a family as obsessed with lineage as the Blacks had been would produce a spell like that.

"Why are some of the names burned off?" Harry asked, stopping at a set of names that looked as if they'd been blasted clean off the tapestry.

Sirius grimaced.

"My mum took offence to some of the entries," Sirius explained. "Not just her, to be fair—some of my ancestors were up to it, too. But basically they'd scorch the names off if they wanted to scrape someone from the family tree. See, this one here's my cousin Andromeda—Tonks's mum. Burned off because she married Ted Tonks, a muggleborn." Sirius shrugged. "This one here, burned off because he was a squib. Can't even remember his name." He pointed at another burn on the tapestry. "This one because she married a muggle. And this one is me," he said, pointing at yet another spot on the tapestry. "But I think it's repairing itself because I'm technically head of the family now."

Harry took a closer look and saw that Sirius was right. The burn was fading and it seemed as if the fabric was being restored, albeit slowly. That a family as heritage conscious as the Blacks would vandalise what was, technically speaking, a priceless historical document and a piece of their living family history struck Harry has somewhat sad. Unhinged, even. But the explanation made perfect sense, as the Blacks sounded like just the sort of people who would want to purge the family tree – literally and metaphorically – of undesirable members.

Next to the sheer, unbridled horror that was being related to a muggle and having people be able to see that fact, burning a tapestry was no problem at all.

"See, the magic doesn't care if someone marries a muggle or ends up a squib. It puts the name on the tapestry anyway. But my mum—and some of the others—didn't like that at all," Sirius said. He shrugged. "It's nice to think the truth wins in the end, eh?"

Harry nodded.

"Definitely."

He walked slowly around the room looking at the various different names on the tapestry. Some were wholly unsurprising – he'd expected to see names like Rosier, Lestrange, even Malfoy on the tapestry – but others were nearly shocking to see. Harry hadn't, for example, expected to see Weasley represented there. Nor Longbottom. But appear the names did, and sometimes several times. Harry even saw a Dumbledore many generations back.

Harry supposed it wasn't too strange when he considered that the Blacks were a very prominent pureblood family, and that Britain and Ireland were very insular wizarding cultures. It made perfect sense that some names would appear again and again and again on the tapestry, especially since the pool of purebloods kept growing smaller and smaller with every passing generation.

"I enjoyed seeing this," Harry said. "Thank you."

"I just thought you might like seeing it," Sirius said. "It's one of the only nice things in the entire house…"

Given that the décor in Number Twelve included shrivelled and preserved house elf heads, Harry wasn't prepared to argue against that statement. In general, the house was abysmal. No wonder Sirius was disinclined to speak well of it. Keen not to add to the man's woes any further, Harry changed the subject.

"Want to play another round of Hippogriffs?" Harry asked. "I bet Remus will be up for a game as well."

They left the drawing room after that and returned to the much nicer environs of the private living room, where Harry and Sirius and Remus spent the rest of the day playing cards, chatting, and listening to the Wireless.

Soon enough Harry's brief sojourn at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place was over and it was time once more to return to Hogwarts. Ordinarily that was something to look forward to, as Harry had never felt quite as at home anywhere as he did at Hogwarts.

But after a Christmas with his family – even Marge – and the New Year spent with Sirius, a Hogwarts infested with Inquisitors and presided over by none other than Dolores Umbridge was the last place Harry wanted to be.

Nor did he particularly want to catch the train back, but that was apparently his only option. At least Remus would drop him off at the muggle side of King's Cross, so Harry didn't have to be seen with a teacher.

And, Harry supposed, so that Remus wasn't seen with a student. Bad for everyone involved for the Inquisition to start getting ideas.

At around nine o'clock Harry was ready and waiting to leave for the station, trunk in one hand and Firebolt case in the other.

"So, I remembered I forgot to give you your Christmas present," Sirius said to Harry while he waited.

"But you did give me a present," Harry said. "Two, actually. One was—"

"Well, alright," interrupted Sirius. "But there was another thing I wanted to give you as well. Thought it might come in handy this year, what with the Inquisition watching everyone's letters."

That piqued Harry's curiosity. With his letters being monitored Harry didn't want to write anything at all incriminating, which was difficult given the circumstances. It seemed like essentially everything Harry had to say to Sirius was incriminating for one reason or another, and that was ignoring the fact that Sirius was the second most wanted man in the country.

"Oh yeah?" Harry asked. "What is it?"

Sirius pulled a polished silver mirror from his pocket.

"A hand mirror?" Harry asked. "What does it do?" Because it had to do something. If Harry had learned anything from his few short years as a wizard it was that rarely was a thing just a thing in the wizarding world. It often did something, turned into something, or secretly was something else.

And Harry had no use for an ordinary hand mirror, anyway. He wasn't nearly vain enough to need to carry around a mirror with him.

"You can use it to talk to me," Sirius said. "It's a pair, and I've got the other one. James and I used to use them to speak to each other in detentions or in the summer—well, before I moved in with him and your grandparents, anyway. There aren't many of these about, either so it's not something you'll see every day."

Harry took the mirror from Sirius and looked it over. It looked just like an ordinary – if quite expensive – hand mirror. Certainly there was no reason to think it was secretly a communication tool, unless two way mirrors such as it was were more common than Harry realised.

"This is great," Harry said. "With the Inquisition… well, I've been worried about getting letters out to you. Didn't seem safe. But with this…"

"Exactly," Sirius said. "And since this one was your dad's, technically, it should come back to you anyway. Just say my name into your mirror and you'll appear in mine. I'll keep it with me, so don't worry about me missing it."

"Thank you," Harry said. He put the mirror into his robe pocket. Not only was the mirror a useful tool, it was nice to have something else of his father's. The Cloak was good, and extremely useful, but Harry had the impression it was more of a family heirloom than something specifically of his dad's. The mirror was different, something James Potter specifically had owned, rather than something owned by the Potters. Harry wasn't sure why that mattered, be he felt like it did.

"I'll make sure to use it when I want to talk to you next."

Sirius paused.

"You don't have to speak with me through it if you don't want to," he said. "But, er, you can. You know. It's there. And so am I."

Then Remus appeared in the entrance hall, finally ready to leave.

"All set?" Remus asked Harry.

Harry nodded.

"I'm ready."

"Excellent," said Remus. "We're going to go in Dumbledore's car," he explained. "I've just got the keys from him. I'll drop you off at the station and then come back here—I won't be taking the train up to the school. Is that alright with you?"

Harry shrugged. It was what it was. He didn't especially want to accompany a teacher back to school anyway, even if that teacher was one of his father's friends and a member of a secretive paramilitary group. But that was all far less interesting than the idea that Dumbledore had a car.

"Since when has Dumbledore had a car? What's he need it for?" Harry asked.

"I've been told this particular car has been in his possession for years longer than any of us have been alive," said Remus with a little smile. "That he trusts us both with it is something of an honour, I think. And as for why he needs it… who can say? Perhaps he simply likes driving."

That was an odd thought. Dumbledore off on a jolly through the English countryside in the car listening to the radio. Radio Four, probably, although given everything Harry knew of Dumbledore any of the channels could be a good fit. And probably the one Harry least expected from the old wizard.

"Well… fair enough," Harry said. "And you know how to drive? Only, wizards usually don't… er…"

"My mother—who was a muggle—insisted I learn from a muggle instructor and pass the official muggle test," said Remus. "So you don't need to worry about that."

"You don't need to pass a test," said Sirius dismissively. "That's what Extrasensory Spells are for!"

"And that attitude is why I always said no to riding on the back of your bike," said Remus. "But we'd best get on—I don't want you to be late for the train, Harry."

Harry nodded.

"Alright. Let's go, then." He turned towards Sirius. "Thanks for the mirror—it's really cool. I'm glad I've got a proper way to speak with you. I'll see you in the summer, then, probably."

"Absolutely!" said Sirius. "We'll find some reason to get me out of the house again. We've still got loads of Dave left around in storage, so can't let him go to waste…"

Goodbyes all said and done, Harry and Remus exited Number Twelve by the front door. Waiting outside on the road was a car Harry had never seen before. A classic car, positively ancient in its design, although it looked brand new. Mostly in a deep, satiny red with black accents, and with a long nose and a square, boxy cabin, Dumbledore's car sat next to the pavement looking like something out of an extremely old Bond film.

"Dumbledore's got a classic Rolls Royce?" Harry blurted out upon seeing it. "This thing must be worth a fortune!"

"Oh?" said Remus. "I hadn't realised."

"Yeah," Harry said. "It's, um. Bit of a collector's item, I think." Vernon certainly would have paid an arm and a leg for a car like that. He went to a car club sometimes – although Harry thought mostly for the drinking and cigars – with similar sorts of cars at it. That Dumbledore just had one lying around, one which he saw fit to lend to Remus to send Harry off on the train, would surely send Vernon up the wall.

"I think he's had it since it was new," Remus said. He shrugged. "Shall we go?"

"Er, right," Harry said. He got his things all squared away – easier than he'd thought, since Dumbledore had expanded the interior considerably in spite of several Ministry laws which suggested such a thing was not allowed – and then sat back to enjoy the ride to King's Cross.

Remus didn't stick around for very long at all after dropping Harry off. He left Harry once he was sure Harry had got himself over to the wizarding side of the station but didn't cross the barrier himself. For that, Harry was inordinately glad, as he didn't want to be spotted with a teacher in the holidays quite aside from the fact that he didn't want to be spotted by any Inquisitors who might make things awkward back at the castle.

Instead, Harry pushed his trolley with his trunk and Firebolt case stashed away around the packed full-to-bursting Platform 9¾ in search of his friends.

All of Harry's friends had gone home for Christmas that year, and judging by the crowd on the platform, so had everyone else at the school. It wasn't quite as bad as in the summer, but it was close enough. At least the departures board said that the train would be leaving on time.

Harry wheeled his trolley around the platform, weaving in and out of the gathered throngs, in search of his friends. Any of them would do as they'd all agreed to sit together on the train, especially since half of them were prefects and would have to be out patrolling the train for parts of the journey anyway. At least that way the non-prefects would have some others to sit with.

And with the Inquisitorial Squad out and about, it just made sense to all stick together. Even if Blaise was part of the Squad.

Harry spotted Justin and Millie in the distance. Taking a little care not to crash into anyone Harry pushed his way through the crowd towards his friends. The train wasn't boarding yet, so there was still more than enough time, but he didn't want to lose sight of them in the chaos.

"Alright?" Harry said as he drew up next to them. "Good Christmas?"

"As usual," said Justin. "Except this year there was the added bonus of getting away from all this Inquisition business. It's usually a bit dull going all-muggle again—I'm sure you feel the same—but this year it was a bit of a treat."

Harry knew exactly what Justin meant. He'd even been – briefly – happy to put up with Marge just because nothing at Number Four was in any way related to Umbridge, the Ministry, or any of that nonsense. It hadn't lasted, but Harry had felt it, and that was something.

"Lucky you," Millicent said. "All I've had all Christmas break is 'Dumbledore this', 'Inquisition that' from my grandparents. They've completely bought into the treason shit. It's so stupid."

Harry had the vague idea that Millicent's grandparents were the traditional sort of purebloods. Not necessarily bigoted or in support of Voldemort, but not exactly progressive either. Although Harry supposed they at least hadn't disinherited Millicent's mother for marrying a muggleborn, so that put them leagues ahead of the Blacks. But the idea that they believed in Dumbledore's guilt was more than a little worrying, since they were exactly the sort of people Dumbledore needed on side.

Harry grimaced.

"That's rough," he said. "What did you say about it?"

"Well, not much," admitted Millicent. "I'm not supposed to 'tilt the broomstick'—Mum's always on about it." She shrugged. "Inheritance stuff, innit? She wants their money when they go—she's afraid they'll leave it to a kneazle sanctuary."

Justin nodded sagely.

"Oh, yes. Inheritances. A boon and a curse, let me tell you," he said.

Millicent looked set to say something more but was interrupted by the arrival of Blaise and Daphne.

"Ooh, Millie! It's so good to see you! I missed you so much!" cried Daphne, rushing forward to embrace Millicent.

"We firecalled last night," said Millicent, returning the hug.

"But it's not the same!" said Daphne. "And Mummy and Daddy were in the room so it's… you know…"

"She means you couldn't get up to any kissy-kissy nonsense," Blaise said. "Alright, lads?" he said, nodding to Harry and Justin. "How'd it go?"

"Good, good, you know," said Justin. "Christmas. Deck the Halls and all that."

Harry shrugged.

"Yeah, was good. It was nice to have one at home, to be honest—I did miss it a bit these last two years." The routines and traditions, the sights and the sounds, even his aunt's cooking – not nearly as good as the elves', it was nostalgic in a way the Hogwarts fare never would be.

"Think the train's starting to board," Justin said, nodding towards the train. "Might want to get going."

"Has anyone seen Tracey?" Harry wondered aloud. "She'll not want to board on her own…"

"I've not heard from her today," Daphne said, "but she'll have to find us on the train if she misses us boarding."

Harry shrugged. That was probably fair enough.

"Ernie's not getting the train back, right?" Harry asked Justin. The rules around using the Hogwarts Express were relaxed during the Christmas break such that students who lived in Hogsmeade and the surroundings weren't required to take it to and from the school.

At least, that was how it usually worked. Given the Inquisition and its penchant for totally ripping apart accepted procedure, Harry wasn't entirely sure it was still that way.

"He doesn't usually," confirmed Justin. "Sue should be around, though." He stood on his toes and craned his neck to look around the crowd. "Can't see her, though."

With no sign of Susan or Tracey, everyone started to board the train.

"Why are you getting the train, anyway?" Harry asked Millie while they were boarding. "Isn't it easier to just nip over?"

"I wish I didn't have to get the train," Millicent said. "And I wouldn't have if I hadn't been stuck with my grandparents. My mum and dad are still there."

Wary of sticking his foot into what was clearly a touchy subject, Harry simply nodded and wheeled his trolley forwards.

Boarding took quite some time, but they managed to get onboard and even found themselves a nice compartment not too far from the dining carriage. Harry settled in to wait for the Express to putter out of the station.

"I was thinking we should just have lunch today in the dining carriage," Daphne was saying, "since we couldn't on the way in during the summer. What does everything think of that? I know we've got patrol duties, but it's not for the whole journey is it, and—"

The compartment doors slid open, stopping Daphne mid-sentence. Tracey and Susan slipped into the compartment, luggage in tow.

"It was a nightmare getting on board," Tracey said as she stowed her trunk and found a place for her carry case.

"I'm just surprised the train managed to leave on time," Susan said as she did the same. "I hope everything gets back to normal for next year, because this is just… ugh."

Now that was a sentiment Harry could get behind. Umbridge and her goons gone, and the student population of Hogwarts reduced to a much more manageable level. Easier prefect duties, too. Although he didn't think he would enjoy a return to his old dormitory. As annoying as FitzRoy was with his early morning singing, Harry was at least spared sharing a bedroom with Draco.

Once everyone had settled in Harry decided it was time to tell them what Dumbledore had told him over the Christmas holiday. Or at least, parts of it, since much of the information wasn't Harry's to share and some of it was literally impossible for him to tell anyone anyway.

"I spoke with Dumbledore over the holiday," Harry said. "Can't say too much about it because… well… you know," he continued with a vague gesture, "but he's working on his treason thing. Said he's even looking into the Voldemort and Malfoy stuff. There's a spy, apparently. Didn't say more."

"Really? Who is it? Do you know?" asked Blaise.

Harry shook his head.

"No. Dumbledore wouldn't say, which is fair. But he's got, like, this whole group doing stuff. There's loads of people in it apparently—some really important ones, too, like people at the Ministry." Harry wasn't going to mention Ernie's parents or Tracey's mother in front of everyone. That news seemed like it should be relayed to the pair of them privately, just in case neither of them had any idea. But the rest was fair game. "Er, some aurors—Miss Tonks is even part of it—and then people like Arthur Weasley. I met some of them."

"Ministry won't like that," said Justin. "Not if Dumbledore really does have a secret group of loyalists. That's one of the things they've been saying, isn't it? That he's building a force to stage a coup?"

Harry nodded.

"Yeah. I mean, they're only really wrong about what the group is for, to be fair," Harry said. He shrugged. "But I don't suppose that can be helped."

"My aunt Amelia always said there were rumours about Dumbledore during the last war," Susan said. "About him having a group of fighters."

"Er, it's the same one, I think," Harry said.

"It makes sense that Dumbledore would have something like that, though, doesn't it?" Tracey said. "Even if it does look bad to the Ministry."

"Yeah, exactly," Harry said. "Anyway, I just wanted to let you all know about it, that's all. He thinks what we're doing with Umbridge and the Inquisition is good as well. Said we should keep doing it if that's what we want to do. Just wanted you all to know in case we don't get many chances to meet up when we're back at school."

"Fair enough," said Millicent. "What about the Chamber?"

"Well, we'll use it when we can," Harry said. "But I reckon Umbridge is going to go all out now that Dumbledore's gone. And she's had all Christmas to plan for it…"

Nobody seemed to like that idea. They sat in an uneasy silence until it came time for the prefects among them to disperse and go out on their patrols. When Harry returned to the compartment after having discharged his duties, the topic of conversation had moved on to far lighter things, for which he was very glad.

It went that way until the train puttered into Hogsmeade Station, and Harry couldn't say he was at all disappointed.