The final chapter. At long last.
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Harry Potter: A Flaw in Fate
The Serpentine Stone
X. She Who Lives
Drowning.
Down and downwards, lower and lower Harry sank. It was like the few swimming lessons Harry had back in Privet Drive - the ones Aunt Petunia had permitted solely so as to not raise suspicion.
But it was not the dark depths of water that Harry sank through this time. What it was, exactly, Harry wasn't sure - but it was strong and smooth, wrapping itself around him like hot, tight molten ropes. Harry felt the air leave him as he stared at the woman before him, desperately searching for a plausible explanation.
Maybe she's here to help, or maybe to stop Voldemort.
Yes, that was it, Harry decided. She was here to help. It made sense, after all; the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor - and, coincidentally, the most talented witch Harry had ever met - would be the ideal candidate when it came to anything involving Voldemort.
Harry nodded, letting out a deep, shaky breath. Sweat trickled down his forehead, and the heat of the fire behind him pressed against his back - but Harry ignored it, turning to face Professor Baker. Sapphire eyes bored into his own. They swirled angrily, burning into him. Something hurt - Harry's hands jumped to his scar, his fingers pressing tightly against it. The edges felt like lips; if they were, Harry was sure they would be screaming in agony. Harry forced his head upwards, his eyes latching onto the woman's once more.
Her chocolate brown hair cascaded down her shoulders like waves, her eyes deeper than the ocean. Harry forced himself not to shiver as he glanced within them - they were cool now, and her gaze felt like ice pressing against his skull.
"P-Professor -" Harry began, pausing as Baker slowly raised a hand. She spared him a quick glance before turning around to face something quite familiar -
"The Mirror of Erised." said Baker, glancing at it curiously, "I show not your face but your heart's desire . . ."
She stood silently, a slight frown marring his features. Harry's breathing hadn't slowed down. His mind was beginning to piece things together, things that he was desperately hoping were only figments of his imagination.
Baker abruptly turned around, her head tilted to the side.
"What do you see in the mirror, Harry?"
"W-what?"
A cold hand gently wrapped itself around Harry's shoulder, steering him towards the mirror. Harry flinched slightly as the woman touched him - his scar had begun to burn again - though he said nothing.
"What do you see?"
Harry faced the Mirror of Erised.
His reflections stared back at him, appearing just as pale and scared as Harry felt. They were in the same room as him, and Professor Baker also stood to his side - a perfect reflection, as far as Harry could tell.
But it isn't.
Professor Baker was different. She was normal again, her eyes as warm as they had been since their lessons began. Her hands, as always, were tucked behind her back. An expression of amusement adorned her face.
Please don't be her. Please. Please.
Harry's reflection in the mirror slowly lifted his head. It put its hand into its pocket and pulled out a blood-red stone.
Maybe that's what she's looking for.
If it was, Harry wanted it. What it was or what it did, he didn't know - but she wanted it, and now he did too. Perhaps it was why she was acting strangely - that had to be why.
She isn't her. She can't be her. Please.
Harry's reflection winked and put the Stone back in its pocket - and as it did so, he felt something heavy drop into his real pocket. Harry forced himself not to reach into his pocket.
"Well?" questioned Baker, "What did you see?"
"My reflection." said Harry slowly, "Only, you were - you weren't -"
"- Voldemort?"
Harry's head shot up at once. Professor Baker watched him with unseeing eyes. Her eyelids shut, and her head tilted off to the side. Slowly she turned around.
It was getting hard to breathe again. Thin, hot ropes wrapped around his heart, and the world around him was starting to fold in on itself. It distorted horribly, pressing against him like a hand around the neck. A single thought swam through Harry's mind, playing over and over again.
She's her. She's her. She's her.
His scar burnt more violently than ever before - it felt as though molten rocks had been pressed against his forehead - but for once, Harry couldn't feel it. All he felt was cold. His muscles had gone numb, and his knees felt weak. Anger, sadness, betrayal and despair all crashed inside him, swirling together as they flooded through his very being. Harry roughly pushed them aside, forcing them away.
"So you know . . ."
Harry raised his head. Professor Baker was watching him again, standing just before the Mirror of Erised. He felt something hot well up in his eyes. It slowly trailed down his cheek, splashing softly against the floor beneath him.
"You're Voldemort." he whispered at last, his voice cracking.
"I am."
"What did you do to Professor Baker?"
The woman frowned, her head tilting to the side.
"Nothing."
Something bubbled up in Harry's mind, a thought he knew to be true -
"You're lying." he hissed, his palms balled into fists. The woman before him raised an eyebrow, curiosity etched upon her face.
"You have never known Lilian Baker." she said at last, "She died over a year ago near the forest of Albania."
"You've been Professor Baker for the last year then?"
"I have."
Harry's fists tightened. The woman paid no mind, her eyes still latched firmly to his. Neither blinked, neither looked away. Harry could feel his eyes watering now, but he didn't bother to wipe his tears away.
"How did you do it?" he demanded.
"Unicorn Blood." said Voldemort, seemingly disinterested, "You saw me in the forest, collecting vials of it. My continued existence is thanks to a rather odd potion I created - one that uses the blood, of course - and the few powers that remained with me after that night all those years ago. So long as I regularly take the potion, my consciousness is capable of inhabiting this . . ." she paused, "deceased body."
Harry glared. His eyes traced the outline of the woman opposite him - the soft, fair skin, the sapphire eyes and the chocolate brown hair. It didn't feel right anymore, it didn't feel real. The surface of a lake splashed, and as the image wavered, he realised it was nothing more than a reflection.
Just a cheap imitation. It isn't real. It never was.
Harry opened his mouth to speak once more, but words failed to leave his mouth. The woman with the cool, unseeing eyes faced the mirror once more.
"I thought you would be the one to find me." she admitted slowly, "Not just because you were the only one who could pass my shield, of course. I'm sure Dumbledore could've broken the enchantment - Snape too, I'm sure. Without a body of my own, I am . . . weak. It shall be dealt with, in time."
Harry watched on silently, not daring to speak. He somehow doubted he would be able to interrupt the woman if he wanted to.
"I wasn't particularly fond of you at the beginning." she whispered, turning around, "But you proved to be interesting. We're very similar, you know -"
I'm nothing like you.
"Aren't you?" asked Voldemort, her eyes shining with mirth. Harry's eyes widened.
"Legilimency." she explained dismissively, "A mind art. You have an aptitude for it, I think. I haven't used it on you before now, if that is what you're wondering - which, of course, it is. You think awfully loudly.
"But I digress." she continued, "This form has left me weak. I shall need a body of my own. It can be done in other ways, of course - but I am not a fool to risk such a thing. Not whilst I am so vulnerable. The sorcerer's stone would be the easiest way to return me the body I so desire."
The sorcerer's stone. Nicholas Flamel. Immortality.
Several incoherent thoughts clicked together within Harry's mind - some from textbooks Harry had read in the library, others from the back of chocolate frogs Harry had leisurely eaten alongside the woman opposite him. Harry felt his heart clench further, and the nails of his balled fists scratched into the palms of his hands.
"I had meant to explore the third-floor corridor earlier." continued Voldemort quietly, "On Halloween, to be specific. You were there, of course, and my plans were delayed. The troll that was meant to serve as a distraction had been meaningless."
The woman slowly turned back to the mirror. A hint of insanity was hidden within her eyes. She looked at Harry, tilting her head slightly in the same strange manner. It was something the both of them did often, Harry realised.
"But perhaps it wasn't." Voldemort whispered, "I am here now. All I need is that stone in your pocket."
She knows.
The feeling suddenly surged back into Harry's legs. He stumbled backward, pulling out his wand before pointing it at the woman.
"You need not be harmed." said Voldemort slowly, "Just give me the stone, Harry."
"Or what?" yelled Harry angrily, his wand outstretched, "You'll kill me like you did my parents?"
"Your parents did not need to die." said the woman quietly, "Nor do you."
"You killed them." spat Harry, nearly shaking with anger, "If they didn't need to die, why did you kill them?"
The woman's lips tightened.
"Because," she began, her voice barely a whisper, "They tried to stop me from killing you."
Harry paused. His head raised, and his eyelids suddenly felt like bricks. He forced his gaze back upon the woman opposite him, doing his best to ignore the tightening of his chest.
"I can not bring them back." said Voldemort eventually, "But I can grant you a place, by my side - a family, just like you saw in the Mirror of Erised all those months ago."
Harry felt like the air had been ripped from his lungs. He breathed heavily, his entire body shaking.
"You're lying -" he forced out.
"Am I?" asked Voldemort, leaning forward, "I think you would know. Do you feel like I'm lying, Harry?"
He didn't. Whatever he had felt before, it wasn't there. Harry felt his heartbeat quicken.
"And if I break the stone?" he asked suddenly, "You won't have a way to get a body. You'll die."
"Will I?" the woman inquired, the ends of her lips curving upwards, "You aren't the only one to survive the Killing Curse, you know. I am more than capable of evading death."
Harry froze. Soft, thin fingers wrapped tightly around the stone in his pocket.
"Then why do you want the stone?"
"My solution isn't foolproof." admitted Voldemort, her words chosen carefully, "I would still age - an issue that this stone would resolve, no doubt. Beyond that, I would rather not take risks whilst vulnerable. But now is not the time for conversation. Give me the stone, Harry."
"No." said Harry firmly, backing up towards the wall behind him, "I won't."
The woman's lips tightened into a thin line. Her eyes narrowed, her irises almost pulsing. A flash of scarlet light flared within them. She pulled a thin, dark wand from the inside of her robes, raising it gently.
"So be it."
Crack.
Harry threw himself to the floor, shaking as a powerful Blasting Curse hissed past him. It crashed against the wall behind him, nearly shattering the stone itself. Harry felt the ground shake beneath him as Voldemort's magic seeped through the room.
She's so powerful.
"Bombarda Maxima!" roared Harry, slashing his wand through the air. The woman before him merely batted his spell aside as though it were nothing but empty air. Harry grit his teeth in frustration.
"Expelliarmus!"
"Confringo!"
"Diffindo!"
The woman's chocolate brown hair slashed through the air alongside her wand as she blocked Harry's spells. They all fizzled out at once. An amused smile formed as she seemingly came to the same realisation as Harry.
My spells aren't as powerful as normal.
Harry was beginning to panic now. His magic felt strange. It hesitated almost - it was like the tap had been turned, and the water now refused to flow as freely as it once had. Harry angrily balled his fists.
"I expected better." teased the woman, her head tilted to the left. An ounce of amusement danced within her eyes, "I confess myself . . . disappointed."
Slowly she grew closer and closer, her spells becoming more and more accurate with every step she took. She would get the stone, Harry knew it - he could not stop her, he could not stop someone so much more powerful than himself. The world around him was growing hazy now; Harry could barely see -
It's her. She's her. Her.
Harry could practically feel his heart roar with anger as his veins screamed in agony. His breathing grew more and more laboured.
She's her. Voldemort.
Suddenly, the world righted itself.
Only this time, Harry saw red.
"Diffindo!" Harry roared.
A bright blue shield formed between Voldemort and the Potter heir, shattering as the powerful curse slammed into it. The woman paused, seemingly shocked. She stared at Harry with wide eyes before they narrowed. There was no amusement within them anymore.
She raised her wand, and with a flick of her wrist, Harry's wand shot from his hand, clattering against the cobblestoned floor. Harry felt his heartbeat quicken. He curled his fingers into a tight, clawed fist, staring at his wand. It rolled feebly towards him before stopping just out of reach. Voldemort's eyes narrowed.
"Done yet?"
Harry, panting heavily, raised his hands in front of him like the fighters he had seen on the Dudley's television. The woman smiled, shaking her head. She outstretched a hand towards him, her thin, long fingers curving inward.
"The stone."
It's her. She's her. She killed them.
"N-no." breathed Harry heavily, raising his fists higher as he staggered slightly.
"Don't force my hand, Harry." she whispered softly, "Please, give me the stone."
"No."
Her smile vanished. In the blink of an eye she had crossed the room, and the next second, Harry felt the woman's cold hand gently close on his wrist. A needle-sharp pain seared across Harry's scar; his head felt as though it was about to split in two. He yelled, struggling with all his might, and to his surprise, the woman let go of him. The pain in his head lessened - he looked around wildly to see where Voldemort had gone, and saw her hunched in pain, staring at him with wide eyes.
Harry glanced at her hands. They looked as though they had been cracked. Bits of flesh were slowly beginning to decay, her skin almost breaking apart.
"Harry," she said dangerously, her eyes now flashing red, "give me the stone."
"Never." he spat angrily.
She's her. It's all because of her. She's her.
The woman's lips tightened, her eyes narrowing. She slowly raises her wand, directing it at him. Harry, by instinct, reached up and grabbed the woman's face.
A yell of pain echoed through the room. Harry turned to see the woman backing away, cracks seemingly splitting her skin like faults in the earth. Her sapphire eyes glowed scarlet, a strange shadowy substance leaking from both the cracks in her skin and her eyes themselves.
She can't touch me.
Without thinking, Harry jumped to his feet, caught the woman by the arm, and hung on as tight as he could. She screamed and tried to throw Harry off - the pain in Harry's head was building - he couldn't see - he could only hear the woman's roars of agony. He could feel her body crumbling, he could feel the strange dark substance coalescing around him -
"Harry!" yelled the woman, and Harry felt himself let go. He stumbled to the floor, his eyes widening just enough to see the shadow-like substance swirl around Baker's decaying body. Something slid from his pocket - the stone - he tried to catch it, swiping his hand through the air, but he had missed -
Harry heard the woman scream once more, her voice higher and colder now, and he closed his eyes, sinking into the darkness.
-(xXx)-
Harry slowly felt his eyes open. The world around was still hazy - Harry couldn't see much. He managed to make out the faint outline of a number of bright white objects before a kindly voice drew him from his thoughts.
"Good afternoon, Harry."
Harry recognised the wizened voice. He quickly sat up, his hands blindly reaching around him before wrapping around the glasses that sat upon his bedside table. Putting them on, Harry watched as the smiling face of Albus Dumbledore swam into view. His eyes widened at once.
"Professor, the stone!" It was - it was -"
Harry felt his throat constrict. Professor Dumbledore watched Harry with sorrowful eyes, his head bowed.
"I know who it was, Harry." he assured him, "She is gone now. As for the stone, it has been destroyed."
"Destroyed?" asked Harry quietly, "Didn't it belong to Flamel?"
"You know of Nicholas?" asked Dumbledore, an ounce of delight audible in his voice.
"A bit." said Harry slowly, "I know he's the owner of the stone. H-he'll die, won't he?"
"He and his beloved wife, Perenelle, left us many months ago." said Dumbledore, "They, having both decided it was time to move on, entrusted it to me in the hopes that it might provide me an answer I desperately seek."
"Oh." said Harry, "Did you find your answer?"
Dumbledore looked at Harry, his eyes sadly drifting up to the boy's forehead for a fraction of a second.
"No, Harry, I did not."
"Oh." said Harry slowly, ducking his head, "Er - I'm sorry, Professor."
"It is I who should be apologizing, Harry, not you." said Dumbledore, "Thankfully, you are alive and well. I feared I might have been too late."
"You were there?"
"I was at the Ministry." he corrected, "It was only when I arrived that it became clear to me that the place I should be was the one I had just left. I arrived mere moments after Voldemort left."
Harry paused, his breathing growing slightly laboured.
"It was her, then?"
"Yes, Harry, it was her. A much weaker version, perhaps, and in the body of another - but yes, it was indeed her. It could have been no one else."
The pair sat in silence for a moment, both of them lost in their thoughts. Dumbledore gently stroked his magnificent silver beard, a look of confusion etched upon his wizened features.
"She taught me." whispered Harry, "She helped me for most of the year."
Dumbledore sat silently, allowing Harry to speak. There was a sorrowful look in his eyes as he watched the boy before him.
"How?" asked Harry, his voice hoarse, "How did she do it? How did she pretend to be someone else for a year?"
"Lady Voldemort was a master of many obscure arts, including possession." said Dumbledore, "It was a combination of unicorn blood, a deceased body of her choice, and her own brilliance."
"But it failed." noted Harry, "She must've not used enough unicorn blood, or maybe she lost control -"
"It was not either of those that prevented Lady Voldemort from touching you, Harry."
"Then why?"
"There are many explanations, I suppose." admitted Dumbledore, "If you were to ask me, however - which, of course, you have - I would say love."
"Love?" repeated Harry slowly.
"Yes, Harry, love." said Dumbledore, "Why else did you venture down to the third-floor? Mrs. Granger, Mr. Weasley, and Mr. Longbottom all denied having informed you of their numerous discoveries."
"I overheard them." admitted Harry, "I - I had to know."
Dumbledore nodded.
"When you faced Voldemort that night, it was your own magic that managed to force Voldemort out of Professor Baker's body." revealed Dumbledore, "An impressive feat, and one that could not have been accomplished without the emotions within you."
"But what if that wasn't love?" asked Harry quickly, "I felt - I felt angry, Professor, I -"
"Yet you would not have felt anger had she never visited Godric's Hollow all those years ago." said Dumbledore, "I confess, it is not often that a single emotion can be felt without another. But, it is my belief - a naïve one, perhaps, but my own nonetheless - that it was love. As I said, the answer will change with whomever it is you ask."
Harry nodded slowly, reaching over to pluck a chocolate frog from the pile that sat beside his bed. He unraveled it carefully, taking a generous bite from the frog.
"There are a few more things that must be addressed." said Dumbledore, smiling kindly as Harry offered him a frog of his own, "First and foremost -"
Dumbledore pulled a familiar looking cloth from the pockets of his deep purple robes.
"- your father's cloak."
Harry stared at the man for a moment, his jaw hanging loosely open.
"It was you."
"Yes, it was indeed me." said Dumbledore, "Your father left it in my possession before he died. As I said, it was time it was passed on to you."
Harry gratefully took the cloak from Dumbledore, nodding slowly. He placed it on his lap beneath his bed sheets before taking another bite from his chocolate frog and returning his attention to Dumbledore.
"Secondly," began Dumbledore, "I must ask how you got past Voldemort's numerous protections."
"The blue shield?" asked Harry curiously, "I - I'm not sure, Professor. But she expected me to do it. She said I was the only one that could."
Dumbledore's eyebrows furrowed together. He seemed lost in thought, his lips pressed together almost uncertainly.
"Very well." he said at last, "Lastly, I must tell you that it is the twenty-fourth of June. Once you are well, I would advise you to begin packing and preparing for your return home."
Harry ignored the sinking of his heart, nodding slowly. He took a final bite from his chocolate frog before turning it over. A seemingly grump wizard glared up at him with cold eyes - Salazar Slytherin, according to the card's description.
"Professor?" said Harry suddenly, "Could I ask you a few things? There are a some things I don't understand."
"You may indeed." said Dumbledore with a nod, "Although I may not answer your question should I have a very good reason not to. I shall not, of course, lie."
"Professor Baker - I mean, Voldemort said that she only killed my parents because they tried to stop her from killing me." said Harry, "But why would she want to kill me? Couldn't she have done it at any time this past year?"
Dumbledore frowned. He slowly shook his head at Harry in an apologetic manner.
"Alas, the first thing you ask me, I cannot tell you. Not today, nor tomorrow, nor any time soon. I know you hate to hear this, but when you are ready, you will know.
"As for the second," Dumbledore continued, glancing curiously at Harry's forehead, "I confess I am unsure why Voldemort did not kill you throughout the past year, although I have numerous theories. Again, when you are ready, I shall tell them all to you."
Harry nodded slowly, knowing better than to argue.
"What about the stone?" he asked, "How did I get the stone out of the Mirror?"
Dumbledore smiled, his eyes twinkling.
"Ah, now, I'm glad you asked me that. It was one of my more brilliant ideas, and between you and me, that's saying something. You see, only one who wanted to find the Stone – find it, but not use it – would be able to get it. Otherwise they would simply see themselves making gold or drinking Elixir of Life. A stroke of brilliance, of that I have no doubt. Do any other questions come to mind?"
"Er - yes, Professor." said Harry, "Does anyone else know what happened down in the third floor?"
Dumbledore sighed.
"The full story of what happened in the third-floor is indeed unknown by all except you and I, alongside Voldemort." said Dumbledore, "The students, however, are indeed aware that something occurred. Such a secret is a secret poorly kept, after all."
"Are you going to tell them?" asked Harry.
"No, I am not." admitted Dumbledore, "That information is something best kept quiet, lest it be heard by those who ought not to hear it. It was my intention to award you house points for your actions at the End of Year Feast, however - although if you would prefer otherwise -"
Harry nodded frantically.
"Very well." said Dumbledore, chuckling, "Although I must insist upon offering you an award for Special Services to the school."
"That's fine, I guess." decided Harry.
Dumbledore, having finished speaking, gently opened his chocolate frog pack. He chuckled as the frog dashed away at once, sending the card flying through the hospital wing. Harry and Dumbledore watched as the frog leapt across the hospital wing and out of sight.
"I suppose it's earned its freedom." said Dumbledore eventually, "Let us hope Mrs. Norris does not find it."
-(xXx)-
Harry quietly sat down within the Great Hall on the night of the End of Year Feast. The place was decked out in the Slytherin colours of green and silver to celebrate Slytherin's winning the House Cup for the seventh year in a row. A huge banner showing the Slytherin serpent covered the wall behind the High Table.
"You alright?" whispered Nott, putting his book away as he turned to face Harry.
"Fine." assured Harry with a smile. He turned to Daphne, who was sitting opposite him beside Tracey. She watched him with concern, even as he smiled at her.
"You've forgotten to say something rude to him, you know." Nott told her.
"Shut up." said Daphne, not taking her eyes off Harry. She watched him for a moment before saying, "I'm glad you're alright."
Harry smiled, chuckling at the disbelief on Nott's face.
"You've broken her." muttered Nott, turning to Harry.
Before Harry could respond, Dumbledore stood up. The babble of the Great Hall slowly died away.
"Another year gone!" Dumbledore said cheerfully, "And I must trouble you with an old man's wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into our delicious feast. What a year it has been! Hopefully your heads are all a little fuller than they were . . . you have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts . . .
"Now, as I understand it, the House Cup here needs awarding and the points stand thus: in fourth place, Gryffindor, with three hundred and twelve points; in third, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two; Ravenclaw have four hundred and twenty-six and Slytherin, four hundred and seventy-two."
Harry applauded as a storm of cheering and stamping broke out from the rest of the table. He smiled uncertainly at Daphne as her eyes narrowed in his direction.
'Yes, yes, well done, Slytherin,' said Dumbledore, 'However, recent events must be taken into account.'
Harry felt his smile suddenly falter. The entirety of the hall turned to face Dumbledore, each and everyone of the hundreds of students completely silent.
"Ahem," said Dumbledore, "I have a few last-minute points to dish out. First - to Mr. Ronald Weasley - for the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award Gryffindor house sixty points.'
Gryffindor cheers nearly raised the bewitched ceiling; the stars overhead seemed to quiver. Percy could be heard telling the other Prefects, "My brother, you know! My youngest brother! Got past McGonagall's giant chess set!"
There's no way -
"Second - to Ms. Hermione Granger - for the use of cool logic in the face of fire, I award Gryffindor house sixty points."
Hermione buried her face in her arms; Harry strongly suspected she had burst into tears. Gryffindors up and down the furthest table were beside themselves - they were a hundred and twenty points up.
"Third - to Mr. Neville Longbottom." said Dumbledore, "For following his friends into the depths of danger, I award Gryffindor house sixty points."
Harry felt his jaw drop as the Gryffindor table exploded into cheers. Neville, white with shock, had disappeared under a pile of people hugging him. The boy had never so much as earned a single point for Gryffindor before.
"Which means," Dumbledore called over the storm of applause, for even Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were celebrating the downfall of Slytherin, "we need a little change of decoration."
He clapped his hands. In an instant, the green hangings became scarlet and the silver became gold; the huge Slytherin serpent vanished and a towering Gryffindor lion took its place. Snape was shaking Professor McGonagall's hand with a horribly forced smile etched upon his face.
Harry, his jaw still hanging open, caught Dumbledore's eye. The man winked at Harry, his eyes twinkling as he raised the House Cup.
-(xXx)-
"Ready, are you?"
It was Uncle Vernon, still purple-faced, still moustached, and still looking furious at the nerve of Harry, carrying an owl in a cage in a station full of ordinary people. Behind him stood Aunt Petunia and Dudley, looking terrified at the very sight of Harry.
"I'm not going to attack you." muttered Harry with a roll of his eyes, "I'm not even allowed to use -"
Harry suddenly paused, the trolley that he pushed jumping slightly as he did.
They don't know.
Harry smiled.
