Chapter 1
Flight From Privet Drive

A stiff, chill wind blew among the square, neatly kept houses of Privet Drive. It had been rather cool so far this summer- the coolest June in England for 50 years, according to the weatherman. The normally vibrant lawns of Privet Drive were a sickly sort of light green. The flowers lay lifeless in the gardens, either limp and withered or scrunched up tightly, refusing to bloom. The few people who were outdoors bustled about quickly and with purpose, wanting to spend as little time outside as possible.

A constant, unnaturally cool wind blew through the neighborhood, on account of which the residents of Privet Drive sat huddled in their houses doing their best to keep the cold out. All of the residents except for one, anyway.

Harry Potter was an odd boy on many accounts. To his neighbors on Privet Drive he was a scruffy looking loner who lived with the Dursley’s and attended St. Brutus’s Secure Center for Criminally Incurable Boys. To his fellow students at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry he was the mysterious, self-effacing Gryffindor who seemed to always be at the center of everything. To anyone who could see him at this moment, however, he would simply be the brooding, morose young man in a dark, empty room who didn’t have enough sense to shut the window.

Harry lay on the bed with his hands behind his head, shutting his eyes as another cool gust of wind blew over him. His school trunk sat open next to the bed, most of its contents still inside. For the most part it looked like the trunk of someone who had just returned from a trip and hadn’t had time to unpack yet. Harry’s bedroom window was opened as wide as it could go, welcoming the cold, wet air the neighbors were so intent to keep out. Despite the lack of light coming from outside, none of the lights in the room were on, hiding much of the room in shadow. The darkness, coupled with the chill air constantly flooding through the window, gave the place an intensely morose, gloomy atmosphere. Harry preferred the room this way: It matched his mood perfectly.

It had been a miserable 3 weeks at the Dursley’s already. Harry felt a dull, throbbing emptiness inside from the death of Sirius. Having nothing to do but sit at Privet Drive and think about it definitely didn’t help either. He had spent most of the summer inside his room, coming out only to stretch his legs or use the bathroom.

The sudden flutter of wings snapped Harry from his reverie. A large, snowy white owl alit upon the windowsill with an enthusiastic hoot.

Harry slowly turned onto his side and glanced dully up at Hedwig.

“Welcome back,� he muttered.

Harry rose lethargically from his bed and walked over to Hedwig. She had brought two items: a folded up newspaper and a letter. She looked at Harry with her large, amber eyes, waiting for a sign of appreciation.

Harry, not noticing, blankly took the items and slouched back down on his bed.

He looked at the newspaper first: today’s Daily Prophet. Harry unfolded it and glanced uninterestedly at the headline.

YOU-KNOW-WHO STRIKES AT MUGGLE SPORTING EVENT
Ministry Forced to Modify Over 3000 Muggle Memories

Folding the paper back up, Harry lobbed it into the far corner of the room where it joined a number of other unread Daily Prophets. A good-sized pile was beginning to form.

Funny, he mused to himself. Last summer he had been so desperate for any news of Voldemort that he had scrounged through rubbish bins and hid in bushes. Now, nearly every day brought a new headline about Voldemort, and he didn’t care enough to even open the paper. He didn’t care about much since Sirius had died…

He apathetically picked up the letter Hedwig had brought and opened it. It was from Hermione.

Hello Harry! Nothing new to report since yesterday. Nothing you couldn’t have read for yourself in the Daily Prophet, anyway. Look, Ron says not to do this, but it needs to be done. I’m concerned about you Harry. Your letters are so short and you never say anything more than “I’m ok.� I know you probably don’t want to talk about Sirius, Harry, but…

Harry stopped and folded up the letter. He didn’t really feel like reading it right now.

Unlike other summers he had spent at the Dursley’s, this one had brought Harry an almost continual stream of letters. Most were from his best friends, Hermione and Ron, but he would occasionally get posts from others: Ginny, Neville Longbottom, Fred and George, Lupin, and Tonks. Even Mad-Eye Moody had added a quick note at the end of Tonks’s last letter: “Keep your eyes peeled Potter. Remember, if you ever are attacked at Privet Drive, that cousin of yours would make a pretty good shield.� Harry couldn’t tell if the old auror was joking or not.

Harry was grateful for all the letters- it definitely made the summer more enjoyable, but they could only help so much. The fact remained that Harry was still stuck in Privet Drive.

Harry reached into his trunk and pulled out an old shoebox. Inside he kept every letter he had ever received from the wizarding world. He had found that rereading past letters helped him make it through the stay at Privet Drive.

As he placed Hermione’s letter on top of the stack, his eyes fell on a faded, torn letter sticking out at the bottom of the box. Harry could just make out part of the note. It was hastily written and in handwriting Harry hadn’t seen for quite some time.

It was Sirius’s.

The sorrow Harry held continually in the pit of his stomach intensified. He had forgotten that he still had Sirius’s old letters. As he looked at the letter a familiar yearning grew in him, a yearning for any memory or contact from Sirius, even if it was just an old letter written before he had been killed.

Reaching into the bottom of the box, Harry grabbed the letter and pulled it out. It was more of a short note than a letter. He had just begun to read when he heard the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs outside the door; someone was coming to see him. He quickly closed the box, unknowingly dropping Sirius’s note on the floor.

Knock, Knock, Knock.

The door opened and a burst of light flooded through. Harry squinted in the brightness. The tall, slender form of his aunt stood in the doorway, holding what looked like a dinner plate.

“Your uncle and I are leaving for the remainder of the day.�

Harry didn’t answer.

“I’ve brought you some dinner.�

She walked slowly into the room and set a plate of food on a desk near the door. The desk was covered with similar plates of food, none of it eaten.

She walked back to the doorway and paused again, as if considering what to say.

“Er… don’t leave the home, Harry,� Aunt Petunia said in a voice that was softer than normal, though it still retained some of her usual curtness.

It seemed to Harry that she was about to say more, but after another pause Aunt Petunia turned and walked away, shutting the door behind her.

The Dursley’s hadn’t been especially bad to Harry this summer. Indeed, it had probably been the most civil time he had ever spent with them. The few times he had seen them, Uncle Vernon and Dudley were almost nice to Harry; at least, they weren't outright jerks, which is as much as could be expected of the two. The biggest change, however, was in Aunt Petunia. She kept making strange, almost friendly gestures to Harry, like bringing food to his room and asking if he would like to watch the news. Harry found all this very awkward and preferred to simply stay in his room.

Hearing the sound of car doors opening and closing, Harry glanced out the window to see Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon drive away.

“Don’t leave the house Harry.� Aunt Petunia’s words echoed in his head. She didn’t need to tell me that, I don’t feel like going outside any more than I feel like being in here, he thought. But as he looked out the window and saw the wind blow through the trees, he decided that a walk wasn't such a bad idea. It had been a while since he had felt the wind in his face…

His mind made up, Harry threw his bedroom door open, trounced down the stairs, and walked straight out the front door.

He had to squint as he walked into the outdoor air. He hadn’t been outside for at least two weeks; the Dursley's had forbidden it. A cold blast of wind hit him in the face, blowing his hair back. Harry stopped, closed his eyes and took a deep breath: for a second it reminded him of flying…

He resumed his walk, not quite sure where he was going. It felt good just to be outside, even though it was somewhat cold. Besides, Aunt Petunia wanting him to stay inside the house seemed to be reason enough to leave.

Dumbledore wouldn’t want me out here either…said a small voice in his head, the voice he usually attributed to Hermione.

He brushed it off and kept walking.

Suddenly a yell broke out above the wind.

“Harry! Harry stop!�

Harry turned. It was Dudley. He was calling from the doorway of number 4 and began running towards Harry..

Dudley had continued to grow the past year, and was now bigger and more formidable than ever. Though not in terrific running shape, his boxing training had continued to mold and refine him. Despite the chubbiness, there was now a sort of raw athleticism to his movements, almost like a bear.

“You’re not supposed to go anywhere. Mom told me not to let you leave,� Dudley gasped between breaths. His face wore an unusual expression that Harry couldn’t quite place. It was something like a mix of anger, fear, and… concern?

“Yeah, well, I’m going, and you’re not going to stop me.� Harry turned back around and stalked off.

“Harry! Harry…please?�

“Go away Dudley!� Harry quickened his pace.

“Stop! Come on!� Dudley began to rumble after Harry again.

Harry was annoyed. Since when did Dudley care about what he did? Harry looked back at him- it was all he could do just to keep up. A cruel idea came into Harry's head.

“Well come on then, Big D! Let’s go for a walk!� Harry shouted. He smiled as he broke into a run. Dudley had always been bigger and a harder puncher, but Harry had always been faster.

When he reached the end of Privet Drive Harry took a right onto Magnolia Crescent. Houses blurred past him and he took his next left. After sprinting down that street Harry turned one more corner then stopped to catch his breath. He was on the western border of an open park.

Looking behind him for any trace of Dudley, Harry saw only open street. He had lost him.

Harry chuckled to himself and continued walking. To his right was the park; empty, swings swaying gently in the wind. A row of houses lined the street to the left. About 30 yards ahead on his right was another road that intersected with the one he was on.

Thinking he would turn down that street next, Harry looked down it and saw three figures walking along the road. They were moving slowly and kept looking around, as if they weren’t sure where they were or where to go. Two of the figures were big and clumsy, and lumbered slightly behind the third. The person in front, Harry could notice even from this distance, walked with a haughty, superior stride, as if he was disgusted by his surroundings.

Harry stopped in his tracks. He knew that swagger anywhere.

Draco Malfoy.

(A/N- J.K. Rowling owns all the characters, locations, and history in this chapter. Also, thank you Magical Maeve for beta-reviewing.)

Chapter 2
A Muggle-Style Beating

Harry was completely astonished. Draco Malfoy and his two cronies, Crabbe and Goyle, were walking down a street in Little Whinging, no more than a few blocks from Privet Drive. It seemed like a strange dream. Last summer Harry had been shocked to meet Dementors in Little Whinging but seeing Malfoy and his pet gorillas strut down the street was no less startling.

Immediately his adrenaline began to rush. Harry knew exactly what they had come for: revenge. Towards the end of the previous school year all three of their Death Eater-fathers had been sent to prison because of him.

Strangely enough though, Harry was almost glad to see them. After nearly a month of sitting indoors this would certainly break up the monotony. His eyes narrowed in anger as he reached for his wand; they weren’t the only ones who had lost someone at the Ministry two months ago…

The wand wasn’t there. Frantically, he searched his other pockets. Nothing. He suddenly remembered leaving it in the trunk next to his bed in Privet Drive.

He felt a small twinge of panic: How could he take on Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle without a wand? His mind worked furiously, trying to come up with a plan. They hadn’t seen him yet, but in a few more seconds they would turn the corner and he would be in plain view. They would definitely come at him then. Without a wand he didn’t have much hope of winning a fight; Crabbe and Goyle were still unpleasantly large for their age and Malfoy would be sure to play dirty. He could run…

As soon as the idea entered his head Harry felt disgusted with himself. Run? From Malfoy? He would rather get beaten up. Not sure what he would do when he got there, Harry took off for the confrontation. Wand or no wand, he wasn’t about to run like a coward, like a Slytherin.

He turned the corner and made a beeline straight for them. He got closer and closer. He could see them clearly now: Malfoy’s head was turned, looking at the houses around him; Crabbe was concentrating on his feet, apparently trying not to trip; and Goyle, as usual, seemed to be only remotely aware of what was going on around him. They still hadn’t seen Harry, despite the fact that he was directly in front of them. He was no more than 10 yards away now…

It was actually Goyle who spotted him first. Harry could see his brow furrow in confusion as he realized someone was walking towards them. Comprehension slowly broke upon his dull face when he realized it was Harry.

Arm pointing, face lit up with astonishment, he had just begun to alert the others when Harry broke in:

“If you’re looking for your father, Malfoy, he’s in Azkaban. You remember Azkaban… it’s a prison for people who are cowardly, slimy gits.�

Malfoy flinched horribly. Apparently he had been too busy looking at the Muggle neighbourhood in disgust to notice Harry had walked right up to him. He looked at him in supreme astonishment; he had planned on catching Harry by surprise, not the other way around.

Harry turned to Crabbe and Goyle before Malfoy could compose himself.

“Crabbe, Goyle, your dads are in Azkaban too. Although if they’re as slow as you two, they probably haven’t realized it yet.�

Crabbe had just figured out what was going on when Malfoy blurted out in a rage:

“I found you Potter! I’m here to show you what happens to Half-Bloods who meddle with the Dark Lo- with my fam- with the noble house of Malfoy!� He spluttered the words out.

Malfoy then began a rant that Harry found quite hard to follow. He noticed phrases about Pure-Bloods and cleansing the wizard race, but Malfoy was so furious he kept stumbling over his words, as if he had been rehearsing this speech for a while and wanted to get it right. It reminded Harry of a school play where the kid couldn’t get his lines right.

Harry savoured the moment before interrupting:

“Sorry to break up your little speech Malfoy, but your dad got exactly what he deserved. Now get out of here, the Muggles don’t like slime like you on their streets.�

“You’re dead Potter!� Malfoy spat, face trembling with rage. “I told you you’d pay for what you’ve done to my father, and now I’m here to do it!�

Harry wasn’t sure how he was going to get out of this one; he had never seen Malfoy so angry. And without his wand there wasn’t much hope. Unless…

It wasn’t a great plan, but it was the only one he could come up with. Feeling he was about to be hexed into the ground, Harry suddenly threw his arms out and bared his chest to Malfoy.

“Go ahead then, curse me Malfoy!� Harry roared. “Do it! It would be worth it to see you expelled from Hogwarts. I reckon that git of a father of yours can’t bribe anyone from where he is. Go ahead!�

Malfoy immediately went for his wand. He was so mad he fumbled in his robes for a while.

Harry kicked himself mentally for leaving his wand behind: He could have had it out and cursed the whole lot of them by now.

Finally Malfoy whipped out his wand and pointed it straight at Harry’s chest, a triumphant look on his face. Harry looked into his eyes and realized something: Draco was waiting for him to show fear…it was his favourite weapon.

Instead, Harry grinned back with what he hoped was a good imitation of the grin he had seen on Sirius’s face whenever anything risky or particularly dangerous was mentioned. “Come on Malfoy, give me your worst!� he challenged.

Malfoy hesitated. The triumphant look on his face faded, although the sneer remained. Slowly he lowered his wand.

“No. No, I won’t give you the pleasure, Potter. I’m going to be around Hogwarts to the end, just to cause you misery.� He looked at Crabbe and Goyle who had been watching the whole time. Suddenly, he smiled.

“You know, we don’t need magic to have a little fun with you, Potter. I think Crabbe and Goyle here are anxious to give you a Muggle-style beating, in honour of your upbringing.� He smiled maliciously.

Crabbe and Goyle began to flex their arms, looking at Harry with dumb grins on their faces. As they moved forward, Harry clenched his fists, ready for the fight. He may be able to get in a couple good punches.

The pounding of heavy footsteps behind him made Harry spin around. Crabbe and Goyle halted mid flex. It was Dudley.

“Harry… please…come back home…Mum will be angry if you’re not there…� he panted as he stopped next to Harry. His face was bright red and dripped with sweat.

Harry was taken aback. He had never heard Dudley say please to anyone, much less him.

Malfoy’s sneering voice interrupted: “Who is this great lump of a Muggle?� he demanded of no one in particular.

Dudley looked up, just noticing the three strangers talking with Harry. “Who are they Harry?� he asked, puzzled.

“Ha! It’s one of Potter’s Muggle relatives!� Malfoy boomed. “He’s even bigger and stupider than the rest of the trash we’ve seen walking around here.� he remarked and received chuckles from Crabbe and Goyle. Harry found it ironic that Crabbe and Goyle would laugh at someone being called big and stupid. He looked at Dudley and noticed his jaw clench and his great, meaty hand form a fist. Dudley’s eyes quickly looked over the trio; he was sizing up Crabbe and Goyle.

“These are the biggest prats at my school, Dudley.�

Dudley stepped back, terrified.

“They’re…they’re…wizards?� He asked in a trembling voice. He instinctively started rubbing one hand over his rear end.

Malfoy, seeing the fear in Dudley’s plump face and his odd reaction at the mention of Harry’s school, caught on immediately. He stepped forward menacingly.

“That’s right, you great, lumbering oaf, I’m a wizard!� Malfoy drawled. “And if you don’t want me to give you a pig’s head to match that pig snout of yours, you’d better run back to your pig mother and let us deal with Potter.�

By pure luck Malfoy had said the exact thing most likely to petrify Dudley. The first time Dudley had ever encountered a wizard he had left with a curly pig’s tail coming out of his shorts. Whimpering, he took another step behind Harry, grabbing his arm in fright.

“Oh stop it, Dudley!� Harry said testily. They can’t use magic out of school, they’ll be expelled.� Harry suddenly felt Dudley’s grip on his arm loosen.

“They, they can’t use m-magic?� Dudley asked slowly.

“No! Now stop whinging like a baby.� Harry’s mind continued to race, trying to come up with a plan.

“Enough of this! Go on Crabbe, Goyle. Teach this Half-Blood and his filthy pet Muggle a lesson.� Malfoy sneered impatiently.

What happened next went by so fast that Harry hardly knew what had happened. Goyle, being the closest, suddenly lurched at Dudley and Harry. Dudley’s right arm bolted out in a quick, straight jab that caught Goyle right in the face. A split-second later he followed up with a thundering left hook that knocked Goyle off his feet. Goyle lay sprawled on the ground, out cold.

Harry, Crabbe and Malfoy watched in amazement as Dudley sprang into boxing mode. His large, meaty fists were raised in front of him and he began hopping back and forth, surprisingly agile for such a large person. He danced around Crabbe in a small half-circle, face screwed up in an intense scowl and watching his every move like a hawk.

Crabbe, completely bewildered, looked back at Malfoy for direction.

“What are you waiting for? Get him! He’s a Muggle!� Malfoy yelled.

Suddenly Dudley rushed in, caught Crabbe with two quick jabs to the face and then sprang nimbly away. Crabbe staggered back a couple steps, nose bleeding, then charged furiously at Dudley, who quickly sidestepped and landed another punch to the side of Crabbe’s fat face.

Harry couldn’t help but be impressed. Dudley was obviously a good fighter; maybe all that bragging he did had been true rather than a huge exaggeration. Crabbe, who had only ever picked on smaller wizards, was entirely at a loss on how to deal with a trained Muggle fighter. Dudley continued to dart in and out of Crabbe’s clumsy movements, landing punch after punch. It was enormously entertaining.

Harry took a quick glance at Malfoy, who was also watching Dudley in awe and amazement. It occurred to Harry that Malfoy, growing up in a Wizard family that despised Muggles, probably had no idea that anything like boxing existed. He just stood there gaping, that arrogant little sneer still on his face. Harry hated that sneer…

Before he knew what he was doing, Harry had launched himself at Malfoy. He saw Malfoy’s eyes grow to the size of dinner plates before Harry’s fist smashed into his chin. Draco reeled backwards and Harry was on him in a flash. Pure rage took over: a month trapped in Privet Drive; Sirius’s death; the prophecy; 5 years of putting up with Malfoy- Harry let every frustration, anger and injustice he was feeling inside pour out on Malfoy like a thundering waterfall.

It was over in two minutes. Crabbe had run back down the street they had come from, crying. Goyle still lay unconscious on the ground in a spread-eagle. Several yards away was Malfoy, moaning and with blood coming from a deep gash on his chin. A black eye had begun to form on his pale face.

Harry watched Malfoy squirm on the ground as the exhilaration of the fight slowly evaporated. Inside he felt a deep satisfaction: his knee had been skinned pretty badly, his fists were bruised from repeated contact with Malfoy’s body, but he hadn’t felt so alive in months. He also noticed Malfoy’s wand lying on the ground not far from him. Harry took it.

Dudley was still breathing heavily. He looked at the crumpled form of Malfoy with cold anger on his face, his great chest swelling like a bellows with each breath.

Harry couldn’t help but look at Dudley with a newfound admiration. Watching him beat seven kinds of crap out of Crabbe and Goyle demanded it. Still exhilarated, he slapped Dudley on the back.

“That was brilliant, Dudley, brilliant! You really are amazing, you know that?�

“That skinny wimp insulted my mother." Dudley muttered. "Lucky for him you got to him first. I would have torn him apart.� Harry believed him.

Completely exhilarated and with the image of Crabbe bawling like a 5 year-old fresh in his mind, Harry couldn’t help but laugh. It had been a while since he had laughed, and it felt good. He couldn’t wait to tell Ron what had happened. The thought of Ron’s face when he heard the news made him laugh even harder.

Just then Harry heard a dog barking. It suddenly occurred to him that they had started a big fight in the middle of a residential area, people were bound to come out soon.

“Come on Dudley,� he said. “We better get going.� Dudley paused for a moment, giving Malfoy one last scowl, then turned and joined Harry. The two took off for Privet Drive.

“Hey Harry," Dudley muttered as they jogged towards Privet Drive.

“Yeah?�

“Good punch on blondie back there.�

"Thanks Dud."

Chapter 3
The Letter From Sirius

Harry returned to Number 4 that evening feeling on top of the world. Anxious to write the letter to Ron he sprinted up the stairs to his bedroom, burst through the door, and was halfway to the writing desk when a small, folded bit of parchment lying on the ground caught his eye.

At first he thought someone from the magical world was trying to contact him, until he realized it was the old note from Sirius he had been about to read earlier that day. He must have dropped it when Aunt Petunia had come to his room.

This unexpected reminder of his dead Godfather hit Harry like a slap in the face. His arms dropped lifelessly to his sides. Malfoy’s wand fell from his limp fingers, spitting out a few green sparks as it hit the ground. The feeling of exhilaration he had since the fight disappeared in an instant, replaced by the familiar, cold, hollow feeling he had had all summer.

Sirius was dead. Who cared about Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, or anything else? His world had been shattered that night, the only person he cared about ripped from him. He would never hear from Sirius again. Unless…

Slowly, tremulously, Harry walked to where the note was laying and picked it up. He had stopped breathing and his hands were shaking. Despite the fact that he had probably read it many times, Harry found himself stunned and unable to open the letter. For some strange reason it felt like Sirius was reaching out to him, like he wanted to tell him something. Maybe it was written in this letter…

After a long pause Harry was finally able to compose himself. Heart pounding and still holding his breath, he unfolded the note and read it:

Send date of next Hogsmeade visit.

Confused at first, Harry looked awkwardly at the note, read it again, then exhaled in disappointment. He didn’t know what he had expected. Definitely something more meaningful than “Send date of next Hogsmeade visit.� He sank back down on the bed.

I’m going crazy…

A small part of him had thought Sirius was contacting him from the other side…it was just a stupid note and here he was getting excited like some chit of a girl getting her first love letter…

Falling back on the bed so he was laying cross-wise, Harry thought back to when he had received this letter.

It had been his fourth year. Barty Crouch Jr., disguised as Mad-Eye Moody, had entered him into the Triwizard Tournament and Harry was about to compete in the second task. He had been enormously stressed at the time, largely due to the fact that he was about to be thrust into the icy cold depths of Hogwarts lake and still had no idea how he was going to live through it. He had sent Sirius a letter bemoaning this and a dozen other traumas, and the next day he received this reply:

Send date of next Hogsmeade visit.

Sirius was coming to Hogsmeade to see him.

Harry had been disappointed when he had received the note for two reasons: one, it had been the shortest letter Sirius had ever written and Harry had been expecting something much longer, and two, it meant that Sirius was leaving the safety of wherever he had been hiding and coming to Hogsmeade, where he was risking being caught by the ministry and given to the dementors.

He looked down at the note again.

Send date of next Hogsmeade visit.

Harry thought of Sirius traveling hundreds of miles, doing his best to not be detected, only to hide in a tiny, cramped cave where he lived off rats; all so he could be closer to Harry. Somehow this image brought a smile to Harry’s face: Sirius had never been the sort to sit around and do nothing. Not like he had been doing for the past few weeks…

A sudden, uncomfortable guilt began to creep over Harry. He couldn’t help but think—Sirius would never sit around and mope like this. And it would be the absolute last thing he would want Harry to do! Sirius would want him to fight, to get revenge for both his and James’s death, to use this time to study and prepare for Voldemort. In fact, if Sirius could see him right now he would probably swear at him and start his bed on fire, just to get him off his rear end and doing something.

This realization stunned Harry. It was true, no wonder he had felt so good after beating up Malfoy: it was the only real thing he had accomplished in weeks! He had just begun to feel ashamed of himself when the whiny, sulking part of himself interrupted his thoughts:

Yeah, but Sirius didn’t know what it’s like to be trapped with the Dursley’s. He didn’t know what it’s like to lose your parents and the only person you could consider family. No one has it as hard as him, and if he wanted to be sad then he definitely had a right to.

Harry felt a little less guilty after thinking this, although there was still a doubtful, uneasy feeling there. Another realization hit him:

Sirius had grown up in a horrible family. He had left when only 16-years old to live with his best friend, Harry’s father, who had been murdered. Sirius then spent 13 years locked up in prison with the vilest and most evil creatures imaginable for a crime he didn’t commit, and the entire world, including his own godson, thought he was a deranged killer.

Suddenly Harry didn’t feel so sorry for himself. The guilty feeling came back as he realized even more:

Sirius knew exactly what it felt like to lose family. He had also gone through a dozen other things just as bad, things that Harry would never know about. If ever anyone had a right to feel sorry for himself, it had been Sirius Black. But instead he got on with his life and fought for the people he cared about. He had fought for Harry until the very end…

The tears began to flow.

A final realization hit Harry; this one the most unbearable of all: Voldemort and his Death Eaters were on the loose and growing stronger: hurting people, killing people! And Harry, the only one who could stop him, had been sulking in his room, doing NOTHING.

How could he sit around and let evil people hurt the innocent any longer?

He glanced at the note one last time:

Send date of next Hogsmeade visit.

Perhaps Sirius had been trying to talk with Harry afterall…

For the first time in his life, Harry Potter burst into tears.

***

Harry lay on his bed in stunned silence for several hours before getting up, turning on the lamp, and writing a very long letter to Hermione.

CHAPTER 4
Owls and Ex-Ministers

The next few days were different for Harry. Though he couldn’t help but still feel sad about the loss of Sirius, he found that it was much more bearable if he just kept busy. He also felt considerably better after having let all his feelings out in the letter to Hermione.

First, he sat down and wrote to everyone else who had sent him a letter that summer. Ron’s had been especially long, as Harry had wanted to give a blow-by-blow account of the encounter with Malfoy. His only regret was that he couldn’t see the look on Ron’s face as he read it.

Next, Harry tackled the pile of unread Daily Prophets that had grown steadily larger in the corner of the room. He was surprised to find that quite a bit had been going on—even more than he had thought. The overall gist of it was that Voldemort had been very active and the wizarding world was in an absolute a state of panic. Nearly everyday brought a headline detailing some new attack.

Harry noticed something odd about all these attacks, however. They all seemed to be aimed at Muggles—football games, train stations, and rock concerts especially seemed to be targets—and strangely enough there were very few deaths or injuries. It was as if Voldemort and the Death Eaters just wanted to toy around with public fear.

The papers also mentioned Dumbledore quite frequently, and always as though he were some hero that could make the whole mess with Voldemort go away. Harry found his own name brought up almost as often, and in much the same way. Considering the type of coverage he and Dumbledore had received the previous year, Harry found this sudden turn of opinion sickening.

One front page article from a week previous cheered him up though. The moving black and white photograph showed a terrified Cornelius Fudge running for his life from—Harry couldn’t quite believe it—a giant, flying monkey. There were dozens and dozens of wizards and witches in the background (most of whom were pointing and laughing). It appeared to have been taken in the main lobby of the Ministry building. Completely baffled, Harry read the article.

Minister of Magic Thrown Out Of Office
Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic for the past 6 years, has resigned following intense public pressure after the discovery of You-Know-Who’s return. Last year Fudge continually denied rumors that You-Know-Who had returned, until several eye-witnesses, including Fudge himself, witnessed his appearance at the Ministry building itself (for a full account see page 4).

In addition to Fudge, several upper-level staff members have also been dismissed, including Head of International Relations Wulfric Dalthrop and Senior Undersecretary Dolores Umbridge, who enjoyed a brief stint as Hogwarts Headmistress last year. In a rather fitting ceremony, Ex-Minister Fudge was chased from his office by a giant, fiery monkey (which bore a strange resemblance to Fudge himself), emitting strange grunting sounds as the terrified Ex-Minister ran for his life. This strange display was cheered on by close to a hundred onlookers, an angry mob which had assembled to physically oust Fudge from office but was beaten to it by the giant monkey. The origin of the said monkey is currently unknown.

While under current legislation the public does not have authority to oust the Minister of Magic, the Wizengamot is expected to make the dismissal official later today.
Meanwhile, many are calling for Albus Dumbledore, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, to replace Fudge as Minister of Magic immediately. Dumbledore, who was the target of a lengthy smear campaign directed by Ex-Minister Fudge last year, has yet to comment.

Harry laughed out loud as he ripped off the front page of the paper and hung it on the wall. Fudge had spent the last year trying to convince the public that he and Dumbledore were crazy, and it was good to see him finally get what he deserved. That part about the giant monkey was a little confusing though…

Once he had read through the Daily Prophets, Harry got out his old school books and began to study. Using a small stick roughly the size of his own wand that he had found in the backyard, he practiced wand movements and incantations, thinking if he couldn’t use magic he could at least practice it.

On top of the letter writing, studying, and practicing spells, Harry finished each day by sitting on his bed, taking some deep breaths and trying his best to clear his mind of emotion. This was a practice that Snape had assigned him the year before when he was supposed to be learning Occlumency, but Harry had never really tried too hard at. It had been difficult to put aside his feelings at the time (he still felt a surge of anger every time he thought of Snape), but now, seeing the importance of learning Occlumency, Harry was determined to do everything he could.

The truth was he felt responsible for what had happened in the Department of Mysteries. A pang of guilt and regret hit him every time he thought of it. If he had really worked on Occlumency like he was supposed to, Voldemort never would have given him that phony vision, he never would have shown up at the Department of Mysteries, and Sirius would still be alive today. Then there was the fact that his friends had been willing to follow him, had been willing to risk their own lives to help Harry, and he had nearly gotten them killed because he was too stupid to realize it was a trick. He would never, NEVER, do anything that stupid again.

Harry also decided he might as well join the Dursley’s for meals. It was obvious that Uncle Vernon preferred the brooding, morose Harry who stayed shut up in his room over the new Harry who joined them for meals. Knowing this made Harry want to show up even more, for, despite his annoyance with Harry, Uncle Vernon did his best to make forced, semi-polite conversation for fear of Mad-Eye Moody walking through the door and turning his first-born son into a goat. Moody’s threat at King’s Cross Station at the end of term worked like a charm, and Harry loved to see Uncle Vernon squirm:

“So, did you have a nice day?� Uncle Vernon asked Harry over his kidney pie one evening. His tone of voice made it obvious that the niceness of Harry’s day was the last thing he cared about.

“Oh yeah. I got loads done today.� Harry replied brightly.

“Really?� Uncle Vernon said with a smirk. “Like what?�

“Well, once I finished my chores I practiced magic with an old stick I found in the backyard, then I thought I would see if I couldn’t saw one of Mrs. Figg’s cats in half.� Harry replied casually. “Turns out it’s not nearly as easy as that bloke on the TV makes it out to be.� He added despairingly, shaking his head.

Uncle Vernon choked on the potato he had just put in his mouth, and after hacking it back onto his plate glared at Harry.

“It’s for my school talent show.� He added, loving the fact that Uncle Vernon was never sure if he was joking or not.

One Saturday morning, however, Uncle Vernon was pushed too far. The family had gathered for breakfast (minus Dudley, who had gone to a “slumber party� at a friend’s place the night before) and Uncle Vernon was in the middle of a rant about a tax hike he had read about in paper.

Harry was just about to grab some bacon and go up to his room to study when there was a tremendous CRACK, followed by the sound of shattered glass.

Uncle Vernon was so startled he jumped in his chair, arm sweeping the table in front of him and sending his plate of pancakes to the floor in a loud crash. Aunt Petunia shrieked.

Looking around for the source of the crash, Harry saw a large, brown owl fluttering around in the sink, apparently trying to orientate itself. He had never seen this owl before, and it looked much bigger than a typical Hogwarts owls.

“AHHHGHRR! I’ve told you, NO OWLS AT MY HOUSE!� Uncle Vernon bellowed at Harry. He was breathing deeply, his right hand clenched over his chest as though he were about to have a heart attack.

“Like I can just stop them! Honestly…� Harry retorted in exasperation as he walked towards the owl. It was quite a sight: The entire window had been destroyed, lying in broken fragments all over the sink and floor. The owl appeared to be all right; it had just hopped onto the rim of the sink and stood staring at Harry with its large brown eyes. Harry noticed the owl was carrying a large letter.

Uncle Vernon spoke, “Well if you would kindly advise your little friends not to send their great, dirty birds smashing through my kitchen window in the future, I would be very…appreciative.� The words were very slow and deliberate, as if it were all he could do to keep from yelling at Harry.

“I’ll do that.� Harry snapped back. He was just as confused as Uncle Vernon; usually the owls came to his bedroom window. He was just reached out to remove the letter from the owl’s leg when it gave a loud hoot, hopped off the counter and swooped away from Harry towards…Uncle Vernon?

Aunt Petunia gasped and Uncle Vernon flinched. The owl dropped the letter at his feet, swooped back through the kitchen past Harry, shot out the open window and was gone.

A tense silence followed as the three of them looked down at the letter. From his vantage point Harry could just make out the writing:

Vernon Dursley
The Kitchen
Number 4 Privet Drive

Uncle Vernon, clearly ruffled, hesitated before bending over and picking up the letter. Aunt Petunia looked extremely apprehensive. Harry remembered the Howler she had received from Dumbledore last summer. Was this letter from Dumbledore too? Why would he be writing Uncle Vernon? Maybe it was from Moody, just to remind Uncle Vernon he was watching. An enormous owl unexpectedly smashing through the kitchen window would definitely be his style.

Uncle Vernon opened the letter and began to read. Aunt Petunia craned her long horse neck over his shoulder to join him. They both read silently, frowning, then, after a few seconds, simultaneously gasped in disbelief. After the gasp the two read on furiously, Uncle Vernon’s face slowly turning purple and Aunt Petunia’s mouth open in pure astonishment.

By this point Harry was extremely curious to know what would merit such a reaction out of his Aunt and Uncle. It was obviously about him…Maybe he was leaving. A feeling of hope and excitement burst in his chest.

“What does it say?� He asked, his voice ringing through the silence.

Uncle Vernon put down the letter, which Aunt Petunia hurriedly picked up and continued reading, her eyes darting back and forth. Uncle Vernon looked shocked and somewhat angry. He slowly turned his head to look at Aunt Petunia, who had just finished the letter and looked back at her husband, mouth still hanging open.

Feeling that this wasn’t a good time to be ignored, Harry spoke up even louder. “What does it SAY?�

Still looking at Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon’s face twisted into a sneer of anger. “Why, of all the…� his voice lowered to a growl that Harry couldn’t quite understand. Aunt Petunia, who was even more shocked at her husband’s reaction, spoke back in quick, hurried tones. The two went back and forth, all the time Uncle Vernon looking angrier and Petunia more confused.

Harry couldn’t stand it anymore.

“WHAT DOES IT SAY?� he demanded.

Uncle Vernon looked up at Harry, huffed, then, holding out a sealed envelope smaller than the first, replied, “It says, boy…that I am to give you this.�

Chapter 5
The Madness of Uncle Vernon

Harry looked at the letter in his hands. There was no address written on it—apparently it had been stuck in the larger envelope addressed to Uncle Vernon. Looking up at Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon, Harry noticed they weren’t as interested in his letter as they were in Uncle Vernon’s, as they were still speaking to one another in quick, subdued tones and were ignoring him.

Curious, Harry opened the letter. It was from Dumbledore:

Hello Harry, I hope your summer has been---bearable.

I am writing to ask you to leave Privet Drive and join me in a location that I cannot reveal at the moment. I trust, however, that it is a place you would very much like to visit.

I am sorry Harry for the way things have turned out. I understand if you are not yet ready to re-enter our world and take the pressures that wait you here. I also understand if you have no desire to speak to me. I ask only for the chance to make up for 15 years of keeping you in the dark.

Tomorrow evening at precisely 5:00 I will provide a means for you to leave Privet Drive. If you desire to leave, use this means and it will bring you directly to me. If not, I fully understand and arrangements for your removal will be made at the end of the summer holidays.

Bless you Harry,
Albus Dumbledore

Harry felt a twinge of guilt: The part about understanding if Harry didn’t want to talk to him reminded Harry that his last meeting with the Headmaster had involved a lot of yelling on his part and the near total destruction of the office. Harry had later admitted to himself, albeit grudgingly, that Dumbledore really was doing what he thought best and he had no right to be mad at him. That was also the day he told Harry about the prophecy…

Harry resolved to apologize to Dumbledore when he met him the next day.

This still didn’t explain Uncle Vernon’s reaction to the first letter, however. Harry got a feeling that there was something else written in it…

The thought was forgotten in a moment in a rush of happiness: He was leaving Privet Drive! The excitement began to build up as he thought about where he would be going: The Burrow, perhaps…No, the Burrow wouldn’t be safe, most likely he would be sent to Grimmauld Place. It was the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix and probably the safest place outside of Hogwarts itself. Harry wasn’t sure how he would feel about returning to Grimmauld Place after the death of Sirius, but anything was better than being stuck in Privet Drive.

Thinking he’d better get packed, Harry folded up the letter and made for the staircase.

“Well, I’ll be leaving tomorrow.� He mentioned to Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon in passing.

Aunt Petunia gasped and Uncle Vernon turned purple. Suddenly they were very interested in him.

“What? Tomorrow? I’ve heard nothing of this!� Uncle Vernon sputtered.

Harry hesitated on the first stair.

“Well that’s what my letter said. Tomorrow at 5:00. I need to go pack.� He started again up the stairs.

“Now see here! You’re not going anywhere, boy, until I see this…this Dooblydure, Doopendor—whatever his name is!� Uncle Vernon barked.

Something very strange is going on here, Harry thought to himself. Since when did the Dursley’s care when he left, so long as he was gone? And why did Uncle Vernon want to see Dumbledore?

“Well I don’t think he’s coming. Why do you want to see Professor Dumbledore?� Harry replied suspiciously.

“He’d better come, or you’re not going!� Uncle Vernon snapped back, not answering Harry’s question. “What does the letter say? How are they going to fetch you?�

“It didn’t say.� Harry answered truthfully.

“Didn’t say? Rubbish! Give me that letter.� As he grabbed the letter out of Harry’s hands, the envelope burst into a strange blue flame. Uncle Vernon dropped it with a yelp.

“DAMN! What the devil is this?� He sputtered as the three watched the letter burn into ashes on the floor.

Uncle Vernon turned to Harry, his face screwed up in anger.

“Come on then, how’re they going to fetch you?� Uncle Vernon demanded, a crazy look in his eye. “What will it be this time? Another flying car?� Foam had started to gather at the corners of his mouth. “A magical doorway opening up out of our pantry? The refrigerator sprouting wings and blasting you off to the moon?� He simpered sarcastically.

Harry looked back at him; half astonished, half amused at his behaviour. What had that letter said?

“Vernon, please! Calm down…�

“I WILL NOT CALM DOWN PETUNIA!� he shouted. “First we have that giant ogre trashing up our house with those accursed envelopes, then a flying Ford Anglia rips apart our window, THEN the boy makes a balloon out of Marge and runs off into the night, THEN that imbecile and his red-headed brats blow up our fireplace and Dudley nearly chokes to death on his own tongue, and then, THEN Petunia, we travel halfway across the damn country for a lawn competition that DOESN’T EXIST!�

It had never really occurred to Harry, but Uncle Vernon was probably quite hurt when he found he hadn’t won the award for the Best Kept Lawn last year.

Uncle Vernon’s rage continued:

“NO. No. I’ve had it with tricks and magic and make-believe lawn contests and the whole lot of it!� Here he turned to face Harry, and emphasized each point by jabbing his stubby finger into Harry’s chest.

“You tell that…Headmaster of yours that if he wants you, he’s going to have to stop by the house and call on us like a decent human being. And if he asks very politely, then maybe, MAYBE…we’ll let you go.�

“But, Uncle Vernon…�

“NO! You’re not going anywhere until I meet the man who dumped you on our doorstep fifteen years ago!�

And with that Uncle Vernon stomped out of the room.

****

Harry was slightly nervous the next day. Uncle Vernon was obviously upset and it wasn’t likely that he could ever get out of the house while his uncle was in such a state. Whatever that letter had said had really shocked Uncle Vernon…

On top of this, Dumbledore hadn’t mentioned exactly HOW Harry would be leaving in the first place. Should he take the Knight Bus? Would somebody come to sneak him out like last year? The Floo network? Harry had no idea.

As he walked down the stairs for breakfast Uncle Vernon greeted Harry by saying,
“Not going anywhere…� He hung the last syllable of “anywhere� like a note from a bizarre song, and Harry noticed a strange look in his uncle’s eyes.

Evidently a night’s rest hadn’t lessened Uncle Vernon’s determination one bit. He kept looking at Harry while they ate and muttered under his breath, “No more…not going until we have a chat…I’ll be damned…after 16 years…�

After finishing breakfast, Harry cleared his plate and decided to start his morning chore of weeding the front flower bed when Uncle Vernon’s bellowing voice stopped him:

“WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU’RE GOING!�

“I’m going to weed the front garden LIKE YOU TOLD ME TOO!� Harry shouted back angrily.

Uncle Vernon rose from the table, napkin still tucked into his shirt, and scuttled towards Harry.

“No, no, I don’t think you’ll be going out there today, boy. Do you think I’m stupid?�

With the napkin tucked in his collar, bits of bacon and spit stuck in his mustache and the maniacal look in his eye, Harry thought it best not to answer that question.

“Fine!� Harry flopped onto the nearby sofa. “What are we going to do then? Shall we sit on the couch and stare at one another all day?�

Uncle Vernon grinned back maliciously.

Chapter 6
Special Delivery


When Harry had ventured the suggestion of sitting on the couch all day and looking at each other, he had meant it as sarcasm. But here he was, two hours later, slumped forlornly on the sofa watching Uncle Vernon read a magazine on drills. It was a mark of the seriousness of the situation that Uncle Vernon had called into work sick today.

Having nothing else to do (his uncle absolutely forbade him from studying any of his “rubbish books� in the living room), Harry had become quite familiar with the couch. It was immaculately clean with a horrid brown and pink floral pattern that reminded him of vomit. He had spent the last hour playing with a row of gaudy pink tassels sticking out of its side. Aunt Petunia (who sat on a recliner next to Uncle Vernon doing her nails) had been surprisingly quiet the entire morning.

Other than the phone ringing once or twice and the milkman stopping by, it had been a rather uneventful morning. Harry couldn’t think of when he had been more bored in his life. The only thing that kept him going was the memory of Dumbledore’s letter, which had burned to ashes the day before. In it Dumbledore had mentioned sending him “somewhere he would very much like to visit�, and Harry continued to rack his brain trying to figure out where that may be.

Harry wondered what Ron and Hermione were up to, hoping he would be able to see them soon.

Another grueling hour went by. Still no sign from Dumbledore. By this time Harry had moved from playing with the tassels to counting how many of the pictures on the wall were of Dudley holding some sort of food. He had counted 12 when a sudden knock at the door shattered the three hour long silence.

Uncle Vernon looked quickly up from his magazine, glanced shrewdly at Harry, then motioned for him to get the door with a quick jerk of his big head.

Harry rose and walked to the door, keenly aware of his uncle’s eyes on the back of his head. His heart began to race as he placed his hand on the doorknob—he half expected to see Dumbledore on the other side, smiling at him…and pulled it open. Instead a woman in a Royal Mail uniform holding a small brown package stood looking blankly at him.

Harry’s shoulders slumped in disappointment. It was probably some new kitchen appliance Aunt Petunia had ordered off TV, or another gift for Dudley. Harry turned to go back to the couch.

“Package for Mr. Harry Putter,� said the mailwoman.

Harry stopped in his tracks and turned towards the woman. It had to be a mistake. Package? For him?

“Er…I’m Harry Putter…Potter,� replied Harry, examining the delivery woman more carefully than the first time.

She was about his size and probably about 10 years older. Her dark black hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and, as Harry looked closer, had a curious tint of blue to it. In one hand she held a clipboard, and in the other the small brown package. She was chewing bubble-gum and didn’t look the least bit interested in Harry, the package, or anything else around her. Although he had never seen the woman in his life, Harry thought there was something oddly familiar about her…

“A package, is it…?� Uncle Vernon rudely pushed Harry to the side and stood in the doorway, eying the woman suspiciously. Harry could see the wheels slowly moving in his thick head, probably trying to determine if the small package could somehow sprout wings and fly Harry out of the house.

“And where is this…package…from, may I ask?� Uncle Vernon questioned the mail woman accusingly.

“Let me check,� The woman replied disinterestedly and looked down at her clipboard. Harry examined her more closely. She had bright blue eyes, a small button nose, and a heart shaped face. He had seen the face before…

Then it registered: Tonks! Could it be? The face looked like her and the black-blue hair was definitely something she would do; the woman’s voice even sounded a like hers. Still, he couldn’t be sure…

The woman looked up from the clipboard.

“Weybridge, Surrey. Probably a recruitment package from Brooklands College. We’ve had a lot of them lately.�

�Ah, of course. Go on then…� Uncle Vernon waved his hand, apparently appeased with the explanation. He left Harry with the woman and started back for the living room and his drill magazine.

“What nutter college would want him I have no idea…� Harry heard him mutter under his breath as he passed.

This was one time Harry had to agree with Uncle Vernon. What college would even know about him?

The delivery woman spoke again:

“Yep, Brooklands College. It’s on a street called ‘Grimmauld Place,� she added, holding out the clipboard for Harry to sign.

Harry started at hearing the name. Looking at the woman’s face he noticed her lips twitch into a small smile.

Harry had to concentrate on the clipboard (which turned out to be just a blank sheet of paper) to keep from laughing out loud. It was definitely Tonks. Luckily for him Tonks had grown up with Muggles and was able to come up with a partially believable explanation. He scribbled his name right in the middle of the clipboard and handed it back.

“Thank you, sir. Here’s your package,� Tonks said ceremoniously, then took the clipboard and handed the small brown parcel to Harry.

As she left she gave him an enormous wink, and Harry had to bite his tongue to keep from bursting with laughter.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t the only one to see the wink.

“YOU!� Uncle Vernon bellowed. Tonks froze in the doorway. Uncle Vernon’s eyes bulged and he pointed an accusatory finger at her. “YOU’RE ONE OF THEM!� In an instant he had thundered his way back to the door, seized the package from Harry, tossed it out the open doorway, and was barking in Tonks’s face:

“Brooklands College, indeed! You listen here—this, this… miscreant� he gestured at Harry, “isn’t going anywhere until I see Dupeldoor! You tell him that for me!� he yelled, the plump face bright purple and an inch from Tonks’s. “Now, GET OFF MY PROPERTY!� The door slammed so hard that a couple pictures (Dudley had been eating in both, Harry noted) fell off the wall and shattered.

Uncle Vernon then stepped towards him, a satisfied smile on his face. He spoke in a low growl, “Doesn’t look like your little friends are as smart as they think they are, does it boy? Now sit down!�

Defeated, Harry did as he was told and took his previous seat on the brown and pink couch. Uncle Vernon also returned to his spot; a smug, self-satisfied look on his face as if he had just outsmarted the Prime Minister himself. Harry wasn’t impressed: if it hadn’t been for that ridiculous wink, he’d be up in his room opening the package right now.

Harry spent the next hour or so thinking about the package and what it may have held. It hadn’t been very big; probably no larger than a shoe-box. Considering Tonks had delivered it personally, it most likely contained the means for leaving Privet Drive that Dumbledore had mentioned in his letter. Harry guessed it was a port-key of some sort.

Another couple of hours slowly drug by. Aunt Petunia had fallen asleep and was snoring slightly. Uncle Vernon had dispensed with the drill magazine and was now balancing his checkbook when another knock came at the door.

The noise woke Aunt Petunia with a loud snort. Before Harry could even stand (he was anxious for any excuse to get off the couch by now) Uncle Vernon had bolted out of his seat, shoved Harry back into his, and was on his way to the door.

“You stay there,� he growled back at Harry. He had an angry, eager look on his face that reminded Harry of a tiger about to pounce on its prey. The door opened.

“Evn’n sir. We’re from the ‘Lectic Department do’n root’ine checks on yer block. D’you mind if we come in an’ look at yer fuse box fer a secon’?� Harry heard the slow, gravely voice of a man say to Uncle Vernon. The man sounded a bit nervous and unsure.

Watching Uncle Vernon glower back at the man, he could understand why. Anyone would be nervous with Uncle Vernon looking at them like that, Harry thought as he craned his head to get a better look at the man. All he could see from his vantage point on the couch was the hovering end of a rusted gray toolbox. The voice definitely wasn’t Tonks; perhaps it really was the Electric Department…

Uncle Vernon didn’t reply at first, but continued to regard the speaker with a cold and suspicious air before finally speaking.

“The Electric Department, did you say? So that would make you…electricians, wouldn’t it,� Uncle Vernon reasoned quite admirably.

“Er…yessir,� came the man’s confused reply.

Uncle Vernon continued to look back at the man, his eyes squinted judiciously, as if he were buying a used car and was hoping to find a defect in it. Harry heard another voice, this one a woman’s, pipe up:

“We’ve had some trouble with power surges and transformer malfunctions in your area, sir. It won’t take but a few minutes. Or if you’d like us to come back some other time…?� she spoke, sounding much more confident than the man had.

“No, no, not at all. Come on in.� Uncle Vernon removed his massive bulk from the doorway and gestured for the two to enter. “Right then! Go have a look.�

Uncle Vernon sounded unusually polite, Harry noticed.

Harry watched the two electricians enter the house. The first was a husky, middle-aged woman with short, gray hair. She took no notice of Harry or Petunia sitting on the couch as she entered, her attention apparently focused on locating the fuse-box.

The second electrician was far more interesting. He was short and squat; a dumpy little figure crammed into a uniform that looked two sizes too tall and four sizes too thin. His light brown hair was slicked back with some horrible type of grease and he gazed continually around the house with an air of bewilderment and uneasiness. As he looked around the house his eyes fell on Harry and his eyes registered recognition. He stared at Harry for a few seconds, mouth slightly open, before looking hurriedly away and finding his partner.

Harry recognized the man almost immediately. He lowered his face and buried it in his hands so no one would see him quaking with laughter.

There were many wizards who could reasonably pass as a Muggle—Mundungus Fletcher was definitely not one of them.

Uncle Vernon glanced shrewdly at Harry, then closed the door and joined the two “electricians�.

“Where could we find the fuse-box, sir?� asked the female, who Harry now realized was Tonks.

“Why, it’s in that cabinet right there, the one under the stairs,� Uncle Vernon replied, again just a little too politely.

The hefty, middle aged Tonks opened the cabinet door, (which had also served as the door to Harry’s living quarters for many years) ducked underneath, and flipped open the fuse-box. Tonks, at least, was doing a decent job of acting like a Muggle, which was more than he could say for Mundungus, who followed Tonks’s heels like a terrified puppy.

Harry had two contrary feelings as he watched the whole spectacle: he felt anxious for the two, as it seemed Uncle Vernon was on to them already; and hilarity at Mundungus’s attempt at posing as an electrician. A plumber probably would have been a better choice...

As Tonks toyed around with the fuse box Uncle Vernon came up behind Mundungus (who was trying very hard not to look at anything but the floor), and placed his hand on his shoulder.

“I say, we’ve been having a little trouble with one of the outlets in the kitchen. Would you mind stepping in and having a look while we’re waiting?�

Harry saw Tonks freeze. Mundungus slowly looked up at Uncle Vernon, hesitated, then replied tremulously, “Er…no prob’em, sir.�

Uncle Vernon led him into the kitchen, where Harry could see him point out a socket against the wall next to the refrigerator.

“That outlet right there. It’s been acting up lately, will you give it a look for me?� Uncle Vernon took a couple of steps back and gazed at Mundungus expectantly.

Harry couldn’t help but feel sorry for Mundungus—he was clearly out of his element. In fact, Harry doubted Mundungus knew what an electrical outlet was anymore than Harry had known what Quidditch was before entering Hogwarts.

Holding the rusted gray toolbox Mundungus took a couple of slow steps towards the kitchen counter and set it down with a loud rattle. He peered warily at the outlet, doing his best to look and sound knowledgable, a task at which he failed spectacularly:

“Of course…out-lick be’n actin strange lately…see ’t all the time, we do…rascally out-licks.�

Harry saw Tonks’s head dart out from under the cabinet door, watching Mundungus in shock. Harry realized the peril of the situation: it was only a matter of seconds before Mundungus made it obvious that he was no electrician, and then Uncle Vernon would undoubtedly throw them out of the house with a few choice words and Harry still wouldn’t have the package. He could see her mind racing furiously, trying desperately to come up with a plan.

“Uh…Sir, I’m just going to check the outlets upstairs, if that’s all right with you,� she said quickly and made for the stairway. Harry saw the package peeking out from her toolbox.

“WAIT RIGHT THERE!� Uncle Vernon yelled from across the kitchen. “You may just as soon as we get this outlet fixed. Now after you sir,� he said, gesturing at Mundungus to continue.

With a last terrified glance at Tonks, Mundungus slowly reached back into his tool-box, fished around for a bit, and pulled out a long flatheaded screwdriver and…a big rubber mallet. Harry winced. It wasn’t that he had chosen the wrong tool so much as the fact that he was holding it by the wrong end.

Mundungus took a quick glance up to check Uncle Vernon’s reaction. Uncle Vernon simply grinned and said nothing.

Heartened by Uncle Vernon’s encouraging manner Mundungus turned towards the outlet—screwdriver in his right hand and the head of the rubber mallet in his left—and did the one thing that made sense to him to do: stuck the flat end of the screwdriver right into the electrical outlet.

“NO—!� “DUNG DON’T…!� Harry and Tonks yelled simultaneously.

A few things happened in the next fraction of a second. First, all the lights in the house went out. Second, a brilliant flash of light filled the room, accompanied by a sizzle and a horrific “GGGRRRRRRAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!� followed by a loud THUMP in the dark kitchen.

“Dung! Are you all right?!� Tonks and Harry ran into the kitchen where Mundungus lay twitching on the floor. “Let’s get him up Harry.� said Tonks, wrapping an arm underneath his shoulders. Harry grabbed the other arm, and with a little effort the two were able to get Mundungus to his feet.

“W..W…Whollop’n Wombats!� he wheezed “I don’ like thet ‘lectrickity Tonks, you ke’p it away! Ke’p it away Tonks…� he spoke, eyes as big as golf balls and looking like he had just been hit by a truck. Harry had never seen Mundungus look so sober.

“Serves you right, rogue!� bellowed Uncle Vernon. Harry had completely forgotten he had been standing right next to them. “Electric Department, HA! As if your kind had the brains! Now GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!!!�

Uncle Vernon grabbed the two by their collars and pushed them out of the kitchen; Mundungus still quivering and muttering “ke’p it away…away…no more ‘lectickity� and Tonks doing all she could just to keep him from falling over while getting bulldozed by Uncle Vernon straight out of the house.

“YOU…COUCH…NOW!� he spat at Harry after locking the front door.

Another grueling hour passed. Harry was extremely worried by now—it was 4:30 and he only had a half hour before he was supposed to leave. Tonks was obviously doing all she could to get the package to him, but he couldn’t see any way of getting it now—Uncle Vernon was in such a state that he would probably attack the next person to knock on the door.

Aunt Petunia had just gone to the kitchen to prepare dinner when it came:

“Knock…….Knock…….Knock…….�

Uncle Vernon, who had just started to doze off himself, woke with a start. Harry looked up at the door hopefully, but knew it was no use trying to answer it; he’d have to watch from the couch again.

Uncle Vernon, however, didn’t get up to answer the door. He glared at Harry, then turned his head and glared at the door, apparently thinking the person would go away if he stared nastily enough at the back of the door.

A minute passed. Uncle Vernon had just relaxed back into his seat when it came again:

“Knock…….Knock…….Knock…….�

“Hummph!� Uncle Vernon grunted, then glared back at Harry, who could tell he was debating with himself about answering the door or not. Apparently he had decided not too, fo

Two minutes passed without a knock. Uncle Vernon had just sunk back into the couch, satisfied that the visitor had given up, when…

“KNOCK…KNOCK…KNOCK…�

“THAT’S IT!� he boomed, launching out of his seat and storming over to the door like an angry walrus. “I’m going to have your HEAD!� he growled at the locked door, fumbling with the dead bolt in his anger. It looked like he really was going to attack the person on the other side. Finally he threw it open:

“WHAT NOW…!� Uncle Vernon stopped mid-sentence—no one was there.

He stuck his head out the doorway and darted it left and right. Apparently no one was to be seen, for Uncle Vernon slammed the door, looking more irratated and angry than Harry had ever seen him. Aunt Petunia had come from the kitchen to see what the commotion was and, seeing the angry look on her husband’s face, returned to her cooking without a word. Uncle Vernon had almost made it back to the couch when:

“KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!�

“AARGGH!� Uncle Vernon practically flew to the door this time. In a swift movement he had flung it open, only to find, yet again, an empty porch. He stormed outside onto the front walkway, out of sight to Harry. He was probably all the way to the street by now, Harry figured. He could picture Uncle Vernon huffing like a winded boar, scanning the neighborhood for any sign of the prankster.

It was then that Harry first heard it:

“Cccccrrreeeeaaakkkkk.�

It sounded like the low squeaking sound of a loose floorboard being stepped on. He looked around for the source of the sound: Aunt Petunia was still in the kitchen, humming nervously to herself, and no one else was in the room…

Just then Uncle Vernon came back into the house, a crazy look in his eye, and, for some reason, clutching a heavy red brick. He left the door wide open, grasped one of the living room chairs and slammed it down several yards away from the open door, turning it to face outdoors. Apparently his plan was to wait until Tonks showed up and hurl the brick at her. The muscles on his forehead were twitching and he made strange grunting sounds to himself; the last time Harry had seen Uncle Vernon this crazy had been with the letters at the start of his first year.

Harry was just as bewildered. It seemed that Tonks had given up trying to get the package to Harry and had instead settled for playing tricks on Uncle Vernon. While it was fun to watch, Harry would really have preferred to leave Privet Drive…

“Cccccrrreeeeaaaakkkkk.�

There was the noise again. Having lived under the stairs for the first 10 years of his life, Harry knew exactly what it sounded like when someone tried to sneak up and down them: Dudley had done it hundreds of times. Someone was creeping up the stairs, but how could they get in without Harry seeing them…

Then it all came together: the persistent knocking; no one at the door; creaking floorboards—of course! Tonks had knocked on the door until Uncle Vernon had ran outside, used the opportunity to sneak in, and was now creeping up the stairs to deliver the package to Harry’s room. Brilliant! She had probably borrowed an invisibility cloak from Moody…

He took a quick glance at the clock: 4:53. He could give Tonks a minute or so, make some excuse to Uncle Vernon for going to his room, get the package and be out of Privet Drive!

“Ccccrrrrrreeeaaaakkkk� She had taken another step.

Harry watched in dismay as Uncle Vernon’s mustache twitched and his head cocked to one side. Had he heard the noise? He didn’t seem in any state of mind to perceive a small sound like the stairs creaking, but by this point Harry expected the worst.

“Ccccrrrrrreeeaaaakkkk.�

There it was again. Uncle Vernon definitely heard it this time. He looked around wildly. Harry began to feel hot panic creep up his neck: so close! She was so close…

An idea suddenly sprang to his head. He had to say something, anything to cover the sound of the floor creaking:

“Er…Uncle Vernon, I don’t think Dumbledore will be coming today, and seeing as I’m not going anywhere, I think I should get started on my daily chores so…�

“QUIET BOY!� Uncle Vernon snapped, listening intently for another sound.

Harry felt his insides clench. It was up to Tonks now; all he could do was hope she got up the rest of the stairs quietly. Unfortunately, Tonks had never been known for her stealth…

As if a result of that very thought, Harry then heard a short “ccreeeaak�, a muffled grunt, then a sudden, startled, “DAMN!�, followed by the unmistakable sound of a body rolling down the stairs:

“Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom…CRASH!�

Harry looked up to see the half-visible upper torso of Tonks lying at the foot of the stairs, a small brown package resting on the floor nearby.

She opened her eyes to find an enraged Uncle Vernon gasping in disbelief at her. Somehow Tonks managed a weak laugh.

“Uhhh…Hello there Mr. Dursley…�

Uncle Vernon was positively furious. He was now standing, glowering at the visible portion of Tonks with his face turning rapidly purple, like a volcano about to explode. With an angry bellow he charged at Tonks, brick in hand.

“AAAAAARRRRRRGGHHHHHH!!!!�

Harry could see annoyance on Tonks’s face just before it disappeared under the cloak—along with the package.

The brick went smashing into the ground just where Tonks had been seconds before. Uncle Vernon continued to bellow like an angry bull.

“EEERRRGGHH! Get out here! PETUNIA! BURGLAR! CALL THE POLICE�

Harry could hear Tonks swishing around the living room, although he couldn’t see her.

“Dursley you git! You stupid GIT!� Harry heard Tonks say, sounding every bit as fed up as his uncle’s.

Uncle Vernon swung around to face the voice.

Harry heard a soft mutter from over to his right, followed by a few soft pops: “I didn’t want to do this, but…� Apparently Tonks was now in the middle of the living room, just feet from Harry.

She threw off the invisibility cloak. Harry gasped.

He was looking straight into the face of another Uncle Vernon.

“You couldn’t just let Harry go, could you!� the second Uncle Vernon yelled at the first, who had fallen to the ground in astonishment. “No, you’ve got to do it the hard way don’t you, you great sweaty Muggle…�

Just then Aunt Petunia walked into the living room, and, seeing one husband on the floor and another husband in the living room staring angrily at her, fainted.

“PETUNIA!� the real Uncle Vernon hopped up and ran to his wife. “It’s me! Vernon!�

Seizing the opportunity, Tonks spun towards Harry.

“Harry, we only have a couple of minutes! Take the package and go upstairs! Don’t worry about your things, we’ll get them later. GO!� she said brusquely. Harry understood, but couldn't help noting how odd it was to hear Uncle Vernon speaking with a woman’s voice.

Uncle Vernon had by this time risen to his feet and stood looking at his double with a mix of terror and anger. Petunia had regained consciousness and glanced at the two in amazement, not quite sure if she was dreaming.

With a glance at his aunt and uncle, Harry grabbed the package and made for the stairs.

“IMPOSTER!� he heard the real Uncle Vernon shout, pointing at Tonks.

“NO! YOU’RE THE IMPOSTER!� the other Vernon shouted back.

The last glance Harry had before sprinting up the stairs was of the fake Uncle Vernon dancing spasmodically around with bright pink hair while his aunt and real uncle watched on in astonishment. Whatever she was doing, Tonks seemed to be enjoying herself.

Harry flew into his room and ripped open the package, finding a stuffed toy lion. Careful not to touch it, Harry grabbed his wand from out of the open trunk and looked around for anything else he might need. Finding nothing, he placed his hand on the stuffed lion and felt the sharp tug just under his navel as the room around him disappeared in swirl of color.

The rushing sensation stopped in an instant, and Harry suddenly found himself on the ground in a small clearing of trees, a gentle breeze caressing his face. Before he could take in his new surroundings, Harry heard a calm, serene voice:

“Hello Harry. Welcome to Godric’s Hollow.�

Chapter 7

Godric’s Hollow



Harry turned over onto his back and propped himself up on his elbows, head still swimming from the journey by port-key. Godric’s Hollow? The name sounded remotely familiar, but Harry couldn’t place where he had heard it before. He looked around for the owner of the voice but could only see the outlines of tall, blurry trees. One of the trees in particular looked especially tall, and Harry could swear it was walking straight towards him….

“Greetings, Harry! Let me give you a hand. I see you haven’t quite gotten used to travel by port-key yet.�

Dumbledore.

Harry took the hand and pulled himself up. His head was spinning so fast he was afraid he would either fall over again or retch all over the headmaster.

Seeing this, Dumbledore took him by the back of his arm. “Come, let’s have a sit until you are recovered. I discovered a lovely tree stump for sitting right over here,� he said, guiding Harry to large, smooth tree stump.

“Thank you, professor,� Harry said as he sat, Dumbledore resting next to him.

After a brief rest Harry felt the dizziness subside, and for the first time was able to study the surroundings. They were in a small clearing in the middle of what looked like an immense forest. The trees were tall, thick and full of lush green leaves. Sitting next to him, almost blending in with the trees on account of the deep, emerald green robes he was wearing, sat Dumbledore, who was gazing at him with interest.

Behind the long, crooked nose and half-moon glasses peeked out wise, ancient eyes that regarded Harry with a look of interest and compassion. There seemed to be new lines of concern and worry etched into his old, wizened face; and Harry couldn’t help but notice that he looked more tired than usual. Despite the weariness, however, a strange, youthful energy radiated from him, definitely out of place in a wizard his age.

“I’m glad you could make it Harry. I see that Tonks was successful in delivering your package—I must confess I had my doubts about her idea at first, but apparently she makes a better Royal Mail carrier than I had supposed,� Dumbledore remarked cheerfully.

Harry briefly considered telling the headmaster the whole grizzly story, including Mundungus Fletcher getting electrocuted and Tonks turning into a pink-haired Uncle Vernon, but decided it was best not to get into just then.

“Er…yeah,� he replied simply.

“It is good to see you. Now tell me, how has your summer been?� the headmaster asked, giving the look that made Harry think he could see through him.

As he thought about how to best answer the question his mind was filled with memories from the summer holidays: lying in bed, sulking and miserable; a large owl smashing through the kitchen window; Uncle Vernon’s purple face after reading his letter; practicing magic with a small wooden stick, and (Harry thought with an inward smile), Malfoy lying on the street, bloody and moaning.

Thinking it was probably better that the headmaster didn’t know that last one, Harry calmly cleared the image from his mind.

“Er...it’s been fine, sir.�

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow disbelievingly.

“Well…ok, it’s been horrible. The Dursley’s were actually pretty ok to me though, it was more just trying to deal with…with…what happened,� Harry stammered out awkwardly. The thing that happened, he knew (and was sure Dumbledore did as well), was Sirius’s death.

Dumbledore placed a warm hand on Harry’s shoulder and turned to face him, giving him a searching look.

“And how are you, Harry?�

Harry took a deep breath.

“Well, I’m good sir….I really am,� Harry replied earnestly, finding it easier to talk about Sirius’s death than he had thought it would be. “I mean, it’s still hard, but I guess I just realized that the last thing Sirius would want me to do is mope around and feel sorry. He’d want me to fight…�

Dumbledore’s raised his bushy white eyebrows in an expression of impressed surprise. He regarded Harry for a moment, then spoke, “You are very right when you say that, Harry. I doubt very much that Sirius would want for any of us to wallow around in misery on his behalf. In fact,� the headmaster added, his eyes twinkling, “Sirius would probably prefer to have some grand, final prank played in his honor, although I am by no means making a suggestion Harry.�

Harry laughed and Dumbledore smiled back at him. “It will take some time for the pain to go away, Harry, but there are people in your life who will help you through it. My advice to you is to let them,� he added, and slowly rose to his feet. Harry tried to think of who he was referring to, but was interrupted as the headmaster continued.

“Well Harry, I see that you are dealing quite admirably with Sirius’s passing, and will pester you no more concerning it,� the ancient headmaster said, walking into the middle of the clearing and looking off into the forest. “Now, you are most likely wondering why I have brought you here.�

Harry nodded. He had expected Grimmuald Place or perhaps even the Burrow—definitely not a forest in the middle of nowhere.

Dumbledore continued. “As I mentioned during our discussion in my office before the holidays (Harry cringed as he remembered the said discussion, which had resulted in him demolishing the headmaster’s office), I realize that it has been a mistake to have withheld so much of your past from you. Your parents, the prophecy, your family’s history; I told you very little. I intend to make up for telling you so little, Harry� here he turned around and looked straight into his eyes, “by telling you a great deal. Now, if you are sufficiently recovered, let us begin.�

With that, Dumbledore gave Harry his hand, pulled him to his feet, and headed into the forest.

Harry gazed after him, shocked. ‘Telling him a great deal’? His heart began to race. The last time Dumbledore had shared a secret with Harry, he had found out that he was destined either to murder someone or to be murdered. Needless to say, Harry wasn’t quite sure he wanted to know anything more. Regardless, he found himself jogging into the forest to catch up with Dumbledore.

They walked in silence for about 15 minutes. Dumbledore was surprisingly agile, considering he was tall enough to get caught in the lower branches and had to drag his emerald green robes behind him. He moved through the forest like a tall, silver fox, and Harry was pressed just to keep up with him.

The forest itself looked like it had been there for ages; the trees were tall and thick, and their leaves filled the sky like some giant green canopy. The sun blinked merrily through the branches, illuminating the scene with a warm, pleasant green light. Birds sang happily in the upper reaches of the trees as their perches swayed gently in the breeze. The pleasant scent of vegetation and moist earth wafted around Harry, and there was a pervading feeling of peace and safety.

Harry soon found himself entirely relaxed and at ease. It seemed odd to him that he had spent most of the day sitting on the Dursley’s horrid brown and pink couch, waiting for Tonks to deliver a package.

They walked a few more minutes until the sight of small, thatched houses in the distance snapped Harry out of his reverie. Directly in front of him appeared to be a village, which, if they continued in their present course, they would arrive in just a few minutes later. The houses looked small, quaint and homely. A large concentration of them lay straight ahead and slightly to Harry’s right. There were others scattered throughout the trees, their pointed roofs popping out of the tree tops like little moles.

Just as he thought they were making their way towards the village, Dumbledore turned a sharp left. They began following a faint trail that Harry could barely make out through the undergrowth. It seemed to be climbing steadily upwards.

“Professor, where did you say we were again?� Harry asked suddenly, his voice sounding out of place in the calm silence.

“Godric’s Hollow, Harry.�

Again, Harry thought the name sounded familiar, though he couldn’t remember where he had heard it before.

“Godric’s Hollow was founded by Godric Gryffindor himself. It is a small, ancient village whose existence and location are known by only a few. It is conveniently hidden in a valley formed by two mountains, one of which you can see through the branches over there.�

Harry craned his neck, trying to see through the jumble of branches where the headmaster was pointing. Sure enough, there was the tree-covered slope of a smooth mountain, although it looked more like a large hill than an actual mountain.

“In addition to its splendid location,� Dumbledore continued, “many of the ancient wards and spells of protection cast on the village still remain, despite the fact that they were cast 1,000 years ago.�

Ancient wards? Spells of protection? Harry tried to imagine why a remote village would need such things. Seeing his furrowed brow the headmaster added, “You see, Harry, Godric Gryffindor meant for this village to be a sanctuary. Although,� here the headmaster’s voice became sober, causing Harry to glance concernedly at him, “past events have shown that it is by no means impregnable.� Harry noticed a sad, almost resentful tone to the old wizard’s voice, and briefly wondered what he was talking about.

Harry mused on the information a bit. It was all very interesting, but still didn’t explain why Dumbledore would bring him there.

“But, err… professor,� he asked hesitatingly “what does Godric’s Hollow have to do with me?�

Dumbledore stopped. He looked back at Harry, an amused expression on his face. “This is where you were born, Harry,� he said with a smile. After a brief pause, he turned around and resumed walking.

Harry gaped at his headmaster’s back. The Dursley’s had always done all they could to keep him in the dark, and had certainly told him nothing about where he was born. Truthfully, he had never really thought of asking.

“Actually, your family has a long history in Godric’s Hollow,� Dumbledore continued, “James, your father, was born here, as was his father, and his father, and so on for many generations, with the exception of your great-great grandfather, Robert Potter, who I hear broke the tradition and was born instead in a mountain troll’s cave. Sounds like quite an interesting story, perhaps you could research it some time and tell me about it.�

Harry walked on in shock. His birthplace? Great-great grandfathers? It had been as much as he could manage trying to imagine his own parents, let alone great-great grandfathers.

Still amazed with the new information, Harry somehow noticed a subtle change in the landscape. The trail continued to steadily climb and the terrain gradually became slightly rockier. Soon one of the mountains loomed overhead, and Harry could see that they were approaching its base. Most curiously, however, there were now large, chiseled stones sunken into the ground around him. They were definitely man-made, and looked to be all that remained of several large, granite buildings.

“Almost there, Harry. Actually, your genealogy is the subject of our first stop.�

Looking up, Harry saw the crumpled ruins of what must have once been a magnificent castle. There were more stones littering the ground, many of which had been completely buried under vegetation. Stone pillars sprung out of the ground like ancient trees; once tall and mighty, but now crumbling with age. The castle was now a mere skeleton of what it had once been, but Harry could see that it had once been a magnificent structure.

“Splendid, isn’t it Harry? This is what I imagine Hogwarts must look like to Muggles who accidentally come across it,� Dumbledore mentioned casually as they stepped their way through the stones. Harry thought it would have been fun to explore, but the headmaster seemed to be taking him to a specific place.

They made their way towards the back of the ruins, which, Harry noticed, had been built into a large indentation in the mountain behind it. The mountain cliffs loomed on all sides and Harry could see boulders of various sizes sunken deeply into the ground. Harry could picture them thundering down from the cliffs over centuries.

At last they came to a crumbling, broken, half-wall. It was surprisingly intact compared to the rest of the castle, and had an open archway in the middle of it. It looked as if there had once been a door in the arch, but had long since been empty.

Harry probably wouldn’t have given the archway a second thought, except that he noticed
Dumbledore standing in front of it. He seemed to be studying it intensely, and had taken his wand out. Harry stepped beside him and studied the archway more closely.

A stone carving of a lion sprawled over the top of the arch, its powerful legs stretched as if walking and the noble head regarding Harry with a look of majesty. Two lion faces were embossed on either sides of the arch, each with a calm, serene expression on their faces.

Dumbledore took his wand, and, tapping first the lion face on the left, muttered, “Templum,� then tapping the lion on the right, “Fortus,� and with a final tap on the top lion, “Gryffindor�.

Harry watched in amazement as each of the lions’ heads slowly turned towards the opening of the archway. Their eyes began to glow a vibrant red, and the once calm faces erupted in an earsplitting roar that almost knocked Harry over. There was now a solid brass door in the archway, where only a second before it had opened up into nothing.

He stared in astonishment at Dumbledore, who smiled back at him from behind the long, crooked nose.

Dumbledore tapped the door with his wand and it swung open, revealing a pitch-black opening.

“Well, after you Harry,� Dumbledore said with a smile.

“But…professor…what’s in there?� Harry stammered out, still a little shaken from the lions’ roar.

Dumbledore didn’t reply at first, but looked at Harry thoughtfully. “Sometimes in life, Harry, you have to take a few steps in the dark before things are made clear to you. It appears that now is one of those times.�

Harry looked from the calm face of his headmaster to the black entryway in front of him, and with a deep breath stepped through the doorway into the unknown.

Chapter 8

Bloodlines and Ancestors


The world around Harry immediately turned dark, damp, and cold. The air smelled ancient and musky—almost like old parchment. Despite having only taken a few steps through the doorway, it was considerably colder. Thinking he may have been transported somewhere far away, Harry looked back through the archway and, sure enough, there were the ruins, forest, and Dumbledore on the other side. Harry moved to give the headmaster room to enter.

Although it was too dark to see anything, Harry got the distinct feeling of being in an enormous cave. Towards the far end of the cave there was a faint, shimmering light, though Harry wasn’t sure if it was real or from the glare of the sun on his eyes.

“Walk towards the light, Harry,� Dumbledore said from somewhere in front of him, his voice sounding eerily like a disembodied spirit. A rustle of robes and the faint clatter of footsteps told Harry that the headmaster had begun walking himself.

Harry followed, wary of running into any unseen objects. Noticing that the sound of Dumbledore’s footsteps were quickly fading, Harry decided it was better to risk hitting his shins than be left in the dark and quickened his pace.

His eyes now accustomed to the darkness, Harry saw that there was definitely a light at the far end of the cave. It was a strange, shimmering, golden light—about the size of a knut and getting steadily larger. He continued walking, gaining confidence with each step.

The light had now grown into a large, shimmering pool about the size of a quaffle. Harry could see the silhouette of Dumbledore’s pointed hat bobbing up and down through it. Despite being closer, Harry had absolutely no idea what the light could be, although he was briefly reminded of a penseive.

Harry couldn’t say how long it took to reach the light—it had a mesmerizing effect that quite made him forget about time—but soon the area around him became illuminated by the strange, dancing light. He saw that he wasn’t in a cave at all. He was standing at the end of a long, high corridor that opened up into a spacious chamber. The floor was made from smooth, cut stone. Across the chamber on the opposite wall, perhaps 50 feet away, was the sparkling, golden light. It was formed in a giant arc, several yeards above the ground.

Moving closer to get a better look, Harry’s jaw dropped in astonishment as the light took a recognizable shape. It was—there was no other way to describe it—a giant, golden tree. The top part of the tree arched across the circular wall in a giant rainbow shape, tiny bars of light dancing and shimmering like a million twinkling stars. It reminded Harry of the moon reflected in Hogwarts Lake, only, instead of a pale, ghostly white, this light was a rich, magnificent gold.

Coming to the wall next to Dumbledore, Harry was surprised to see that it was covered with words. Small, black writing had been expertly chiseled into the wall. On further inspection Harry realized that they were actually names.

“Professor, what…what is this?� he asked, awestruck and confused.

“This is the bloodline of Godric Gryffindor, Harry. This chamber was constructed shortly after his death almost 1,000 years ago. It was constructed as a tribute to his courage and compassion, and it lists every person who has decended from Godric Gryffindor,� Dumbledore explained, a tone of reverence in his voice. “It is, quite literally, the Gryffindor family tree.

“Look here at the base,� Dumbledore said pointing towards the floor. A large, elaborate crest bearing a lion had been carved into the wall, and two names were written, slightly larger than the rest: ‘Godric Gryffindor’ and “Adriena Grayestone’. A vertical line rose from the crest and branched off into 3 more names, ‘Godfried Gryffindor’, ‘Wulfric Gryffindor’, and ‘Arlen Gryffindor’. The names were written in a flowery, ancient style, and it was a struggle to make them out at first, but Harry soon saw that each of these names branched out into more names, and those into more, and so on until the entire circular wall was filled with hundreds of thousands of them. The names at the top disappeared into the golden light above him.

“Each line represents a generation Harry. As you can see the family married with other families over the centuries—some wizard and some Muggle—and is now quite extensive.�

Harry continued to study the wall, fascinated by how many names were on it. It was amazing to think that each name had been a real person, someone who had lived hundreds and hundreds of years ago. As he studied, however, something caught his attention.

From Godric Gryffindor’s name the tree branched out to three smaller names; Wulfric Gryffindor, Arlen Gryffindor, and Godfreid Gryffindor. Apparently the names of his 3 sons. Both Godfreid and Arlen branched into more names and their decendants sprang upwards and formed the trunk, branches, and leaves of the tree. Wulfric Gryffindor, however, had no decendants above him. His name was placed slightly higher and was written slightly larger than his brothers; Harry guessed this was because he was Godric's eldest son. While the rest of the tree soared upwards, this particular line seemed to have stopped completely. Confused, Harry turned to Dumbledore.

“Professor Dumbledore, what happened here?� he said, pointing to the name. “Why does this one stop?� Harry inquired.

Harry thought he saw the headmaster’s eyes droop slightly; his face turning oddly serious. “If I knew the answer to that, Harry, this war would be a whole lot easier.�

Confused, Harry waited for further explanation.

“But that is neither here nor there,� Dumbledore said, regaining his composure in an instant. “Keep looking though, Harry. You may see a name or two you might recognize,� he continued, his voice regaining its cheerfullness.

As he turned his attention back to the wall, Harry soon forgot all about his question. The names seemed to rush out at him, each with its own personality and story to tell.

‘Dalthrop Angnor’, ‘Puddle Abernathy’, ‘Langroy Ellthrop’, ‘Roderick Kettleburn’—again Harry was astonished with how many there were. ‘Malric Tiddleburt’, ‘Montgomery Crouch’.

“Montgomery Crouch,� Harry spoke out loud, “Professor, is this man related to…�

“Yes Harry, that would be the late Mr. Crouch’s ancestor. Keep looking, I believe you will find more interesting names than that,� answered Dumbledore, a warm smile on his face.

‘Dangor Eddelbeer’, ‘Thane Melrod’, ‘Edwin Fallbrook’—And then he saw it.

‘Angdrius Potter’.

Harry gasped. Angdrius Potter?

A surge of excitement shot through him. There were bound to be other Potters in the wizard world, but what if…Harry anxiously traced the line with his finger.

‘Uriah Potter’, Daniel Potter’, ‘Andrew Potter,’ the list continued to grow. Soon Harry was standing on his toes, stretching to read each additional name. He wasn’t tall enough—he needed to get higher.

As if reading his mind, Dumbledore strode forward and tapped the floor next to Harry’s foot with his wand. The stone tile he had been standing on began to rise, allowing him to reach the higher names. At any other time he would have been impressed, but the excitement of the moment drove the makeshift elevatior from his mind. The tile soon stopped, bringing his head just a couple feet below the light.

Harry quickly resumed where he had left off: ‘Theodore Potter’, ‘Grant Potter’—he was almost into the light now—‘Michael Potter…’ ‘Daniel Potter II…’ ‘James Potter…’

The breath caught in Harry’s throat. ‘James Potter?’ That had to be…

Following the thin line upwards with his finger, Harry was startled to see the next name, shimmering back at him in a brilliant, golden light…

‘Harry Potter’.

Harry stared at his name in the wall, completely astonished. He felt his legs wobble and quickly caught himself just before he fell to the floor.

“Find something interesting, Harry?� Dumbledore asked causally.

“Professor…my name…my dad…we’re…that means…� he stammered in disbelief.

“That means that you are a literal descendant of Godric Gryffindor, Harry.�

Harry looked at him in amazement. The old professor looked back up at him, a smile on his face.

“You’ll find many of your schoolmates are up there as well. I believe the Weasleys can be located several yards to your right, as can Mr. Longbottom.�

As he walked to the edge of the tile, the one adjacent to it slowly began to rise from the floor, as did the next two. After an intense search he found them: ‘Ginerva Weasley’ (he had never known Ginny’s full name was “Ginerva�), ‘Ronald Weasley’—they were all there. In fact, an entire foot of wall space appeared to be dedicated soley to the Weasley family. This brought an odd realization to Harry.

“So, does this mean that I’m related to the Weasley’s?�

“In a way, yes, though you are so far removed it would hardly be considered related,� Dumbledore mused. “You’ll find everyone is related if you go back far enough, and not just in the wizard world.�

Harry studied the wall a bit longer, amazed at some of the other names he found: ‘Susan Bones’, ‘Oliver Wood’, ‘Anthony Goldstein’, ‘Amos Diggory’. He was especially shocked to see ‘Theodore Nott’, the lanky Slytherin whose father was a death eater.

“But sir, Theodore Nott is on here. Isn’t he a Slytherin?�

“Ah, Mr. Nott. Yes, Harry, his family is also descended from Gryffindor…Does that surprise you?� he added, seeing the confusion on Harry’s face.

“Well, yeah. I guess I thought to be in Slytherin you kind of had to be related to him.�

“Not at all. A person’s heritage by no means determines their character, Harry. Far from it. You’ll find that many of Gryffindor’s descendants are cowards, while some of Slytherin’s descendants are actually delightful people.�

Harry thought briefly back to his second year when he had been terrified that he was the heir of Slytherin. The headmaster had told him then pretty much the same thing.

Looking back at the golden names on the wall, a new question popped into his mind.

“Professor, how come the names at the top are golden while the rest are black?�

“A good question. This wall was built as a tribute to Godric Gryffindor after his death. It has been enchanted to record the name of every child born into the Gryffindor bloodline. While that person is alive, their name shines with the golden light you see. When that person dies, the light is extinguished.�

Harry looked at his own name twinkling back at him, then beneath it at his father’s name. The letters were dead and black. For the first time he saw the name connected with it: ‘Lily Evans’.

Harry studied the wall for a few more minutes, looking over and over his family line until turning back to Dumbledore.

“Wow, professor. I never knew this about my family,� Harry said, still awestruck.

“Of course you didn’t Harry. No one has ever told you. I thought you might like to see where you came from.�

“I did…do. Thank you. Er…how do I get down?� Harry asked, looking over the edge of the tile to the floor below.

Dumbledore smiled and with a quick flick of his wand, Harry found himself returning to ground level.

“Well then, if you are tired of looking at strange old names, I have something else I would like to show you Harry. Something that will make all this a little more…real,� said Dumbledore, nodding at the tree.

Not sure what to expect next, Harry followed the headmaster back through the dark corridor.

They slowly made their way down the corridor and out the brass door. It was now dusk, the sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon, setting the few remaining clouds on fire. The remainder of the sky had durned a deep purple and the evening star shone brightly on Harry as he made his way back through the ruins.

A happiness and contentment he had never known swelled in Harry as he walked. Learning more about his parents had always excited him, but his grand-parents, great-grand-parents? He somehow felt connected to them too. It was a different feeling for him, a sense of family, of belonging.

The air smelled sweet and fresh as they returned to the forest. Harry had a spring in his step—he was in Godric’s Hollow! The place his family had lived in for generations! The place he had been born in! The place his parents had lived before…

Harry remembered where he had heard the name Godric's Hollow before and the realization hit him like a bludger to the head. He stopped walking.

Whirling around to face Dumbledore, who had also stopped walking, Harry's voice rang through the night.

“Professor, I was born here, right?� he demanded.

“That’s right Harry.� Dumbledore responded.

“And my family has lived here for generations?�

“Yes Harry,� he nodded sadly, apparently seeing where the questions were going.

“Did...did my parents live here before Vol...," Harry’s voice cracked, “before Voldemort…attacked them?�

Dumbledore nodded gravely and said nothing.

A cold wave swept over Harry. His throat constricted and he felt himself gasp for air as if he were drowning. There was a deafening silence. Then he spoke in a loud, hollow voice he hardly recognized as his own.

“I want to see it.�

Dumbledore shook his head gravely. “Harry, I do not think it would be best to…�

“PROFESSOR…� Harry spoke, a little more demanding than he had meant to. “I want to see it.�

Dumbledore looked back at Harry, sorrow etched in his face. He seemed to be weighing the matter in his head. Then he gave a heavy sigh.

“Very well, Harry,� he acquiesced.

Harry watched as the tall, slender form of his headmaster turned and disappeared into the dark wood. Heart throbbing and palms sweaty, Harry followed him towards the place where his parents had been murdered.

Chapter 9
Ruins of the Past

Night had set in by the time they emerged from the forest onto a small dirt road. A full moon shone down on the forest around them, illuminating everything around them with a pale, opalescent light. In other circumstances it may have been beautiful, instead Harry found it glum and eerie.

Dumbledore walked a few steps ahead of him, his head slightly bowed and arms folded in the sleeves of his robes. They had walked in silence the entire time, Dumbledore’s swishing robes and the pounding of Harry’s heart the only noises in the cool, summer’s night.

Harry looked around in a daze. It all seemed so unreal: the road, the trees, the ghostly white light—it was like walking in a dream. He was vaguely aware of passing two or three houses, though his mind was too numb to pay any attention.

Suddenly Dumbledore broke the silence.

“We will be there shortly Harry. Our destination is just around this bend…� he said in a soft voice.

Harry’s heart was now positively thumping against his chest like a caged animal fighting to escape. His hands were sweaty and he had to fight for breath. After rounding the bend they walked twenty or more paces until Dumbledore stopped suddenly and turned to his left. An empty plot of land stood before them.

Confused, Harry surveyed the area. It was a small and open plot of land, overgrown with grass, wildflowers, and a few scattered trees. He was about to ask the headmaster why he had brought him to an empty spot of land when a strange black shape a few yards in front of him caught his eye.

It was a rough, cylindrical shape, about four feet tall with a flat, slanted top. Walking up to it Harry realized that words and a picture had been carved into the flat top, although there wasn’t quite enough light to make them out. It was made of stone, and looked like it had been purposely placed there, like a memorial of some sort.

There were other dark shapes just now becoming visible in the pale moon light. Just a couple feet to his right rested a long wooden beam, the type that could be used to support a roof. To his left, rising about two feet from the ground, was a small area of bricks stacked on top of each other, almost as if it had once been part of a wall…

Harry turned back to look at Dumbledore, who, as if he could sense his confusion, answered his unasked question.

“As you are well aware, Harry, the curse Voldemort used on you backfired. In addition to stripping him of his powers, it almost completely destroyed the house. As the years went by, it fell deeper and deeper into ruin. That which you see here is all that is left of it.�

Startled, Harry took a couple of steps back. He could now see other hints that a house had once stood here: more crumbling sections of wall, pieces of flooring, scattered brick. All of it had crumbled and lay strewn about the ground, overgrown with grass and buried by time.

Harry stared at the spot of land for quite some time. The trees, the moon, even Dumbledore standing next to him—it all seemed to disappear as he looked at the ruins of what had once been his parents house.

Oddly enough, the scene didn’t invoke any anger inside of Harry. He had expected to feel a surge of hatred for Voldemort, a desire for vengeance on the man who had brought so much misery to his life. Instead, there was a profound sorrow —sorrow for the parents he never knew, sorrow for his childhood, sorrow for the life he might have had.

“Why did they have to die?�

Dumbledore looked at him, sorrow etched into every line of his ancient face. He was silent for some time before speaking.

“I have no answers for you, Harry.�

‘Nobody has any answers,’ he thought bitterly. Still he was unable to conjure any feelings of anger towards Voldemort, although he was desperately trying. Anger was easy, anger he knew how to deal with—what he couldn’t deal with was this intense loneliness, this gnawing hunger for family he had always lived with but was now magnified a hundred times over, leaving an emptiness in his heart that matched the empty plot of land in front of him.

Tears rolled down his cheeks.

Voldemort was out there, right now. Because of him other people would suffer, other people would have to go through what he had, feel what he was feeling right now. Where would it stop? How many people would have to be killed before Voldemort was pleased, before somebody stopped him? But nobody could stop him. Nobody except…

Except him.

For the first time since he had heard the prophecy, Harry felt all fear and doubt leave him, replaced with cold, solid determination. He had to stop Voldemort. Not for revenge, not out of hate and anger—but because no one else should have to go through what he had. He knew what he had to do.

“This can’t happen.�

His voice was clear and strong and it rang through the night, surprising even Harry.

Dumbledore looked at him questioningly.

“I can’t let this happen to anyone else,� Harry said.

Slowly Dumbledore walked towards him, a sad smile on his face, and put a long arm around his quaking shoulders. Gently, almost fatherly, the old headmaster led Harry back into the forest and away from the shattered ruins of his past.

***

The remainder of the night passed in a haze. Harry was vaguely aware of stumbling through the forest, Dumbledore occasionally offering a word of comfort. He was vaguely aware of passing a small thatched house that had a light on and a grizzled old witch running out to meet them. He was vaguely aware of the sound of rushing water as they walked along a winding trail and of entering a large, dark house. He was vaguely aware of being led to a bedroom and of Dumbledore saying, “Rest Harry. You are safe here,� and barely realized he had somehow gotten into a soft bed, until sweet sleep set in and he become aware of nothing at all.

***
Harry awoke the next morning in a room entirely bathed in light. It poured through the windows in a flood, embracing him with warmth. At first he thought he must be at Hogwarts, until a quick look at the room informed him he definitely wasn’t.

It was large and open; at least twice the size of his room in Privet Drive. The floor was made from a dark, lumpy wood that looked slightly polished. The walls were a combination of stone and wooden beams and gave the room an earthy feel. Against the wall to his right was a bookcase, filled with old books, and next to it a comfortable looking wooden chair. The chair faced one of the many windows in the room, giving whoever sat in it a wonderful view of the lush forest outside.

Curious, Harry slipped out of bed. He had slept wonderfully, though seeing how far the sun had traveled in the sky told him he had been asleep for quite some time. The wooden floor felt cool and smooth against his bare feet as he walked around the room, curious as to where he was. The windows looked out into thick forest, through which parts of the large granite mountain were visible. Apparently he was still in Godric’s Hollow, although he had no idea whose house he was in.

Putting on his shoes (apparently he had been too tired to change clothes in the night), Harry walked to the bedroom door and cautiously opened it. He thought he heard the faint sound of a bell ringing in the distance as Harry peeped his head around the corner.

“Er…Hello?� he called softly.

No answer.

Exiting the bedroom, he found himself in a long hallway. To his right was a wooden staircase which led downstairs. Apparently he was on the second floor of the house. To his left the hallway stretched on for a ways, the solid wall on one side becoming a wooden railing. The railing was about fifteen feet long, then became a wall again. Rooms branched off from both sides of the hallway, although most of the large, oak doors were closed.

Thinking he was more likely to disturb someone down the hallway, Harry decided to take the staircase down to the first floor. The stairs creaked as he made his way down, noticing a long, thin tapestry with a representation of a dragon hung in the stairwell. It looked very old and faded and the dragon didn’t move, as though it was too worn out.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Harry found himself in another hallway, this one slightly shorter than the one upstairs. He walked very slowly, not quite sure he should be walking about the house without knowing whom it belonged to. What looked like a pantry opened up to his left. Slightly beyond it was another room, its door wide open.

Looking into the open doorway, Harry was surprised to see another small bedroom with a large bookcase and plenty of windows. Different than the first bedroom, however, this room was filled with globes, star charts, and maps of unrecognizable places. Not seeing anyone inside, Harry entered the room intending to get a closer look at a small globe of the earth that appeared to have clouds moving about its surface.

Just as he was about to touch the globe with the swirling clouds, a loud voice spoke, nearly causing him to jump out of his shoes.

“Oi! You, boy! What’re you doing prowling around my house?�

Scared and embarrassed, Harry twirled around expecting to face the irate owner of the house. Instead there was an old, tattered portrait of a dark haired man with bushy eyebrows and an angry look on his face.

“I’m sorry…I just…Dumbledore brought me…� Harry began to stammer at the man, unnerved at having been caught snooping around the house. Even more surprising than the man yelling at him was the look that now came across his broad face.

“Merlin’s beard…James? Can it be? James! You’re back! But how…� the portrait exclaimed, all the while grinning at Harry yet staring at him as if he were a ghost.

“Er…My name isn’t James, it’s Harry,� he said. The man in the portrait stared at him in disbelief.

“James was my father.�

This time it was the portrait’s turn to look shocked. For a few seconds he was speechless, then broke out into a broad grin. “Why of course! James’s son! I knew you had to be a Potter—not many families with that horrendous black hair out there, is there! How do you do, my lad, how do you do!�

The man suddenly looked extremely pleased to see Harry. Harry couldn’t help but notice he had black hair as well.

“Are you a…a Potter too?� Harry asked tentatively.

“Course I’m a Potter!� the man burst, looking affronted. “This is Potter’s Cove, isn’t it? Not going to have a picture of the bloomin Darnabys here, are you now lad? HA!� The man looked at him intently, a gleam in his eye.

“I suppose not,� Harry answered.

Just then another voice came from the doorway, scaring him almost as much as the first had.

“Ah, I see you’ve met Angus, Harry. Excellent.�

“Ahoy there, Dumbledore!� the man on the portrait called out. “You hear that? The lad says he’s James’s son! I believe it too, he’s got that strong Potter chin!�

Harry had never heard of thought of his chin as ‘strong’, but it was good to hear all the same.

“Yes Angus, this is Harry. Harry, meet Angus, your great uncle.�

Harry’s eyes widened in surprise. Great uncle?

“Harry will be living here until class resumes at Hogwarts.�

“Splendid!� boomed the portrait, “I’ve been going mad in this house all by myself, not a soul to talk to! Had to make friends with the chair and Neptune over there,� he nodded at a small statue on the table, “good blokes, not much for conversation though, Ha Ha!� The man in the portrait, Angus, had a short, booming laugh that shook the entire room.

“I’ll be living here, professor?� Harry asked, slightly confused. He had hoped to stay with the Weasley’s, though he had resigned himself to the fact that he would most likely be taken to Grimmuald Place. Needless to say, a large, mysterious house in a tiny village he had barely even heard of was the last place he expected to spend the summer.

“Yes. The Burrow is no longer safe, and, as I thought you’d prefer not to return to the Black house so soon, Potter’s Cove seemed like the natural choice.�

“Potter’s Cove?�

“Yes, Potter’s Cove. You may recall me saying earlier that your family has had a long history in Godric’s Hollow. For much of that history they have lived here. Potter’s Cove,� Dumbledore motioned at the house around them, “belonged to your grandparents before you, and, once you are of age, will rightfully belong to you.�

Harry gaped back at him, completely stunned.

“HAH! Look at ‘em! Looks like a goblin who just apparated into a lake of gold!� the portrait boomed jovially.

Dumbledore watched Harry with a warm smile, as if he were particularly enjoying the look on his face.

“Why don’t we have a look around? Angus, if you’ll excuse us?� Dumbledore said.

“Of course! Be sure to show ‘em Grandsire Kenneth’s Thunder Room, wont’cha? HA HA HA! So long Harry!�

With a quick bow and a swish of his robes, Dumbledore swept out of the room. Harry followed, half convinced that the past two days hadn’t really happened and his real self was back at Privet Drive, dreaming.

Chapter 10

Potter’s Cove

“But Professor Dumbledore,� Harry stammered out as they walked into the hallway, “what about the place we saw last night? Wasn’t that my parent’s house?�

“No. That cottage was owned by a friend in the village who volunteered it to your parents when they went into hiding. We felt it would be best to place them in a separate location, and retain this house as…a decoy, if you will,� he said with an odd emphasis on the word “decoy�.

“This is your family’s house, Harry,� Dumbledore said as they strolled down the hallway. “It has been in your family for generations. Your father grew up here, as did his father. This is also where Sirius stayed once he ran away from his own family. Sometime in his 6th year, I believe. Your grandparents kindly took him in—welcomed him as a second son.�

Harry looked around, amazed. It was strange to think that his father and Sirius had once lived in the very house he was walking through. They would have been about the same age he was now. The thought of Sirius living with his family brought a smile to his face—he knew what it was like to live with a horrible family and be taken in by another, the Weasley’s had done the same thing for him. His grandparents must have been great people…

“Did you know my grandparents, Professor?� Harry asked curiously. Despite all he had heard about his parents, he couldn’t ever remember hearing anyone mention his grandparents.

“Only by reputation, although I did meet them once. Very kind, very open people. Truly fit in at Godric’s Hollow,� Dumbledore said.

They continued exploring the house; a wide, two storied building made mainly from stone and the dark, smooth wood Harry had noticed in the bedroom. Large oaken beams supported high, vaulted ceilings. The rough stone walls gave the house a rustic, earthy feeling that reminded Harry of a Muggle hunting lodge.

They peered into at least 10 different rooms, some of which were empty, the rest full of various personal belongings, as if they previous inhabitants would come back at any moment. Harry took in very little, however, still dazed by all that had happened in the last few days. The main thing he was aware of was a warm feeling of comfort that continued to swell in his heart as they saw more and more of the house—he had thought that any trace of his family had been destroyed with the cottage he had seen the previous night, but here he was, walking around in the actual house his family had inhabited, a solid remnant of the family he had never known.

At length they came to a large, open room at the front of the house that appeared to be the entrance hall. The ceilings here were higher than anywhere else, and Harry noticed that the hallway with the wooden banister on the second floor looked out on this room. A large, empty fireplace stood against the left wall, and on the right was a large wooden display case full of objects of different sizes and shapes. Harry’s attention was instantly drawn to the center of the room, however, where about 8 or 9 mismatched chairs were placed around the fireplace in a crude half-circle. Each one was of a different make than the others, the styles ranging from an enormous, oaken rocking chair to a tiny cushioned seat that looked as though it had been made for a child. Each chair looked well used, as though the occupants were in a regular habit of gathering together in the entry hall.

“And now you have seen Potter’s Cove, or, at least what can be seen on the surface,� Dumbledore said as he sat in a large, comfy chintz chair not unlike the one Harry had seen him conjure at the ministry a year before. “I’d wager there is quite a bit more to it. Perhaps some thorough exploring can unlock its secrets.�

Picking his way through the jumble of chairs, Harry sat in the wooden rocking chair. It turned out to be larger than he thought; he could barely touch the floor. “But Professor Dumbledore, there’s one thing I don’t understand.�

“Just one, Harry?� Dumbledore asked with a small smile.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me about this place? Why couldn’t I have come here before?�

“A good question. Allow me to respond with one of my own. If you had known of this house’s existence before now, knew that you would inherit it one day, would you have ever returned willingly to Privet Drive?�

“Well, no,� he admitted.

“You would have desired to return here every summer, quite understandably, and would not have had the protection that your mother’s blood provided you at Privet Drive,� Dumbledore stated simply.

The headmaster suddenly leaned forward in his chair and spoke in a more sober tone.

“I know your distaste for secrets Harry, but I believed it best to reveal this information only when you were ready.�

Harry blanched inwardly. Although he was sick of hearing things like “when you are ready� or “when you are old enough�, he could see the wisdom in Dumbledore’s reasoning. He wouldn’t have wanted to return to Privet Drive, and knowing that Potter’s Cove existed would have made it that much harder to go back.

“I understand,� he replied grudgingly. Suddenly, the meaning of the headmaster’s words sunk in.

“Wait—are you saying I don’t need that protection anymore?�

“At the moment, no. Lord Voldemort suffered great loss after the events at the Ministry: first, he was thwarted in his goal of retrieving the prophecy; second, many of his most faithful Death Eaters were taken from him, and he has yet to gain them back; finally, you repelled him so forcefully when he attempted to possess you that he has no desire to attempt a direct attack on you any time soon. Voldemort has been put on defensive for the moment, and I feel that, with some precautions of course, you will be safe here.�

Harry silently digested the information. What Dumbledore had said was surprising, but it explained quite a bit. He had been expecting another attack from Voldemort, but the summer had been surprisingly uneventful. Apparently he hadn’t needed the extra Occlumency practice after all.

“So, Voldemort is in hiding again?�

“Oh, he has made a few token attacks on the public, of course,� Dumbledore said, “but for the most part he is lying low, trying to recover his losses. For the moment his focus is off you, which must be a welcome change, I am sure.�

“I read about the attacks over the summer,� Harry added, thinking of the Daily Prophet articles. “They were all on Muggles and it seemed like he was trying to scare people more than to hurt anyone.�

“A very astute observation, Harry. You see the brilliance behind it, of course. By attacking large groups of Muggles, Voldemort forces the Ministry to expend their time and efforts covering it up rather than fighting him. It buys him time to regroup and grow in strength, as well as recruit new followers. As you are already aware, the dementors of Azkaban have joined his cause, as have a number of the giants Hagrid was sent to visit last summer.� Harry grimaced. He wasn’t supposed to know about Hagrid and Madame Maxime’s visit to the giants the previous year, but he, along with Ron and Hermione, had coaxed it out of him.

“Err…sorry.�

“It’s quite all right Harry,� Dumbledore waved his hand dismissively. “You, Miss Granger, and young Mr. Weasley have a knack for figuring out things you are not supposed to. I learned a long time ago not to fight against it, but…channel it in more productive directions.�

Harry thought he saw a sly grin on the headmaster’s face, but it vanished in a second.

“On top of the giants and the dementors, we also have reason to believe the goblins may soon join him.�

Harry was taken aback. He had very little experience with the goblins—the only time he had really been around them was when he went to Gringotts and pestering Ludo Bagman during his fourth year. They had always seemed small, harmless creatures—kind of a surly, temperamental House Elf. He said as much to Dumbledore.

“But, are the goblins really that big of a threat?�

Dumbledore nodded his head as if expecting the question. “It seems strange to hear goblins listed with frightful creatures like dementors and giants, I know. But think, Harry. Goblins control Gringotts bank, the largest financial institution in the wizarding world, and with it, the economy. On top of that, they also possess a powerful brand of magic unique to their kind, much like House Elves and Centaurs. If they were to join Voldemort the consequences would be disastrous.�

Harry was about to ask more when Dumbledore raised a hand to interrupt him.

“But let us speak no more of this for now, Harry. You have earned a break from these concerns for a while. For now I want you to relax. I think you will find that some time alone will do wonders. You are the new master of this house, and I suggest you take some time to become familiar with it. Your personal belongings have been brought here, and you will find the kitchen well stocked with food courtesy of your friend Dobby.�

“I have only one request. Please limit your exploring to this house and the area around it, and do not venture into the village. While the inhabitants of Godric’s Hollow would be overjoyed to see you, I feel it best to not bring any attention to your staying here.�

Harry readily nodded his acknowledgement.

Dumbledore stood, looking at his pocket watch. “Now, Harry, I have other urgent business to attend to and must be off. Relax. Have fun. You will be safe here. Think of it as being on holiday. You certainly deserve it,� he said with a fatherly smile. “I will return this time tomorrow to see how you are doing.�

With that, the headmaster turned and made his way towards the front door. He was just about there when Harry remembered something.

“Wait, professor, one more thing!�

“Yes Harry?� Dumbledore turned around. His face was focused and he looked anxious to be going, as if he were late for something important. Harry decided to not waste any of his time.

“The letter to Uncle Vernon you wrote a couple days ago. Err….what did it say?�

Dumbledore paused and looked at him curiously. “You mean he didn’t tell you?�

“Well, no,� Harry replied, confused.

The intent, hardened look on Dumbledore’s face suddenly melted as he shook his head and gave a small laugh. “After all these years I still underestimate that man,� he muttered to himself. He then looked at Harry, an amused look on his face.

“I thanked him for watching over and providing for you and informed him that after this summer,� here he paused dramatically, watching Harry’s face as though he was anticipating the expression that would follow the next piece of news, “you will no longer need to return to Privet Drive.�

Chapter 11
Visitors

The next few days were like nothing Harry had ever experienced. He had never really spent much time alone (Hogwarts was always too crowded and he had never been left alone for very long at the Dursleys, who were afraid he would somehow destroy the house). At first it had been uncomfortable, even a little scary, but as the days passed he came to enjoy the solitude. It seemed to clear his head and he found he could relax entirely when no one else was around. There weren’t the tests or homework to worry about like at Hogwarts, and he didn’t have to deal with Dudley’s tantrums and Uncle Vernon’s attitude as he did at Privet Drive.

In addition, Harry found the freedom quite enjoyable; he could do whatever he felt like, eat whatever sounded good (Dobby had left him an amazing an array of food, all pre-made), sleep until he was ready to wake up, even leave messes wherever he wanted—a luxury he had never enjoyed at the Dursley’s (though one Dudley had enjoyed to great extent).

What made the freedom even sweeter, however, was knowing that he would never again have to return to Privet Drive. This knowledge gave him the most wonderful feeling he had felt since learning he was a wizard. No more would he have to endure the scorn and hostility of the Dursleys, or the boredom and isolation of being stranded in the Muggle world. It was as if a heavy burden had suddenly been lifted from his back, and he felt lighter and giddier than ever before.

He spent his days exploring the house and the property around it. Harry was careful to obey Dumbledore’s request to not let anybody from the village know he was there, which, as it turned out, wasn’t so hard a task as Potter’s Cove was considerably large and had plenty to keep his interest. It became quickly apparent why the place was called Potter’s Cove: tucked away in a quaint corner of Godric’s Hollow, the house was built in a large indentation in the mountains and surrounded by trees, giving it a hidden, secluded feel. It was also removed a considerable distance from the rest of the village, so Harry was able to ride his broom and explore freely without fear of being discovered.

Flying above the property his third day at Potter’s Cove, he found a small river flowing down the mountain and along the eastern edge of the cove. The aerial view was spectacular—trees covered most of the land, although there were clearings here and there of varying sizes, a rather large one right behind the house.

True to his word, Dumbledore had stopped in nearly every day. His visits were short, usually just to see how Harry was doing and if he needed anything. Though he was always cheerful, Harry couldn’t help but notice a small hint of weariness in the headmaster’s manner, as though he were trying to do too many things at once.

It was during one of these visits that Harry resolved to ask the headmaster for a small favor. At least a week had passed since he first arrived at Potter’s Cove (though the days had seemed to melt together), and although he had enjoyed his time spent alone, Harry found himself wishing for company. It had been some time since he had talked with either Ron or Hermione and he was anxious to show them everything that had happened.

“Good morning Harry! How are you?� the headmaster asked late one morning after apparating from somewhere behind the house.

“I’m good. Professor, can I talk to you for a minute?�

Dumbledore gave him a quick searching look. “Of course. Shall we?� he said, motioning to the circle of chairs in the entry hall.

Taking his seat on a rickety old wooden chair, Harry watched as the headmaster sat across from him in the large oaken rocking chair.

“Now Harry, what can I do for you?�

Harry began hesitantly, “Well, it’s been great here and I’ve really liked the time alone, but it’s been a while since I’ve seen Ron and Hermione, and I was wondering if…maybe…� he felt awkward, not knowing if he should be asking for another favor or not.

“They could come for a visit?� the headmaster offered.

“Yes.�

Dumbledore smiled. “I think that would be possible Harry. Allow me to arrange it with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and the Grangers. Would tomorrow be all right?�

“Yes! Thank you professor,� said Harry, relieved.

So the next morning Harry made his way through the forest behind the house to a small clearing Dumbledore had described to him the day before. Ron and Hermione were supposed to arrive there by port-key at precisely 9:07. After nearly a half-hour of searching, Harry was about to give up when he heard a faint voice off to his right.

“Hermione, where is it? I thought Dumbledore said the house would be close by. Do you think he made a mistake?� said a male voice, slightly deeper than Harry remembered it.

Turning towards the voices Harry saw a bright red blur that could only be Ron’s head bobbing through the trees ahead of him. Creeping silently towards it, he heard a second, female voice:

“Dumbledore doesn’t make mistakes,� it snapped back. “It’s sure to be around here somewhere—we’ll just have to look around, that’s all.�

“I thought you were the only one who didn’t make mistakes,� Ron mumbled, so quiet Harry could barely make it out. He chuckled as he crept nearer.

“What did you say?� Hermione asked, a suspicious tone in her voice.

“Uh…nothing. Hey is that something over there?� Ron said, pointing away from Harry. They both turned, their backs towards him.

Harry was now close enough he could peer through the branches and see his two friends perfectly. Ron didn’t look a whole lot taller than he had before the summer holidays, which was a first, though he did seem to have filled out some. Hermione, for her part, looked a little more mature and her hair was as bushy as ever.

Harry grinned to himself. Even in normal circumstances Ron and Hermione seemed to be able to argue about anything, though this may have been the first time he was actually glad to hear them at it. A warm feeling sprang up inside him at the sight of his friends. He walked out from the trees to greet the two who still weren’t aware he was right next to him.

“HEY GUYS!�

“AAAHHH!� “Eiiiiiieeeekk!�

Hermione yelled and spun around as Ron staggered several steps backwards and emitted a very feminine-sounding shriek. At first they looked at him in terror—if a dragon had just snuck up and said hello they wouldn’t have been more scared—then their faces slowly turned to recognition.

“Harry!� Hermione scolded, her voice reprimanding but pleased as she ran towards him and embraced him in a giant hug.

“Oh Harry, how are you?�

“Good,� he replied, returning the hug and chuckling to himself. Hermione pulled away and fixed him with a stern look, as if she didn’t quite believe him.

“No really, I am,� he said, still smiling.

She stared at him for a few more seconds, until, apparently convinced that he was telling the truth, softened her expression and spoke in a tone of relief.

“Thank you for writing that letter Harry. I know it must have been hard for you,� she said quietly.

Harry thought of the letter she was referring to, the one he had written the night he and Dudley had beat up Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle. It had been long, the first time he had talked with either one of them about Sirius’s death.

“Er, yeah…� Harry replied uncomfortably, not sure what to say. He was rescued by Ron, however, who walked up to him and awkwardly pulled him into a one-arm hug.
He was still breathing heavily, as though still trying to catch his breath.

“You prat, you nearly scared me—us—to death,� he said.

“Sorry about that. You two really need to be more alert though—constant vigilance and all that.�

Ron responded by slugging him in the arm. Hermione rolled her eyes, though she still had a big smile on her face.

“Where are we Harry?� Ron asked as he gazed around the clearing. “Dumbledore told us something about your family’s place, but he didn’t tell us where it would be.�

“Godric’s Hollow,� he answered. Ron looked back at him blankly, clearly not recognizing the name. Hermione, on the other hand, looked thoughtful.

“Godric’s Hollow? I’ve heard of that before…� she said, her brow furrowed in concentration. Within seconds her face lit up in recognition.

“Wait, isn’t this where…?� she stopped mid-sentence and looked at him uncertainly, her eyes widening.

“Yes,� Harry replied, surprised at how quick she had made the connection. Though the three of them had very rarely spoken about it, she had probably recognized the name of the village his parents had been murdered in from some book she had picked up. Ron, however, looked blankly at Hermione then back to Harry.

“Where what?� he asked, annoyed at being left out of the conversation.

Hermione glanced at Ron, then quickly back at Harry, obviously not sure if she should answer the question.

“This is where I was born, Ron,� Harry answered instead.

“Oh,� Ron replied, surprised. Harry could see he hadn’t made the connection yet, and he was glad. He would rather enjoy his friends’ company without Voldemort’s shadow lurking over them, which was sure to happen if they brought up the night his parents had died. Strangely enough, after the visit to the destroyed cottage where it happened he somehow felt at peace with the whole thing anyway didn’t see a need to dwell on it any further.

Hermione shot him a quick questioning look, which he returned with a nod and a small smile.

“Well are you going to show it to us or what?� Ron blurted out impatiently.

“Sure. Let’s go.�

Harry led the two out of the woods, towards the house, which was much easier to find than the clearing had been. As they walked Hermione filled them in on how she had spent her summer.

“I’ve basically spent most of the time with my parents, because I don’t get to see them very often you know. Though I have been able to finish my summer homework and research Elfish history on the side. Did you realize that since 1457 House-Elves have been…�

“You mean with the war and everything else going on you still haven’t given up on SPEW?� Ron interrupted, looking at her incredulously.

“Do House Elves have fair working hours and benefits, Ronald?� Hermione replied coolly. Harry noticed the dangerous edge to her voice, though Ron apparently missed it.

“No, and guess what? They. Don’t. Want. Them. Come on, Hermione, you’ve seen them yourselves—they’d rather feed all of Hogwarts and pick up your knickers than get paid. Honestly, what you’re doing is like—“

But they never heard what it was like, as Potter’s Cove suddenly came into view. Ron stopped and let out a low whistle.

“Blimey, Harry! Is that all yours?� Ron asked in disbelief.

“Er…no, it belongs to my grandparents,� Harry answered, still not used to the idea that he could own anything that big.

“But it will be once you are of age, right?� Hermione interjected.

“Well, yeah,� he replied bashfully.

Harry gave a quick tour of the house (or at least what he had seen of it so far). They started by visiting the astronomy room and the portrait of Angus, who looked thrilled to see even more people in Potter’s Cove. After 10 minutes of his jovial rancor the trio broke away to explore the rest of the house, his great-uncle asking if they had found grandsire Kenneth’s Thunder Room yet and shaking the room with his booming laughter. “Seems like a good bloke,� Ron said as they walked back into the hallway.

Every time they came to a new room Hermione clasped her hands to her mouth, gasped, then looked at Harry in disbelief. As they saw more and more of the house a gnawing concern crept up on Harry: Ron’s family was rather poor and Harry’s wealth had always been a sensitive area. He didn’t react well when he was reminded how much richer Harry was than him. If he felt that way about a few galleons, Harry was scared to think how he would react to him having his own house.

Ron, however, seemed to be enjoying it just as much as he was. He looked excitedly about as they walked and pointed out various details Harry hadn’t even noticed. At length they returned to the large clearing behind the house.

“Well, that’s it. What’d you think?�

“Amazing Harry, absolutely amazing! I’m so happy for you!� Hermione beamed at him.

“Yeah, it’s great,� Ron agreed, studying the area around them. “I can’t believe how—Wait a minute…,� he ran a few steps into the clearing and gazed towards the far end, squinting his eyes. He then turned and gazed at the opposite end. After a few seconds his jaw dropped. “Harry! Do you know what this is?� he gestured at the clearing, his voice marked disbelief, “this is a Quidditch pitch!�

“What?� Harry looked incredulously back at him. Following Ron’s gaze to one end of the clearing he saw three large poles shooting out of the ground, one of which ended in a large hoop much like a Quidditch goal. A second pole rose almost as high as the first, though it had no hoop at the end, and the last rose only a few yards from the ground, apparently having been snapped off during a long period of neglect. Looking down the other end he saw three more tall poles sticking out of the ground. He had never noticed them because the trees had almost engulfed the hoops. Looking back to the center of the clearing he saw that it was roughly the same shape as a Quidditch pitch, but vegetation had grown all over it. It was a little bit smaller, but Ron was right: it was a Quidditch pitch.

“Brilliant,� Harry whispered joyfully to himself. He was coming to like Potter’s Cove more and more by the minute.

Ron slowly walked back towards him, shaking his head. “I don’t believe it. You have your own house, your own land, your own Quidditch pitch…� He stared at Harry with a look of awe, mingled with resentment. “You are the luckiest person I know.�

“Well it’s yours too. You’re going to come live with me once we get out of Hogwarts,� Harry replied simply. Ron blushed furiously but looked extremely pleased. Hermione smiled at them both.

“Come on, let’s go have a sit,� Harry said quickly, anxious to go before things got any more mushy.

The trio returned to the entry hall and took a seat on one of the different chairs. Harry filled them on everything that had happened since he had received the letter from Dumbledore: Tonks’s efforts at delivering Dumbledore’s package (Ron and Hermione laughed especially hard at the part where Mundungus Fletcher got electrocuted), the mysterious journey through the ancient ruins to Godric Gryffindor’s family tree, and, best of all, how he wouldn’t have to return to Privet Drive anymore. They were almost as thrilled as he was about the last part, and Harry thought he saw a tear in Hermione’s eye. He purposefully left out the visit to the cottage Voldemort had attacked his parents at.

Hermione, who was sitting in a stately purple cushioned chair, looked as though something were bothering her. Harry was about to ask what it was when she piped up.

“I don’t understand. Isn’t Dumbledore afraid that you’ll be attacked here? I mean, Privet Drive may have been miserable for you, but at least you had protection there. Why would Dumbledore bring you here?�

“He said that he doesn’t think Voldemort is after me at the moment, that he was laying low while he gathered more followers,� Harry replied.

“Maybe Privet Drive’s a decoy,� Ron suggested. “It would be a waste of time for the Death Eaters to look for you there if you had been hiding out here, wouldn’t it? I mean, Dumbledore didn’t even tell us about this place, I don’t think they would know about it.�

Hermione’s brow creased in confusion. “But still, you would have been much safer at Privet Drive because of the Fidelus charm. Bringing you here would be a risk, not to mention take a good deal of time and effort. Dumbledore’s the busiest man in England right now, why would he go to so much trouble just so you could spend some time here?�

It was a good question. Harry hadn’t really thought about it—he had been too overwhelmed. Now that Hermione brought it up, however, it did seem odd that Dumbledore would go to such trouble just so he could spend a few weeks at Potter’s Cove.

“I dunno,� Harry replied, still thinking. Unexpectedly a memory popped into his mind, the memory of sitting in the headmaster’s office after Sirius had died, of Dumbledore telling him about a ‘flaw in his wonderful plan’, of a tear running down his ancient face. Suddenly it made sense: Dumbledore cared about him.

The realization was somewhat startling to Harry. He needed time to think about it, to process it, but, seeing Hermione and Ron look at him expectantly, pushed it from his mind.

“Er…well, Dumbledore did tell me that he thought I deserved a holiday after…well after all that had been placed on me…� Harry mumbled.

An uncomfortable silence followed. Harry saw Ron and Hermione exchange a quick glance.

“You mean, because of Sirius?� Hermione asked softly.

“Well, yeah. And some other stuff…� The “other stuff�, of course, was the prophecy.

Hermione looked at him thoughtfully, and he decided it would be best to change the subject before she could question him any further. The truth was he wasn’t ready to share the prophecy. Perhaps he never would be.

He turned quickly to Ron. “So what’s it been like in the magic world now that people realize Voldemort’s back?�

Ron shook his head. “Absolute nutters. Everyone’s too scared even to go outside. They think that You-Kno…� he stopped suddenly and cast a sideways glance at Hermione, who looked back at him expectantly. Ron screwed up his face as though he were about to jump off a cliff and said, “I mean, they think that V…Voldemort,� Hermione nodded approvingly at him and he continued, “is going to get them if do anything but sit inside their houses and worry.�

Harry was impressed. This was the first time Ron had ever said Voldemort’s name and it had taken a lot of courage (even if his voice did crack a bit).

“Fudge has been booted from being minister of magic, of course, and most people are calling for Dumbledore to take his place. Mum and Dad don’t think he’d ever do it, though, say it would be a waste of his time. Dad keeps pretty busy at the Ministry trying to cover up all the attacks on Muggles, so we don’t see him much. And Mum’s learned to live with Fred and George running a joke shop, though she’s still upset that Bill lost his job at Gringott’s.�

“Bill lost his job? What happened?�

“He doesn’t really know. He just showed up for work one day and found the goblins had sacked everyone who was a human. Fleur Delacour too. Kind of weird, actually.�

The news surprised Harry. “Dumbledore was just saying that they think the goblins might join Voldemort. I wonder if this has anything to do with that…�

“The goblins?� Hermione interjected, “Really?�. She had a thoughtful look on her face. “That wouldn’t be good at all. Not if we lose the House-Elves too…�

“The House-Elves?� Ron laughed incredulously. “You reckon the House-Elves are going to join You-Kn…Voldemort?�


“I don’t think they would ever join Voldemort, no, but I do think they would just stand aside and let us fight him alone. And who could blame them, after the way we’ve treated them! I don’t know,� Hermione shook her head, a worried look on her face, “if, on top of dementors and giants the goblins join Voldemort and the House-Elves won’t fight against him, I don’t know if we have much chance of winning this war, even if Voldemort was destroyed.�

An uneasy silence set in after Hermione had spoken. Harry’s mind began to spin. What would happen if the goblins and house-elves refused to help in the war against Voldemort? It seemed as though the wizarding world was beginning to cave in, and Harry felt an anxiety that hadn’t been there before. He had always thought the war would be between Voldemort and himself, but now there appeared to be many other factors involved—rampaging giants, dementors, disgruntled goblins and apathetic house-elves…it was almost too much to take in. Harry suddenly appreciated what Dumbledore was going through.

“Wait,� he said suddenly, dispelling the anxious silence. The memory of a shimmering, golden tree in a long, dark corridor had sprung to his mind. “There were 3 sons of Godric Gryffindor on the family tree that Dumbledore took me to. The oldest one was right in the middle of the wall and his name was bigger than everyone else’s. So was his oldest son, and his, and his, for about 3 generations, then it just stopped,� Ron and Hermione were looking at him confused, wondering what he was getting at. “When I asked Dumbledore what had happened, he got all serious and said something like, ‘If we knew that, the war would be over’.�

Hermione and Ron looked at him thoughtfully for a minute. Hermione repeated his words out loud.

“If we knew what happened with Gryffindor’s ancestor, the war would be over…?�

“Yeah. It wasn’t just anyone though, it was his direct descendant.�

“What was his name?�

“I don’t remember. Something Gryffindor, if that helps,� Harry replied. Ron snorted.

“’If we knew that, the war would be over’,� Hermione repeated. “I wonder what he meant…�

“Maybe we should ask him next time we see him,� said Ron lightly. “Well, maybe Harry should, because it seems like he’s ready to tell you anything, mate. While you’re at it, why don’t you ask him how to make the Philosopher’s Stone and why Snape’s such a git.�

The tense atmosphere vanished in a second as Harry laughed and even Hermione couldn’t entire suppress a giggle.

***

They spent the rest of the afternoon exploring the house and discussing what Harry could do with it in the future. Hermione suggested doing a bit of cleaning around the rooms, an idea for which Harry and Ron had very little enthusiasm.

“Clean without magic, are you kidding Hermione? D’you know how long that would take?� Ron said.

“Funny, Muggles seem to be able to manage and they don’t have magic,� Hermione retorted sharply.

“Yeah, well they also wear other people’s hair and need mattresses to start a fire.�

Harry chuckled, sure Ron had meant “matches� instead of “mattresses� and amused that he had learned about the Muggle phenomenon of toupees.

“Besides, Harry’s chums with Dobby. We’ll just offer him a pair of horrible socks and he’ll have the whole place cleaned up in no time.�

Despite the constant arguing of his friends (which seemed to have increased, if that were possible, from the year before), Harry felt happy and forgot about the war for the rest of the day. He and Ron, still thrilled about the prospect of having their own Quidditch pitch, set to work clearing up the overgrown backyard.

“Oh, so this you’ll do without magic but cleaning up the house is out of the question?� Hermione huffed indignantly. Ron and Harry stared at each other for a moment, then grinned.

“Sounds about right,� replied Harry.

“Boys,� Hermione muttered in exasperation as she bent over to help clear the pitch.

Around 7:00 the sun began to sink behind the mountains and it became cooler. Harry had stepped into the house to grab a few flasks of pumpkin juice fix some food and, upon returning, couldn’t find either of his friends anywhere. After almost 15 minutes of searching and calling their names he began to get worried when he saw Hermione’s bushy head bobbing

“What are you doing?� Harry asked in confusion as he entered the house behind them. “Where did you two go?� They looked back at him with mischievous grins on their faces.

“Oh, just went for a little stroll through the woods,� Ron replied casually. He was holding one arm behind his back and there was something in his eyes that Harry didn’t quite trust. Hermione, he noticed, was holding what looked like an old beater’s bat and kept looking at her watch.

“What’s going on, you two are acting pretty weird…�

Ron didn’t answer, but continued to stare silently back at Harry. He looked as though he were about to say something when Hermione suddenly nudged him excitedly and began counting.

“9…8…7…6…5…�

He was about to demand to know what was going on when Ron interrupted him.

“Hey Harry, look what I found!� he said, holding up an old, worn Quidditch Quaffle and with a quick gesture tossed it to Harry.

“2…1…!�

Though utterly confused as to what was going on, Harry’s reflexes kicked in and he reached out to catch the Quaffle. As it made contact with his outstretched hand he caught a glimpse of his two best friends disappear into thin air. Then he felt a familiar jerking sensation around his navel as the world around him soared away in a rush of color.

Chapter 12
Ambush in the Dark

The rush of color stopped as abruptly as it had started. Harry felt his legs sweep out from under him as though he had just jumped from a moving car and he crumpled to the ground in a dark room. A port-key? That was the last thing he had expected. What was going on? He cursed Ron as he searching the dark floor for his glasses.

“You prat! What’re you playing at?� Harry demanded as his right hand suddenly brushed against the smooth top of his glasses. “You could have at least told me it was a port-key!� Placing them back on his nose he stood up and found the room wasn’t any clearer with them than it had been without. “Where are we?�

No one answered.

Confused he called out softly.

“Ron…Hermione?�

Silence.

“Ron!� he said a little more urgently, starting to feel anxious. Again no answer. Though he couldn’t see anything, the sound of his voice bouncing off walls told him the room he was in wasn’t very big.

What was going on? Why would Ron suddenly throw a port-key at him, then leave him in a dark room all alone?

Immediately his anxiety turned to panic. What if Godric’s Hollow wasn’t as safe as Dumbledore had thought? What if Voldemort had found him and it hadn’t been Ron and Hermione at all, but Death-Eaters disguised as them? Polyjuice potion would do the trick pretty easily…

The sudden creaking of a door opening made Harry jump.

“This way, Harry…� he heard Ron’s voice say in a teasing, almost cruel voice. He heard a shuffling of feet and the door creaking even wider. It was off to his left…

Full fledged panic swept over him now. The voice reminded him of Bellatrix Lestrange taunting him at the Department of Mysteries just before summer. Heart thumping he reached for his wand and stepped closer, his left arm outstretched. The door was right in front of him now. He gently pushed it open. Another long creak filled the silent air.

Ccccrrrreeeeaaaaaaaakkkkkk.

Slowly, cautiously, he took a step through the doorway…

Then it happened. An earsplitting noise filled the air as a dozen voices called out in unison.

“SURPRISE!!!�

Instincts kicking in, Harry thrust his wand into the darkness and yelled the first thing that came to his mind.

“STUPEFY!�

Suddenly the lights turned on. Time seemed to stand still as Harry took in the scene before him: a crowd of people, half of whom had vibrant red hair, facing him and grinning; strange, colorful shapes floating around the ceiling of a basement kitchen with stone walls; a long, wooden table full of food and colorful boxes; and a long white banner that stretched the entire length of the back wall read “Happy Birthday Harry�.

For a split second Harry was utterly confused. He had expected a Death Eater attack, not a festive room full of people wearing party hats. He looked down his arm to the person his wand had been pointing at, and was surprised to see the startled face of Mad-Eye Moody staring blankly at him—a strange yellow party hat sitting crookedly on his head and a small noise maker hanging limply from his mouth. Every head in the room turned in slow-motion towards the old Auror who tipped forward precariously, hung for a moment, then crashed face first into the table in front of him and crumpled to the floor, a large birthday cake falling on top of him.

Realizing that he had just stunned one of the most famous Aurors of all time, Harry was about to apologize when the entire room burst out into uncontrollable laughter.

Fred and George Weasley were rolling on the ground on the left side of the room, faces bright purple and writhing in a way that made it look like they were being tortured rather than laughing. Ginny sat in a chair slouched over, her bright face lit up with pure, girlish laughter. To her left was Kingsley Shacklebolt, an Auror Harry had met the year before, who threw his head back and laughed a deep, booming laugh that seemed to make the floor vibrate. To his left were a couple more grown wizards Harry didn’t recognize (though it may have been because their faces were buried in their hands). At the middle of the table stood Professor Dumbledore who was arguably the most composed of the group—one hand over his face and trembling violently. To his left were Mr. Weasley, Mrs. Weasley and Bill; Mr. Weasley and Bill laughing as hard as anyone else and Mrs. Weasley looking torn between concern for Moody and hilarity at what had just happened. Next to them was Remus Lupin, who positively shook in silent mirth, and Mundungus Fletcher who slapped his knee repeatedly and laughed in short, quick bursts that resembled a coughing fit more than anything else. At the right end of the table were Tonks, Ron and Hermione who had bent over Moody to make sure he was okay.

Harry smiled sheepishly as the adrenaline slowly left his body and he realized he wasn’t in danger of being attacked. The laughter in the room was infectious and he soon found himself chuckling despite himself.

“Come on, let’s get you a seat Harry,� said Mr. Weasley as he, Bill, and Mrs. Weasley strode to him.

“Er…Maybe we better take this away from him,� said Bill, grinning as he gently removed Harry’s wand from his hand.

“Come, Harry dear,� said Mrs. Weasley, placing her arm around his shoulders and leading him to a seat in the center of the table. Once he sat down she hurried away towards the fallen Mad-Eye-Moody, though he thought he could hear her giggling.
By this time most of the people in the room had recovered from the laughing fit and had gathered around to greet him.

“Happy Birthday Harry,� said Mr. Weasley, placing his hand on Harry’s shoulder. “It’s good to see you again.� He was quickly replaced by Bill who shook his hand and laughed.

“That was brilliant! Bet old Mad-Eye didn’t see that one coming. Happy Birthday Harry!�

“Er…thanks,� replied Harry, not sure if he should be proud for what he had done. Bill and Mr. Weasley moved to the side as Kingsley Shacklebolt and the two wizards Harry had seen earlier approached.

“Happy Birthday Harry!� said Kingsley in his deep voice, white teeth shining as he shook Harry’s hand with a strong grip. “And congratulations. You’ve just accomplished what dozens of Dark wizards could never do: Get the jump on old Mad-Eye,� he said merrily as he gestured over his shoulder with his thumb towards Moody, who was slowly coming to with the help of Mrs. Weasley and Tonks. Motioning to the two wizards he continued. “Allow me to introduce Damien Abernathy and Querious Gimble, two of my colleagues.�

“Happy Birthday Harry.� “Honor to meet you Harry,� said the two wizards, each nodding and shaking hands in turn.

Next came Fred and George, who had apparently gotten a hold of themselves and shook Harry’s hand enthusiastically.

“Happy Birthday Harry.�

“Yeah, Happy Birthday. And thanks for providing what may possibly be the funniest thing we have ever seen,� said George grandly, “if I ever get a penseive that’s the first thing going in there.� Harry noticed that their faces were still quite red and they looked as if they had been crying.

“Er…I’m honored,� replied Harry. The twins hadn’t changed much, though they were a bit stockier than he remembered. They were wearing strange, expensive looking robes—George in electric green and Fred in a vibrant, obnoxious orange. “How’s business going for you then?� asked Harry.

“Couldn’t be better. And we owe it all to you, our benevolent financial backer,� quipped Fred.

“Here’s your birthday present, think of it as just a small token of our endless gratitude,� said George, producing a small neatly wrapped present from out of his robes and placing it before Harry.

“I’d wait until you’re alone to open it though,� whispered George as he leaned towards Harry, “as certain authority figures may not entirely approve of our giving it to you.� He looked shrewdly over his shoulder at Ron and Hermione, who were making their way towards him.

“What was that?� Hermione asked the twins suspiciously, having just overheard the last part.

“Oh nothing,� Fred replied sweetly as he and George found a couple of seats along the table.

Hermione shook her head then looked back at Harry. “Happy Birthday!� she said as she hugged him.

Ron laughed. “Gee Harry, remind me never to sneak up on you in the dark. We thought you’d be surprised, but I didn’t reckon you’d start jinxing people. �

“Git,� Harry shot back, though he couldn’t help smiling.

“I don’t know, I think you did Mad-Eye a favor,� said Ginny, who had just joined them. “He’s really let himself go if he wasn’t expecting to be attacked at a birthday party. This should teach him not to let his guard down so much.� She shook her head and pursed her lips in mock seriousness, and Harry, Hermione and Ron laughed.

“Happy birthday Harry!� said Ginny and she broke into a warm smile. Her nose and upper cheeks were covered in freckles and two dimples appeared as she smiled brightly. She hugged him then held out a small box wrapped in yellow paper.

“I got you this thinking it would give you something to do when you’re stuck with those Muggles. By the time I found out you don’t have to go back it was too late; I don’t have enough money to buy another present so I guess you’re stuck with this one.

“Go ahead, open it,� she urged.

Harry unwrapped the yellow package to find a small, wooden box. Inside was a brand new golden snitch with the initials “H.P.� engraved into it.

“Thanks Ginny!� Harry said enthusiastically. The snitch began to beat its wings furiously and darted out of the box. Without thinking Harry shot out his hand and caught it before it could take off around the kitchen. “Wow,� said Ron, impressed with his reflexes. Harry suddenly looked up and met the eyes of Professor Lupin, who smiled sadly back at him. Apparently he was reminded of another teenage boy with black hair and spectacles playing with a snitch. Harry quickly put the snitch back in its case.

“I love it. Thank you Ginny.�

Ginny smiled back.

Lupin approached Harry next. He couldn’t help but notice that he looked more gaunt and tired than ever before, though at least he had on a new set of robes. “Good to see you Harry, happy birthday,� he said serenely. He put his hand on Harry’s shoulder and met his eyes. “I suppose you’re sick of being asked this Harry, but…how are you?�

Harry gave a slight smile back and nodded. “I’m good. Really,� he responded truthfully. Looking back into Lupin’s sad, haggard eyes, he realized the connection they shared: they had both lost someone very important to them in Sirius Black and James Potter.

“How are you?� Harry asked back sincerely.

Lupin’s eyes widened in surprise, then his smile broadened. “I’m good, Harry. Better now.�

Harry smiled back, realizing that no matter how discouraged he felt, Professor Lupin would be able to understand what he was going through. The thought that he wasn’t alone comforted him.

He had just taken his hand from Harry’s shoulder when a bubbly, blonde haired Tonks bounded up to them.

“Quit hogging him all to yourself, Remus,� she scolded as she winked at Harry and shook his hand. “Wotcher, Harry. Good to see you were finally able to get away from those Muggle prison-guards. Still can’t believe it took three of my best disguises and ‘Dung getting electrocuted to get past that hippo of an uncle of yours,� she said bitterly.
Ron and Hermione, having heard the story, laughed, whiled Ginny and Lupin looked intrigued.

“Mundungus got electrocuted?� Lupin asked incredulously. “I never heard that part. He told me Dursley was so scared of him he just gave Harry over. I’m going to go have a little chat with him…� he said with a sly look on his face. “I’ll talk with you more later, Harry. Tonks.� He nodded at the two as he walked back to the table. Tonks followed him with her eyes.

“Yes, talk to you later, you yummy, yummy man,� she said dreamily.

Harry snorted, completely surprised by what she had just said. Ron, Ginny and Hermione looked equally amused.

“Tonks, do you fancy Professor Lupin?� Ginny asked teasingly.

“Maybe I do,� she replied unabashed. Hermione and Ginny giggled. “You laugh, but from what I’ve seen, I’m not the only one here that fancies someone…� she finished, flashing a mischievous smile at all of them. “Happy Birthday, Harry,� she said with a final wink and returned to her place at the table.

Ron, Hermione, and Ginny blushed suddenly and looked at the floor while Harry watched her go. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he had just missed something…

Suddenly the voice of Mrs. Weasley rose above all the other noise in the room. “Let’s start eating the cake, everyone. I don’t want the kids up too late.�

“That sounds delightful, Molly, but I’m afraid Alastor has already claimed the cake for himself,� said Dumbledore to laughs from the crowd. Mr. Weasley and Bill were slowly helping Moody to his feet and out of the kitchen. He looked a bit ruffled and grouchy, though Harry thought he would too if he had waken up and found himself lying on the floor covered in pink frosting.

“One thing I learned long ago is that in this family,� here Mrs. Weasley gave Fred and George a withering look, “you always make two birthday cakes.�

“Wasn’t our fault it exploded,� George mumbled.

“She should’ve known better,� added Fred.

“Gits,� Harry heard Ginny mutter.

With a flick of her wand Mrs. Weasley floated another cake through the room, this one smaller but looking just as delicious as the one Moody had fallen into. After singing “Happy Birthday� to Harry (who felt awkward as he had never had anybody sing it to him before and he wasn’t quite sure what to do), Mrs. Weasley served up the cake and everyone settled into a festive, easygoing chatter. Harry’s piece was at least twice as big as anyone else’s and tasted delicious.

As he sat eating his cake it occurred to Harry that he had completely forgotten his own birthday. He had been so preoccupied with everything that had happened over the last two weeks that he hadn’t given it any thought. Just then Mad-Eye-Moody re-entered the room, pink smudges of frosting still on his cloak.

“How are you feeling Alastor?� asked Dumbledore. More than one snicker followed the question.

“All right,� he replied gruffly as he looked at Harry. The room went silent. Harry expected him to be upset, perhaps even angry at him, so he was surprised when the old Auror grinned at him and nodded.

“Good jinx there Potter. Constant vigilance, that’s the ticket.� With that he shook Harry’s hand, wished him a happy birthday, and took a seat towards the end of the table.

“Look at that, no hard feelings. You’re a true sportsman, Mad-Eye,� Tonks shouted.

“I don’t know though Harry, you’ve just used underage magic again. I expect you’ll be receiving an owl from the ministry any moment now,� chortled Mr. Weasley.

“Yeah, though I’d like to see Fudge try and expel you now. Must be hard to abuse your power while you’re being chased by a giant ape!� boomed Kingsley Shacklebolt to raucous laughter from everyone else.

“Let’s hear it for Fred and George Weasley!� chimed in Tonks.

Fred and George stood and started bowing while the group applauded and gave cat-calls.

“That was you guys? You did the giant gorilla?� Harry asked in disbelief, thinking back to the front page article in the Daily Prophet he had seen in Privet Drive.

“Sure did, birthday-boy,� replied George cheerfully.

“Our newest product: ‘Beacon Banshees’. You simply place the beacon on your unsuspecting victim and a screaming animal of your choice will chase them around until they find it.�

“Available in ‘Whooping Wombat’, ‘Flatulent Frog’, and our newest variety, ‘Gorilla a’la Fudge.�

More laughter.

As they socialized and ate cake Harry looked around the room and gave a small sigh of contentment: Here he was with his favorite people in the world, in what was his first birthday party ever. It was all a bit overwhelming—the Dursley’s had never even recognized his birthday, much less threw him a party. All too soon the night wore away and soon people started filing out the door, shaking his hand and wishing a final “Happy Birthday� before they left.

Harry gave one more tremendous yawn which was immediately followed by Ron when Mrs. Weasley chimed in.

“That’s it, time for bed everyone. Harry and Ron, you can have your usual room and Hermione you can stay with Ginny. Your parents are expecting you back tomorrow morning, so I’ll wake you up around 7:00. Good night!� With a final hug she scooted them out of the kitchen into a hallway that Harry thought looked strangely familiar.

“What did she mean, ‘usual room’?� he asked Ron as he looked around. In front of him was a familiar front door, and next to it a tall staircase that stretched up into darkness. He had been here before, though he couldn’t quite place it. It definitely wasn’t the Burrow…

“Wait, where are we…?� Harry said, stopping in his tracks. It was coming back to him: mounted House-Elf heads; black, dusty curtains; a screeching portrait. Of course!
“Is…is this Grimmuald Place?�

His friends stopped and looked at him confusedly. They exchanged glances.

“Er…yes Harry, this is..was Grimmauld Place,� Hermione said tentatively. “The Weasley’s moved in here at the beginning of summer because Dumbledore doesn’t think the Burrow is safe anymore, remember? I told you about it in one of my letters while you were at Privet Drive…�

“So did I Harry,� said Ginny, looking at him curiously.

“Er…me too,� added Ron.

Harry thought back guiltily to his first two weeks at Privet Drive and the dozens of letters he hadn’t read. Apparently he had missed the news entirely. He kicked himself mentally. The three were watching him curiously—he had no idea how he was going to get out of this one.

“Of…of course. I just mean, it’s changed so much I didn’t recognize it,� he said lamely. It was true though, the house looked so much brighter and cheery it was no wonder he didn’t recognize it.

They looked at him quizzically until Ginny broke the silence.

“All right, next year Harry only gets one piece of cake. I don’t think he can handle any more,� she said sleepily. “I’m going to bed.�

As he lay in bed that night Harry couldn’t help but smile. It had been a great day, and despite all that was happening around them with Voldemort and the war, it was comforting to see that there was still happiness to be found, and although it wasn’t saying much, it had been the best birthday he had ever had.

Chapter 13
Back to Hogwarts

The rest of the summer passed in a happy haze for Harry. After the birthday party he, Ron, Bill, and Ginny returned to Potter’s Cove (It had taken an entire day of pleading with Mrs. Weasley, but she finally agreed when Bill had volunteered to be the “adult supervision�). They spent their days in a number of activities: playing Quidditch; exploring the nearby woods; cleaning the house; and eating, though most of the time they played Quidditch.

Bill, being the only one of age and able to use magic, had repaired the broken goals and cleared the field of weeds in a matter of minutes. Using an old Quaffle and the Snitch Ginny had given Harry for a present they quickly devised a way to play with only four people. Bill would play as Chaser and Ron guarded the goals, while Harry and Ginny fought to be the first one to catch the Snitch. Bill and Ginny were on a team and every time Bill made a goal they got ten points. Ron and Harry were on the other team, and for every goal Ron blocked they got ten points. Whoever was ahead when their Seeker caught the Snitch won the game.

It was surprisingly fun to play. Somehow Quidditch still held the wonderful power of causing Harry to forget about other worries while he played, and, observing Bill, Ron, and Ginny, appeared to have the same power over them as well.

At first Harry had felt bad for Ginny. She was riding an ancient Cleansweep that had most likely been Bill’s at one point, while Harry rode his Firebolt and although Ginny was a good flyer, he didn’t think she had any hope of beating him to the snitch. He soon learned, however, that she could keep her own. He had been about to catch the Snitch for the fourth consecutive time and was considering easing up on her when, like a bolt of scarlet, Ginny thundered right in front him and grabbed the Snitch, causing to pull up quickly. The move threw him off balance and the next thing he knew he was sliding face-first in the grass. Luckily they had only been a few feet above the ground, but Harry had felt humbled all the same.

“Ohhh, I’m sorry Harry,� Ginny said sweetly as she hovered above him, “I didn’t see you there! My broom’s just too fast, sometimes I can’t control it.� Ron and Bill laughed heartily at the remark while Harry spat grass from his mouth. From that point on he learned never to underestimate Ginny Weasley.

Ron, for his part, had improved tremendously as a Keeper. At first Bill had lobbed the Quaffle half-heartedly, as if wanting to take it easy on Ron, but after a few easy blocks and some name calling, Bill was throwing his best shots. He used every trick he knew to throw off Ron, who made some spectacular saves, and the two would get so intense in their competition that they would quite forget that anyone else was around. Every once in a while Harry and Ginny would stop just to watch the spectacle.

“Wow, Ron’s really improved,� Harry remarked one day.

“Yeah, if he plays like that I reckon we’ve got a good shot at the cup this year,� said Ginny, eyebrows raised in amazement.

“You mean you’ve got good shot at the cup this year. I’ve been banned, remember?� replied Harry bitterly.

Ginny looked at him in surprise. “Don’t be thick Harry! You think that hag Umbridge has anymore say in what goes on at Hogwarts? Of course you’re not going to be banned.�

Her words inflamed the tiny flicker of hope he had been holding on to the entire summer—the small hope that he would be allowed to play Quidditch.

“D’you really think so?� he asked timidly, as if scared that even mentioning it might prevent it from happening.

Ginny shook her head dismissively, red hair streaming out behind her in the wind. “Of course.�

Harry felt a surge of excitement. His insides began to tingle: He would play Quidditch again this year. McGonagall would welcome him back to the Gryffindor team. Angelina Johnson was gone and they’d need a new captain. Perhaps they would make him…

Harry cast the thought from his mind, not wanting to entertain any false hopes.

“Which is just fine for me—I’d rather be a chaser anyway,� Ginny said, interrupting his thoughts. “Come to think of it, I wouldn’t mind having a go at Ron myself,� she said, watching as Ron made another save on Bill. “Come on, it’s 4-3. If I win this next one, you‘ve got to let me ride your Firebolt.� It turned out that Ginny did win the next one, and from then on they switched brooms every other game.

The Weasley’s visit only lasted a week, but they were able to convince Mrs. Weasley into allowing them a second and a third. Fred and George even stopped by once or twice which was especially fun, as then they could play Quidditch with beaters.

The summer passed quickly and before he knew it, it was time for Harry to return to Hogwarts. A few days before the start of term Harry received the following note from a wiry, ancient looking owl:

Dear Harry,
I hope your summer has been a pleasant one. Unfortunately it has come to an end and you must return to the world that so desperately needs you. I would ask that you return to Grimmuald Place (or Weasley Place, as Mrs. Weasley keeps reminding me) to complete your preparations for the start of term. I will arrive at Potter’s Cove later this morning in order that I may accompany you there.

Sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

Harry quickly ran up the dark wooden staircase to his upstairs bedroom and began packing. He had barely had time to finish and grab something to eat when the headmaster, in brilliant blue robes with silver embroidery, came through the back door and called for him.

“Well then, if you are ready?� he said courteously as he bowed Harry out the door. Harry had expected to travel by port-key, so he was considerably surprised to see two black, reptilian-like horses staring at him with their blank eyes when he walked out the back door. Thestrals. Skeletal, black, and silently eerie, the only people who could see thestrals were those who had seen death. The very sight of them brought back painful memories.

He was a little taken back at first, wondering why, of all the modes of transportation in the wizard world, Dumbledore had chosen this one. He felt a small twinge of fear but immediately cast it from him.

“Well Harry, why don’t you take the one on the right?� Dumbledore said casually.

Gritting his teeth Harry mounted the bony thestral. Within moments they were off. The journey passed quickly and without incident—Harry had even started to get used to the strange, eerily smooth way the thestral flew when they began their decent into London. Within a few minutes they had landed and entered Grimmauld Place, which was hardly recognizable to Harry.

The last time he had been in the house had been for his surprise birthday party almost a month earlier. As it had been quite late by the time the party finished, he had gone straight to bed and hadn’t seen much of it. The next morning he had left by port-key before he had had much chance to explore, so it was a complete surprise when he walked through the front door and saw a bright, cheery interior not unlike the Burrow. Curtains and chandeliers, once dark and drab, were now clean and sparkling. The wallpaper had been changed, and worn, comfortable looking furniture replaced the old, imposing tables and chairs that had once been there. There was now a large brick wall where Mrs. Black’s portrait had once hung, and in its place was a pedestal with a stone sculpture of a large dog sitting upright and staring off in the distance. A small plaque underneath read:

‘In memory of Sirius Black.
The unjustly condemned prisoner of Azkaban

Harry choked as he read the inscription and quickly turned away. He had come to terms with the death of his godfather, but any mention of the injustices he had suffered engulfed Harry in scorching fury. The mere thought of Bellatrix Lestrange made him burn…

Forcing his thoughts away from revenge, Harry looked at the rest of the house. Everything was much more bright and clean, though he was happy to see that it had already adopted the comfortable messiness of the Burrow.

“A little bit cozier in here now, don’t you think?� said Dumbledore, who had been watching him with interest.

“It is,� Harry replied simply, not wanting to voice any of the thoughts that were racing through his head.

Just then Mrs. Weasley and Ron came out of the kitchen. Ron took Harry upstairs to the room they had shared on numerous occasions, which apparently had been designated as his room during the Weasley’s stay at Grimmauld Place. A couple of hours later there was a knock at the door and Hermione entered accompanied by none other that Professor McGonagall, who gave Harry a quick nod in recognition before sweeping into the kitchen and out of sight.

“Oh good, Hermione’s here,� Mrs. Weasley said as she bustled out of the kitchen and gave her a quick hug. “As soon as Dumbledore’s done with Remus we can set off for Diagon Alley.�

“We’re done in here, Molly. I’m ready whenever you are. Tonks said she’d meet us there,� said Lupin as he walked out of the kitchen. Dumbledore followed.

“Incidentally, Harry, I think it would be best if you didn’t go to Diagon Alley. Molly can pick up whatever you need, but I feel you should remain here, given the circumstances.�

A pang of disappointment hit Harry. Ron and Hermione looked surprised. The “circumstances� Dumbledore was referring to was of course the prophecy, and he realized that any appearance in public was risking an attack from Voldemort. He was forced to admit that Dumbledore was right…again.

“Ok. I understand,� he acquiesced.

Harry bid farewell to his friends, noticing that Hermione was studying him intently, a thoughtful look on her face. Harry simply shrugged.

“Have fun. I’ll see you when you get back.�

Hermione continued to look at him slightly surprised, as if she had expected him to react differently to Dumbledore’s request that he stay behind.
“Harry, if I might have a word with you?� said Dumbledore, holding the kitchen door open.

“Sure.�

Harry entered the kitchen to see Professor McGonagall already sitting at the table, looking stiff and serious. As she took a seat across from her she spoke.

“How’s your summer been, Potter?� she asked in a business-like tone.

“Well enough,� he replied, starting to feel a trifle uncomfortable with her formality. Dumbledore entered, closed the door behind him, and sat in the chair to Harry’s right. Bowing his head slightly so he could look at Harry over his half-moon spectacles, he began.

“Thank you for coming in Harry. I know you would prefer a jaunt to Diagon Alley with your friends, but Professor McGonagall and I have some important items to discuss with you. Also, as I said before, I do not think it a good idea for you to be in public anymore than is absolutely necessary, and I’m sure you can understand why.�

Dumbledore’s voice was casually, almost cheerful, but he glanced at Harry meaningfully as he spoke. Harry nodded his head to show he understood. Professor McGonagall continued to look at him sharply like a hawk. He wondered how much she knew about the prophecy.

“Well then, we have a number of items to discuss with you concerning the upcoming year at Hogwarts. The first item concerns a certain illegal Defense Against the Dark Arts club that you, Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley formed last year right under the nose of Dolores Umbridge,� he said this with a twinkle in his eye and Harry was certain he saw the corners of Professor McGonagall’s mouth twitch, “better known as ‘Dumbledore’s Army’.�

Harry squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. They had formed the DA without the knowledge or approval of any of the teachers, much less Dumbledore whom they had named it after. The discovery of it had lead to his ousting from the headmaster position for some time.

“I’m sorry, Professor. We didn’t mean for…� Harry began but was immediately interrupted by Dumbledore who held up his hand, palm facing Harry, and shook his head.

“It is our wish that you continue with the club, Harry. Though this time you will not have to resort to secrecy and charmed Galleons to set up your meetings.�

Harry looked back at them, completely startled.

“With the danger that faces us these days I want my students to receive all the defensive training they can get,� Dumbledore said in explanation. “Our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher will love to work with you on this, that is, of course, if you accept?�

“Yes! I do.�

“Splendid. Now on to the second item, Occlumency. It is still, of course, very important that you learn to shut your mind against Lord Voldemort. While some progress was made in your lessons with Professor Snape, there is still much to work on. I would like for you to continue with your lessons.�

Harry’s insides dropped. The prospect of more lessons with Snape didn’t appeal to him at all, and he wasn’t even sure the potions master would teach him anymore.

“I said before that it was a mistake that I didn’t teach you myself,� Dumbledore continued, “so you will, of course, be receiving your lessons from me.�

This lightened the load considerably. Harry nodded again to show he understood.

“Good. Now to our final item of business. Minerva?�

Professor McGonagall nodded at the headmaster and turned her hawk eyes to Harry.

“Last year steps were taken by a certain…woman,� she spat the word out in disgust, as though the very thought of ‘Dolores Umbridge’ was revolting to her, “regarding the disciplining of students. With that person no longer in any position of authority, it is my pleasure to reinstate you to the Gryffindor Quidditch team.�

Harry broke out in a grin. Ginny had been right; they were going to let him play again.

Professor McGonagall watched him with a small smile.

“With the graduation of Angelina Johnson, there is a vacancy in the captaincy,� here she fixed Harry with a stern glare. “Now, you have a full load with Occlumency, the Dumbledore’s Army and your normal workload, Potter, so I want you to think about this before you say anything. I would like to offer you the position of team captain, if you feel this duty will not take away from your other, more important ones.�

Harry was completely taken aback. His insides surged with excitement. Team Captain! A small part of him had been dreaming about this moment ever since his first Quidditch match. His first impulse was to accept the position, and he almost did, until the full meaning of McGonagall’s words sunk in. He would have a heavy load this next year, though the biggest one of all—the prophecy—hadn’t even been mentioned. Running a Quidditch team would definitely take a good deal of time and energy from him—the sudden thought of Oliver Wood obsessing over practices came to his mind—and the small, logical part of his mind admitted that it definitely would take away from his other duties…

Dumbledore and McGonagall were looking at him expectantly. Slowly, grudgingly, he forced the words out.

“I’m honored, I really am, but I don’t think I would be the best person for the job.�

McGonagall raised her eyebrows.

“I think you should make Ron team captain. He deserves it more than I do, and I wouldn’t be able to put as much into it as he would.�

Dumbledore smiled. McGonagall nodded curtly. “Very well, Potter. I think you have made a wise, selfless decision. I will contact Mr. Weasley and inform him of the new development.�

Harry nodded, not believing what he had just done. He wasn’t even sure why he had recommended Ron, though the memory of the Mirror of Erised their first year came to mind.

“Well Harry, that is all we had to talk to you about,� said Dumbledore as they all stood. “I suggest you finish your preparations for tomorrow. Tonks and Mad-Eye will escort you to the King’s Cross tomorrow morning, and the next time we meet will be at Hogwarts. Do you have any questions?�

“No, sir,� Harry replied. as he made his way towards

“Very well then, we will see you tomorrow. Enjoy what is left of your last day.�

Harry was just about to the door when he stopped and turned around.

“Oh wait, actually there was one thing,� he said, suddenly remembering the conversation he had had with Ron and Hermione at Potter’s Cove.

“Yes?�

“Er…it’s not really related to anything we’ve just talked about…�

“That’s quite all right, Harry. What is it?�

“Do you remember in Godric’s Hollow when you took me to the Gryffindor family tree and showed me my name?�

“I do,� responded Dumbledore. Professor McGonagall looked at him curiously.

“Well, when I asked you what happened to one of his descendents, you said ‘If we knew that, the war would be over’. What do you mean by that?�

Dumbledore was quiet at first and raised his eyebrows slowly. He exchanged a glance with McGonagall who looked at him with something like amusement in her eyes.

“The Half-Blood Prince?� she asked him softly.

Dumbledore, giving her a quick nod, turned back towards Harry and glanced at him appraisingly for some time before answering.

“That is something that is easier shown than explained, Harry. Perhaps after one of our Occlumency lessons I will attempt to do both.�

Chapter 14
The Closing of Gringotts


Just a couple hours after his conversation with McGonagall and Dumbledore, Harry sat on his bed in Ron’s room reading a defense against the dark arts book Sirius and Lupin had given him the previous Christmas when he heard the front door open and a number of voices downstairs. Wondering what it could be about, he carefully bookmarked his page (he had been studying counter-jinxes for lessons with the DA), opened the bedroom door and descended the stairs. He was surprised to see Ron, Mrs. Weasley, Hermione, and Ginny standing in the entry hall, apparently having cut their trip to Diagon Alley short.

Mrs. Weasley was talking animatedly to McGonagall, while Tonks and Lupin spoke to each other in hushed voices, both looking gravely serious.

“That’s right, closed! Wouldn’t let a single soul in,� Mrs. Weasley sputtered in indignation. “Had an entire mob surrounding the place asking for an explanation, but not one word. No sign or anything. First Bill, now this, the nerve of those nasty little creatures!� Professor McGonagall looked back at her with a frown.

“Closed? What could it mean…� McGonagall repeated.

“And of all the days to do it too!� Mrs. Weasley said in a huff. “We couldn’t buy any of the books, or clothes, nor potion ingredients…I’d bet half the students at Hogwarts won’t be ready for school tomorrow. Quite a time for the goblins to go on vacation!�

“I think this is much more serious than the goblins simply going on vacation, Molly,� Lupin said, breaking away from Tonks. His statement was met with an uneasy silence.

By this time Harry had reached the bottom of the stairs and joined the group. He leaned over to Ron and whispered. “What happened? Why are you back so soon?� Ron shook his head.

“We got there all right, everything seemed normal until we went to Gringotts. There was a whole crowd of people gathered around the place waiting to get in but the doors were shut. Some old bloke told us he had been waiting to get in the whole day. We waited around for a couple hours or so, thinking it was some kind of joke, but nothing happened. We weren’t able to get anything for school—all our money’s in there. Tonks and Lupin reckon something’s going down, something to do with V…Voldemort.�

They remained in confusion until late that night when Kingsley Shacklebolt and Mr. Weasley entered the house.

“Arthur! Kingsley!� shouted Mrs. Weasley as she ran to her husband. “Do you know what is going on?�

Mr. Weasley looked extremely tired. He paused for a second before talking and sighed before speaking. “The goblins have joined You-Know-Who, Molly.�

“Or at least You-Know-Who has persuaded them not to help us,� added Shacklebolt in his deep baritone voice.

Mrs. Weasley inhaled sharply and put her hand over her mouth. Harry exchanged nervous glances with Ron and Ginny.

“But, what about our school stuff? We’re not going to have anything…� Ron said hesitatingly.

“You’ll just have to make do,� was Mrs. Weasley’s replied sharply. Looking around at the nervous faces of Lupin, Tonks, Shacklebolt and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Harry could tell missing school supplies were the least of their worries.

The headline of the Daily Prophet the next day confirmed their fears. Ron, Harry, Hermione and Ginny were sitting in the back of a surprisingly roomy taxi that Mundungus Fletcher had “borrowed� for the trip to King’s Cross while Tonks read the article out loud:

“The wizarding world was shocked yesterday to find that Gringott’s, the largest financial institution in Britain, has been closed indefinitely. Hundreds of angry witches and wizards waited outside the bank in vain as the magical steel doors remained closed to the public. No explanation on the curious action was given until late last night, when head banker Griphook Kerchek issued the following statement from an upper balcony of the bank: ‘I am pleased to announce the indefinite closing of Gringotts and subsequent barring of all humans from our services. All gold contained in said institution is hereby confiscated.’

“Griphook, accompanied by other Gringotts officials and a number of security trolls, then went on to cite a number of alleged wizard injustices against the goblin race, including the Cambershook Massacre of 1630 and the Dervey Warlock Pact of 1812 (for the Ministry rebuttal to these charges see pages 3-6). Griphook’s final words as he retreated into the bank were: ‘You humans will not see even a knut until proper restitution for these crimes is made.’� Tonks read the last line slowly.

“This is not good,� said Lupin heavily.

“Only good goblin’s a dead goblin, I say!� blurted out Mundungus, swerving just in time to miss a post box.

Not until they reached Platform 9¾, however, did Harry realize the full impact of what the goblins joining Voldemort meant to the wizarding world. While there was usually an atmosphere of excitement and love as parents bid farewell to their children, today it was gone, replaced by a sense of panic and apprehension. Most of the parents stood huddled together in groups of three or four, each holding a copy of today’s Daily Prophet and talking in quick, panicked tones. Many of the students looked at the grown-ups and around the station with worried looks on their faces. Some of the younger children were crying. Harry was anxious to get on the Hogwarts Express.

As they made their way through the crowd a number of parents looked at Harry in astonishment and whispered to each other.

“Look, it’s Harry Potter!�

“It really is him!�

“Between him and Dumbledore, somehow we’ll get out of this mess.�

A couple of people even approached him.

“Hello Mr. Potter. I just wanted to tell you that I believed in you all along,� said one man, a tall, lean, middle-aged wizard who grabbed his hand and shook it enthusiastically.

Not three steps later a plump old witch dragging a small, shy looking boy behind her scurried towards Harry with her arm outstretched. “Greetings Harry! This is my son Quinn, he’s just starting at Hogwarts. You’ll watch out after him, won’t you?�

Soon Harry was desperate to get on the train. After saying a quick good-bye to Mrs. Weasley, Tonks and Mundungus, he leapt on board, dragging his luggage (which was considerably lighter this year) behind him.

“Wow Harry, you went from nutter to hero in just one summer,� Ron said in amazement as he climbed on board, followed by Hermione and Ginny.

Hermione huffed indignantly as she looked back at the gathered crowd waiting on the platform. “Two months ago most of these people were slandering you and Dumbledore. Now they’re waiting for you to save them. People can be so stupid.�

“Yeah Harry, no pressure or anything, but you’ve got to save us all,� Ginny said with a laugh. “You’ll especially make sure nothing happens to my poor little Ron, won’t you?�

Harry somehow found it hard to laugh.

“Well, we’ve got to go to the Prefects compartment,� said Hermione gesturing to Ron (who had a look of distaste on his face). “We’ll check with you later. Let’s go Ron.�

Harry and Ginny found an empty compartment and stowed their luggage. They hadn’t been there a minute when the door slid open and they were joined by Neville Longbottom.

Of all the years they had spent at Hogwarts together, Harry had never seen as big a change in Neville over a summer as he did this one. While he hadn’t grown a whole lot, there was something in his countenance that looked older, more mature. His face was still plump, but there was a sober, almost determined look in his eyes. Harry thought back to the letters Neville had written him over the summer.

“Hi Harry, Ginny. Do you mind if I sit with you?�

“No, come on in,� said Harry.

“How was your summer Neville?� asked Ginny.

Neville had just begun telling them about his summer when the door slid open and they were joined by Hannah Abbott and Terry Boot.

“Hey Harry, can we sit with you?� Terry asked as he sat down, not waiting for the answer.

As they talked about the summer more people joined them, mainly past members of Dumbledore’s Army. They all seemed to want to know what Harry thought of everything that had happened with the war so far and what he thought Voldemort was going to do next. Harry felt quite overwhelmed with all the attention and wished he were alone in the compartment with just Neville and Ginny again. He exchanged a couple of pleading glances with Ginny, who shrugged and smiled at him.

About the fifth time the door opened Harry was pleased to see Ron standing in the doorway, looking astonished to find the compartment full of people. He was soon joined by Hermione, who raised her eyebrows and looked momentarily surprised, then said coolly, “Harry, can you come with us to the Prefects compartment for a second? Oh, and Ginny and Neville, you better come too.� Harry was grateful for her quick thinking.

“Blimey, Harry. I hope this doesn’t keep up the entire year,� Ron said as they made their way towards the front of the train.

“That makes two of us,� Harry muttered back.

They sat in the Prefects compartment, which felt considerably cool and comfortable. Harry told them about the conversation he had had with Dumbledore and McGonagall the previous day, about how they wanted the DA to continue and he would continue taking Occlumency lessons. He also told them about being reinstated to the Gryffindor Quidditch team, though he thought it best to keep the part about being named team captain a secret.

The old witch with the food cart had just begun to make her rounds when he remembered the last part of the conversation. He told them about Dumbledore’s mysterious response to his asking about the Gryffindor ancestor.

“And then McGonagall kind of looked at him and said, ‘the Half-Blood Prince?’. He nodded at her, then looked at me for a long time. Finally he said something about how it would be easier to show me rather than to explain it and maybe after one of our Occlumency lessons he would.�

“The Half-Blood Prince?� Hermione repeated thoughtfully. “I’ve never heard of him, maybe with a little research we could find out more.�

“Er…Who’s the Half-Blood Prince?� Neville asked confusedly. It had just hit Harry that Neville wouldn’t have had any idea what they had been talking about. Hermione quickly filled him in.

“So Dumbledore said that this Half-Blood Prince could stop the war, but he hasn’t any idea where he is?� he asked once she had finished her explanation.

“Yes,� Hermione answered.

“But how? What would he do?�

“We don’t know. Dumbledore never said. I imagine we can find something about it in the library though,� Hermione said, a far-away, glossy look in her eye.

“Well, actually, he said that if we knew what had happened to him, then the war would be over,� Harry interrupted. He wasn’t sure if there was a difference, but felt like it was worth mentioning all the same.

The rest of the ride to Hogwarts was uneventful, with the exception of Draco Malfoy’s traditional drop in on Harry and his friends. He had been in the middle of a conversation with Pansy Parkinson when he opened the door, saw who was in the compartment, sneered and looked like he was about to say something mean, then changed his mind and left without a word.

“Probably just remembered that shiner you gave him over the summer and decided to keep his fat mouth shut,� Ron said to Harry as they laughed.

As the Hogwarts Express pulled into the station and Harry made his way to the carriages, he couldn’t help but feel he was in for his most interesting year at Hogwarts yet.

Chapter 15

The Welcome Feast


The air was crisp and there was the faint smell of autumn in it as Harry, Neville and Ginny walked towards the empty carriages that would take them to the castle. Ron and Hermione had hurried off to help with some first years who appeared to be home sick. One of them, a tiny girl with curly brown hair had been clinging to her 4th year brother and upon being told that she would have to leave him and join Hagrid, promptly burst into tears.

Harry was a little surprised: The first years were always a little apprehensive their first day of Hogwarts—he him had been terrified, but he had never seen someone break down and cry before.

“Ohhh, poor girl,� said Ginny, her freckled face full of concern as they walked by the little girl, “it’s got to be hard leaving your family with the war going on.�

As they climbed into the carriage Dean Thomas came running to the door.

“There you are Ginny. Er…can I ride with you?� Dean asked tentatively.

“Of course. I was wondering when you’d show up,� Ginny smiled, scooting over on the seat to make room.

“Hey Harry, Neville,� Dean said as he climbed in and sat down. He looked around for a little bit, then turned to Ginny and said nervously, “Er…how was your summer?�

“Oh you know, nothing I didn’t already write to you about,� she replied. An awkward silence ensued. Dean looked like he was struggling to find something to say, then asked stiffly, “So, um…are you happy to be back at school?� Ginny laughed.

Harry was confused at first as he watched the two interact; he couldn’t understand why Dean was acting so weird. Ginny was acting completely normal, but Dean seemed nervous and talked to Ginny like they had never met. Then he remembered—they were going out. During the train ride home last year she had mentioned it to Ron, who hadn’t seemed too pleased. In fact, she had broken up with her previous boyfriend, who was now going out with Cho Chang…

The thought of Cho Chang had surprisingly little effect on Harry. He found it hard to believe, almost funny even, that he had once cared so much about impressing a girl. It seemed like a life-time ago. What with the war, the prophecy, and everything else going on he didn’t have time to think about girls, and remembering all the grief and frustration Cho had caused him, he wasn’t even sure he wanted to. Watching Dean only reinforced this feeling—here was Ginny, one of the easiest people to talk to, and he was fumbling around for something clever to say and coming across like a complete idiot.

Shaking his head at the disgusting display in front of him, Harry silently resolved that he would never waste time on another girl as long as he was at Hogwarts.

Soon the carriage lurched to a halt, announcing their arrival at the castle. Ginny and Dean melted into the crowd walking towards the castle as Harry and Neville exited the carriage.

“Uh…are Dean and Ginny going out?� Neville asked confusedly as they joined the throng walking towards the main doors.

“Yeah. Waste of time if you ask me,� Harry replied absent-mindedly.

They were just about to the front doors when Ron caught up with them. “I can’t believe it, first day back and already there’s whining first years and Hermione’s mad at me,� he said, shaking his head. “All I did was say that Skidrack the Mountain Troll eats little girls who cry.�

“You told that girl that Skidrack the Mountain Troll would eat her if she didn’t stop crying?� Harry asked, trying to suppress a laugh.

“Well yeah,� Ron said defensively. “Fred and George used to tell me that all the time. I thought everyone said that…� Ron mumbled the last few words to his shoes, then looked up again.

“Oh yeah, and Hagrid wants to talk with you before you go to the feast.� he said, pointing behind him with his thumb. “I don’t know what it’s about. I got to go, I’ll save you a seat.�

Harry looked back over the crowd and saw Hagrid’s gigantic form towards the end of the queue, bent over and showing something to Hermione. Harry pushed his way against the crowd, getting the occasional “Hey Harry!� and “Look, it’s Potter!�, as he made his way.
He got there just in time to catch the end of their conversation.

“That’s great, Hagrid. Really wonderful. Look, I’ve got to go, they’ll be expecting me in the Great Hall any minute now. Look, there’s Harry!� Hermione gave an overenthusiastic grin as she ran off.

“Harry, good to see ya,� Hagrid said as he clapped Harry painfully on the shoulder. He gave a giant grin that revealed several missing teeth, and Harry couldn’t help but notice a large purple bruise over his right eye. This was actually pretty good for Hagrid, who had spent most of the previous year looking like he had been trampled by Madame Maxime’s giant horses.

“Sorry I did’n make it to yer birthday party, had another project keep’n me busy. Speakin of which,� here Hagrid reached into his giant mole-skin coat and pulled out a small piece of paper, “I got somethin’ to show ya. Look at this!�

Hagrid held it up. It was a photograph, but he couldn’t quite tell what it was of in the dark. It looked like a large boulder bobbing up and down against a backdrop of trees. Stepping closer to get a better look he realized the boulder was actually a person’s head—a very large person’s head…

Grawp.

Hagrid’s giant half-brother sat at a small table (it looked small next to Grawp anyway—it could have been as big as one of the house tables in the Great Hall for all Harry knew), holding an enormous mug. He swung his head stupidly from side to side and looked around. A white napkin was tucked into the collar of his tunic like a bib, and the table was set with a large teapot, a plate of biscuits, and a vase with gaudy flowers on top of a white tablecloth.

“Grawpy’s first tea!� Hagrid bellowed out, a sentimental tone in his voice like a parent showing his child’s first step.

Harry was filled simultaneously with disbelief and an urge to laugh out loud: He knew that Hagrid wanted to prove that giants could mix with wizards, but the sight of Grawp at tea was one of the most ridiculous things he had ever seen. It reminded him of when his Aunt Marge used to dress her bulldog up in a little tuxedo outfit.

“That’s amazing, Hagrid.�

“You would’n believe it Harry! He’s come a long way—he’s talkin’ with me, told me a little bit about the other giants, even built himself a shelter to sleep under. I reckon I’ve almost gotten him entirely trained—hasn’t taken a swing at me in nearly a month!�

A little apprehensive, Harry pointed towards the large black bruise on Hagrid’s face. “Er…How’d you get that then?�

“Oh, well Grawpy didn’t really like the flash from the camera, so he threw his mug at me after I took it. Reckon it scared ‘im a bit.� Hagrid replied unconcernedly. “Really was my own fault though, should’a told him it was comin. He’s doin great though Harry, just great. I can wait to show him to yeh.�

Harry nodded. Though not nearly as enthusiastic for the meeting as Hagrid appeared to be, he couldn’t help but be impressed—the last time he had seen Grawp he had been in a raging temper and was throwing Centaurs around the forest like they were chess pieces.

“That really is amazing, Hagrid. How did you do it?�

Hagrid spent the next twenty minutes explaining the various methods he had used to discipline Grawp. He was just about to explain how he had convinced Snape to brew an extra-strength submissiveness potion when he cut off.

“But listen to me ramblin’ on when you should be inside at the feast! Come to think of it, I should too. You’ll have to drop by soon as you have a break, Harry. Grawpy would love to see you. Well, best get goin’.�

Harry took a quick right once they had entered the castle and made his way to the back end of the Great Hall. Apparently it was about half-way through the sorting as a line of quaking first years stood facing Harry at the far end of the hall and the sorting hat suddenly yelled out, “Ravenclaw!�. This was followed by a cheer from the Ravenclaw table as they welcomed their newest member. Harry did his best to get to the Gryffindor table without being noticed, and took a seat next to Ron.

“What was that all about?� Ron asked as Professor McGonagall read out the next name, Locksley, Quinton.

“Remember we told you about Grawp? Hagrid’s giant?� Ron looked confused for a second, then answered, “Oh yeah. What about him?�

“Well, we’ve just been invited to tea.�

Just then Hagrid entered through a door in the far end of the hall behind the staff table. He nodded at Professor Sprout as he sat down between her and Professor Flitwick, both of him he towered over by at least five feet even as he was sitting. Next to Flitwick was Professor Vector, and next to her was an older, grizzled looking witch Harry had never seen before.

As the sorting continued Harry couldn’t help but notice that the atmosphere in the Great Hall was more subdued than usual. Usually at the start of year feast each table erupted in cheers every time a first year was sorted into their house. Tonight the houses gave only a half-hearted applause, as if everyone was waiting for the ceremony to get over. There was very little of the light-hearted chatter that had always been present at the beginning of the year, and many of the students had anxious, distracted faces. What surprised him the most, however, was the sight of eight or nine people at the Hufflepuff table wearing blood red uniforms and three people wearing silky, powder blue ones half-way along the Ravenclaw table. The sight immediately took him back to his fourth-year when students from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons had spent a year at Hogwarts for the Tri-Wizard Tournament.

He was just about to point them out to Ron when the last first year, Darnell Clearwater, was sorted into Slytherin, and Dumbledore arose. A hush came over the students.

“Welcome, first-year students, to Hogwarts,� the headmaster smiled warmly at the first-years as Professor McGonagall removed the sorting hat from its stool. “To our older students, welcome back. I would like to begin with a few items of business before we start our wonderful feast. I realize, of course, that this is a break from tradition, but I feel we will all eat better once certain issues have been dealt with. I have found that the things people wish to discuss the least are often the things that need to be discussed the most.

“Lord Voldemort,� there was a collective shudder throughout the hall at the name, “has returned and we are at war. Dark days are ahead of us. There are some in this room whose lives have already been affected by Voldemort. Before this war is over all of us will have.�

“Wow, he’s not beating around the bush this year, is he?� said Ron, looking surprised and impressed at the same time. Most of the other students looked similarly startled, though they seemed more scared than impressed.

“While it is a time of fear and uncertainty, you may trust me when I say this: You are safe at Hogwarts. Now on to business.

“The first item deals with the closing of Gringotts. Because of the sudden change of attitude on behalf of the goblins, many of you are not prepared with all the supplies you will need for the upcoming year. We have prepared for such an eventuality and have been stocking supplies ever since his return more than a year ago. While we may have to stretch a bit, we should have enough to get us through the year.�

There was an excited murmuring at this bit of news, and the tension in the room seemed to lighten a little.

“Secondly, I would like to introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Grishelda Grendenhall.� The weathered old witch Harry had noticed stood up and gave a strange imitation of a curtsey as the students clapped. Even from this distance Harry could see that she had seen a bit of wear over the years—her face was tan and immensely wrinkled, and thin wispy gray hair sprouted from her head. She had a wry, sardonic smile, as if she found the sight of hundreds of teenagers applauding her amusing.

“Professor Grendenhall is an Auror who has a good deal of experience dealing with the Dark Arts. She is also a good friend of mine and has agreed to come out of retirement to assist us in our time of need. I am confident that you will find her very capable and helpful in your studies this year.�

“Reminds me of a female Mad-Eye Moody,� Ron muttered. to Harry.

“Next, I would like to extend a warm greeting to our foreign friends visiting us this evening. Some of you have undoubtedly noticed by now, but for those of you who haven’t, some of the pupils from Beauxbatons Academy and the Durmstrang Institute will be joining us for school this year. I would encourage you to go out of your way to make them feel welcome.

Apparently quite a few people hadn’t noticed, as Dumbledore’s comment was followed by a good deal of talking.

“Durmstrang and Beauxbatons? What’re they doing here?� Seamus asked as weaved his head back and forth, trying to get a better view.

“They must need protection,� Hermione answered smartly. “Don’t you remember the end of our fourth-year? Dumbledore said that Hogwarts’s doors would always be open to them in a time of need. My guess is that they are in danger and Hogwarts is the safest place.�

“Just as long as Vicky’s not with them,� Harry heard Ron mutter under his breath.

“Finally, it is my pleasure to announce that this year the Halloween feast will be followed by a Halloween Ball, open to all students.� As he said this a number of students, mainly girls, gasped and began whispering excitedly to each other.

Harry looked at the headmaster while everyone around him talked. A Halloween Ball? They had never had a Halloween Ball before. In fact, the last Ball they had had was the Yule-Ball during his fourth year, and that hadn’t been fun at all. Harry was glad that he had sworn off girls and wouldn’t have to worry about getting a partner.

Dumbledore smiled and held his hands up for silence.

“Some may be wondering why we have arranged this. The answer is simple: We must continue living our lives. Although it is a time of darkness and uncertainty, we must not let fear dictate how we live our lives. If we do then Voldemort has already won.� the headmaster’s voice grew stronger as he spoke, and the students were looking at him in awe. “Because of this we will do our best not only to protect ourselves against danger, but to enjoy life while we are doing it. There is much good in life. It is up to us to defend it, to fight for it, and to sacrifice for it.

“While some try to hide from their trials and others attempt to flee, you will learn that the best way to deal with trouble in your life is to face it. We will face what is coming to us, and we will do it with wand in hand and our heads held high.� By now every pair of eyes in the room was riveted to the ancient headmaster, who seemed to be radiating an unseen power.

“We will face the darkness, and we will win. We will face Lord Voldemort and we will be victorious!�

Harry looked at Hermione, who looked back at him and smiled brightly. The change in the atmosphere of the room was almost tangible. It was as if someone had thrown open a window full of light in a dark and dreary room. The anxiety and tension that had hung over them all had disappeared, replaced with a warm feeling of hope.

“Now, without further ado—Tucker in!�

The rest of the feast passed happily. The food was excellent, as usual, and by the time Harry finished his third helping of treacle tart his eyelids began to get heavy. Sleepily he and Ron trudged up the many staircases to their dormitory. Dean, Seamus and Neville were already there, talking about what Dumbledore had said while they unpacked.

Dean looked up at Ron nervously and made a valiant attempt at casual conversation.

“Hey Ron. Er…did you have a good summer?�

Ron, who was also sleepy, only glowered back at him. Without a word he climbed into his four-poster bed and pulled his curtains shut.

Dean, completely shocked, looked at Harry, who simply shrugged back and climbed into his own bed. It looked like it was going to be an interesting year in more ways than one.

Chapter 16- The Vault of Hogwarts

“Now gather round everyone, gather round, I only want to say this once!�

Harry yawned as he ran his hand through his messy black hair. It was the first day of the new school year and already Professor McGonagall had called a Gryffindor house meeting. Normally Harry didn’t mind house meetings, but normally they weren’t called at 6:30 in the morning, and normally they had prior warning.

The entire Gryffindor house stood sleepily in the common room. Nearly everyone was still in their pajamas. Seamus stood next to Harry with his hair tousled and a grumpy look on his face. Ron stood next to him, looking confused, as though he weren’t entirely sure whether he was dreaming or not. Next to Ron a group of 4th year girls were looking at him intently and promptly looked away when he noticed them, giggling and talking excitedly to each other. He was too far away to hear exactly what they were saying, though he did catch “…looks so cute in his pajamas!� Harry rolled his eyes in disgust—As if there weren’t more important things to be thinking about than how he looked in his pajamas…

“Dobson, will you be quiet!� McGonagall’s harsh voice brought him back to reality. “Now, I have called this meeting to explain to each of you how we will handle the distribution of school supplies. Due to the closing of Gringott’s many of you are without books and other items necessary for your education,� a slight murmur swept through the students at the mention of Gringott’s. Many of the students exchanged worried glances. McGonagall continued, “First, we need to determine what supplies are needed and by whom. Before you leave for breakfast this morning you are to locate your name on this list,� she motioned towards the message board where a large parchment hung all the way to the ground, “and identify which items you have and which you are in need of. I am sure I do not need to remind you that we are in a crisis and only that which is absolutely necessary for your education will be provided. This includes books, potion ingredients, and basic clothing. Am I understood?� Here McGonagall cast her sharp gaze at the gathered students, all of whom were either too intimidated or too tired to respond.

“Good. Now once we have determined what supplies are needed we will make them available to you in the following ways: First, books for every class can be obtained in the library from Madame Pince. We have more students than we have books, so you will need to share. Consequently you will not be able to take books out of the library.� From the other side of the room Harry heard a startled gasp that sounded suspiciously like Hermione.

“Secondly, Potions ingredients will be made available to you in potions class. While we do have an ample supply, Professor Snape has asked me to inform you that any student who wastes his ingredients because of incompetence will promptly be turned into a dung beetle.� This time it was a group of 3rd years who gasped. Harry grinned at Ron, who grinned back. It was a great feeling to know he would never have to take a class from Snape again.

McGonagall continued in her brisk, businesslike manner. “Finally, all broomsticks, cauldrons, robes, hats, wands, and other items not previously mentioned will be distributed on a needs only basis. If you have a need indicate such on the list and we will do what we can to fill it. Any questions?�

Again she cast her sharp gaze around the room.

“Very well,� McGonagall said with a nod of approval. “We should all be thankful to our headmaster who had the foresight to prepare for such a situation. Others haven’t been so lucky. Though things will be difficult for a time I am confident we will make it through this. I expect Gryffindors to be cooperative and helpful during this crisis. Now, if you will please fill out the list before you leave for breakfast,� McGonagall waved her wand at the parchment. A large white quill appeared in the air next to it, hovering as though it were waiting for the first student to use it. “That is all.� McGonagall turned briskly towards the portrait hole. Hermione ran after her.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m fine with sharing books this year,� Ron said to Harry as they entered the Great Hall for breakfast that morning. “It’ll be a good excuse to get Hermione off our backs, won’t it? ‘Sorry Hermione, all the books are being used. I guess we’ll just go play some wizard chess until there’s one available,’ he said in a mock sincere voice that made Harry laugh. Judging by the amount of nervous chatter coming from the tables as they walked by, the other houses had had the same morning meeting as the Gryffindors. For his part Harry wasn’t too worried—Defense Against the Dark Arts was the class he was most concerned about and he had plenty of his own books for it.

They sat down next to Dean (Ron making sure Harry was between them), who was listening to Lavender Brown read the Daily Prophet.

“Due to the halted circulation of money within the economy many storekeepers have been forced to shut down. ‘It’s because of those damn goblins, that’s what it is!� says enraged store owner Amilda Hoffgram, who was forced to shut down her clothing store, Madame Amilda’s Clothing for the Supple and Sizable Witch this past week due to lack of customers. ‘Everyone’s too scared to buy anything. Should have wiped them out back in the Goblin Wars, would’ve saved us a lot of trouble.’ While business owners like Mrs. Hoffgram have been especially hard-hit, there have also been reports of entire wizard families being without food due to lack of money. Melvin Redgrave, a wizard from North Hamberbrook, Kent, was admitted into St. Mungo’s earlier this week after eating an old clock he had only partially transfigured into a loaf of bread…�

Harry’s attention was diverted by a disgruntled Hermione who had just taken a seat across from him. “I can’t believe it. Even we have to share books. I mean, I know there’s a shortage and all, but you would think they would reserve some copies for the prefects. But no, we have share them with everyone else! Doesn’t that make you mad, Ron?�

Ron looked at her uncertainly for a second before replying. “Oh yeah. That’s horrible.�

Harry started on some bangers and mash, thankful he didn’t have to turn old clocks into food just to eat when Professor McGonagall came around with the new class schedules. He studied his schedule, curious as to what changes being a sixth year would bring.

Earlier that summer they had received their OWL results. Harry was surprised to find that he had done much better than he expected. He had received an OWL in every class except for History of Magic and Divination. Ron had done almost as well, while Hermione, quite expectedly, had received Outstandings in every class. Both he and Ron had passed Potions, though they had not received Outstandings and would not be accepted into Snape’s NEWT level class. This suited Harry just fine. He was looking forward to his first ever semester at Hogwarts without a class from Snape.

“What’d you got?� he asked Ron.

“Double Charms, Double Transfiguration today,� Ron said as he studied his schedule. “Double Care of Magical Creatures and Defense Against the Dark Arts tomorrow, what’s with all the doubles?�

“Well we’re in NEWT level now, aren’t we?� Hermione replied matter-of-factly. “Classes are much harder. You’re going to have to work a lot harder this year if you want to make grades.�

Ron shook his head. “Hermione, you’re telling me with everything going on you’re worried about grades? Who cares about grades? Hogwarts may not even be around next year, we may not even be around next year. I’ll be happy if we make it through this year alive.� Harry couldn’t help but think he had a point. Grades were the last thing he was concerned about. Being the only one who could supposedly stop Voldemort had a strange way of helping him get his priorities straight.

“Don’t be ridiculous Ron, of course we’re going to be around next year,� Hermione responded in what was supposed to be a confident voice, though Harry noticed a tone of fear. “And the war doesn’t give you an excuse to…�

“What’ve you got Harry?� Ron interrupted quickly.

“Same as you: Double Charms, Double Transfiguration, and, this is weird…� Harry looked at his schedule closely. There was a third class listed on his schedule, but it was listed at 7:00 PM. “Advanced Occ.�

“Advanced Ock? What is that?�

“I don’t know. It doesn’t even show a teacher…�

Suddenly Hermione leaned across the table, her eyebrows raised and her voice lowered so no one else could hear. “Your weekly meeting with Dumbledore, Harry…Advanced Occlumency…�

“Oh yeah.�

“Which reminds me…� Hermione said absently as she fished through her bag and took out a thick, heavily read book. “I looked up what I could about Godric Gryffindor in Hogwarts; a History. I can’t believe how little they have in here. Listen. “Godric Gryffindor was born in 986 in Stratmoor and distinguished himself in the first Goblin War before helping to found Hogwarts. He was renowned for bravery on the battlefield and his generous heart off of it. Likewise only the brave are sorted into his house today. Some famous Gryffindors include...’ Then it goes on to list a bunch of people who came from Gryffindor, nothing about his personal life or descendants whatsoever.�

“Well, Dumbledore said he would tell me more about the Half-Blood Prince when we got back to school. This class is probably when he’ll do it. I just want to know why he’s so important.�

The rest of the morning and afternoon passed uneventfully. Hermione was right about NEWT level classes: they were definitely going to have to work harder. Professors Flitwick and McGonagall had already given them homework, which, because they had to share books in the library now, was bound to take longer than normal.

After dinner Harry made his way across the castle and up to the familiar corridor that lead to the headmaster’s office. He had just turned the corner and could see the stone gargoyle that stood guard in front of the headmaster’s door when it opened and someone stepped out. Harry did a double-take. It was Draco Malfoy. His mouth was set in his customary sneer, though he looked a little shaken, almost scared. The expression disappeared in an instant when he saw Harry. In its place was loathing and hatred.

He was about to speak when Dumbledore’s voice came from the open doorway.

“Ah, Harry. Glad you could make it. I believe Mr. Malfoy here was just on his way back to the dormitories. Thank you Mr. Malfoy, and remember what we have talked about,� he said in a firm voice.

Malfoy looked back at the headmaster, said, “Yes sir,� sneered at Harry, then walked away without a word.

“After you,� said Dumbledore, motioning for him to enter. Harry walked through the doorway and up the moving staircase. What was Malfoy doing meeting with Dumbledore? Harry couldn’t believe he was still in school; he would’ve thought being the son of Death Eater (not to mention an enormous git) would’ve got him expelled over the summer. It was more than likely he was spying for the Death Eaters, why would Dumbledore keep him around? Wouldn’t it be easier just to expel him? The thought made Harry smile.

The headmaster’s office was a large circular room filled with strange and fascinating objects, most of which Harry had destroyed during his previous visit. Fawkes perched in his usual spot on the right side of Dumbledore’s desk, sleeping with his head hidden underneath his wing. The walls were covered with the portraits of past headmasters and headmistresses, many of whom whispered excitedly and exchanged significant looks as Harry entered the room. A couple looked at him angrily, as though he had just done something to offend them. Harry sat down in one of the chairs placed in front of the headmaster’s desk, noting as he did that it was the same chair he had sat in just a few months previous when Dumbledore had told him the prophecy. As the headmaster entered and took his seat, one of the portraits, a stiff, elderly looking man, spoke.

“I do hope you are not planning to go through with this, Dumbledore.�

“Thank you, Artemis,� the headmaster replied calmly. This short exchange went largely unnoticed by Harry, however, who was still distracted by the thought of a Malfoy-free Hogwarts.

“Professor, why is he still here?� Harry asked. He was a little surprised at his straightforwardness—normally he wouldn’t have dared question the headmaster, but they seemed to have a new understanding.

“I presume you are referring to Mr. Malfoy, Harry?�

“Yes.�

“Well, so far he has done nothing to merit an expulsion, that is why he is still here.�

Harry was astonished. How could Dumbledore be so thick?

“How do you know he isn’t spying for Voldemort? Malfoy’s always been against you, against anyone who isn’t pureblood. I mean…his dad’s a death-eater!�

Dumbledore studied him for a minute. “I suppose one of the greatest things about this life, Harry, is that we are allowed to choose whether we want to become our fathers or not,� he replied in a calm, meaningful voice. “Young Mr. Malfoy has not yet made that choice, and until he does I will give him the benefit of a doubt.�

Harry shook his head. “But it’s just a matter of time. He’ll join Voldemort the first chance he gets.�

“I am afraid you are right,� the headmaster replied heavily. “Yet we must allow him to make that decision for himself. I will not make it for him.�

Harry was surprised to hear something like pity in the headmaster’s voice. Of all the people to feel sorry for, Malfoy seemed like the last person that deserved it. Dumbledore waved his hand dismissively. “But you have more important matters to worry about than this, Harry. Do not worry about Draco Malfoy. Trust me when I say that this issue has been dealt with. Now, on to more pressing matters.

“As I told you before, I feel it is of the utmost importance that you continue with your training in Occlumency. While I don’t believe you are in any immediate danger of an invasion by Voldemort, you need to be prepared for when the time comes. On top of this, there are many other things you need to know about Voldemort if you are to face him some day. My intention is to give you every tool you will need to face that encounter and emerge victorious. You have also asked me about the heir of Gryffindor. I feel you have the right to know more. We will get to that later.�

Surprisingly, after this last bit, one of the portraits made a low hissing sound. Harry looked up to see who it was, but was diverted by Dumbledore’s voice.

“First, let us tend to Occlumency. I would like to see how far Professor Snape was able to progress in your Occlumency training. Now, let us begin.� Here the headmaster made an arcing movement with his wand and slid the chair Harry was sitting in away from his desk to the center of the office. Taking this as his cue, Harry reluctantly stood and took out his wand. He had been dreading this moment—Occlumency had been one of the most frustrating aspects of magic he had ever tried to learn. He wasn’t excited for Dumbledore to see how lousy he was at it…

Facing the headmaster, Harry raised his wand and prepared himself for the assault. For some reason, however, Dumbledore was still sitting, a small smile on his bearded face.

“I don’t think a duel stance will be necessary for our lessons, Harry. You will find that the more accomplished the Legilimens you are dealing with, the more subtle his methods of entering your mind. Please, have a seat,� he said motioning to the chair.

Harry sat back down, slightly confused. In his Occlumency lessons with Snape they had always faced each other with wands out just like in a wizard’s duel. He hadn’t known there was any other way to do it. He looked up into Dumbledore’s eyes…

Suddenly a flood of images rushed through Harry’s mind. Waking up that morning, Hermione mentioning what she had learned about Godric Gryffindor at breakfast, Professor Flitwick falling off his stool during Charms class. He was taken aback—Snape had always used his wand and shouted “Legilimens!� before entering his mind. Apparently Dumbledore could do it without words…

Harry broke eye-contact and the rush of images stopped.

“Good. You must always be prepared for an invasion into your mind, Harry. Now, let us try again, but this time, instead of moving your eyes away, try to focus on one image and show that to me. If you are ready…�

The next hour was like nothing he had experienced before. Accustomed to the harsh, forceful way Snape would dig into his mind, Harry was entirely unprepared for the subtle, inconspicuous way Dumbledore probed through his head. He flit through his thoughts like the merest ghost of a whisper; one time it had taken Harry 5 minutes just to realize he was there. Once he had found the old man in his thoughts Harry did his best to throw him out. Eventually the headmaster ceased his probing, and Harry sunk back into the chair, exhausted by the effort.

“Well Harry, I won’t pretend that there isn’t a lot of room for improvement. But you are better than you think you are. You are accustomed to guarding against professor Snape, who, while an exceptional Occlumens, has very little experience with Legilimency. An experienced Legilimens such as Voldemort is able to see your thoughts just by looking into your eyes. The trick is to be able to sense when another presence has entered your thoughts, and, rather than throwing them out, coaxing and showing only what you want them to see.�

Dumbledore then coached Harry on how to practice, saying that the best way to be aware of someone else in your thoughts is to know what your own thoughts are. He recommended taking 15 minutes each morning, night, and once in between to clear his thoughts and master his emotions.

“Now Harry, practice what we have discussed and we will see what progress has been made next week. Farewell.�

Head buzzing slightly, Harry made his way down the rotating staircase and out side the door. He was just about to close it when a thought leaped into his mind. The headmaster hadn’t told him anything about the Half-Blood Prince. He struggled in his mind for a brief second. Perhaps Dumbledore had forgotten? Perhaps it wasn’t time yet? Maybe next week they would get to it. He would just have to wait…

The thought of waiting upset Harry. He wanted to know more, now.

Before the stone Gargoyle could move back into place, Harry rushed through the door and up the revolving staircase. Dumbledore regarded Harry from behind his desk, a small smile on his face.

“Yes Harry?�

“Er…What about the Half-Blood Prince? When I talked with you and Professor McGonagall you said you were going to tell me more about him.�

“I was hoping you would bring that up. I apologize. I wanted to make sure you were really interested before we proceeded any further.�

“Dumbledore…� said another one of the portraits, this time a grizzled old witch with a toad on her shoulder. The headmaster held a hand up to silence her.

“Please. Have a seat,� he motioned to the chair Harry had just gotten out of.

Looking at the portraits Harry noticed that quite a few of them were on edge. Usually they pretended to be sleeping, but now every single one of them gazed back at him, some even looked angry. What was going on? Confused and a little apprehensive he sat back down in the chair.

“To know Wulfric Gryffindor, or the Half-Blood Prince, one must first come to know his father, Godric Gryffindor, for their fates are intertwined. You must also understand the state of society when they were alive. Unfortunately this is nearly impossible, as the history we have of him is largely false, fabricated by ignorant scholars. There is only one record, written by a close friend of Godric, that gives an accurate account of the man, and only a handful of people alive know it exists. I happen to be one of those people.� The headmaster paused, touching his fingertips together and studying Harry over his half-moon glasses before continuing.

“Hogwarts castle holds many secrets, Harry, as you are perfectly aware. You have experienced more of these secrets than most students have, indeed, even more than most of the teachers, I would wager,� he said with a small twinkle in his eye, “but the place I am about to show you is one of the most secret of Hogwarts’s secrets. It is a place that only those who are entrusted to run the school know about. It is…�

Just then 4 or 5 of the portraits spoke out, causing Harry to jump in his seat.

“Dumbledore I must object!�

“Ye durst not betray centuries of…�

“He has no right! The vault is meant for headmasters’ eyes only!� said a bald, elderly looking man.

“You mean headmasters and headmistresses, right Quinton?� scolded an elderly witch to the bald man.

“As you can see, Harry,� Dumbledore said over the noise, “some of my predecessors disagree with my decision to show you this. Here he turned to face the portraits, many of whom still looked angry. “I can only ask that they trust in my judgment and wait to see the results before they condemn me.�

“But Dumbledore, be reasonable,� pleaded the red-nosed wizard Harry had seen during his fifth year. “The boy is remarkable, yes, but this is going against 1000 years of tradition!�

“Ah, but when has Albus done things the traditional way?� cut in a smooth, cunning voice Harry recognized as Phineas Nigellus. The ancient Slytherin eyed Harry amusedly from his frame on the right side of the room. “Besides, how many of us had to deal with what faces our esteemed colleague and the Potter boy? I suppose the circumstances should afford him some of our trust.�


“Thank you Phineas,� Dumbledore said with an appreciative nod before turning to the other portraits. “I have decided that Harry needs to see what I have to show him. While I am all for tradition, there are times when it needs to be broken to fulfill the greater good. That is my final decision. Take comfort in knowing that, if it is the wrong one, you will have the rest of eternity to remind me once I am hanging up there with you.�

This seemed to mollify most of the portraits, though a couple looked mutinous. When none of them spoke he turned towards Harry.

“Now, if you will follow me I believe I have something you would like to see.� Harry felt his pulse begin to race with excitement. Whatever Dumbledore had to show him, it had to be important if it was creating such a stir among the past headmasters.

Expecting to leave the office, Harry was surprised to see Dumbledore walk to the left side of the room and stop in front of a small alcove that held a number of potions. The alcove was immediately to the left of the headmaster’s desk and despite the number of times he had been in this office, Harry had never given it a second glance. The only thing noteworthy about it was the large number of flasks that sat on top of 7 or 8 horizontal shelves. Each bottle was dusty and old, though Harry could see that each was a different color.

“You are at least going keep the incantation from the boy, aren’t you Albus?� said one of the portraits resentfully as Harry came up behind Dumbledore.

“Of course, Hector,� the headmaster replied with a quick bow, then turned towards Harry.

“It’s for the best. I will restore your hearing as soon as we are in.� Before Harry could question what exactly was for the best, the headmaster removed his wand his sleeve in a quick, graceful gesture, and pointing it at Harry muttered, “Confutio�

Immediately the world around him became silent. Dumbledore’s lips moved as though he were asking him a question. Harry answered, “What?�, but nothing came out. Looking pleased, the headmaster turned around to face the wall filled with potions and waved his wand.

Smoothly, silently, the large square stones that made up the wall began to sink back, leaving large, black holes behind the potions. The potions then moved back into the wall and disappeared, only to be replaced by the original stones. Looking at the entire wall Harry was surprised to see that only some of the potions had disappeared; the rest had stayed in place creating a large archway about the size and shape of a typical entryway. At the top of the archway stood a slender, elegant looking bottle that held a bright golden liquid. It was at least 4 feet above Harry’s head and directly in the center of the recess. Suddenly the bottle lifted into the air and tipped over, spilling the glowing golden liquid onto the doorway shape. The liquid cascaded out of the bottle, which held a surprising amount for such a small container, and soon became a shimmering curtain of liquid, rippling on the wall as though it were a pool of water.

Dumbledore suddenly turned towards him, grabbed him by the shoulder, and pulled him through the curtain of liquid. Harry voiced his shock (at least he thought he did) and was surprised to find himself dry and well on the other side of the wall, standing in a cool stone corridor. Dumbledore looked at him again, waved his wand, and his hearing immediately came back.

“Nearly there, nearly there.�

They walked towards the end of the corridor, their footsteps unusually loud to Harry, and stopped in front of a plain looking metal door. Dumbledore fished through his robes again and pulled out a strange looking, circular key. He inserted it into a small hole in the middle of the door, and there was a low, grinding sound. The headmaster turned towards him and spoke in a low, sober voice.

“Harry, the room you are about to see has never been shown to anyone except the headmasters and headmistresses of Hogwarts. As you already know, I am breaking 1000 years of tradition and common sense by bringing you here. But I am doing it anyway, and I have my reasons.

“This is the Vault of Hogwarts. Any book, artifact or trinket that is or once was important to the history of our school is stored in here. Books, wands, treasure, jewels, magical artifacts worth more gold than could fill your entire dormitory are stored in here, yet what I am going to show you is more valuable than them all.�

With that the headmaster pushed the metal door. Its rusty hinges squeaked in protest as it swung inward. Dumbledore stepped inside. Harry followed.

The room had an ancient, musty scent to it, as though it hadn’t been disturbed for hundreds of years. It was lit by a number of small, glistening globes that hung from the walls and emitted a soft, white light. It wasn’t an especially large room; just big enough to fit 6 or 7 wooden tables. A tall stone pedestal rose in its center. As he walked by the tables Harry noticed that they were topped with glass and he could see various objects deep within: Books; weapons; goblets; statues; wands—everything Dumbledore had said. A small plaque of writing accompanied each exhibit. Harry read a couple as he passed:

Textbook compiled by Headmaster Egan Hothdagger, 3rd headmaster of Hogwarts.

The wand of Ubert Hoffleman, great Troll-hunter of the 13th century and Hogwarts professor.

Dozens of other objects littered the room. It would take an entire day to look at them all, but two things in particular caught his attention: a Hogwarts crest placed on top of the center pedestal, and a dusty, ordinary looking bookshelf standing in the center of the back wall. The Hogwarts crest caught his attention because it was placed in the middle of the room, as if it were the focus. It also was broken—its lower right hand corner, the corner that usually held the Slytherin snake, was smashed and crumbling.

The bookcase, on the other hand, was conspicuous in that in a room crammed with objects and short on space, it was completely empty. It was towards this bookcase Dumbledore walked. He stopped in front of it, took a deep breath, waved his wand and muttered something Harry couldn’t hear. There was a deep swooshing noise and suddenly, out of nowhere, a large dusty book appeared on the top shelf. Dumbledore removed it with a small grunt and carried it over to where Harry was standing by a small wooden desk.

“This, Harry,� the headmaster said quietly, as if he were concerned he would disturb it, “is the one record we have of Godric Gryffindor.�

Harry looked at the midnight blue cover.

The Diary of Rowena Ravenclaw

Harry looked up in disbelief.

“This is…Ravenclaw wrote this…herself?� he asked incredulously.

“She did. What you have in front of you is a first hand account of the founding of Hogwarts.�

Harry looked over the worn and dusty cover, not believing that the book in front of him was over 1000 years old, much less that it had been written by Rowena Ravenclaw, one of the four founders. Within its pages were secrets no one other than a headmaster knew about. A strange sort of awe crept over him. His hand caressed the cover, his fingers fell over the side, he felt compelled to open it, to expose its secrets and mysteries. He had never been so curious to see what was inside a book—he imagined Hermione always felt this way—but as he reached out to take it, the headmaster pulled away.

“I will not let you read it yet.�

Harry’s heart dropped into his gut.

“What? Why not?�

“Until you can hide that this book even exists, you are not ready to read it. I suggest you practice your Occlumency.� Harry looked back at the old man incredulously. He stared back, a smile on his face. “See you next week!�

Chapter 17- Grishelda Grendelhall


“And then he said I can’t read it until I’m better at Occlumency,� said Harry as he stripped the bark from a tree branch during their Care of Magical Creatures class the next day. They were studying Narflaps—small, hedgehog type creatures that had magical properties and ate wood. Apparently they didn’t like the bark, so Hagrid had given each student a stack of branches to strip.

“Harry, I don’t believe it! I mean, you actually read a book written by Rowena Ravenclaw!� Hermione gasped in awe. “I’m so jealous! I can’t think of one other person in history whose diary I would rather read. I mean, she was brilliant! The most educated and intelligent of the founders. Did you know she lived to be 194 years…�

“I told you, he didn’t let me read it, he only showed it to me,� Harry interrupted. “I guess he’s going to test me next week and if I can hide the memory then he’ll let me read it.� Harry’s brow furrowed as he concentrated on removing an especially resilient piece of bark. While Dumbledore had asked him not to tell anyone about the headmaster’s Vault, he hadn’t forbidden him from telling Ron and Hermione about Ravenclaw’s diary. Hermione had reacted to the news with a strange combination of fascination, enthusiasm, and resentment. Ron, on the other hand, had been mostly quiet.

“Well you’ll just have to practice extra hard this week, won’t you,� Hermione replied bossily as she worked on stripping her own branch. Harry could tell she was even more anxious than he was to find out what was in Ravenclaw’s diary—It was probably torture for her to not be able to see the book and read it for herself. The thought gave him a smug sort of satisfaction.

“I will.� Harry replied. He looked at Ron, who seemed to be paying attention to the discussion but hadn’t said anything. “What’s with you? You’ve been quiet all morning.�

Ron looked up. “Oh, I…uh…�

“Ron has some news of his own,� Hermione interjected with a broad smile on her face. “Go on, tell him.�

“Well, this morning McGonagall called me in and, uh…made me Quidditch captain,� he said tentatively, a look of repressed excitement on his face.

Harry was surprised. Was that what had been on Ron’s mind all morning? Quidditch? Harry longed for the days when Quidditch was all he had to worry about. Compared to learning Occlumency, discovering Wulfric Gryffindor, and dealing with the most evil wizard in the past century, Quidditch seemed like a small, trivial matter, a luxury he hadn’t the time for. Realizing Ron was waiting for a reaction, he replied in what he hoped was enthusiasm.

“That’s great! You’ll be brilliant.�

“I thought it was going to be you, I really did,� Ron replied soberly, looking relieved that Harry wasn’t upset. “I mean, you’ve been on the team since first year, and I’ve only been on since last year.�

“Yeah but you know loads more about strategy and positioning, you’ve been following Quidditch your whole life. When I got here I didn’t even know what a Quaffle was. You’ll be brilliant, congratulations.�

“Thanks,� Ron said with a sheepish smile, looking more confident and at ease than he had all morning. They skinned their branches in silence for a few minutes until Hermione piped up excitedly.

“I almost forgot! I found something about the Half-Blood Prince. I was checking through the library for any books that might mention Godric Gryffindor or the Half-Blood Prince and I found this in Ancient Legends and Myths.�

Apparently Hermione had memorized whatever she had found, for she put down her piece of wood, cleared her throat importantly and recited: “While little is known about Wulfric Gryffindor, the son of renowned Hogwarts founder Godric Gryffindor, legend says he is the key to an item of tremendous power, supposedly buried in his tomb. The whereabouts of the tomb or the nature of the item are unknown, though goblin legend holds that they were hidden to keep the secret safe from enemies.�

“So this guy Wulfric is buried somewhere with an item of tremendous power, and if we find him we will be able to win the war?� Ron reasoned out loud.

“That’s what the book says, though it may not be accurate. This was from Ancient Legends and Myths, remember? Chances are it’s just that—a myth. It may not even exist,� said Hermione.

“I don’t know, a lot of people thought that about the Chamber of Secrets, and it turned out to be real, didn’t it?� said Harry thoughtfully. “If it is, I wonder what the ‘item’ is, and why it’s so powerful. Also, why does it say it’s a goblin legend? Didn’t Gryffindor fight against the goblins?�

“Yes, he led the wizards against the goblins during the first goblin wars in 1014. I don’t know why the goblins would have a legend about a Gryffindor though,� Hermione replied thoughtfully.

The trio remained silent for a while, each contemplating what they had just heard. Suddenly Ron spoke up.

“Maybe the goblins kidnapped Wulfric,� he reasoned excitedly. “You know, to get back at Gryffindor for all the trouble he caused? And maybe they stole something at the same time, like some powerful artifact or monster or something. It sounds like something they would do,� he finished bitterly. Apparently Ron was still upset about Bill losing his job.

“I don’t know, it sounds rather sketchy…� Hermione replied. “I mean, we don’t even know if the book is accurate. I’ll see what else I can find. Harry, you’ll just have to work on your Occlumency really hard,� she said, jabbing her finger into his chest. The look on her face was eerily similar to McGonagall. “This is important, so don’t distract him with Quidditch, Ron.�

***

After lunch they made their way to Defense Against the Dark Arts. Of all his classes, this was the one Harry was looking forward to the most. He just hoped this year they would have a competent teacher.

As they entered the room Harry was surprised to see a number of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students sitting at the tables. Typically they had had Defense Against the Dark Arts with their own houses, though he supposed that NEWT level classes were different. Many of the students had been a part of Dumbledore’s Army the year before: Hannah Abbott, Terry Boot, Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan and Zacharias Smith were all there, as was (Harry noticed with displeasure) Anthony Goldstein. Perhaps most surprising, in the very back of the room sat four Slytherins: two girls Harry had seen before but didn’t know their names, a short, husky boy named Thadius Rentley, and Theodore Nott, the tall lanky Slytherin whose father was a Death-Eater. The four looked a little intimidated at being in a class full of students from other houses, though Nott and Rentley tried to hide it under a look of disdain.

“What’s Nott doing here?� Ron whispered with distaste as they made their way to an empty table near the front of the class. “It’s him and his mates we’re learning to protect ourselves from. He should be in ‘ Offense with the Dark Arts,’ not the other way around.�

Harry shrugged, though he was wondering the same thing. Maybe not all the Slytherins agreed with the Death Eaters. Or they were here to spy on them, let Voldemort and his cronies know what defensive techniques Dumbledore was teaching so they could more effectively overcome them. The latter seemed more likely.

As they took their seats Harry looked around the room. The walls were covered in charts and diagrams that illustrated various defensive techniques. Some he recognized immediately: a wizard casting the Expelliarmus spell; a short, dumpy witch practicing a Shield charm—but other showed spells he hadn’t seen yet. He was in the middle of studying one where the wizard was turning his opponent into a basset hound, when the front door opened and Professor Grendelhall walked into the room.

Professor Grendelhall was a thin, wiry old witch who looked like she had been through quite a bit of wear over the years. Her hair was thin, wispy, and wild, springing out from her old head as if it had a mind of its own. Her face was extremely wrinkled and she had a long yet bulbous nose that sprung out of her face like a unicorn’s horn. A couple of long scars streaked over her face. Ron had been right—she did look like a female Mad-Eye Moody. Looking at her eyes to see if perchance false eyes were common among the older aurors, Harry was relieved to see two perfectly normal, bright eyes peeping out of her wrinkled head. All she needed was a crazy eye and a wooden leg and she and Moody would make a charming couple…

“All right, all right, you’re in class now, so stop the chattering,� she said in a voice that was old and croaky, yet had a definite girlish tone to it. The comment seemed strange, as no one in the room had been talking. “I am Professor Grendelhall, and this is NEWT level Defense Against the Dark Arts.� She walked towards a desk placed in the front of the room. Harry could tell the other students were sizing her up, not knowing what to make of their quirky new teacher.

“I suppose I should give you a short history of myself,� she continued dismissively, as if her own history was the least relevant thing in the world. “Here it is: Ex-auror, worked for the ministry most of my life, retired shortly after the last Wizard War. Albus Dumbledore is an old friend, asked me to come out of retirement just to teach this class, and here I am. In a nutshell, I am here to get you up to speed on your defensive training and attempt to repair the damage in your learning caused by that despicable old crone Dolores Umbridge,� Professor Grendelhall said in disgust. Apparently she was no more fond of their former Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher than the students were. Harry took an immediate liking to her.

“That’s all you need to know about my history. Why I am here is not nearly as important as why you are,� she said as she waved her wand towards a cabinet on the other side of the room. Its door swung open. “Now, I trust you are all intelligent enough to know that, but just in case there are a few who don’t, I am going to show you!� she said with a harsh cackle that was apparently supposed to be a laugh. She flicked her wand again and a number of small, folded pieces of paper flew out of the cabinet, sailed across the room, and landed on the desk next to her.

“Warshel Diddleblum!� she boomed out as the first of the floating papers burst open, revealing an article cut out of the Daily Prophet. The moving black and white picture showed nothing but a burned down house with the Dark Mark hovering over it. “Jumped by a couple Death-Eaters on his way back from work. They caught him with a basic Stupefy spell, then threw him into his own house and burned it down. Whole situation could have been avoided if the fool had thought to cast a simple Shield charm.� The class shuddered involuntarily.

The next paper flew open, this time showing a ministry wizard trying to put his hand in front of the camera. Behind him was what appeared to be a crowded city street with a crowd of onlookers. “Damien Quilp, worked for the ministry. The Daily Prophet reports that the Death-Eaters tried to recruit him in order to get at ministry secrets. When he refused they killed him. What the Daily Prophet doesn’t tell you is that the Death-Eaters cast the Imperius curse on him, had him attempt to assassinate ex-Minister Fudge, then forced him to jump off a muggle office building before the aurors could get to him.� Harry saw more than one student squirm in their seat. “Whole thing could have been avoided if Quilp had learned how to throw off the Imperius curse. Not an easy thing to do, but definitely possible.�

Harry thought back to his fourth year when Mad-Eye Moody had put them all under the Imperius curse and tried to teach them how to resist it. Using an Unforgivable Curse on a bunch of students had seemed a bit excessive at the time, but now he realized it hadn’t been preparation enough.

“And finally,� Professor Grendelhall said with a smile, as though she particularly enjoyed scaring a bunch of school kids, “Dinbell Abernathy. Worked for Gringott’s bank, had a wife, father of 5 children. Poor bloke was on a routine business trip to Belgium when he stumbled across one of Voldemort’s more formidable cronies, a dementor. The dementor caught him off guard and sucked the soul right out of him, leaving nothing but a shattered, shriveled husk.� The class gave a collective gasp of revulsion. Seeing this, Professor Grendelhall waved her wand and the newspaper articles went flying back into the cabinet they had come from. “I won’t show you that picture though, heh he heh.�

If Grendelhall meant to scare them as a way to motivate them into paying attention, it had definitely worked. Every student in the class had their eyes riveted on her. Walking around to the front of the desk, she leaned against it and gazed back at them. When she spoke again her voice was little more than a whisper.

“And here's something else you won’t read about in the Prophet. Not yet, anyways—Old Voldemort,� the class flinched for a second time as she said the name. Harry was impressed. “…is gathering an army of followers and dark creatures. As soon as he gets enough he will challenge the Ministry of Magic. What with the giants, goblins, dementors, and Merlin knows who else joining him, and the House-Elves and Centaurs not willing to fight with us,� here she swept her gaze purposefully over the class, making sure she made eye contact with every person, “…he has a good chance of winning. Heh heh he!� This uplifting statement was followed by her longest and most enthusiastic cackle yet. Several of the students looked at one another in frightened bewilderment, wondering how she could treat such a subject so lightly.

She stood upright again and paced in front of the desk. “Let me rephrase that. He has a good chance of winning IF more witches and wizards such as yourselves don’t learn to fight. Just because we’re facing an astonishingly brilliant, maniacal genius doesn’t mean you can’t fight back and win. Indeed, there are some even in this room,� here she gave an obvious look at Harry and smiled approvingly, “who have fought him already. THAT’S why you are here, to learn to defend yourself against what the dark arts can do!� she exclaimed passionately. “Now let’s get started!�

With that Professor Grendelhall strode to the center of the room where there was a large clearing. The students stared at her as she passed, too unnerved by her comments to say anything.

“Now, you’ll find that this class is different from what you are used to. No tests. No homework. If you can defend yourself by the end of our time together you pass. If not...well, a bad grade will be the least of your problems. Heh heh he!�

The rest of the class was spent watching Professor Grendelhall demonstrate various defensive techniques. Despite her age and odd personality, Harry couldn’t help but be impressed. She seemed to be 50 years younger when she was in action. She knew her spells and was quick on her feet. For each demonstration she called on a student and had them cast various offensive spells on her while she showed the proper way to counter that spell. Harry swelled with pride each time a member of the DA was called up—without fail they were able to cast their spells perfectly, unlike the rest of the class who had trouble casting even the basic charms. After two or three students were unable to perform a stupefy spell, Professor Grendelhall called him up.

“Dreadful. Absolutely dreadful. Potter! Why don’t you come up and show us how to stupefy someone!�

All eyes on him, Harry stood up and joined her in the center of the room. She looked at him craftily with that same, strange smile she had had when discussing the newspaper articles. “Whenever you’re ready.�

“Stupefy!�

“Protego!� she yelled almost instantly. The spell bounced off her shield and smashed into a nearby bookcase. Before he knew it she had pointed her wand back at him and yelled, “Expelliarmus!�

Not expecting the second spell, Harry yelled out just in time, “Protego!� The spell glanced off his shield and shattered a nearby mirror. Without hesitating Professor Grendelhall flicked her wand in his direction, not saying a work. Immediately the desk behind him rose and hurtled forward, seconds away from crashing into him.

“Impedimentia!� he yelled out of pure reflex. The desk hung in the air for a brief second then dropped with a crash, sending books and pieces of wood flying through the air. Not waiting for Grendelhall to attack again he pointed his wand at the rug she was standing on and yelled, “Accio Rug!�

The rug leapt out from under her feet, taking the old witch completely unaware. With a startled shriek she collapsed to the ground. The entire classroom gasped.

An awkward silence pervaded the room. Harry looked at the crumpled form of his professor, slightly confused at what had just happened. He hadn’t expected to be attacked; he thought he was just casting a simple Stupefy spell. Everything that happened afterwards had been pure instinct. Suddenly Professor Grendelhall began to stir, with an odd croaking sound. It was a soft exhalation, as though she were having difficulty breathing.

“Heeehhhhh, hrreeeh, Haaahh…�

Harry ran to where she was laying, afraid he had killed the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. The croaking became much louder and clearer, until he realized it wasn’t croaking at all. It was laughter.

“HEH HEH HEH HAAA!�

Professor Grendelhall sat up, thin wispy hair over her face, hat crumpled on the floor, and a large grin on her face.

“Now THAT’S how to defend yourself!� she cried enthusiastically, as though getting thrown to the ground in front of the entire class was the best thing that could have happened to her. “Did you see that everyone? Quick thinking, expecting the unexpected, perfect execution of the spells— well done Potter, well done indeed! You may take a seat.�

The old witch picked up her hat and rose to her feet. “This is actually a good introduction to what I wanted to say last. As you have seen, Potter here is already quite adept at defensive techniques. I suppose having a raving murderer after you for so many years does that to a person,� she added in a quick mumble that the entire class heard. Harry flinched at the remark. Hermione gasped. Grendelhall continued as if nothing had happened. “Now, you may or may not be aware that last year he and some of his little friends put together a club to practice the defensive arts, right under the nose of that toad-faced hag Dolores Umbridge!� The class murmured excitedly as members of the DA grinned at each other. Harry noticed that the four Slytherins remained quiet.

“Albus has asked that this club continue, as he thinks you should get all the training you can. As you have seen,� here she gestured to the shattered bookcase, smashed desk, and curled up rug, “Harry is a most qualified teacher and you are as dense as a dingbat if you didn’t want to train with him.� She gave him a quick wink. “Harry and I still need to go over some of the details, but the first meeting will be next Wednesday. I would strongly recommend that you participate in the club, but if you decide not to, please find some other way to practice. You are dismissed.�

After class many of the students came up to Harry to congratulate him or ask questions about the DA. Terry Boot and Susan Bones were especially excited that the DA was going to happen again, and volunteered to help out in any way they could. Harry felt slightly embarrassed by all the attention, but was excited to see the enthusiasm. He was already looking forward to the first meeting and discussing it with Ron and Hermione when Professor Grendelhall’s voice stopped him.

“Oh, Harry! A quick word, if you will.�

“Sure.�

“No, no, you two can stay,� she gestured to Hermione and Ron, who assumed the conversation was meant for Harry alone and were about to leave the room. “He’ll most likely tell you anyway, so you might as well hear it straight from me.�

“As you know, Harry, Albus has asked me to supervise this defensive club. Now, I’ve heard all about what you did last year and it’s obvious that you and your friends are more than able to take care of things yourself, so I think the best role for me is to stand aside, let you do your thing, and step in only when needed. Do you agree?� she asked in a businesslike croak.

“Er…yeah,� Harry replied.

“Great. The first meeting will be next Thursday in the old Charms classroom. It’s on the 3rd floor corridor next to the old statue of Erik the Smoldy. Be there at 7:00. I’ll announce it in my other classes and may step in for a bit, but otherwise it is all up to you.�

“Ok,� said Harry. His own class? No hiding what they were doing from the ministry? He could feel the excitement welling up inside just at the thought.

“Now, on a different subject…� here she looked around the room carefully, as if making sure no one would hear what she was about to say. “I’m sure I don’t need to tell you this,� her voice suddenly turned sober and for the first time that day she looked serious. “…but while we are at war, there is a good chance that Lord Voldemort will have spies lurking about, student spies. I know that Albus trusts you, so I do as well. If you ever have any reason to suspect that a student is spying for You-Know-Who, let me know. Don’t confront them,� she added, gazing purposefully at Harry, “just let me know.�

“Malfoy. Draco Malfoy,� Ron blurted out immediately.

Professor Grendelhall smiled slightly. “Draco has already been dealt with,� came the witch’s easy reply. “As have Crabbe and Goyle. I mean if you suspect anybody in the other houses, even in your own house, let me know, will you?�

Harry exchanged an uneasy look with Hermione. Spies for Voldemort in their own house? The Hufflepuff’s or the Ravenclaw’s, maybe, the Slytherins obviously, but it was hard to believe any of the Gryffindors would turn against Dumbledore.

“Yes, professor,� Hermione answered.

“Yes.�

“We will.�

“Excellent. That is all then. See you next class,� Professor Grendelhall dismissed them.

They were just about to the door when she spoke up again. “Oh, and Ron, Hermione?� she asked, all trace of seriousness gone from her voice.

“Yes?�

“You two are adorable together.�

Ron’s face turned bright red. Hermione’s jaw dropped.

“Well, toodles!� she said with one last cackle before disappearing into her office and shutting the door.

Chapter 18- Passing the Test

Over the next few days Harry spent the majority of his free time in the library devouring any book about defensive techniques, spells of protection, fighting dark wizards, or anything else that would help him defeat Voldemort. It was perhaps the only time since he had started at Hogwarts that he had spent more time in the library than Hermione. The knowledge that he was the one who would have to kill Voldemort provided a motivation to study that classes and grades never had.

The prophecy occupied all his thoughts and attention to the point where everything else seemed unimportant and a waste of time—other classes seemed dull and inconsequential now they were at war (what good would being able to turn a teapot into a bouquet of flowers be when you were facing a bloodthirsty Death Eater?). Even Quidditch practice was a distraction. He still loved playing and flying on his Firebolt (something he hadn’t been able to do for most of his fifth year), but couldn’t help thinking that he had more important things to do.

Each new day brought more bad news from the Daily Prophet. There had been 3 or 4 killings just in the first week, and the constant tension was beginning to wear on the students. Meal times in the Great Hall had once been happy occasions, full of excited talk and laughter, but they were now subdued and sober.

Oddly enough, Harry was almost glad to see this change in the school. For years he had lived with the shadow of Voldemort over him—never feeling totally safe, always knowing Voldemort was out there, waiting for him—and it was a bit of a relief to see the rest of the world having to deal with it too. Now they knew what is was like to be him.

He threw himself into Occlumency training with renewed vigor. After the battle at the ministry just a few months before he knew why it was crucial he be able to shut Voldemort out of his mind. He couldn’t shake the thought that if he had known Occlumency he never would have been tricked into going there and Sirius would still be alive…

On top of that, he was also immensely curious to see what was in Ravenclaw’s diary.

So it was Harry found himself in the headmaster’s office for his first real Occlumency lesson from Dumbledore.

“Welcome Harry. Welcome to the start of our adventure into your mind. Now, before we get started let us get some business out of the way. I am speaking, of course, of Professor Grendelhall and the Defense Against the Dark Arts club. You have spoken with her about the club, I presume?�

“Yes, we’re all set for next week.�
“Excellent. Tell me, what is your impression of our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?� Dumbledore asked, peering over the rims of his half-moon glasses.

Harry was about to say how intelligent and professional she was, but realized it would be absolutely futile to say anything but the truth.

“Er…she seems ok. Kind of quirky though, isn’t she?�

Dumbledore smiled. “I think ‘quirky’ is a more than adequate description of Grishelda, Harry,� he said with a twinkle in his eye. “What I mean is do you think she’s up to the task of teaching the class? Will you be able to learn from and work with her in the DA?�

“Oh, yeah. She’ll be great,� Harry responded, finding it strange that the headmaster would be asking his opinion on staffing appointments. It was true though, he did think she would do a good job—a practical, ‘get-your-wands-out’ type teacher was just what they needed, not the book wielding, theory-spewing type like that old hag Umbridge.

“One question though, sir. During our first class she mentioned something about Voldemort gathering dark creatures and wizards to form an army and attack the ministry. Is that true?� Harry had been thinking about it ever since the class. If in fact Voldemort was gathering an immense army it could only mean bad news.

Dumbledore stared silently at him for a moment. For an instant that lasted no longer than a blink Harry thought he saw weariness and exhaustion in the headmaster’s eyes. Then it was gone. “I’m afraid it is true, Harry. And I’ll be completely honest with you—unless we get some help, either from the other magical races or from an outside source, he will most likely win.�

Harry listened with shock. Hearing the news from an eccentric ex-auror in Defense Against the Dark Arts was one thing, but to hear Dumbledore confirm it made it frighteningly real.

“But how could he…I mean, there’s so many of us…� he stammered out.

“Yes, there are. But we are not united. You see,� Dumbledore said as he stood and began pacing back and forth across the floor, “there is no way Voldemort could defeat the entire wizarding community in an open war. There are simply too many of us, and even at his fullest strength he would only be able to recruit a miniscule fraction of the population. No, his goal is to demoralize the public until there are only a few of us left willing to fight. This is a war of fear and intimidation. Fear is Voldemort’s primary weapon—much like a boggart. He is very skilled at wielding its influence and unfortunately, it is working. In less than a year he will have gathered enough followers to challenge the ministry. If there are not enough willing to fight back, he will win.�

“And you think the Half-Blood Prince holds the key to turning the war?�

Dumbledore studied him for a second, then nodded. “He just might, Harry. He just might.�

“But we are not here to discuss the war. We are here to train you to close your mind to Voldemort. You will encounter him again, and when you do I have the feeling this skill will be crucial. Now, if you are ready?�

Harry took a few deep breaths to clear his mind. It wasn’t exactly easy to rid himself of emotion after being told that Voldemort was assembling an army of dark creatures to destroy humanity.

“Remember, a skilled Occlumens doesn’t have to force the intruder from his thoughts, but can show him whatever he desires. In other words, don’t attempt to repel me, but guide me to images and memories that are harmless or trivial.�

Taking a final breath, Harry nodded. Bracing himself mentally, he grit his teeth and looked into the headmaster’s eyes.

Almost immediately a chain of images came to his mind. They were faint and felt totally natural; as though he were recollecting the images on his own accord. It was a week ago and he was walking down the dim, stone corridor to the headmaster’s office. Draco Malfoy walked by, his pale white face sneering at Harry. The headmaster sat in front of him, bright eyes dancing in the old wrinkled face. He told Harry he had something to show him and made his way to a corner of the office that held a number of shelves. On the shelves were some potions…

Realizing that this was the headmaster’s intrusion, Harry focused his will on blocking the images from his mind. If he was unable to hide Ravenclaw’s diary from his thoughts the headmaster wouldn’t let him read it. Having prepared a number of neutral, harmless images the night before for their meeting, Harry forced the image of his dorm room into his mind. He thought of it at night; dark, cool, Ron and Seamus snoring peacefully. He sensed the small whisper that was Dumbledore’s presence pull back, as though it were enjoying the memory with him. Soon he couldn’t sense it at all. The curtain on his four-poster bed fluttered in a slight breeze, the smell of rain and parchment in the air, the glint of moonlight reflecting off of Neville’s wand on the other side of the room…

The image of the moonlight glimmering on the wand shifted slowly, almost imperceptibly. Now the light was reflecting off of an old, silver necklace. The necklace hung on the wall on the far side of the room. The room was also dark and cool. Long tables stretched across it. An old man was walking across the room in front of him. An old man with a long beard and a pointed hat. He walked towards an old, empty bookcase…

Harry jerked the thought of the headmaster’s vault forcibly from his mind, aware that he had almost been caught. He mustn’t think of the book. Attempting to cast it far from his mind, he replaced it with another memory he had prepared. The library. He was sitting in a far corner of the library. Books were scattered on the table all around him. He was reading about vampires and how to repel them. He shut the book in exasperation. It was Voldemort he had to know about, not vampires. Picking up the next book in the pile, he examined the cover: Dark Creatures of the Middle East by Chadwick Mildenhall. The cover was a dark purple and was slightly worn. It reminded him of another book, one with a midnight blue cover and silver writing…

“Errggghh!� Harry growled as he struggled to tear his gaze away from the headmaster. Somehow he couldn’t. Their eyes were locked together, as if there were an invisible bond connecting them. Desperate to break the link he shouted out the first spell that came to mind.

“Reducto!�

There was a crash and the sound of splintering wood. Immediately the link was broken and Harry found he could tear his gaze away. Panting from the exertion, he looked up at Dumbledore and was surprised to see half of his desk smashed into the ground.

“Well Harry, pulverizing a desk isn’t the most subtle way to get a legilimens out of your head, but it definitely does the trick,� he said serenely as he flicked his wand at the damaged portion of the desk. “Reparo.� Immediately the desk became whole again.

“I knew you were about to see the book…it’s all I could think of to do,� he explained bitterly, upset that he hadn’t been able to shut the memory out of his mind.

“Perfectly understandable. Such a reaction may accomplish your aim, but may not always be the best option, especially in situations where secrecy is imperative. An action like that shows the legilimens that you are aware of his intrusion into your thoughts. That is something you must keep secret. It also confirms to the legilimens that he has hit on an important memory. He would then wait until your guard is down and extort the memory from you with great ease, or, in the case of Lord Voldemort, simply use torture until he was able to rip the memory from your anguished mind.� Harry shuddered.

“Now, let’s try again and see if you can’t hide the memory with a little more…finesse.�

They spent the next 40 minutes practicing, Dumbledore giving various pointers as they went along. It was amazing how much the old wizard could see: what Harry had eaten for breakfast that morning, conversations he had had with Hermione a week before; even Harry’s feelings were open to him like a scroll of parchment. After one particularly frustrating encounter the headmaster said, “Be patient, Harry. You can’t expect yourself to be the best at everything, although I know you do,� then looked at him significantly. It was a scary feeling.

After 5 or 6 more practices he finally was able to deflect the headmaster’s probing, showing him nothing more revealing than his Herbology lesson from a couple days before. His head was sore from the exertion, but inside he felt pride and a sense of achievement. Harry was fairly certain the headmaster had taken it pretty easily on him, but still, he had hidden the memory of Ravenclaw’s diary from him, which was more than he had ever accomplished working with Snape. All the practicing seemed to be paying off…

With his mind already thinking about the diary and what secrets it may hold, Harry looked expectantly at Dumbledore and asked, “Well, did I pass? Can I read the diary?�

The headmaster looked back at him with a small smile. “I suppose you may Harry, you’ve made excellent progress. Come with me.� Dumbledore led Harry to the corner of his office that held the shelves with the strange, multi-colored potions. Just before saying the magical words he looked at Harry.

“Though I must remind you again that you are to tell no one about the Headmaster’s Vault. And believe me, I will know if you have,� he said with a meaningful look over his spectacles. Harry had experienced enough with the headmaster to know how true that actually was.


“Now, if you’ll excuse me my little precaution,� Dumbledore said as he waved his wand at Harry and said “Confutio�. Again Harry’s world turned silent as the headmaster said the words to open the magical door to the vault. Harry shivered as they walked through the cascading light and the two made their way towards the plain looking, metal door. Dumbledore took the small, circular key from his robes, undid the lock, held open the door for Harry, then waved his wand and Harry’s hearing returned. His heart beating with excitement he walked to the far side of the vault and waited patiently as the headmaster conjured the book from the old, empty bookcase.

“Have a seat,� said the headmaster, motioning to the empty desk in front of Harry. Harry sat.

“Now, there are a few things you should know about this book, Harry,� Dumbledore said slowly as he circled around the desk to stand next to him. “It was, of course, written by Rowena Ravenclaw herself and is irreplaceable. If anything were to happen to this book, I imagine the past headmasters would be so infuriated they would seal me out of my office and never speak to me again. So unless you want me to take up residence in the Gryffindor common room, I suggest you take good care of it.

“Second, this book was written a thousand years ago. Language, even for wizards, is an alive and constantly changing thing, and I highly doubt you would be able to understand even a sentence of Ravenclaw’s English if you heard it. Luckily, the book has a charm cast on it much like a pensieve or Tom Riddle’s diary did. Therefore you will be able to actually experience the events written in this book, though the charm is much older and you will be confined to the experience of the author. It will be difficult when you start, but as you continue reading the charm becomes active and you will find it much easier.

“Finally, the legend of the Half-Blood Prince is almost as old as Hogwarts itself. Many of the headmasters and headmistresses have searched for him, only to encounter darkness, confusion, and countless dead-ends. I am one of them. Good luck on your journey.� He said the last sentence with a mysterious, almost mischievous look in his eye that made Harry think something bigger was going on here. Before he could question him, the headmaster spun around and strode towards the open door of the vault.

“I will come fetch you when you have finished the first chapter. Happy reading Harry!�

Harry watched him go, slightly confused but more curious than ever about what was in the book. Hand trembling slightly, he reached out and brought it in front of him. He ran his fingers along the corner of its midnight blue cover. Taking a deep breath he opened it up and began to read.

Chapter 19- The Four Founders

The first thing about the book that struck Harry as odd was the surprisingly good shape it was in. It smelled slightly like dust and mothballs but the pages were as crisp and white as if it had been bound yesterday. He realized there were probably special preparations and spells wizards could use to keep books in good condition. Each page was filled with black, spidery words that looked more like the characters Hermione would study in Ancient Runes than anything Harry had ever seen before. He continued flipping the pages until he came to the beginning. A series of numbers were written at the top. Harry assumed they were the date, though he couldn’t make any sense of them.

Squinting, Harry tried to read the first line. It wasn’t easy. The archaic letters slanted in a strange way and the words had many alterations he had never seen before—giant lower case “f’s� instead of “S’s and “V� instead of “U�. Trying his best he mouthed the words out loud.

“Sum…Summer…S…Sol...Solstice, Jour…Journey…ing?...Journeyed…to…olde Elmff…Elm’s Hollowe for…rendevous with…G…Godric Gryffindor.�

Dumbledore was right; it was hard to read. The words came slow and with effort. “Dis…discuss…for, formation…of new school. Gryffindor…Madame Huff…Hufflepuff, Salazar Slytherin, and…� Harry’s pulse quickened as he read the names of the founders. He was reading Rowena Ravenclaw’s diary. They had been real people. It was like stepping out of reality into some sort of story, a fairy tale. Excitedly he continued reading.

“…and my…myself had had dis…discussions re…regarding the…necessity of training and qual…qualifying young witches and wizards in the…magical arts.� The words began to come quicker, though Harry was concentrating so hard he barely even noticed. “The magical com…munity is prospering after the end of the Goblin War, and we realize there is no one to mold and shape the minds of our youth. There are also those among us who have embarked on the despicable pastime of using their powers to abuse the Ungifted Ones. Because of this, Godric has requested that we meet at his manor in Elm’s Hollow to…�

Startled, Harry jumped back in his chair. The words he had been reading so painstakingly just a minute ago were now literally flying across the page. They seemed to be traveling on their own accord, passing from the right page of the book, over the spine, onto the left page and disappearing at the edge. Strangely enough, he was catching every one of them even though he had stopped reading. It was as though a voice in his mind was reading them out loud.

“…discuss the finalization of our plans and agree on a location for the school. It was on this errand that I apparated to the outskirts of Elm’s Hollow and made my way to Godric’s manor…�

Pictures began to appear in Harry’s mind. A bright, shining sun. Tall green trees waving in the breeze. A brilliant blue sky…

The images sprouted up out of nowhere as the voice in his head continued to read. It was as though the words were projecting themselves into his mind as pictures, actually showing him what was happening rather than just telling. The light from the sun in his mind grew brighter. The blue sky seemed to flood the darkness of the Headmaster’s Vault, pervading every murky corner with a pure, vibrant blue. The sun grew brighter still. Now it was shining brilliantly above him, blocking out everything else. Now he was no longer picturing it in his mind but looking at it, seeing it with his own eyes…

He was walking through Elm’s Hollow on his way towards the manor of Godric Gryffindor, famous wizard and goblin fighter. Harry wasn’t sure how he knew this, but it was indelibly written in his mind and he knew it was true. It was a beautiful summer day, emerald green trees waving gently in the wind. A crystalline blue body of water stretched out to his left, reminding him vaguely of Hogwarts Lake. Small, rocky hills stretched out to his right, a number of small buildings nestled in their valleys. He walked on.

It felt like a dream. The colors were so vibrant, so real, so clean. His legs seemed to be moving of their own accord with no effort from him. Soon an older man with a long beard and wearing a dirty smock came into view. He was working in a large garden in front of a hovel, harrowing up the soil with some sort of primitive looking plow. As Harry passed the man looked up and smiled, then gave a deep bow. “Welcome to our village, your Greatness.� Harry felt his head nod slightly in recognition. He continued walking.

As he walked Harry slowly became aware that, unlike his experience in Tom Riddle’s diary and in the penseives, he was unable to control where he went. The scenery continued to pass by him as though he were on some sort of set track. He tried to turn his head to the left, expecting to see Ravenclaw walking next to him. To his surprise, however, his head wouldn’t move. Confused, he tried to move his head anywhere, to the dirt road beneath him or to the pristine blue lake off to the left. Nothing. It was as if he were wearing a stiff neck-brace, forcing him to stare straight ahead. He couldn’t even see Ravenclaw. Then it hit him—the old man bowing, the steady walk he couldn’t control—he was Ravenclaw.

Apparently the most studious of the founders had enchanted her diary to show the reader exactly what she had seen and experienced herself. Unlike the pensieves or Riddle’s diary he wasn’t free to roam about as he wished. The sensation was a bit difficult to get used to. it reminded him of walking around with Aunt Petunia as a young child. Every time he had stopped to inspect something or play, she would yank him by the arm and force him to keep moving. It took a while to get used to the feeling.

Resolving himself that there was nothing else he could do, Harry relaxed and watched the world go by. The buildings became bigger and more frequent. They passed a few more people on their way, each of whom greeted Harry (or more accurately, Ravenclaw) warmly and with a tone of reverence. Many of the villagers were obviously wizards and witches, but he was pretty sure quite a few of them had been muggles. The thing that really caught his attention was how happy everyone seemed to be. They were all busy doing something or other, but each stopped to exchange a few pleasant words when Ravenclaw passed. Apparently she was well known in Elm’s Hollow. Most surprising was when they rounded a small bend in the road and crossed paths with a Centaur. He had long, dark brown hair and regarded Harry with the usual majestic, far-off look of his kind, as though he were peering into some distant realm. The Centaur nodded at him, then moved on.

After a short time Ravenclaw’s steps took them off the road and up a gentle slope. At the top of a small hill that overlooked the village stood a rugged, stone, two story house that looked almost like a small castle. It was probably not much bigger than an average, modern-day English house, but it was obviously the largest and most important building in the village. In the front was a neatly kept garden in which a brown haired girl was working. She looked up and smiled shyly, then went back to work. As they approached the wide, polished wooden door Harry noticed a stationary suit of armor standing just to the right of the entryway. The armor was black as soot and didn’t look like any suit of armor Harry had ever seen. As they arrived at the door the suit of armor turned its head with a creak and looked straight at them.

“Ahhh, Mistress Ravenclaw, welcome, welcome. Godric is expecting you. Please, go to the den,� it said in a hollow yet friendly voice that seemed out of place for a rusty old suit of armor.

Harry felt his field of vision dip slightly, telling him that Ravenclaw had nodded in acknowledgment. Her slender, pale arm reached out in front of him as if it had been his own and pushed gently on the wooden door. It creaked open and they stepped inside.

Harry’s first glimpse of the inside of Gryffindor manor was of a giant red tapestry hanging on the wall opposite him. On closer inspection he realized it was the Gryffindor family crest—a shield with a lion’s head on it and two wands crossing behind. The house was made of stone and wood and had a cozy feel to it, even if it was slightly messy. He didn’t get a chance to see too much of it however, as Ravenclaw swept purposefully along, obviously familiar with the layout of the house. After a short walk down a hallway and a couple turns they came to a large, oaken door that was partially open. Voices could be heard behind it.

Without knocking Ravenclaw slipped silently through the doorway and into the room. It was a large, rectangular room with a wooden floor and had a feeling of comfort. A large fireplace stood against the far wall with two cozy chairs facing it. The wall nearest to the door had been made into one large bookshelf and was covered with old, interesting books of differing colors and sizes. The wall opposite the door had four large windows that gave a wonderful view of the lake. The other walls were covered with various tapestries and artifacts. In the center of the room stood a round, oaken table where a tall, wizard and a plump little witch sat and conversed. The two seemed to be in the middle of an interesting, humorous conversation.

“…then I told the poor fellow to sit in the bucket of goat’s milk, close one eye, say the name of his goat backwards three times,� the plump witch was saying excitedly to the wizard, “and told the family that if they looked directly at the moon and said the words, ‘Kikkle backackle mcdoogan,’ then the magic would work and the man would be cured of the Red Plague, tee hee hee!� The plump witch had a silly, mischevious giggle.

“Ha Ha Ha!� boomed the tall wizard. “Where do you come up with such splendid nonsense, Helga?� he cried merrily, slapping his knee.

“So then, while the whole lot of them were distracted, I took out my wand, cast a simple healing charm, and just like that,� she snapped her fingers, “the dear man was cured.�

“What did he do when he found out?� asked the wizard anxiously, a look of incredulous mirth on his face.

“That’s the best part! Once he saw the disease was gone the dear man toppled over sideways in the bucket, scrambled over to where his goat was tied, hugged it as if it were his first born child, and cried, ‘Forgive me, Penelope, forgive me! I’ll never beat thee again!’ Tee Hee Hee!�

“AH HA HA HA!� the wizard burst out in a laugh that made the entire room vibrate. It was a rich, contagious laugh that made you want to join in, even if you didn’t know what you were laughing about.

“Oh Helga, you truly are a rare one!� he roared with mirth while looking at her with admiration. “Sitting naked in a barrel of goats milk and saying a goat’s name backwards! I don’t know how your mind conjures such ridiculousness but it’s brilliant!�

“I wouldn’t encourage her so, Godric,� came a clear, even, female voice. It surprised Harry at first, as he had thought the plump witch had been the only female in the room. Then he realized there was another. It was the voice of Rowena Ravenclaw.

The plump witch and the taller wizard looked up in surprise.

“Just a week ago I traveled through Nottingham and overheard an elderly Ungifted One swearing on his mother’s grave that sitting in a barrel of eel eyeballs and rubbing the severed foot of a hare would cure the plague,� she said in a calm, monotone voice. The plump witch and the tall wizard, who Harry now realized were Helga Hufflepuff and Godric Gryffindor, laughed as they rose from the table.

“Ah Rowena! We didn’t hear you come in,� Godric Gryffindor said as he walked towards Harry. “Welcome, welcome! It is marvelous to see you again!� He took Harry’s (actually Ravenclaw’s) pale white hand in his and kissed it gallantly. It was a very odd feeling.

“Welcome back to Elm’s Hollow. I trust we find you well?� he asked.

Godric Gryffindor looked much like Harry had expected. He was a little taller than the average wizard and had a mane of golden hair that arced back from his forehead and fell along his shoulders. There were a few streaks of gray in the mane, which, along with the beginning of a number of wrinkles on his tan face, told Harry that the bravest of the founders was in the latter end of middle age. His face was handsome despite a few scars, probably souvenirs from past battles. His piercing brown eyes radiated energy, power, and compassion all at once, and as he looked into Harry’s eyes (or rather, Ravenclaw’s eyes) Harry could tell he was a man of great strength.

“Very well, thank you Godric. And welcome back from the wars,� came the clear, even voice.

Gryffindor gave a warm smile and bowed, then stepped back to let Helga Hufflepuff through.

“Madame Hufflepuff, so good to see you,� said Ravenclaw in a warm tone. The two women clasped arms and embraced.

“Dear Rowena, how marvelous to see you again,� Hufflepuff said with a caring look. “Such a long time traveling, it’s a wonder we didn’t lose you completely! How are you?�

Helga Hufflepuff was a short, plump witch with a homely face and a wart on her nose. Her hair was brown and frazzled underneath her pointed hat. While she wasn’t especially attractive, there was a kindness and genuineness in her face that Harry was immediately drawn to. This was definitely a person who cared about those around her. She gazed into his eyes, or rather, Ravenclaw’s eyes, with a look of motherly concern.

“I am fine. Thank you for your concern,� replied Ravenclaw.

“Please, take a seat,� Gryffindor said jovially as he pulled out a chair for Ravenclaw. “What will you have, Ale? Wine?� he asked. Harry noticed a large stein filled with an amber liquid on the table where Gryffindor had been sitting and a smaller glass of a strange, milky white substance in front of Hufflepuff.

“Wine. Yes. Thank you,� Ravenclaw said simply as she took a seat.

Gryffindor flicked his wand and a slender, elegant wine glass filled with a rich red liquid appeared on the table.

“As you must have heard, Helga was just telling me of her latest adventure among the Ungifted Ones,� he said as he went back to his seat. “I tell you, the stories her shrewd mind will come up with just to be able to assist them are nothing short of roguish debauchery!�

“Yes, yes, I’ve encountered some of Madam Hufflepuff’s, erm…patients. I’m afraid her charity is starting a veritable wild-fire of absurdity and superstition among the Ungifted Ones, who now believe that standing in barrels full of various animal fluids will cure anything from the plague to a common toothache.�

Gryffindor laughed again. Helga Hufflepuff smiled as shook her head. “Alas, it’s what you must do in order to help them. They are so dreadfully distrustful of magic! At least, magic that comes from a fat little witch waving a stick about. But tell them that there’s magic in standing in a barrel of toad’s eyes or drinking milk out of a leather glove and they’ll stumble over each other trying to race to the nearest cow,� she finished with a motherly shake of her head.

“Yes, the Ungifted Ones have a strange tendency to trust in ridiculous superstitions while distrusting and scorning real magic. It is one of their more amusing traits.� came Ravenclaw’s cool, unmoving voice as she held the glass of red wine and delicately raised it to Harry’s lips.

Gryffindor nodded in agreement. “Most definitely, bless them. Yet I hope to see the day where we can live side by side with them rather than in all this accursed secrecy. Honestly, you would think we were afraid of them, the way we run about trying to hide our power!�

Helga chuckled. “Listen to him. Three years out fighting the goblins and now he wants to come back and change the world. You’re a rare one Godric.�

“Well, war does a lot to change a person,� Godric Gryffindor rejoined. He was about to elaborate when they heard the sound of approaching footsteps. The three founders turned to face a tall, slender man wearing fine silver standing in the doorway. Harry recognized him at once.

Salazar Slytherin.

Of all the founders, Slytherin was the one Harry had been most anxious to see in person. Ever since his first year at Hogwarts he had come to associate the name ‘Slytherin’ with everything underhanded, devious, and evil in the magical world. Malfoy. Snape. The Death-Eaters. The wizard war. Voldemort himself. They all had one thing in common: The man standing in the doorway. Salazar Slytherin.

He walked towards the table where the other founders were sitting. His hair was black with a few streaks of gray and hung down to his shoulders. He was slender but muscular and moved with a casual elegance that reminded Harry of a snake moving quickly and silently through grass. His face was long and gaunt and he had a grey beard with a long, drooping mustache. His eyes were gray and penetrating and bespoke of a keen intelligence. Harry would have guessed he was slightly older than the rest of the founders, though not having seen Ravenclaw yet it was hard to say. Perhaps what surprised him the most, however, was the large, congenial smile on his face that made him look almost…well…friendly.

“Greetings, everyone. I apologize for my tardiness.�

Ravenclaw was the first to welcome him. Harry’s field of vision rose as she stood and turned to face him. He braced himself for another hand kiss, but instead Slytherin stopped a step or two in front of Ravenclaw and gave a deep bow.

“Mistress Ravenclaw! Back from your travels I see. And with a veritable treasure trove of newly acquired knowledge, no doubt! It is marvelous to see you again.�

“And you, Master Slytherin,� said Ravenclaw’s voice as Harry felt himself curtsey (a feeling even more odd than Gryffindor kissing his hand).

“And Madame Hufflepuff, you are as charming as ever,� he said as he stepped towards the other side of the table and kissed her hand. Hufflepuff giggled and blushed slightly. “When we have the chance you must tell me more about your recent healing exploits among the Ungifteds. I hear liver of toad has extraordinary medicinal value in regards to curing the gout,� he looked at her slyly and gave a charming, crooked smile. Hufflepuff giggled again and waved her hand dismissively at him. “All in good time, Slytherin, you devil.�

Harry watched, somewhat surprised with the way Slytherin interacted with Rowena Ravenclaw and Helga Hufflepuff. He had always pictured him as a mean, conceited old man, kind of like an older, more talented Lucius Malfoy. But this Slytherin was witty and friendly, even likable. After shooting a last smile at Hufflepuff, he stood and his eyes made contact with the remaining founder, Godric Gryffindor.

Harry felt himself tense up, ready for some type of encounter. It was unreal to think that he was watching Gryffindor and Slytherin meet. Unreal to think that they were in the same room together. Six years of rivalry and inter-house feuding flared up in Harry, as though he expected Gryffindor to punch his sly face or jinx him into the ground. Harry was ready for anything. Anything except what happened next.

The two embraced.

“Salazar, Salazar! My friend. It has been too long! How are you, old viper?� Gryffindor said merrily as he hugged the more slender frame of Slytherin. Slytherin returned the hug.

“I am fine, my old friend, though I think I shall be better if you were to release me from your customary crushing embrace.�

With a laugh Gryffindor released him. It was obvious from the way that each of the founders greeted one another that they had been friends, but none of them greeted each other with as much enthusiasm as Gryffindor and Slytherin had. Harry couldn’t believe it. He had heard once that the two had been friends, but actually seeing it was unbelievable.

“Please, sit down, sit down. Let me guess, Irish Dragon Whiskey?� Gryffindor asked. “Naturally,� came Slytherin’s reply as he sat between Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. With a flick of his wand Gryffindor summoned a tall, slender glass filled with a yellow liquid.

“Well first, allow me to welcome you back from the Goblin Wars, Godric. I trust this means that the dirty brutes have been sufficiently routed?� Slytherin asked in an airy, half-serious tone.

Gryffindor gave an amused laugh. “Indeed, though I think ‘escorted back to their own lands’ is a more fitting description of what happened, Salazar. And you’d be pleasantly surprised with how civilized those ‘dirty brutes’ can be.�

“Is that so? I was under the impression that all they cared about was gold and taking land so they could dig for more gold.�

“You know, I wouldn’t have thought it myself, but it turns out the majority of them didn’t want war at all. Just wanted to go back to digging those infernal mines of theirs and hoarding treasure.�

“Really? No conflict at all? I had heard they were intent on claiming all the land from the highlands to the south coast!� said Hufflepuff.

“Well, the chief goblin, yes. The rest of them, no. It was the chief that was the problem. Nasty little fellow named Kerchek. Once we dealt with him the rest all but surrendered. We escorted them back to their homeland and that was that. Some of the others on the Council wanted to slaughter them all on the spot, said they were horrible creatures and eternal enemies of wizardkind,� said Gryffindor with a sad shake of his head, “but I told them they would have to kill me first. Still can’t believe sensible wizards and witches could even think of doing such a thing. We’re not Ogres.�

“Perhaps not,� said Slytherin, “but what makes you think they will not attempt another invasion in the future?�

“I can’t say that they won’t Salazar,� Gryffindor replied with a sigh. “But I met quite a few, talked with them. Devious creatures, no doubt—Can’t have a normal conversation with one without thinking he’s concocting a way to steal your purse and slit your throat. But all in all they are a decent lot. Mainly just want to be left alone. I don’t suspect we’ll have any more trouble with them until the next chief with a little too much ambition comes into power. Or until some idiot wizard tries breaking into their mines again.�

Hufflepuff chuckled. “And at that time you may very well wish you had slaughtered the whole lot.� She turned to Slytherin. “But enough about the goblins, what about you, Salazar? To what endeavors have you been devoting your considerable intellect and talent?�

“Ah, nothing important, Madame Hufflepuff,� he replied dismissively, “Nothing at all. He was silent for a brief moment as he fingered his glass.

“At least, nothing as important as the real reason for which we have met this day.� He glanced up at Godric Gryffindor after saying this, his eyebrows raised expectantly.

There was a brief period of awkward silence as each of the founders looked at Gryffindor anxiously. It seemed as though Slytherin had spoken something that had been on all of their minds, something they had each been wanting to discuss. Harry could feel an electricity in the air, and excitement so strong that it was almost palpable.

Gryffindor looked back at the other founders and smiled.

“I was hoping we would get to that.�

Chapter 20- The Founding of Hogwarts


Gryffindor paused for a moment before speaking again. He looked at the wall on the far side of the room, his gaze hanging slightly over Salazar Slytherin. Though he didn’t quite know the cause, Harry was conscious of an excitement in the room, a sort of expectant electricity that radiated from each of the founders. Something great was about to happen…

At length Gyffindor spoke. “Well, it’s fairly obvious that we didn’t call this gathering just to exchange simple pleasantries.� He took a deep breath, as though preparing himself to take a big step. He looked first at Helga Hufflepuff, who was sitting across the wooden table, then to Slytherin, then straight at Harry. “Well, we’ve been toying with the notion of starting an academy of magical learning for quite some time now. I believe it was Helga,� here he nodded at Hufflepuff, who nodded back politely, “who first suggested the idea of an institution designed to train young witches and wizards and teach them how to harness their talents. A school...� here he looked at each of the founders again, “…of magic.�

Godric Gryffindor paused. Slytherin and Hufflepuff were watching him expectantly, as if anticipating what would come next.

“Well, my friends. I believe the time has come. It is time to make our dream a reality.�

Helga Hufflepuff’s face broke into a grin. Salazar Slytherin leaned back in his chair, arms folded and an amused smile on his face. Harry could only guess what Ravenclaw was doing. Each of the founders appeared to be contemplating what had just been said. Godric looked at them expectantly. Ravenclaw was the first to speak.

“I agree,� she said in her clear, monotone voice. Gryffindor’s anxious face broke into an excited grin.

“As do I,� said Slytherin. His gaunt, narrow face showed little emotion, though his eyes sparkled with excitement.

The three of them looked at Hufflepuff. She looked back at them cheerfully, then laughed her pleasant little laugh.

“Oh come now you silly people. You all know I’ve been ready for years!� she said in a motherly, almost scolding tone.

“Excellent!� roared Gryffindor. “Now, I will be totally frank with each of you. Before the war I thought the idea of a school of magic was ridiculous. I didn’t see the need for such a place. Our people were strong and seemed to be getting along just fine. Now that I am back, however, I see how scattered and unfocused we are. There’s no purpose, no discipline! We must teach our youth to harness and control their magic. Only then can they accomplish great things!� he finished passionately.

“I concur,� came the smooth voice of Ravenclaw. Godric turned his noble head to look at Harry. Slytherin and Hufflepuff did the same. “We need discipline. There is so much knowledge lost because our people do not pass it on. We teach our children only the most rudimentary of spells then leave them to discover the many secrets of magic on their own. Magic is a sea, a vast ocean of knowledge that no witch or wizard could come close to mastering in one life time. We need to gather the knowledge we have, need to write it down and immortalize it so we may pass it on to the next generation. Only then can we reach our full potential.� The other three founders nodded their heads in agreement. Slytherin spoke next.

“Well spoken, as usual, Mistress Ravenclaw,� he said with a slight bow in Harry’s direction. “I agree entirely. Our people have only begun to discover their potential. We have been endowed with a special and most unique power. It is our destiny to harness this power, to shape and master it so that we may take our rightful place as leaders over the other races. We must train our youth, we must teach them!� Slytherin spread his arms towards the other founders. “And I cannot think of four people more worthy nor able to do so!� At this Godric bowed his head slightly towards Slytherin. Hufflepuff gave a dismissive wave of her hand.

“Posh!� she said, though Harry noticed she was blushing slightly. “You’re an old snake-charmer, that’s what you are Salazar. Yet I agree with you entirely. There is so much good that can be done, so many we can help. Starting a school for our young ones is just what we need to become a force for good. Why, it took me decades to learn even the most basic healing spells, to think how much easier it would have been if I had had a teacher when I was a young. No matter, that time is past,� she shook her chubby head, “but I will not stand by and let my knowledge go to waste. We’ve waited long enough, let’s get started!�

“Then we are all agreed,� Slytherin said in his deep voice. His face was once more impassive. “It is time to start our school of magic. I suppose the first question would be where exactly do we start it?�

“I knew you’d ask that Salazar, and I know just the place,� Godric said immediately. He had a grin on his face as though he had been waiting for this moment. “Came across it years ago when me and Randolph Fezziwig were hunting Mountain Trolls in the western mountains. It’s an old castle, built by the ungifted ones. Has been deserted for a century. Wretchedly small place, as most of their buildings are, but nothing we couldn’t spruce up a bit.�

“Where is it located?� asked Rowena Ravenclaw.

“Somewhere to the north-west. It’s nestled in the midst of a mountain range. Nice place. There’s a sizable lake right next to it.�
They were talking about Hogwarts, Harry realized suddenly. He had never known it had been an old muggle castle. Perhaps it was time to read Hogwarts: A History.

“Is it secluded from the Ungifted’s?� asked Hufflepuff.

“Well, there is a village maybe two or three leagues away, but they keep clear of the castle. Think it’s haunted. Arthur Fezziwig and myself went to investigate the place after hearing about it from an old farmer. Turns out it was just an old highlander ghost from Scotland with an affinity for tapestries. Nice chap. Wouldn’t mind us moving in at all. Would probably enjoy the company.�

Hufflepuff giggled. “Oh bless them, afraid of a mere ghost. As if it could ever harm them.�

“Perhaps we should arrange a visit to this place,� said Slytherin. “Though I should like to know how you plan to hide it from the…� Slytherin paused briefly and raised his eyebrows in a smirk, “…the Muggles.�

Harry started at the mention of muggles. It was the first time he had heard any of the founders mention them, though he realized now that they had been referring to them this whole time as “the Ungifted Ones.� The other founders seemed to be surprised as well—Godric gave a slight frown and Hufflepuff gasped, though she giggled a bit. Ravenclaw hadn’t done anything noticeable.

“Do be a good chap and don’t call them that, Salazar,� Godric said in way of reprimand, though his voice was friendly.

“Really, Godric, I shall never understand this unnatural fondness you have for those creatures,� Slytherin returned good-humoredly. “They have no gift and are jealous of those who do. They are also silly little creatures who understand less about reality than a common animal. We are meant to lead them.�

“I don’t know, you’d be surprised with how intelligent they can be,� Godric replied with a slight smile and a shake of his head. “Why, just the other day I was traveling through Nottingham and I saw the most fascinating thing. One of the Ungifteds had constructed some sort of contraption on the river bank that used the current to turn a large wheel and grind the town’s food. Simply amazing. I tell you, with their inventions and machines, I wouldn’t be surprised if someday the Ungifted Ones are able to do nearly everything we can.�

Slytherin shook his head, unimpressed. “I hear that more often than not the Ungifteds get their limbs stuck in those atrocious machines and have them ripped off. They then spend the remainder of their lives with a stub for an arm, unless someone as charitable as Madame Hufflepuff comes their way. As for them being able to do what we do—Posh. You show me a Mugg…� he stopped mid-sentence and looked at Godric, who had raised his eyebrows. “I apologize, an Ungifted One…�

“Thank you.� Godric said with a smug smile.

“…that can fly or throw fire, and then I’ll believe they have some intelligence. Until then, a pox upon their machines and inventions.�

Harry puzzled over what had just happened. It had seemed perfectly normal that Slytherin would use the phrase “Muggle�. That was what he and everyone else had called non-magical people ever since he had entered the magical world. Apparently, however, the phrase was still new and meant something bad. Perhaps it was like saying “Mud-blood� in the present.

“But back to the subject at hand,� Slytherin continued, “How will we keep the place hidden from the Ungifteds?�

Ravenclaw answered in her even, text-like voice. “There are numerous charms we could employ, Salazar. It shouldn’t prove too difficult. There are other, more pressing issues we will have to address. For instance, what students we will accept? How old should they be? How young? What will we teach them? Which of us will teach what subject? How will we determine who is worthy of our instruction? A great deal of planning and preparation must go into this.�

“Rowena, once again your clear, cold logic points us in the right direction,� commented Godric. “Where do you suggest we begin?�

The other two founders looked at Harry expectantly. Ravenclaw said nothing at first. It was an odd feeling to have three powerful, grown-up wizards staring at you waiting for an answer and not being able to say anything.

“I think the best way to begin this venture is to invoke the adnexium charm.� She slid her chair back and stood. “Are you all familiar with the spell?�

She looked at each of the founders in turn. Hufflepuff shrugged, Godric shook his head. Slytherin frowned slightly and answered, “The name only.�

“Allow me to explain. Adnexium is a bit of old magic that binds two or more people together. In it a group of people uniting under one cause—precisely as we are at this moment—pledge to give their whole heart and effort to that cause. The charm serves as a sort of bond, or a covenant between those people. As long as each of the participants gives whole-heartedly to the cause it will prosper. If any should depart from the covenant, he or she becomes an enemy to the cause and will fight against it. As I said, it is old magic. I think it will serve as an effective starting point, a way to galvanize and unite us for the challenging task that lies ahead. What think you?�

“An excellent idea,� answered Godric.

“Agreed,� said Hufflepuff.

“Agreed,� muttered Slytherin. “How does it work?�

“First we need a symbol or a token of the promise. This can be any object, though the magic is more powerful if the object has symbolic value to the promise being made.� The other founders began looking around the room for such an object. Apparently Ravenclaw had already picked one out. “This table should work perfectly.�

Harry studied the table, which wasn’t hard as Ravenclaw was looking directly at it, caressing the top with her pale hand. It was a common wooden table, about six feet in diameter and made of a light colored wood. Of all the objects in Godric Gryffindor’s den it was probably the least special, the least magical

Godric and Salazar Slytherin seemed to be confused as well. They looked at each other quizzically, trying to figure out why the table would work perfectly. It was Hufflepuff who understood first.

“Four legs…four of us. Different backgrounds, different histories, all coming together to support a common cause, the education of youth—brilliant!� she mumbled.

Godric Gryffindor laughed. Salazar Slytherin raised his eyebrows, impressed.

“Next, you will each need to stand and remove your wands.� A general creaking of chairs sliding across the floor as each of the other founders stood. “Now, this spell uses a small bit of each of us, a piece of our essence, if you will, to form the covenant. Your own patronus, in other words.�

“First, we need to touch wands.� Here she held out her arm over the table, wand in hand. The other founders did likewise, joining the tips of their wands above the middle of the table.

“Now I will recite a simple oath, pledging each of us to the task of starting a school of magic. When I am done, if you agree with what I have said, say ‘adnexium’ and touch your wand to the table. If we are all of one mind the spell will activate and this table will become the sign of our covenant. Understood?�

The electricity had come back into the air. Each of the founders nodded solemnly.

“Very well. Let us begin. Adnexium!� Immediately a hard, grey light like illuminated iron began to come from the tip of each wand. The four streams of light shot into the center of the table, and the point at which they met became a blinding white light. Ravenclaw began to speak again, though now her voice was loud and harsh.

“We, Rowena Raveclaw, Helga Hufflepuff, Godric Gryffidor, and Salazar Slytherin, pledge to ourselves and to one another that we will devote our whole energies to the foundation of a school of witchcraft and wizardry and that we will be true to one another. This is our oath. Adnexium� Slowly Ravenclaw brought her wand out of the cross and lowered it to the table, the grey light stretching from her wand to the other three.

As the point of her wand touched the table a blinding white light flashed in the room. Harry thought he saw the shimmering white form of a bird soar into the center of the light. On cue the three remaining founders called out—Gryffindor in a loud voice, Hufflepuff in a slightly trembling one, and Slytherin in little more than a hiss—“Adnexium!!� and slowly brought their wands to the table as well. As they touched it three consecutive bursts of light filled the room, and again Harry thought he saw three white blurs jump from each of the founders.

Harry squinted his eyes, straining to see what was going on. For some reason the white light had begun to dim, and he found he could look directly into it. Then he noticed that it wasn’t just the light, but the entire room around him was beginning to fade, as though he were slowly waking from a dream. Realizing that he was about to be pulled out of the diary, Harry fought for one last glance of the founders. The last thing he saw was the plain, wooden table, only now it was bright white and had strange scorch marks in it…

It was gone. He was out of Gryffindor’s den. Slowly a new room began to come into view, one with a stone floor. Expecting to find himself back in the Headmaster’s Vault, Harry was surprised to find that he was in an entirely different room, one he had never been in before. He was looking straight at a tall bookshelf, crammed with old, important looking books. The room had a strange, bluish hue to it. Trying to look around to see the source of the blue Harry found that he still couldn’t move his head. Apparently he was still in the diary. Studying the bookcase more carefully (as there was nothing else he could do) he noticed that, while most of it was full, the top shelf was conspicuously empty. As he stood musing on this, a voice suddenly called out.

“Acclaronius!�

Almost immediately the blue room began to fade, and Harry found himself back in the cold, dim vault, with the diary of Rowena Ravenclaw open before him. The words were flying across the page, but slowly, slowly, came to a stop, until he was staring once again at a page full of stationary, archaic words.

He took a deep breath. It was a lot to take in. Taking a couple minutes to let his head clear, Harry sat at the desk and thought about what he had just seen. There was so much to consider, so much he didn’t understand. Remembering Dumbledore’s directions to come see him when he had finished, Harry moved away from the desk and made his way out of the Headmaster’s Vault.

Chapter 21
Theories

The next day Harry told Ron and Hermione what he had seen in Ravenclaw’s diary, hoping they could offer some perspective. Hermione, as expected, was raptly interested and demanded every detail he could think of. Ron, on the other hand, listened through Harry’s entire description before speaking.

“You mean Godric Gryffindor and Slytherin were friends?� he asked incredulously over a plate of scrambled eggs at breakfast that morning. They had taken a seat at the back end of the Gryffidor table in an attempt to have some privacy. “That just doesn’t seem natural,� he added, glancing scornfully across the room where the Slytherins sat.

“Of course they were friends, Ron, everyone knows that,� Hermione said impatiently. Ron shot a baffled look at Harry as if to ask him if he had known. Harry shrugged. He thought he remembered the Sorting Hat mentioning it once, though, truth be told, he had been as surprised as Ron when he found out.

“Yeah, looked like they were best mates. Actually all four of them were rather friendly. Looked like they had known each other for a long time.�

“Fascinating…� Hermione said for what seemed like the fifteenth time since Harry had told them about the diary. It was obvious that it was almost torture for her to not be able to read the diary herself. “But this still doesn’t tell us anything about the Half-Blood Prince, does it?� she said thoughtfully as she looked into her goblet of pumpkin juice. “It makes no sense! Why would Dumbledore give you a top secret diary about the Half-Blood Prince that says absolutely nothing about him? I mean, it said loads about Godric Gryffindor, but we still don’t know anything about Wulfric Gryffindor. Why is he so important? What does he have to do with Voldemort?� she emphasized Voldemort’s name by hitting her goblet of pumpkin juice on the table. A couple of passing Ravenclaws flinched at the name.

Harry had been wondering the same thing. He was also confused as to what the strange blue room at the end of the diary was all about. He would tell them about that later. “What I don’t understand is why Wulfric Gryffindor is called a Prince. I mean, in order to be a prince your father has to be a king, right?� Harry mused. “But as far as I can tell, Gryffindor was never a king over anything. He seemed like he was more of a soldier, or a general or something.�

“Maybe it happened later,� suggested Ron. “I mean, the diary took place before Hogwarts had even started, right? Maybe later on Gryffindor became a king.�

“I doubt it, wizards have never really had kings. That’s more of a muggle thing,� said Hermione. “Every now and then a wizard may interfere with muggle royalty just to keep things in order, like Merlin did, but otherwise we have always had other systems of government. And besides, Gryffindor taught at Hogwarts for the rest of his life—that much is in Hogwarts, a History. He wouldn’t have had time to rule an entire country. Wulfric must be a ‘Prince’ in a figurative sense.�

“What do you mean?� asked Ron.

“Well, perhaps he’s not a literal prince, as in the son of a king and queen, but more of a symbolic one. You know, a figure of speech. Like how the Tornados are the ‘Lords of the Quidditch pitch?’�

“Or how Snape is the ‘King of Gits?’� Ron ventured, causing Harry to shoot pumpkin juice out of his nose.

“That’s not funny, Ron,� Hermione said with a look of disgust as she watched Harry wipe up his spewed pumpkin juice, much of which had gotten into her scrambled eggs.

“Sorry,� Harry said apologetically. “So what are some other ways this guy can be a prince without actually, you know, being a prince? And what about his mum? I didn’t see any children running around—I don’t think Godric was even married.�

They thought for a minute. Suddenly Ron spoke up.

“Wait, wait. Hermione, have you ever read anything about Gryffindor being married?�

“No, nothing. There aren’t many books out there about Gryffindor, and the ones there are don’t say anything about his personal life. All Hogwarts, a History says is that he was a benevolent old wizard that earned the respect of everyone around him. Nothing about a wife.�

“So then we don’t know anything about Gryffindor’s wife, it could be anybody! It could be…� Ron stopped mid-sentence. His eyes widened and his freckled chin dropped in astonishment. “Wait, wait! Hold on. Suppose Gryffidor and Ravenclaw got together? That would explain why Dumbledore gave Harry her diary, wouldn’t it?� He looked excitedly at them, waiting for a reaction.

Gryffindor and Ravenclaw? It was a weird thought that Harry didn’t seem was very likely. The two were friendly, but nothing more. Apparently Hermione was thinking along the same lines.

“Ron, I highly doubt two of the most famous wizards in history got together and no one knew about it.�

“Well you don’t know! It’s not in any of your books, is it?� Ron replied defensively. “Maybe they kept it a secret, you know, like a hidden affair they didn’t want everyone else to stick their nose in.�

Harry and Hermione stared back at him silently.

“I think you’ve been reading too much of the Quibbler,� Harry said. “Besides, I saw the name of his wife when Dumbledore showed me his family tree. I don’t remember who it was, but it definitely wasn’t Rowena Ravenclaw.�

“Oh,� came Ron’s disappointed reply.

“Besides, Ravenclaw was a full-blooded witch and Wulfric Gryffindor is called the half-blood prince. So his mum probably wouldn’t have been magical at all.�

“I’ve been thinking about that too,� Hermione replied. “And the ‘half-blood’ part could very well be a figurative term, just like ‘prince.’ Just because he’s called the Half-Blood Prince doesn’t necessarily mean he’s a half-blood. At least not in the way you are Harry.�

Harry felt confused. Hermione certainly had a knack for complicating things. The look on Ron’s face showed that he was just as confused. “So you’re saying the Half-Blood Prince, may not be a prince, and may not even be a half-blood?�

“Yes, I think it’s very possible.� Seeing Harry exchange a doubtful glance with Ron she explained. “Look, here’s what we know about Godric Gryffindor—first, he was never king of anything. Wizard society has never had royalty of any sort and Gryffindor spent most of the second part of his life teaching at Hogwarts. Second, there is no way that he would meet a Muggle woman, fall in love, marry her, and have real, authentic, half-blood children!�

“What are you talking about?� Ron interrupted. “Loads of wizards marry muggles,� he said, almost defensively.

“Today they do, Ron, but this was a thousand years ago. Think about it—muggle/wizard marriages are barely accepted today. Back then, for a wizard of Gryffindor’s fame and stature to marry a Muggle would be…well, downright scandalous!� She spoke this last sentence with obvious resentment, as though it were particularly frustrating to her. “Taking these two facts into consideration I find it highly unlikely that Wulfric Gryffindor would be either half-blooded or a prince. The titles are symbolic of something else.�

As she finished she glared at Ron, almost daring him to disagree. Half out of curiousity, half out of a desire to save Ron, Harry spoke up.

“Ok then, what are the names symbolic of?�

“I don’t know, I haven’t thought of that yet.� The three were silent as they considered the question. Nearly the entire Great Hall was empty now. Soon they would have to make their way to class. Finally Hermione spoke up.

“Harry, you said that Godric Gryffindor seemed pretty fond of muggles right? He stood up for them when Slytherin mocked them?�

“Yeah...�

“Well then it’s pretty likely that his son would share the same views, isn’t it?�

“Er…probably.�

“Of course he would, it makes sense doesn’t it?� she said with increasing excitement. “Wulfric Gryffindor would have been a friend to muggle-borns and half-bloods, probably even to muggles, just like his father before him. My guess is that after Godric died Wulfric took his place defending half-bloods and muggles and the rest of the wizards and witches gave him the name half-blood prince! He’s not called a half-blood because he had a Muggle parent, but because he was a friend to half-bloods!�

Harry nodded his head slowly, impressed with how quick Hermione could put things together. Her theory made sense, though it still didn’t explain the prince part. He was about to say as much when Ron interrupted him.

“That’s way too complicated Hermione. I mean, wouldn’t it just make more sense if he actually was a half-blood?�

Hermione shook her head in exasperation. “Life is complicated Ronald. Not everything has a simple explanation.�

“And not everything has to be complicated, either!� Ron retorted. “I mean, doesn’t it make more sense that the bloke is called the ‘Half-Blood Prince’ because he was a half-blood? I think Gryffindor married a muggle and that Wulfric Gryffindor is a real half-blood. I mean, sure it would be a little weird for him to do it, but he doesn’t strike me as the type to care what other people think.�

Hermione folded her arms and shook her head, but didn’t say anything.

“And what about the prince part?� asked Harry.

Ron shrugged unconcernedly. “So he found a bunch of house-elves and they wanted him to be their king. Probably not that hard to do. I mean, Dobby would probably love to have Harry for a king,� here he broke into a simpering, high pitched voice and raised his plate full of half eaten food towards Harry. “Would King Harry Potter like Dobby’s corn muffin, would he? King Harry Potter, sir?�

“That’s not funny Ron,� Hermione replied curtly, though Harry thought he saw her trying to hide a smile. She looked around at the empty Great Hall. “Besides, we’d better get to class.�

They began collecting their bags to head off to class. Harry decided he did want Ron’s corn muffin and took it off his plate. As they made their way out of the Great Hall Hermione turned to Harry.

“Well, you’ve heard our theories on Wulfric Gryffindor. What’s yours?�

Harry shook his head. “I don’t know. This whole thing was too complicated even before we started dissecting the name. Besides, who cares what the guy was called—the important thing is he has something very powerful and if we find his body, we will be able to win the war. He can be called the Emperor of the Crumple-Horned Snorkacks for all I care—I just want to find out where he’s buried.�

Chapter 22
Dumbledore’s Assignment

Harry, Ron, and Hermione spent the next few days in the library to find out more about Wulfric Gryffindor, though they hadn’t had much luck.

“I can’t believe it,� Hermione said in exasperation one sunny afternoon as she pulled a chair up next to the table where Harry was studying an especially gruesome Defense book, Extremely Vile and Horrendous Uses of the Dark Arts. “I’ve searched almost the entire library and this is the only thing I could find about Elm’s Hollow.� She opened a large tome she had been carrying entitled Ancient Lore and Mythology and read.

“Elm’s Hollow is the name of a small village purported to be the lifelong home of Godric Gryffindor, one of the four founders of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Tradition holds that Gryffindor and other wizards of the village lived side by side in perfect harmony with Centaurs, Goblins, and non-magical peoples. Elm’s Hollow is believed to have been destroyed in the early 13th century, although its exact location is unknown.�

“Destroyed in the 13th century? So that means the place is probably buried under centuries of dirt and rock, and Wulfric Gryffindor along with it?�

“It’s likely. I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a muggle city built over it, actually.�

Harry’s heart sank. How were they supposed to find Wulfric Gryffindor if the town he lived in had been destroyed 700 years ago? Searching for the Half-Blood Prince was one of the few things keeping him sane at this point, as it provided him with a way to fight back against Voldemort, even if it was indirectly.

Yet the cold outside wasn’t too bad compared to the frightful chill that Harry felt nearly every morning as news about the war arrived via the Daily Prophet. Every day brought another sobering reminder that he was the only one who could stop Voldemort, that he would have to face him someday. While other students were occupied with homework or Quidditch, Harry spent nearly every spare minute practicing defensive spells and researching in the library, looking for something, anything, that could help him defeat Voldemort. This didn’t go unnoticed by Ron and Hermione, who found it rather peculiar that for the first time since they had started at Hogwarts, Harry was spending more time in the library than Hermione. At first they hadn’t said anything about this, but as time went by and Harry withdrew himself more and more they seemed to know something was going on.

The truth was he didn’t want to tell Ron and Hermione the horrible secret he kept inside, the secret about the prophecy and Voldemort. He didn’t want to see the pain and fear on their faces as he revealed that he was the only one who could destroy Voldemort, that it was up to him to stop the war. Ron and Hermione were the only people in the entire school who treated him like a normal person, not like some celebrity or hero. Besides, he reasoned to himself constantly, telling would only cause pointless worry and anxiety. He had gotten through countless other challenges. He could handle this himself.

Luckily the DA club started and provided Harry with the perfect excuse for his neurotic studying. All he had to do was tell Ron and Hermione that he had a lesson to get ready and they wouldn’t ask any questions. Usually they would even offer to help. The DA also turned out to be a perfect outlet for Harry to vent some of the anxiety and tension he felt. Seeing his fellow students learn how to properly defend themselves gave an enormous sense of satisfaction, and for once he felt like he really was doing something to fight Voldemort. It seemed to be a hit with the students as well; the club was almost four times as large as it had been the previous year. Soon they even had to move into a larger classroom to accommodate all of them. All the original members who hadn’t been in their seventh year were there, with the exception (Harry noted with total disinterest) of Cho Chang and her friend Marianne Edgecrombe. The previous members each became a great help in trying to teach such a large group—Harry appointed each member to look after a group and work with them in each spell they were studying, saving him time. Professor Grendelhall was a tremendous help as well, offering pointers and giving advice when needed but mostly staying in the background.

(Insert Ravenclaw gag person here)Anthony Goldstein? Some Ravenclaw twerp that we would like to see in an embarrassing situation.

Despite the almost daily arrival of bad news from the Daily Prophet, however, Harry couldn’t help but notice a growing excitement and a sense of festivity among the students. The heavy atmosphere that had settled over the school seemed to lighten, and there was more laughter and lighthearted conversation among the students. At first Harry couldn’t place the reason for this—the war definitely wasn’t going any better—then it hit him.

The Halloween Ball.

Harry found this very annoying. With everything that was going on in the world it seemed the height of ridiculousness that the entire school, teachers included, would care about a stupid ball. He had decided at the beginning of the year that he would have nothing to do with dances or dating or girls, and the disgusting display of the students around him only strengthened this decision. Avoiding all of it proved to be more difficult than he thought, however, as girls (many of whom he didn’t even know) began cornering him in the corridors between classes and other places asking if he would go to the dance with them. Harry soon made it a point to walk around with Hermione or Ginny and Dean whenever possible. For some reason Ginny and Dean found this amusing.

“Oh come on, Harry, everyone knows you haven’t asked anyone out to the dance yet. It’s not like walking around with us is going to fool anyone,� Ginny said patiently after Harry joined them on the way to the Great Hall for dinner one evening.

“Honestly, Harry, what’s your problem? You could go with any girl in the school!� said Dean amusedly. “You know what? I reckon you’re just scared…�

“I’m not scared, all right?� Harry interrupted angrily, “I just don’t want to go.�

“Seriously Harry, don’t be such a git! There are loads of girls who would die to go with you! Why won’t you even give someone a chance?� said Ginny. Harry was taken aback by the slight edge of bitterness in her voice.

“I just don’t feel like going, all right? And would you mind talking a little bit lower?� he added in an undertone as Ginny’s loud voice had attracted the attention of more than one student walking through the corridor.

“Hey everyone! Harry needs a date for the Halloween Ball! Anyone want to go with Harry?� Dean started yelling to everyone in the corridor. More than a few heads looked up hopefully. Harry smacked a laughing Dean in the back of the head and ducked into a hidden passage behind a tapestry, seriously considering hiding in his dormitory until the whole thing was over.

The most pathetic spectacle came a few days later, however, when he and Ron were sitting at the Gryffindor table at lunch. Nearly everyone else had finished, and Ron, looking around as if he didn’t want anyone to hear, said, “Er…Harry, can I ask your advice on something?�

“Sure,� Harry replied, thinking it was probably about Quidditch or a spell they had been practicing in the DA.

“Well, uh…do you remember in our fourth year, when the Yule Ball was coming up and you got us dates with Parvati and Padma Patil?� His voice had the sort of forced-casual tone to it that told Harry this conversation was anything but casual.

“Yeah, what about it?�

“Well...er,� Harry watched as his friend blushed furiously. He looked embarrassed—if he didn’t know any better Harry would have thought he was about to get asked to the dance.

“What is it?� he prodded.

Ron looked at him for a second, then lowered his gaze as if he were ashamed to make eye-contact. When he spoke it was little more than a mumble. “How do you ask a girl to a dance?�

“Say again?� said Harry, not sure he had heard him correctly.

This time Ron looked directly at him, his face full of sincerity and hopelessness. “How do you do it? How do you ask someone to a dance?�

Harry was completely taken back. This is what was on Ron’s mind? This is what he was worried about, asking a stupid girl out to a dance?

“You’re mental.�

Ron shifted uncomfortably, blushing the dark shade of purplish-red that could only be seen on an embarrassed Weasley. “I know, all right? I know! I am mental.� he hissed. “It’s just, I’ve never done it before, and…I’m nervous.�

Harry shook his head in disbelief. What he wouldn’t give to have asking a girl out be the biggest of his worries right now. It was pathetic. Trying his best to be patient, he answered.

“Here’s what you do. You walk up to the girl, and you say: ‘Hey, do you want to go to the dance with me?’ Then she gives you her answer. It’s complicated, I know, but I reckon you can handle it seeing as you’ve fought Death-Eaters and flying brains before.�

“I know, this is just…different,� Ron sighed ashamedly. “You’re right, I’ve just got to do it. I’ve just got to walk up and ask her.�

Harry watched his friend with a mixture of amusement and disgust. He had rarely seen Ron this nervous—it was more like he was getting ready to throw himself into a cave of dragons instead of talking to a human being. Whoever the girl was he must really like her if it had this much of an effect on him. Though Harry had a pretty good idea who it was…

“Well, good luck,� Harry said, not wanting to see his friend embarrass himself further. He collected his books and stood up to make his way to the Gryffindor common room so he could drop off his books and go to the library.

Ron looked up, startled. “Wait! Who’re you going with? Have you asked already?�

“I’m not going,� Harry said simply.

“What? Why not?�

“It’s a waste of time. There’re more important things to be doing.�

“What?� Ron asked incredulously, standing up to face him.

Harry sighed, trying to remain calm. Even Ron didn’t understand. Then again, how could he? He didn’t know what it was like to have the weight of the prophecy on his shoulders. The biggest stress he had right now was whether or not a girl would say “yes� when he asked them to the dance. The thought made Harry’s temper rise.

“I’m not going. Don’t you know what’s going on Ron? We’re in the middle of a war! Fine time to be prancing around like idiots,� he snapped.

Ron looked at him, startled. “Well yeah, but we can’t be fighting the war all the time—people need a break. YOU need a break, mate.�

“Haven’t you been reading the papers? Voldemort is out there. Voldemort! And all anyone cares about is who they’re going to ask to the dance, or what they’re going to wear, or how they’ll look. It’s absurd! I’ve got more important things to do and I’m not going.� With that he grabbed his bag, spun around and marched towards the door of the Great Hall. Ron watched him, his mouth hanging wide open.

He hadn’t gotten four steps when he was stopped by a petite Hufflepuff fifth year with curly blonde hair he had seen in the DA.

“Oh, hi Harry,� she said in a shaky, excited voice as she looked up nervously at him. “I was just wondering if you would like to…�

“GAHHH!� Harry yelled in exasperation, storming off before she could finish her sentence. He caught one final glimpse of Ron laughing at the table where he left him.

*****

“Now remember Harry; deep breaths, clear your mind, let emotions wash off of you like water poured over a rock. Nothing penetrates your serenity. You are the master of your mind. When you are ready we will begin.�

Harry took a deep breath and tried his best to clear his mind. He was in the headmaster’s office once again, trying his hardest to keep the old wizard out of his thoughts. Despite his early success with Occlumency during his first and second lessons, Harry was finding it more and more difficult to keep the headmaster out of his mind. In fact, the last few lessons had been horrendous. The current lesson wasn’t going any better.

It didn’t make sense—he had practiced the meditation and mind clearing exercises every morning and night and, with the exception of the outburst at Ron the previous week, he had been entirely in control of his emotions (which, truth be told, hadn’t been very hard on account of the vast amounts of time he had spent studying and practicing new spells to prepare himself to face Voldemort). For some reason, however, he had been completely unable to block his thoughts from Dumbledore.

Bracing himself again for the next attempt, Harry nodded at the headmaster and they began.

The images began to come freely. Innocent, harmless thoughts. It was morning, Harry was walking with Seamus and Ron along the corridor to the Great Hall for breakfast. He looked into the empty classrooms along the way…the blackboard in McGonagall’s transfiguration classroom, a bookshelf at the back of an old unused office. The bookshelf was full of empty jars and dusty old books. As he focused on the bookcase the shadows in the room seemed to grow, to envelop everything around them. The room faded, darkened. Slowly, almost imperceptibly it changed, the walls elongated and the shadows changed hue. The next thing he knew, Harry was picturing a tall room with a stone floor. The walls seemed to glow with a strange blue light. It was the room he had seen in Ravenclaw’s diary a few weeks before…The diary he was supposed to keep secret from Voldemort…The diary he was supposed to be hiding from Dumbledore right now…

“Damn!� Harry cursed, breaking eye contact with the headmaster. Dumbledore shook his head and began to pace towards his desk.

“I don’t understand professor. I’ve been practicing. I really have!� Harry said earnestly.

Dumbledore didn’t reply at first. He walked around to the front of the desk, his head bowed in thought. Leaning his tall, slender frame against the desk he folded his arms and placed a hand on his chin.

The silence making him feel more uncomfortable than any reprimand, Harry continued his defense. “I’ve even started doing the exercises three times a day since our last meeting, but it doesn’t seem to be helping. I swear I have!�

Dumbledore raised a hand. “I believe you Harry! I do.� He was silent for a few seconds more then looked up at Harry.

“I don’t think practice is your problem. Tell me this: Have you told anyone about the prophecy yet?�

“No,� Harry replied. “What does that have to do with this?�

Dumbledore shook his head and walked towards him. “A good deal.� He stopped next to the chair Harry was sitting in, leaned over and put his arm on his shoulder. “Harry, the burden you carry because of the prophecy is a heavy one. Too heavy to carry on your own. You must share it. I can feel the tension inside of you. You are wound so tight it is only a matter of time before you snap. That, I believe, is the reason you are unable to keep your thoughts hidden. As it is you will never be able to keep a legilimens out of your mind, much less a legilimens as skilled as Lord Voldemort.

Harry looked away. Burdening Ron and Hermione with the news about the prophecy was the last thing he wanted to do. It would only make them worry…

“They would want to know Harry. They would want to be burdened with this,� Dumbledore said in response to his thoughts. He removed his hand from his shoulder and stood to his full height.

“We will not be able to progress until you have unburdened yourself of this secret. You need to confide in those who care about you and whom you can trust. Until you have done so there is no reason for us to keep meeting. Do you understand?�

“Yes sir,� Harry replied.

“You are dismissed then.�

Somewhat abashed, Harry made his way towards the rotating spiral staircase that led to the exit of Dumbledore’s office. The headmaster was right, of course, but that didn’t make telling his friends about the prophecy any easier. How could he tell them that he would have to murder or be murdered?

As he walked through the empty corridors, a feeling of frustration set over him. Not only had he been unable to pass the Occlumency test, but he had wanted to question the headmaster about the blue room he had seen at the end of Ravenclaw’s diary. Now it looked like they would both have to wait.

And tell Ron and Hermione about the prophecy? The thought made him uncomfortable. Surely there had to be another explanation for his failure to keep Dumbledore out of his head? Hadn’t he been through more already than most adult wizards in their entire life? And hadn’t he been able to handle it all? Surely he could keep this secret and not burden his friends. Though he tried to convince himself of this, a small part of him knew that he should share the secret. Knew he would feel better once it had come out. There was no avoiding it. He had never kept anything from them for very long; how could he possibly go on with something this big? Besides hadn’t Dumbledore all but ordered him to share the prophecy with him? Did he really have a choice?

By the time he reached the fat-lady’s portrait, Harry had convinced himself that telling them was the best thing to do. He didn’t know what he was going to say, maybe he would just tell them about the night’s lesson and it would come up naturally. His heart began to race as he gave the password and stepped through the open portrait hole. At first it was difficult to spot them, as the common room seemed to be more crowded than usual, but then he spotted them towards the far side of the room.

Harry began to walk towards them. They were sitting next to each other on a couch on the left side of the room. As he made his way across the room he had to dodge a pair of giggling fourth-year girls, then nearly knocked over a nervous-looking third year boy who hadn’t even noticed Harry was right in front of him. The boy mumbled a distracted apology, then approached another group of giggling girls, one of whom was blushing furiously. What was going on? And why was the common room so crowded? He hadn’t noticed it at first, but now that he was looking around Harry could tell something was going on. There was a sort of nervous excitement in the air, the type of excitement that usually accompanied a Quidditch match. What was going on?

Then it hit him. A hot prick of annoyance hit him as he looked around and realized what was going on. The giggling, the staring, the anxious glances, the slightly nervous conversations…The Halloween Ball. It was tomorrow. He had completely forgotten.

Wanting to get out of the common room as soon as possible, Harry looked over to where Ron and Hermione were sitting. His stomach sunk at what he saw. Ron was sitting strangely close to Hermione, their knees were almost touching. There was a strange formalness about the way they were talking to each other. Ron nodded attentively at everything she said. Hermione smiled nervously back when he spoke, as if they were getting to know each other for the first time.

Almost instantly the desire to share the prophecy disappeared. He couldn’t tell them now, not with the excitement of the ball foremost in their minds. Thinking it had been a stupid idea anyway, Harry walked through the common room, climbed the stairs to the dormitory, and went to bed.

Chapter 23
A Late-Night Stroll


The evening of the Halloween Ball found Gryffindor tower in a flurry. Anxious students bustled about making last minute preparations. Ron, Dean, Seamus, and Neville had all already put on their dress robes and sat lounging about, waiting until it was time to meet their dates. Of all of them, Ron looked the most nervous.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come?� he asked Harry for the third time that day. “There’s still a heap of girls who haven’t been asked. Any of them would love to go with you. We could ask Parvati if she knows anyone…�

“I’ve told you already -- I’m not going. I’ve got better things to do,� Harry said, looking up from a book he was studying.

“Listen to him. Any girl in the school would die to go with him and ‘he’s got better things to do’. A perfectly good waste of a ladies man, that’s what you are, Potter,� said Seamus as Dean snickered.

For a split second Harry felt his temper flare up. They didn’t have any idea. He’d like to see one of them have the weight of the prophecy on their shoulders.

Deciding that it would be better to get away from the teasing of his dormmates, Harry left Gryffindor tower and made his way to the Owlery, thinking as he went. It was strange to think that just the day before he had decided, even wanted, to share the prophecy. He now felt a world apart from ordinary students, who didn’t understand. Who couldn’t understand. Whatever desire he had had to share it was gone, replaced instead by an even stronger determination to study up on ways to fight and beat Voldemort. Finding out more about Rowena Ravenclaw’s diary and the mysterious blue room at the end of it seemed to be a big part of that.

The truth was, Harry couldn’t wait for the ball to be over so the school would return to normal. No more giggling girls in the hallways, no more nervous looks between Ron and Hermione, no more delays during DA meetings because of unnecessary socializing. The way everyone was acting, you would have thought there wasn’t a war going on at all. It was with these thoughts that Harry returned to Gryffindor tower an hour later.

As he stepped through the portrait hole he was relieved to see the common room nearly empty. There were a few scattered groups of first and second years (Dumbledore had limited this ball to third years and above) who seemed to be enjoying having the common room all to their selves for a change. A few of the groups had spread out on the floor and were playing gobstones. Many of them watched as he walked by, apparently surprised that he wasn’t at the ball. One boy called out, inviting him to join them for a game of gobstones. Harry just waved in response and made his way up the stairs to the dormitory.

It was completely empty as well. Harry threw himself on his bed, rolled over so he could reach his dresser, and pulled off the book he had been reading, Advanced Counter-Curses.

An hour and a half passed, during which Harry progressed only two pages in the book. Try as he might, he couldn’t get the image of the strange blue room he had seen at the end of Ravenclaw’s diary out of his head. There were so many questions: Why had it been in the diary? What did it mean? Was it a clue of some kind? And where was it located? He had searched a few places in the castle hoping to find it (the library, Owlery, unused classrooms in the bottom floors), but hadn’t had any luck. He could only think of one other place it might be, but it was very had to get to. Not to mention strictly against the rules...

He closed the book, giving up studying for hopeless. He felt restless. Thinking a little exercise might help him focus he decided to nip down to the kitchens to pay Dobby a visit and grab a quick bite. Other than Nearly Headless Nick and a few students aimlessly roaming about, the corridors were completely empty. As he passed the Great Hall he heard a low rumble, the sound of a large group of people talking, dancing, and having fun. The ball was in full swing. For a brief moment part of him longed to be there. It was a strange feeling that surprised him at first–he had spent the last couple of months annoyed with and wanting to be away from people. Doing his best to shrug it off he continued down to the kitchens.

Dobby and the other House Elves were, as usual, incredibly enthusiastic to give him whatever he wanted. After a brief chat with Dobby to see how things were going (apparently he had convinced a few of the other House Elves that wages weren’t so insulting after all), Harry made his way back to Gryffindor Tower, purposefully going the long way to avoid the Great Hall.

The dull, restless feeling returned as he entered the common room. Little had changed since he had left. The group of first and second years still sat lazily by the fire talking. Not wanting to have to turn down another invite for a thrilling game of Gobstones, Harry walked quietly along the far side of the room. He was just about to ascend the staircase to the dormitory when he stopped. Sitting in a chair next to the windows not too far from him, away from the rest of the group, sat a lone, solitary figure with vivid red hair. Curious, (there were only two students in all of Gryffindor house with hair that red, and they were both supposed to be at the ball) Harry walked over to where the person was sitting. It was Ginny.

Wondering what Ginny was doing back in the common room while everyone else was at the dance, Harry began to walk towards her. She looked out the windows, a faraway look in her eyes. She didn’t notice him walk up until he was almost next to her.

“Oh, hey Harry,� she said tiredly. Her cheeks looked slightly flushed as she motioned to a nearby couch. “Have a seat.�

Harry sat. “Er, what are you doing here? How come you’re not at the dance?�

“Dean and I just broke up. I suppose I could go back there, but I don’t really feel like being around a lot of people,� she said with a shrug, her voice flat and emotionless.

Silence. Harry felt very awkward, like he was supposed to say something. He thought back to the year before when Hermione had chastised him for not being nice to Cho Chang when she was crying all over him. What had she said? All he had to do was be nice to her? His mind raced, thinking of something nice to say to Ginny.

“I’m sorry,� came the triumphant product of this thought process. “Er…How are you?�

Ginny shrugged. “I’m fine. It’s for the best. I don’t think we were really that good of a match. It just didn’t click, you know?�

“Yeah,� Harry replied, thinking she had a point. Now that she mentioned it, Dean and Ginny had never really seemed like a real couple. Dean was always so quiet and awkward around her, like he wasn’t totally comfortable. He briefly wondered if telling her that would be considered ‘nice’. Deciding not to risk it, he kept his mouth shut.

Ginny looked up at him suddenly, a curious look on her face. “Can I ask you something?�

Harry nodded uncertainly.

“Is that how it was with you and Cho? It just didn’t ‘click’? I mean, you two didn’t seem to last very long.�

Now it was Harry’s turn to shrug. “I dunno. I suppose so. Though I’m pretty sure our breaking up had more to do with her thinking that I fancied Hermione.�

“Oh yes. I forgot,� Ginny said, her face suddenly breaking into a grin, “You really have a thing for Hermione, don’t you?�

“What?� Harry replied in disbelief.

“I dunno, Harry,� she said in a serious, concerned voice. “If you fancy her, you’d better make your move quick. Because after tonight you’re going to have some real competition.�

“What are you talking about? I don’t like her like that…� Harry said defensively, before realizing that she was only teasing. Ginny laughed.

“Wait, what do you mean, ‘competition’?�

“You don’t know? Ron took her to the ball tonight. From what I saw it looked like they were having a good time too. Good for them, I say, though I still can’t imagine what Hermione sees in my brother.� She said the last word with a look of disgust.

“Well it’s about time,� Harry replied, shaking his head. “Maybe now they’ll stop arguing all the time.�

Ginny looked at him amusedly. “You mean you knew they liked each other? How long have you known?�

Harry shrugged. “Since fourth year, after she went to the Yule Ball with Victor Krum. I’m just glad they finally did something about it.�

Ginny continued to look at him, her eyebrows raised.

“I’m impressed. You’re more observant than I thought, Harry,� she said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?�

Ginny smiled teasingly. “It just means that you, well…Boys, usually aren’t very good at noticing things like that.�

Her gaze lingered on him for a second or two after saying this, causing Harry to wonder if there was something deeper she was talking about. His train of thought was diverted Ginny giving a heavy sigh.

“They shouldn’t even bother though, it will just end some day anyway,� she said cynically as she slumped lower in the chair. “Break-ups are the worst. Now everyone will want to know what happened, and who dumped who, and all that rubbish. Honestly, like there’s nothing more important going on in the world right now than two teenagers breaking up.�

Ginny glanced over her shoulder at the common room behind her. She gave another sigh. “And the last thing I feel like is sitting around here, waiting for everyone to get back.�

Harry nodded his head in agreement. The last thing he felt like doing was going back up to the dormitory and reading that damn book. His eyes rested on the arm of the chair Ginny was sitting in. A small engraving of the Hogwarts had been set into it. The lion, the snake, the badger, the eagle. The eagle for Ravenclaw…

An idea came to Harry’s mind as he stared at the eagle. Ravenclaw. The blue room. Why not search for the blue room at the end of Ravenclaw’s diary? It was a perfect time to do it; all the school was at the ball.

Excitement began to well up inside him. Of course! Why hadn’t he thought of it before? While everyone was occupied at the ball, the path would be almost completely clear. He smiled.

He looked over to see Ginny looking at him curiously.

“What is it? You’ve just had an idea, Potter, I can see it on your face.�

Harry smiled sneakily. “Fancy taking a stroll?�

****

Harry ran back down the stairs from the dormitory, the invisibility cloak tucked into his robes. He met Ginny at the bottom of the stairs.

“What are we doing?� she asked with a look of intense curiosity and excitement on her face.�

“Shhh! Wait until we get outside,� Harry replied.

They walked past the second and first years (some of whom had fallen asleep) and exited through the portrait hole. Ginny kept shooting him questioning glances, the suspense obviously growing with every passing second. The more he thought about it, the more he got excited too. It had been a while since he had snuck around the castle, breaking any number of rules.

By the time they reached the bottom of the moving staircases, Ginny couldn’t take it anymore.

“Ok, ok, there’s no one around! Now would you mind telling me where we’re going?�

Harry glanced around the empty corridor to make sure no one was around. Seeing they were alone, he pulled out the invisibility cloak. “Well, to be honest, I’m not totally sure…�

“Oh, that sounds promising,� Ginny replied sarcastically.

“No, I mean, I know where we’re going, I’ve just never been there.� With a pang of annoyance Harry suddenly realized he had left the Marauder’s Map in the dorm room.

“Ok, so do you mind telling me where exactly that is?� she said with a raised eyebrow.

“The Ravenclaw common room.�

Ginny’s jaw dropped. “The Ravenclaw common room? Are you serious?� she asked in disbelief, though a mischievous smile began to crawl across her face. “Do you know how much detention we would get if they caught us?�

Harry smiled back, the thrill of knowing they could potentially get caught making him feel alive. “We won’t get caught. Everyone is at the dance. All we’ve got to worry about is Filch and Snape.�

“Why do you want to go there?�

Harry remembered that Ginny didn’t know about Ravenclaw’s diary or the Half-Blood Prince. For some reason he had simply assumed that she would. He would have to fill her in.

“Er…I’ll tell you on the way.�

“Do you know where it is?�

“Not exactly,� Harry admitted, his enthusiasm slightly deflated. “Well, I’ve seen it on the Marauder’s Map before. It’s in a tower in the North-West part of the castle. I reckon we can find it.�

“Don’t worry, I know how to get there. It’s a short corridor on the third floor with a statue of an owl set into the wall.� Ginny replied as she pulled her hair back into a pony tail. Harry looked at her questioningly. “Michael Corner once asked me to walk back with him after a DA class last year.�

“You’re going with me then?� Harry said hopefully as he swung the cloak over his back.

“Of course I’m coming with you!� she replied as though it were a ridiculous question. “But if we get caught you’re telling my mum you forced me to come. That’s one Howler I’d prefer got sent to you.�

With that Harry threw the cloak over Ginny and they walked down the main corridor that led to the Great Hall. While it was perfectly within the rules to be walking along the main corridors, soon they would have to take a number of smaller side hallways that, if they were found on, would definitely raise suspicion.

“This is so cool!� Ginny whispered excitedly as they passed a mirror hanging on the wall. She waved an invisible arm. Nothing. The only reflection was the sleeping portraits on the other side of the wall. As they walked Harry filled her in on everything that had happened leading up to their journey to the Ravenclaw common room: Gryffindor’s family tree in Godric’s Hollow; Dumbledore telling him the Half-Blood Prince could win the war; Ravenclaw’s diary–he told her nearly everything, though he didleave out the part about the prophecy and why he was so intent on finding Wulfric Gryffindor in the first place. They had to stop a number of times when a stray student or teacher passed, once they during his narrative, as a stray student or teacher passed, but by the time they had reached the north-west part of the castle he had covered it all.

“Wait, so how do you know this blue room is the Ravenclaw common room?� Ginny asked as he finished telling her about the diary.

“I don’t. Just a hunch, really.�

“Hmmm. That is kind of weird that Ravenclaw would just stick a picture of some random room at the end of her diary and not say anything about it.�

“Actually it did say something. Once it showed me the tall bookcase a voice said, Acclaronius.�

“What’s that, a spell?�

“Must be. I’m not sure.�

“Hmmm,� Ginny bit her lip as she thought. “And Dumbledore didn’t say anything when you asked him about it?�

“Nothing. He just blew it off.�

“Definitely peculiar. It’s got to be some sort of clue. Maybe when you see the bookcase you have to say the words and it reveals a secret passage or something.�

“Maybe. But first we’ve got to find it.� After walking a few more minutes and taking a couple of wrong turns they suddenly found themselves in a short hallway.

Ginny stopped abruptly. “This is it!� she whispered excitedly.

Harry studied the hallway a little closer. A couple of tapestries hung on the wall. About halfway down there was a statue set into the wall, but other than that it looked like a completely normal corridor.

“Are you sure?�

“Yes. Look, that’s the statue I told you about.� She led him to the halfway point of the hallway where a life-sized statue of an owl was engraved into the right-hand wall. Apparently this was the entrance to the Ravenclaw common room. Ginny looked at him expectantly.

“Well this is it. How are we getting in?�

Looking at it Harry realized another oversight he had unfortunately made: They didn’t have the password to get in.

“Er…Michael Corner didn’t tell you the password by chance, did he?�

“You mean you don’t have a plan for getting in? Brilliant Potter.�

“Well, I didn’t really think about it…�

Just then they heard footsteps approaching. They quietly stepped away from the statue and pressed themselves against the opposite wall. Looking down, Harry made sure the cloak was covering them completely. A voice could be heard.

“…frankly I don’t feel she’s quite up to snuff. Sure she’s the head of Hufflepuff house, and I am the last person to criticize our professors, as you know…

The voice had a scholarly, self-important tone to it that sounded familiar. The voice grew louder as its owner walked around the corner. It was Dunston Marlowe, the pedantic Ravenclaw who had been trying to convince everyone that Voldemort only wanted to have his voice heard by the government and that they should respect his views. He was accompanied by Mindy Tippets, another member of the DA, who looked tired and slightly irritated.

“…but there are so many fascinating species of plant that we’ve never even discussed. Fustius Didactus, Egrigious Pomposus, Burmese Water Sprouts, just to name a few. Frankly, I wonder if Professor Sprout even knows about them…Ha Ha Ha!� Dunston laughed in his pompous, superior manner.

The feeling of irritation that typically accompanied hearing Dunston Marlowe talk was expelled immediately as Harry realized their luck. They could simply wait until he and Mindy Tuppets said the password and follow right behind them. He looked at Ginny, who nodded back, realizing the same thing.

“Oh yes, I agree,� said Mindy Tuppets absently.

“Well, here we are,� Dunston said with unnecessary formality. “Allow me.� He turned to the owl.

“Gratis Romile.�

Thinking the entrance to the Ravenclaw common room would follow the same pattern as the Gryffindor and Slytherin ones had, Harry was surprised when, instead of an opening appearing in the wall, the stone owl opened its large stone eyes and blinked and began to speak.

“What is the name of the wizard who founded St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, and in what year was he born?� It asked in a gravely voice.

Harry and Ginny exchanged an incredulous look. The Ravenclaws had to answer a test question to get in their common room?

“I’d take the fat lady’s singing over that any day,� Ginny whispered. Harry nodded, having been thinking the same thing.

“Ah, yes, St. Mungo’s…� Dunston thought out loud “…that would be Mungo Bonham, born in 1560!� He replied triumphantly, grinning smugly at Mindy.

Apparently the answer was correct as the owl gave a low hoot, shut its eyes, and the wall next to it began to move. The giant stone bricks slid back and sideways revealing a doorway. Dunston stood to one side to let Mindy enter, then followed her into the darkness.

Waiting a second longer to make sure they were well through the doorway, Ginny grabbed Harry’s wrist and the two of them walked swiftly across the hall and through the opening just as it began to close. They found themselves in a short, dim hallway that ended in a small staircase. The stones behind them began to grind back into place, drowning out the voice of Dunston, whose feet had just disappeared over the staircase. Waiting another few seconds to make sure Dunston and Mindy Tippets were out of the way, Harry and Ginny climbed silently up the stairs and stepped into the Ravenclaw common room.

Chapter 24

Romance and Ravenclaws



The Ravenclaw common room was an impressive sight. Used to the comfortable, rosy intimacy of the Gryffindor common room, Harry and Ginny were taken back by the wide, spacious feel. It was an open, circular room with high, vaulted ceilings that opened up into wooden rafters. The wall opposite them was covered with tall windows that would undoubtedly offer a spectacular view of the mountains north of Hogwarts during the day. Instead they opened up into a black, star filled sky which made the room seem cold even though it was normal temperature. Alongside the windows hung tall, blue draperies that stretched to the floor. In the center of the room were a dozen or so wooden tables with chairs set around each. To their immediate left and right were curving, stone walls, almost completely covered with old, dusty books.



“Wow. Not bad,� Ginny whispered, voicing Harry’s thoughts exactly. It was a rather stunning room, although it lacked the same comfort and coziness (and mess) of the Gryffindor common room.



“Yeah, Hermione would love this place.�



“I can’t believe this!� Ginny whispered excitedly, “McGonagall’d have kittens if she ever found out. Too bad we don’t have a camera, I’ll bet even Fred and George haven’t done this.�



They walked around a little bit, careful not to make a noise. Moving around through the corridors had been relatively easy. Here they had to be especially careful as the slightest noise could alert the Ravenclaws. Around two or three of these tables sat groups of Ravenclaw second and first years, dead quiet and with books open. Apparently the Ravenclaws passed their time by studying, rather than talking and goofing around like the Gryffindors did. Harry thanked the Sorting Hat once again for sticking him in Gryffindor.



After they had explored a bit, taking in the many differences between this room and their own, Ginny spoke up.



“So? Is this it? Is this your blue room?� she asked in a hushed voice.



Harry had already been thinking about whether or not this was the room he had seen in the diary. It didn’t seem likely. “I dunno. I mean the floor is stone and the room’s tall, but there’s no blue light. And in the diary there was only one bookshelf -- here there’s at least ten.�



“Well, did it look like these?�



Harry examined the bookshelves more carefully. “Kind of. Except these are shorter. And the one I saw had the entire top shelf emptied out.�



“Hmm. Let’s look around more.�



They crept around the room, dodging every time one of the Ravenclaws stood up to retrieve a book. Harry studied each of the bookcases in turn, but none of them matched the one he had seen in the diary. He was beginning to think his hunch about the Ravenclaw common room had been wrong. He also realized it was highly unlikely that they would recognize the bookcase even if they were in the right place -- it was bound to have changed after 1000 years. Perhaps it had been moved. Perhaps the top shelf was filled. Perhaps it didn’t even exist…



They explored the common room for a while longer, Harry’s hope sinking with each passing minute. Nothing. Having reached the far end of the room on the right side of the original entryway, they looked back and surveyed their position.



“Harry, what about over there?� Ginny whispered suddenly, pointing past the entryway and center tables to far side of the room.



“Where? The windows?�



“No, see straight across from us, where the bookshelves end?�



Harry squinted to see where she was pointing. “Yes.�



“See how to the right it kind of goes in, like there’s a smaller room next to it?�



Looking more carefully Harry was able to see what she was talking about. Right where the room began to curve into the window covered wall there was a small, open space, almost like a doorway leading into another room.



“Yeah. Let’s go see.�



They silently made their way across the common room, stopping once when Harry painfully stubbed his toe on a table leg causing a nearby first year to look up from his book and ask fearfully, “Peeves? Is that you?� Moving back to the wall with bookcases, Harry and Ginny walked past the original entryway where the room was the widest to where the room began to narrow again. A number of chairs and smaller tables had been placed in this part of the room as well, making for slow movement.



As they got closer to the opening Ginny had pointed out, Harry’s hope began to rise. It definitely did look like there was another room in there. He was about to say so to Ginny when, without warning, someone spoke.



“Might I have a word with you?�



Harry and Ginny froze. Who had seen them? They looked around frantically but couldn’t see the source of the voice anywhere. Harry could feel his heart pounding against his chest. Ginny had stopped breathing.



The voice spoke again.



“Mindy, I have something I would like to discuss with you.�



Mindy? Relaxing slightly, Harry realized that the voice was coming from the other side of a leather chair not four feet away from them. Ginny exhaled. It was Dunston Marlowe, and apparently he wanted a word with Mindy Tuppets, not them. They hadn’t even seen them sitting there. Not daring to move and risk being heard, Harry and Ginny stood still. All they could do was listen.



“Yes…more assertive…females like assertiveness…� they heard Dunston mumble next, though his voice was so low they couldn’t be sure. The next thing he said, however, was perfectly audible.



“Now, we’ve been acquainted ever since our first year.� His voice sounded grandiose, yet slightly nervous, as if he were trying to say something extremely difficult. “We arrived at this institution together, and, in a way, have grown up together. Well, what I’m trying to say is…I have a certain fondness for you, and it seems fairly obvious that you have a fondness for me too.�



Ginny exchanged an incredulous look with Harry under the cloak. Had they just stumbled across Dunston Marlowe declaring his love?



“I should have done it! I should have told her…� said Dunston, his voice changing into a helpless, frustrated tone. This time Ginny and Harry looked confusedly at one another. Who was he talking to? They heard mumbling from the other side of the chair, as though Dunston were now talking into his hands. Slowly, making sure the cloak didn’t come off her head, Ginny craned her neck around the side of the chair. She quickly whipped it back, covering her mouth with her hand in an effort not to burst out laughing.



“He’s alone,� she whispered. “He’s just…practicing.�



Dunston had started up again. “Look, I know we both have feelings for each other, I mean, that has been evident ever since we both reached for the same bowl of pickled eel liver in Potions last year. Why deny it anymore?�



Ginny snickered out loud, then shot her hand over her mouth. Harry shot her a warning look.



“…I guess what I’m trying to say is, I think a relationship, a more…romantic relationship, if you will…would be mutually beneficial to the both of us.�



Harry felt his mouth start twitching despite himself. He had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing out loud. The way Dunston was talking you would think he were negotiating international policy rather than telling a girl he fancied her. Realizing they were at much greater risk of being discovered if they stood there listening to him pour out his feelings than they were of trying to sneak past, Harry grabbed Ginny’s arm and pulled her towards away from the leather chair.



They moved carefully, slowly, doing their best not to make a sound. Once they had put several yards between themselves and Dunston they relaxed.



“That was close,� Harry said in relief.



Ginny’s face was bright red with stifled laughter. “That was torture! Did you hear him? He all but told the couch he was in love with it.�



“Yeah, but I don’t think Mindy will be as receptive as it was. By the look of things she feels the same way about him as I do.�



Ginny suddenly tugged on the sleeve of Harry’s robe, motioning forwards with her head. Harry looked up to see the small opening in the wall directly in front of them, only it wasn’t the small, hidden entryway he had thought. Instead an old, slightly crumbling archway stood in the wall, opening up into a smaller ante-chamber. Curious, they entered the room.



Like the common room the ante-chamber was a round, stone room with one wall covered almost entirely in windows. This room was much smaller, however, and seemed to be older than the room they had just been in. The stones in the floor were of a different cut and were smooth and rounded from centuries of foot traffic. Against the wall opposite from the windows stood a…



Harry’s jaw dropped in utter disbelief.



Stood a tall, wooden bookshelf with the top shelf completely empty.



“That’s it!� he hissed to Ginny.



“What?�



“That’s the bookcase I saw in the diary!� he said in a low voice, in case Dunston could hear them from around the corner.



Ginny threw off the invisibility cloak.



“Are you positive?�



“Yes.�



She looked excitedly at Harry as she walked up to the bookshelf and ran her hand along its corner. Suddenly her brow furrowed.



“Wait. You said the room had a weird blue glow to it. If this is really the right room, where’s the blue glow?�



She had a point. Standing directly in front of the bookshelf, Harry tried to picture exactly what he had seen in the diary. Stone floor, tall, wooden bookcase with the top shelf empty, everything bathed in a calming, blue light -- It was all there except for the blue glow. In the diary it seemed to come from behind him…



Turning around, Harry studied the wall opposite the bookshelf. It looked like any other part of the wall; grey stone with long, narrow windows set into it. These windows were shaped a little different than the others, however, and on further inspection they seemed to be made of a different material. While the other windows were clear and the stars could be seen perfectly through them, these ones had a rippling surface like a frozen sea and the like came through murky and distorted.



“Stained glass,� whispered Ginny, who had walked up beside Harry to investigate. She pulled her wand out and whispered “Lumos�. Shining the beam of light in the corner of the window away from the common room so no one would see, they saw the glass had a deep blue tone to it.



“Harry, was it day time in the diary when you saw this room?�



He had already come to the same conclusion she had. “Yes. The sun would’ve been shining through these windows, making the whole room blue. This is it…�



They smiled excitedly. Suddenly Ginny whipped the cloak off Harry and threw it over her shoulders, vanishing into thin air. He heard the swishing of robes as Ginny walked past him back through the open doorway.



“Er…what’re you doing?� Harry whispered in confusion.



Suddenly, from around the corner there was a sharp crack followed by the sound of a large number of books crashing to the ground off in the distance. A couple of seconds passed, then:



“Hey! You lot! I hope you plan on picking those up, Hansen. Don’t get cheeky with me!�



A couple seconds later Ginny appeared right beside him, wand in hand and giggling. “Hurry! Loverboy over there should be distracted for at least a minute,� she urged.



After taking a brief moment to marvel at Ginny’s ingenuity, Harry pulled out his wand, turned to face the bookshelf, and took a deep breath. This was it. Time to see if all this had been for real or just a stupid hunch.



“Acclaronius!�



Half expecting the bookcase to turn into a secret passageway, half expecting nothing to happen at all, Harry was surprised when a strange, dark object suddenly appeared in the center of the top shelf.



Ginny gasped.



“What…what is it?�



Looking closer Harry could see it was a dark, thick rectangle, with a midnight blue cover…a book.



Heart pounding with excitement he reached for the book. It was too high. “Accio book!� he whispered. It flew into his hand. He looked at the cover. He had seen it before. The same strange, silvery writing he had seen on the first one.



“It’s another one…�



“Another one what?�



Puzzled, Harry opened the book and scanned through the pages. Small, spidery writing stretched across each page.



“Another diary…�



Ginny looked at the diary, then back to him. “Wait. The last diary told you about the founders, then gave you a clue on where to find this one. Does that mean this one will tell something more about them, then have another clue at the end of it? Like some sort of…treasure hunt?�



“I don’t know. Possibly,� Harry replied. Dumbledore had never said anything about a second diary, and he couldn’t ask him about it until he had shared the prophecy. A strange thought occurred to Harry. What if Dumbledore didn’t even know about it? What if he was the first one to find where it was hidden…



“Well read it! See what it says!� Ginny urged.



“We can’t read it here, it takes a while. It kind of…well...puts you in a trance.� Harry explained. Noticing that it was silent in the Ravenclaw common room again he added, “We should get out of here.�



Ginny looked over her shoulder, then back at Harry and nodded. He slipped the diary under his robes and lifted the invisibility cloak over them. With a last glance at the room they walked through the doorway and back into the Ravenclaw common room.



Harry’s mind was abuzz. A second diary? What was in it? Would it point them towards Wulfric Gryffindor? And what if it wasn’t the last diary? What if there was another one? How many would there be?



Harry walked through the common room, lost in his thoughts until Ginny tugged on his arm and snapped him out of his reverie. She pointed ahead. Dunston Marlowe had returned to his previous seat, apparently finished chastising the first years for spilling books. He was still mumbling to himself. The tall leather chair he was sitting in had been moved back a couple of feet, making the small gap they had snuck through much tighter. It would be nearly impossible to squeeze back through it without being detected.



The only other option was to try and sneak by in front of him. There was plenty of space, but they would have to be extremely quiet…



“What do you reckon?� Harry whispered to Ginny.



“Let’s go around. It’d be easier than trying to squeeze behind.�



Slowly, cautiously, they began walking towards the chair Dunston Marlowe was sitting in. Luckily he was looking at the floor, a faraway look in his eyes. Soon they were directly in front of him. They could hear what he was saying.



“…I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, Mindy. It’s like I have a giddy charm on me all the time…�



Harry quickly stifled a laugh and looked warningly at Ginny, who was trembling slightly. A couple more steps…



Suddenly, expectedly, Dunston looked up. His face was serious. In his right hand he held a small pillow that had been lying on the couch. Slowly, inexplicably, he raised the pillow in front of him so he was looking directly at it.



“I want you to be mine, Mindy. I love you.� With that he brought the pillow to his face, cupping it with his hands, and kissed it tenderly.



It was too much. They couldn’t take any more. The laughter exploded out of their lungs like a dam bursting.



“HAHAHAHAHA!�



Dunston jumped up and whirled around. “Who’s there!� he took a few steps back, tripped over the leg of the chair, and tumbled onto his back, legs flying in the air.



“Go. GO!� Harry shouted as he pushed Ginny. They tore through the Ravenclaw common room, all caution blown to the wind. The first and second years looked over at Dunston (who was still scrambling to get up) curiously.



Apparently the dance had ended, as a number of older students had returned to the common. Doing their best to dodge them (though failing a couple of times), Harry and Ginny rushed out of the common room and back into the hallway, laughing uncontrollably the entire way.



*****



Harry returned to his own dormitory that night (holding the second diary securely under his robes) to find Dean, Seamus, and Neville sitting on their beds talking. Dress robes had been strewn messily about the room. Dean had been in the middle of explaining something to the other two.



“Oh, hi Harry.�



“Hey Harry,� Seamus and Neville said automatically.



“…so then I just told her that I thought she was nice, but that we should just be friends…� Harry overheard Dean say as he walked to the other side of the room and tried his best to nonchalantly place Ravenclaw’s diary in his trunk. He tucked it under a few sets of robes to keep it hidden. He could hardly wait to read it. He pulled his robes off and rolled onto the bed. Perhaps he could read it tonight, perhaps when the others fell asleep…



“…she seemed to take it pretty well. Cried a little bit, of course, but you’ve got to do what you’ve got to do…�



Just then the door opened and Ron entered the room with a dreamy, contented expression on his face. Dean immediately went quiet.



“Hey guys,� he said absently.



“Hey Ron. How was your night?� Seamus asked, an amused look on his face.



“Good.� He stopped suddenly, seeming to snap out of his dream-like state.



“Oh, hey, Dean. Look, I just wanted to tell you sorry for being such a git about you and my sister. I mean, I know you’re a good guy and that you wouldn’t ever do anything to her, so…er, sorry.�



Seamus started laughing. Neville inhaled sharply. Dean looked pleadingly at Seamus.



“Well, er…actually Ron…� Dean stammered, awkwardly.



Seamus stopped laughing and grinned at Dean, who was looking frantically about the room as though trying to find something to hide under. Ron’s brow furrowed.



“What’s going on?�



Seamus watched Dean expectantly. When Dean didn’t say anything, he answered for him.



“He just dumped her!�



Dean looked up at Ron with a terrified look in his face. Ron’s face went from confusion to anger.



“You dumped my sister on the night of the Halloween Ball?� He pulled his wand out from under his robes.



“No, no! She dumped me! She said she felt it just wasn’t clicking and that we’d be better off…�



“You liar! You told us you broke up with her!� interrupted Seamus.



“It was a lie! Honest Ron, it was her decision, I…� Dean said frantically. But it was no use. Ron pointed his wand at Dean and muttered something Harry couldn't hear. There was a bright flash and a startled yelp, almost immediately followed by the unmistakable sound of vomiting as the scent of slugs filled the air.

Chapter 25




The Second Diary of Rowena Ravenclaw



The next morning Harry and Ron made their way down to breakfast, Ron half-heartedly muttering an apology to Dean as they left (it had taken nearly all night to reverse the hex he had put on him). The after effects of the Halloween Ball could be seen on almost the entire school, as most of the students trudged groggily to their house tables looking like they could have used a few more hours of sleep.



Hermione was already sitting down and had started on breakfast when they arrived. Harry took the seat across from her. Ron was about to sit down next to Harry when he paused, looked at the open seat next to Hermione, then back at the seat next to Harry, hesitated as if caught up in some sort of inward struggle, then took the seat next to Hermione.



“Good morning Harry. Hi Ron,� she greeted them. Harry caught the small, self-conscious smile that passed between the two.



“Morning.�



“Hi,� said Ron. “Er…did you sleep all right?�



“Yes. Yes, I did. How about you?�



“Fine. Yeah, no problems at all.�



Feeling embarrassed for them, Harry looked down the table to see who else was around. Seamus and Lavender were sitting close by, chatting with Neville. Next to them Parvati Patil sat talking with her twin sister Padma (who Harry was pretty sure he and Ginny had bowled over in their haste to get out of the Ravenclaw common room the previous night.) Further down the table Ginny sat chatting with some of her fifth-year friends. She looked up suddenly and they made eye contact, then excused herself from her friends and slid into the empty seat next to Harry.



“So?� she said in an eager whisper. “What’s in it?�




She meant the diary. He hadn’t had time to read it yet—after Ron’s assault at Dean had been sorted out he had gone straight to bed. Luckily it was the weekend and he had most of today free.



“Dunno. I haven’t had a chance to read it yet. Thought I’d do it today, as soon as breakfast is over.�



Harry paused for a moment. He had been thinking -- It seemed kind of selfish that he alone would get to read the diary, hadn’t Ginny done just as much as he had to find it? Wasn’t it fair that she read it too? He took a quick glance at Ron and Hermione. Seeing that they were still occupied with their inane conversation, he leaned towards Ginny and whispered.



“Do you want to read it too?�



Ginny furrowed her brow as if surprised. “What?� she whispered back.



“Well you helped me find it, didn’t you? It only seems fair that you should read it too.�



She cast her eyes downward and shook her head, a strand of scarlet hair falling over her freckled face. Harry thought her countenance darkened slightly. “No, I’ve had enough of magical diaries. You can just tell me what’s in it once you’ve read it.� At first Harry was confused by the comment, but then he understood. Tom Riddle’s diary. Ginny had had quite an adventure with it her first year. He’d probably feel the same way if it were him.




Ginny looked back up, forcing a smile. “Don’t let Hermione hear you offering to let people read it though. She’d do her nut if she thought there was a chance she could read that book.�



Harry cast a sideways glance at Ron and Hermione. “Well, actually…�



“You haven’t told them about it yet?�



Hermione looked up.



“Told us about what?� she asked. Ron looked curiously at them.



Harry looked around to make sure no one was eavesdropping. The Great Hall wasn’t the best place to have a confidential conversation.



“I—well, we� he said, nodding at Ginny, “found Rowena Ravenclaw’s second diary last night.�




Hermione gasped. Ron looked amazed.




“Really, where was it? Was it in that blue room you were talking about? What did it say?� Hermione rattled off, all in the same amount of time it took Ron to say a prolonged, “Bli—mey.�




“But where was it?�




Harry was about to tell them all about their adventure in Ravenclaw common room, then hesitated. Breaking into another house’s common room was a pretty serious offense. Sure, Hermione had broken plenty of rules with them before, but it wasn’t always easy to judge when she would rule breaking acceptable or not. While trying to decide if this was one of those times, Ginny suddenly chimed in.



“In the library. There’s a hidden room off past the restricted section. We had to take the invisibility cloak to get there,� she answered without skipping a beat. Hermione and Ron bought it instantly.



“Incredible,� Hermione said in awe. “It was right there, under our noses the whole time.�




Harry cast a sideways glance at Ginny, impressed by how quickly and convincingly she could lie when she needed to. Ginny gave a sly, half-smile back.




“So how’d’you get it? What happened?� Ron asked interestedly.



Leaning forward so no one else could hear, Harry gave Ron and Hermione an abbreviated version of everything that had happened that night, substituting the Ravenclaw common room for the library.




“So I haven’t had a chance to read it yet, it’s in my trunk. I reckon I’ll get to it later today.�




Hermione’s expression immediately changed from awe to indignation. “You mean you took it out of the library?� she hissed. “Harry, that book is 1000 years old! Do you know how valuable it is? And you just threw it in your trunk like it was some muggle comic book?�




Harry was startled. He hadn’t expected this reaction. To tell the truth, he hadn’t even considered whether it was right to take the diary or not. Suddenly he began to feel worried. This time it was Ron who jumped to the rescue.




“Hermione, relax. No one else even knows that the book exists. It’s not like Madame Pince is going to miss it.�




“Yeah, settle down. It’s not like Harry’s going to keep it. Right Harry?� added Ginny, looking at him.




Harry looked back at her. Actually, he was kind of hoping he could keep the book. After all, he had found it, hadn’t he? Like Ron said, it wasn’t like anyone else was going to miss it. It would make a nice little souvenir…




“Er…of course not.�




Hermione still didn’t look entirely convinced. Suddenly Ginny broke in.




“Look Hermione, how was Harry supposed to read it without taking it? This is important. If we find out what happened to Wulfric Gryffindor we will be able to defeat Voldemort. Besides, we wanted you to look at it too.�




Hermione brightened instantly.




“Well, I, er, suppose it would be ok. I mean, we need to be able to study it at leisure don’t we? But not just because I want to read it!� she interjected harshly. “But because I think it’s important for the war that we understand it thoroughly.�




Ginny rolled her eyes and shook her head. Ron looked at her in amusement.




“You’re a horrible liar Hermione,� he said with a grin.




The rest of breakfast passed uneventfully, with the exception of Professor Grendelhall putting a Ravenclaw seventh year in detention for “improper horsing around�. Normally they wouldn’t have given it much thought except that the “horsing around� consisted of the boy doing no more than dropping his fork as Professor Grendelhall walked past.




“That one’s detention happy, she is,� Ron said as they exited the Great Hall. “She put three different Slytherins in detention just last week. Got that Hufflepuff bloke Kearney in the halls yesterday for ‘disrespecting school property’. All he did was hang his bag off of Wahilda the Warty’s arm while he did up his trainers.�




Now that Ron mentioned it, Professor Grendelhall did seem rather prone to handing out detentions. The Slytherins in their Defense Against the Dark Arts class had each been sent to detention at least once. Nott had been twice. Strangely enough she seemed to give it to Slytherins the most. Occasionally a Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff would get one, but never a Gryffindor.




“D’you guys reckon Professor Grendelhall was a Gryffindor?� Harry asked as they made their way up the staircase.




“Possibly. Why?� Hermione asked.




“Well, she seems to favor us, doesn’t she? I mean, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her give a Gryffindor a detention. Seems to have it in for the Slytherins though.�




Hermione was about to answer when Ron interrupted.




“About time, I say. All those years of putting up with Snape’s favoritism and not getting a bit of our own from McGonagall. Finally someone’s looking out for us.�




“It’s not funny Ron,� Hermione quipped. “Teachers should be objective and not play favorites for anyone.�




Ron opened his mouth to argue, paused suddenly, then closed his mouth and said nothing.




***



After breakfast Harry rushed up to the dormitory, fished through his trunk, found the diary, slipped it into his robes and went to the Gryffindor common room where Hermione, Ron, and Ginny were waiting. Now that he thought about it, it really was a good idea to have Hermione read the diary too—she did have a knack for finding clues and details. She also knew more about Hogwarts history than the rest of them combined.




They decided to go to a small hidden room on the second floor that Harry had seen on the Marauder’s Map for the reading. The Room of Requirement was no longer safe, as so many of the students knew about it by now. The plan was to have Ginny and Ron stand guard while Harry and Hermione read the book. Harry wasn’t sure if two people could read it at once, but thought it was worth a try.




Sitting side by side with Hermione at an old desk they had found in the room, Harry pulled open the cover. Hermione’s face was aglow with excitement as he slowly turned the pages, coming to a stop at the beginning.




The spidery, black writing was the same as the first diary. “It’s kind of tough to read, but if you just wait it will start to read on its own,� Harry advised Hermione.




“I’m fine,� she replied impatiently, “I’ve read texts like this before.� Her eyes were flitting from side to side in a matter of seconds. Surprised, Harry looked back at the book and waited for the words to start moving like they had the last time. He waited. Nothing seemed to be happening. He looked over at Hermione and was surprised to see her eyes had stopped moving but had a faraway look in them. Her mouth was slightly open. He looked back at the book. Nothing seemed to be happening. Maybe he had to start reading it for the magic to kick in.




Taking a deep breath, he went to the beginning of the entry and began the laborious reading.




“1014. Ho…Hogwart’s School…of…Witch…craft…and…Wizardry. Ow…our..s..school has fl..flour..flourished and…we…find ow..ourselves…en, encumbered…with the task of…management.�




The words began to move on their own accord. Soon Harry was hearing the strange voice in his head, reading them out loud.




“Having had more experience in charms than the other founders, I had been assigned to teach the advanced charms class…�




Slowly the room around him began to fade. The table the diary was resting on disappeared and a stone floor appeared. Ron and Ginny, who had been talking by the doorway, were replaced by a bookcase. Soon the entire room disappeared altogether, and Harry found himself in a large, rectangular classroom filled with students. For a split second he thought he was in a DA meeting: a long classroom, students divided into pairs, wands out, all looking up at him. Except these students seemed to be frightened, as if something alarming had just happened.




“Abernathy, I will not ask you again. Your constant interruptions have become quite tedious. If it does not stop I will ask you to remove yourself from my classroom,� said a cool, even voice that Harry recognized immediately as Rowena Ravenclaw’s. There was a definite edge to it that he hadn’t heard before. Looking out at the assembled students Harry noted a short, stocky boy towards the back who blushed and hung his head in shame. The rest of the students watched him anxiously.




“Sorry Mistress,� the boy named Abernathy said.




“Do not let it happen again,� replied the cool, steely voice. “Now, let us resume our practicing. Be advised that the precise intonation and wand movement are necessary in order for it to work properly. You may begin.�




Ravenclaw then walked around the classroom inspecting the students’ wandwork, giving Harry the opportunity to get a closer look at them. It was a vastly different group than you would find in a modern day Hogwarts class. All different age groups combined; some of the students were younger than first years, a few of them were much older, possibly even Tonks’s or Bill Weasley’s age. Apparently there were no official school uniforms yet -- some students wore fancy robes of varying color and style, others nothing more than common farming garments.




After circling the room twice Ravenclaw called for an end to the practicing. The class put their wands down and listened attentively. She gave a few more pieces of instruction then dismissed the class. Harry watched the students file out, noticing Abernathy bragging noisily to a pair of fellow students, all previous embarrassment forgotten. Ravenclaw followed the students out of the classroom and into the hallway, giving Harry his first view of what the halls of Hogwarts looked like 1000 years before.




At first it was barely recognizable. The stones that made up the walls and floor were newer and less worn. The walls had only a few paintings and tapestries hanging on them, another huge contrast with the modern day Hogwarts whose walls were covered with them. At first he couldn’t recognize where they were, until they passed a large open room that Harry recognized as the Great Hall. Apparently they hadn’t enchanted the ceiling to match the outside weather yet. The castle also seemed a bit smaller than Harry was used to.




Ravenclaw glided through the corridors, nodding to an occasional student but for the most part looking straight ahead as though she were lost in thought. The corridors were filled with students, though there weren’t nearly as many as he was used to. Harry saw that the range of ages in the school followed that in Ravenclaw’s classroom, as several older students who looked like they were nearly adults passed by him. Most of the students halted in their happy conversations when they saw Ravenclaw walk by and gave slight bows or curtseys.




Along the way, right around where the entry hall would have been, Harry was joined by Godric Gryffindor. His hair had a little more grey and a few more wrinkles had stretched across his noble brow, but for the most part Gryffindor looked as energetic and healthy as ever.




“Hello Rowena,� he said with warmness though he seemed a little exhausted.




“Greetings, Godric,� she replied as Gryffindor fell into place alongside them. Ravenclaw sounded a bit exhausted herself.




“Eventful day of instruction for you?�




“Fairly. The Advanced Transfiguration class has made some definite progress, as has Elementary Intonation and Wandwork. Unfortunately, however, the same can’t be said for Beginning Charms. You?�




“Hectic day. Drivelsworth accidentally gave poor Genieve McCullough a set of fully grown tusks in Alchemy this morning. The scoundrel. Took me nearly half an hour to track Helga down so she could reverse it,� said Gryffindor with a small chuckle as they approached a sturdy wooden door. Godric pushed it open, revealing a spiral stone staircase.




“Well, let us see how our esteemed colleagues have fared. After you.�




“Thank you, Godric.�




They walked up the staircase and into a large circular room. It occurred to Harry that they had just entered Dumbledore’s office. It seemed much bigger, most likely due to the absence of all the tables with the small silver instruments on them. The walls were also bear, as there hadn’t been any portraits of past headmaster’s to hang up yet. The only furnishings in the room were a few bookcases, a chair or two, and a round, wooden table in the center of the room. Around the table were four large, sturdy chairs, one of which was occupied by Helga Hufflepuff.




“Hello Rowena, Godric. The end of another day,� she said cheerfully, raising a glass filled with some sort of liquid in their direction.




“Ah, Helga. I was just telling Rowena about the exploits of young Drivelsworth. I trust you were able to restore everything to its proper order?� said Gryffindor as he sat down next to her.




“Ms. McCullough is right as rain, Godric. Was able to remove the tusks and get her back on her feet in a matter of minutes.�




“Excellent! I suppose she was mightily embarrassed, which explains why she never returned to class afterwards. You know, I think Drivelsworth is quite taken with her. Some lads just don’t know how to show it, you know,� he chuckled as he tapped his wand on the table, causing a stein filled with amber liquid to appear on the table.




“You know, perhaps it is time you learned a bit of the healing arts yourself, Godric,� Ravenclaw said almost teasingly. “Then you wouldn’t be so dependant on Helga’s expertise.�




Gryffindor shook his head. “I’ve tried. Don’t have much of a gift for healing, I’m afraid. Not like our friend Helga here. Why, don’t you know that…�




Just then the door to the office slammed closed and a tall, lithe figure entered the room. Slytherin. He looked angry.




“Never again! I’ll never have one of those…those half-breeds in my classroom again!� he exclaimed as he swept towards them. Harry saw Godric and Helga Hufflepuff exchange a worried glance. Slytherin came to a stop at the table next to Harry and stood towering over the other founders.




“Now Salazar, calm yourself…� Gryffindor began but was interrupted.




“I took that boy as a personal favor to you two,� he nodded towards Godric and Helga Hufflepuff, “and did so against my better judgment. I was fully aware that he would not have the talent nor intellectual capacity to succeed -- none of his kind does -- but thought I would give you the courtesy of trying. No more.� He remained standing, his long, grey beard swaying not too far away from Harry.



“What happened, Salazar?� asked Ravenclaw.




His voice controlled, yet seething with contempt, he looked down at Ravenclaw and straight into Harry’s eyes. “The young brute engaged in fisticuffs with Dawlson and Snogby, two of my finest students. It is the muggle blood in him, I am sure.�




Hufflepuff gave a startled “Oh my.� Gryffindor shook his head.




Salazar Slytherin took a deep breath as if to compose himself, then looked at each of the founders.




“From this point forward I will no longer accept any student who is not of pure wizard heritage. They do not have the intellectual capacity to understand the finer points of magic, and the muggle blood in them dilutes any magical ability they might have had were they born of clean parentage.�




“Are we to punish these children for decisions made by their parents? It is not their fault they were born as they are,� said Godric quietly. His voice was calm and composed on the surface, yet Harry could sense fire not far beneath.




“Then it is their parents fault, and they should have known better than to defile the wizarding race,� Slytherin replied in a hiss.




The statement seemed to have hit a nerve with Godric, who slammed his hand on the table. “They are not defiled! A half-blood is just as able to perform magic as any pure blood!�




Slytherin gazed at him coolly, calculatingly. “Then I am sure you will have no problem taking the half-bloods from me, as I do not share your belief.�




Godric looked back at him. Silence. For a moment Harry thought Gryffindor was about to pull his wand out and jinx Slytherin into the ground. Instead he exhaled and lowered his head.




“I welcome them to my classroom.�




Slytherin nodded in approval. “I am sure you will Godric.� With that he turned and walked out of the office. The other three founders sat in silence for some time. It was Hufflepuff that spoke first.




“Well, we tried our best. Though I think we both knew inside that it wouldn’t work out. The man is too stubborn to change.�




Godric shook his head in disappointment. “But Donaldson. You know just as well as I do that he is one of the finest students in our school. Intelligent, affable -- I really thought he would be able to change Salazar’s mind. Then he engages in fisticuffs with other students? That’s not like him. Not like him at all.�




“More than likely he was provoked,� said Ravenclaw. The other two founders looked at her curiously.




“Consider the environment. A classroom full of superior students, all of whom are pure-blood and have been taught by Salazar to despise those who are not. Donaldson, a talented, capable half-blood is transplanted into it. The natural reaction of the class is to reject him.�




Godric and Hufflepuff looked at Harry quietly as they digested the information. Then Godric nodded his head wearily. “You are right. As usual, you are exactly right. I should have foreseen this happening. I’m afraid I put Donaldson in a very tough situation. I shall apologize to him and bring him back into my classroom immediately.�




“Don’t worry about that lad, Godric. He’ll be all right,� said Hufflepuff consolingly. “We did what we could. You mustn’t blame yourself. How else could we help Slytherin see the error of his beliefs? I’m as much to blame as you are.�




She looked up at Harry.




“What do you think, Rowena? Were we wrong to attempt this?�




Ravenclaw was silent for a moment. Harry could only guess she was thinking. At length she spoke.




“I think Salazar is a very intelligent, very capable and very wise man. He is also very proud and stubborn. I doubt he could be convinced to believe anything that isn’t in harmony with what he wants to believe. I think it best for all of us if you give up trying to convert him to your way of thinking.�




“I already have,� chuckled Hufflepuff.




Godric looked at the two of them for a while. He sighed resignedly. “You are right, of course. I do give up.�




The three were silent again, each lost in their own thoughts. This time it was Godric who spoke first.




“Well, what shall we do about Salazar’s, er…request?"



Hufflepuff shook her head wearily. “We’ll have to respect his wishes. There’s really nothing else we can do, is there? That old reptile isn’t about to change his beliefs, and it would be doing any half-blooded student a disservice to keep them in his classroom. I suppose we will have to pull them out and divide them amongst ourselves.�




“I agree,� replied Ravenclaw.




“As do I,� said Gryffindor. He ran his hand through his beard, apparently lost in thought. “You know, if I am going to gain a few of Salazar’s students, I wouldn’t mind giving him a few of my own. That young fellow Bodkins—lanky boy, good with jinxes, always has a shifty look in his eyes—he’s always spouting self-indulgent tripe about the prominence of his family. Salazar should take a liking to him immediately.�




“Tsk, tsk, tsk,� Helga Hufflepuff scolded gently.




“Same for Cratchet and Nikkelblum. Devious and underhanded little devils, wouldn’t mind having them off my hands at all. I prefer students that have a backbone to them.�




“Well perhaps I could interest you in a few of my students Godric. I cannot run a simple summoning exercise for five minutes without young Abernathy causing a stir. I had to threaten to throw him out to get any quiet in there.�




Godric looked at Harry for a second, puzzled. “You mean Dinbell Abernathy? Stout lad, strong jaw?�




“As quiet as a banshee? That’s the one. I wouldn’t mind having him off my hands.�




“Really?� Godric said incredulously. “Always had a fondness for that young fellow, can’t believe you wouldn’t want him. He does have some fire in him, I’ll give you that, but you just need to know how to handle those sort.�




“I suppose so, though I think your temperament is better suited to such a task than mine,� Harry heard Ravenclaw say.



“Ha! And what sort of student would fit your temperament, may I ask?�




Ravenclaw thought for a moment. “I prefer the more studious sort, students like Annabelle Haskins and Clark Pederson. Students who take learning seriously and leave the competition and games for the children.�




“The insufferable bores, in other words,� Gryffindor teased slightly. Both he and Ravenclaw were talking more and more animatedly, as if they were on to something. “What about Hector Divelbliss? Medium sized lad, brown hair, can never get him to say more than a few words at a time. He would be a perfect fit, no?�




Ravenclaw was silent for a few seconds before responding. “Yes, I believe I know the boy, though I take exception to your assumption that a reclusive personality signifies academic prowess. That student is simply dull. I doubt he has the capacity to excel in intellectual pursuits. I feel he would be better off…�




“An insufferable bore? Doesn’t have the capacity to excel? Shame on you!� Hufflepuff broke in suddenly, hands on hips in an indignant stance that was oddly reminiscent of Mrs. Weasley. “That young man is a dear. He may not be the boldest boy in the school, nor the smartest, but there are other attributes than courage and intellect that make a person valuable.�




“You are right of course, Helga. My apologies,� Godric said with a gentlemanly bow.




“And mine,� added Ravenclaw. “We do not mean to sound harsh. We are merely suggesting that you, Godric, Salazar, and myself each have unique talents and capabilities that make us a natural match for certain students. Wouldn’t it be advantageous for us to, well…rearrange the students in order to achieve an optimal teaching arrangement?




“Dividing up the school, you mean?� said Hufflepuff.




“You know, the idea definitely has merit,� Gryffindor said, stroking his beard thoughtfully. “I mean, we are going to have to rearrange some of the students anyway to accommodate Salazar, why not reorganize all of them to put them with the teacher who can teach them the most effectively?�




Hufflepuff looked back at them uneasily. She was clearly uncomfortable with the idea.




“It’s just not right. It would only create division.�




“Come now Helga. You must admit there are some students who would much rather teach than others.�




Hufflepuff shook her head. “Perhaps so, Godric, but I believe everyone has the right to learn. My preference in students shouldn’t affect my teaching.�




“Yes, but couldn’t we be more effective teachers if we worked with those whose personalities matched our own?� asked Ravenclaw in her even, logical tone.




Hufflepuff looked from one to the other, her plump face frowning. She didn’t say anything.




“Look, Helga, we’re not proposing that we do this right now,� Gryffindor said with a small chuckle, “but let’s at least think it over. It may be worth looking into.�




Hufflepuff looked back at them, shrugged, and sat back down.




With that Godric and Ravenclaw resumed discussing the advantages of the sorting. Harry didn’t hear what they were saying, however, as his attention was on Helga Hufflepuff. She sat watching the other two, a sad, almost pitying look on her face.




The room began to fade away. Slowly the table he was sitting at disappeared, and a new room came into view. Again he found himself facing a wooden bookshelf, its top shelf completely empty. It was shorter than the last one had been – maybe only half as tall. The room was small, cramped, and rectangular. The ceiling was low and had beams of wood crisscrossing along it. A low, raspy voice, the same voice Harry heard in the first diary, spoke out.



“Arcana Fateorus�




Soon the second room began to disappear, and Harry found himself back in the second floor room with Ron, Ginny and Hermione. Ron and Ginny were listening intently to Hermione, who appeared to be telling them what she had seen in the diary. Noticing he had finished reading, Hermione stopped talking and turned to him.




“The room at the end of the diary. Did you recognize it?� she asked, Ron and Ginny watching him intently.




He shook his head. Ron and Ginny’s faces sunk in disappointment. “You?�




“No,� she said, shaking her head sadly. Harry looked back down at the diary. Somehow it was on the last page, even though they hadn’t touched it. The arcane writing stopped halfway down the page.




“She was right though, wasn’t she? Hufflepuff?� said Hermione. Harry looked up at to see a sorrowful, resigned look in her eyes.




“Hogwarts is divided.�

Chapter 26- Voldemort Strikes


The thrill Harry had felt at finding the second diary quickly disappeared, replaced by an overwhelming curiosity and desire to find the next one. While it had been interesting to see what Hogwarts was like a thousand years ago and the origins of the sorting ceremony, the second diary hadn’t told them anything about the Half-Blood Prince. Who was he? What did the founding of Hogwarts have to do with him? And, most importantly, why did Dumbledore believe locating his tomb is the key to winning the war against Voldemort? All these questions and more nagged at Harry over the next few weeks, driving him to locate the cramped, rectangular room with wooden cross-beams.

Unfortunately, they had absolutely no idea where to find it.

“What about up by Trelawney’s classroom? There’re quite a few empty rooms up there. Probably because no one can stand being by the dingy old bat,� Ron suggested one day in NEWT Transfiguration class. McGonagall had assigned them the task of turning small, fuzzy, black caterpillars into fully grown bulldogs, though Harry’s looked more like a scraggly dark Chihuahua with a mohawk. Several weeks had passed since they had read the second diary.

“No, I checked already. Last week, after Ancient Runes,� Hermione said absently as she scratched her perfectly formed bulldog behind the ears. “All the ceilings over there are made of stone.�

“Well, what about her classroom then?� Ron said in frustration as his caterpillar (which was now the size of a large banana) flopped onto its back, knocking over a bottle of ink.

“We’ve already been over this. Her classroom’s got wooden beams, but it’s much too large and high to be the room we saw in the diary,� said Harry. “What about the kitchens? There’s bound to be a few rooms down there we haven’t checked.�

“No, no. I don’t think it’s likely to be there at all. I mean, let’s look at this logically,� said Hermione, for what seemed like the hundredth time that week. “The room was small, had wooden beams up in the ceiling, and had one wall that was slightly circular. It is also located in an older portion of the castle, one that would have existed back when Rowena Ravenclaw was alive.�

“How do we know Ravenclaw was the one who planted the diary?� asked Ron.

Hermione opened her mouth to respond. Out of habit Harry prepared himself for an argument. Surprisingly, however, she paused, closed her mouth, and looked at Ron thoughtfully. “You’re right, we don’t know that. I just assumed it was Ravenclaw. I mean, it just makes sense she would be the one hiding her own diaries, doesn’t it?�

Harry shrugged. He didn’t know who had hidden the diaries or for what purpose. Considering the first two diaries had been hidden in places only a headmaster or a professor would have access to, it seemed that the next room would follow suit.

“Anyways,� Hermione continued, “the fact that the room has wooden rafters suggests that it is higher up in the castle, or at least somewhere near the ceiling. That disqualifies anything in the lower part of the castle, like the dungeons. The fact that one of the walls in the room was round suggests that it is in a smaller, cylindrical portion of the castle. Probably one of the towers. We also have to keep in mind that whoever hid the diaries did it so long ago that we likely wouldn’t even recognize the room even if we were standing right in it…�

There was a brief pause as she said the last part. Slowly, in unison the three of them looked up at the ceiling of McGonagall’s classroom.

Metal. Not the room in the diary. Hermione looked at the others and gave a slight giggle. Harry shook his head.

“Well, which of the towers haven’t we checked,� he said in exasperation. It had been weeks since they had read the diary and he was beginning to get frustrated. “I mean, how many towers are there at Hogwarts? There’s Gryffindor tower…�

“Checked it,� said Ron.

“The North tower where Trelawney’s classroom is…�

“Checked.�

“…that small tower a couple of floors above Filch’s office…�

“Checked.�

“…the Astronomy tower…

“Checked it,� said Ron and Hermione in unison, causing Harry to look up. Ron had a small grin on his face and Hermione was blushing. “Just the usual staircase leading to the ladder that gets you up to the observation platform,� Hermione added quickly, not meeting his eyes. Thinking he probably didn’t want to probe any further, Harry moved on.

“And the rest of them seem too small to be the one we saw.�

“I agree,� said Hermione, nodding her head.

“Then there’s nothing left! We’ve checked the rest of the castle,� Harry concluded in frustration. Tracking Wulfric Gryffindor was the one thing keeping him sane, the one thing that made him feel like he were doing something to help fight Voldemort. Hitting this dead end was infuriating.

“Maybe Ginny will have some ideas.�

“Wait, what about the Ravenclaw tower? We haven’t checked it?� Ron ventured. Hermione raised her eyebrows and nodded her head.

“Yes, you’re right.�

“Er…I’m pretty sure it’s not there,� said Harry.

“How do you know?� asked Hermione.

Harry hesitated, not sure how he was going to get out of this one. Luckily his punk-headed Chihuahua did it for him, ramming into the back of a large container of ink and sending it crashing to the floor, black ink splattering everywhere.

“Potter! Will you please pay attention to what your…animal is doing?� snapped Professor McGonagall from across the room.

As they left Transfiguration (Harry having received extra homework) and made their way towards the Gryffindor common room, Hermione turned to Harry and asked the one question he had been avoiding for some time.

“So, when is your next meeting with Professor Dumbledore? I’ll bet he has an idea where the hidden room is.�

Seeing the consternation on his face, she added: “You have told him about the second diary, haven’t you?�

“Well, er…He’s been rather busy lately. We’re not scheduled for another meeting for a while. I figured I’d do it then when, you know, we’d have more time,� he lied.

The truth of the matter was that he still hadn’t shared the prophecy with his friends, and, as Dumbledore had told him during the last meeting, they wouldn’t meet again until he did. In Harry’s defense he had come close to telling them a couple of times. The only problem was that he knew sharing the prophecy would only worry them. He didn’t have the heart to do it. Especially now.

While they never acted like they were a couple in public, it was fairly obvious to Harry that things had changed between Ron and Hermione ever since the Halloween Ball. For starters, they very seldom argued anymore. This was a very welcome change from the past couple of years where they had taken every opportunity to start a row. Ron had also toned down his usual antics of mocking Snape and house-elves. Much to Harry’s horror, he had even heard him say that he wouldn’t mind getting SPEW started up again. Last of all, they seemed to be gone on “Prefect Duty� a lot more than they used to, even though Harry was fairly sure none of the prefects had additional duties. Harry wasn’t sure why they hadn’t said anything to him about their new relationship, or why they were trying to hide it, but figured it wasn’t his place to nose in.

“Hmmm. Well, be sure to tell him when you do meet, won’t you?�

“Yes, of course,� Harry replied, thankful he had dodged the issue.

While not having shared the prophecy was the biggest reason for him wanting to stay away from Dumbledore, a close second was that he had broken into the Ravenclaw common room and taken her second diary. While he had kept up with his Occlumency, he severely doubted he could keep something that big from the headmaster. While he wasn’t sure whether this would make Dumbledore mad, he thought it better not to try his luck. Besides, they would only meet again once Harry had shared the prophecy with his friends. And that was something he had no plans of doing.

Some other interesting developments happened in the meantime, however, that kept Harry’s mind off of the headmaster. The Gryffindors played their first Quidditch game against the Hufflepuffs, flattening them 240-40 on account of Ron’s goalkeeping and Harry beating their younger, inexperienced Seeker to the Snitch. Ron had proved himself an able team captain so far and Harry knew he had made the right decision in giving it up for him. It was, however, the first Quidditch game Harry had ever played in that he didn’t take seriously—it was hard to be overly concerned about a mere game when Voldemort was out there. Apparently he was the only one who felt this way, however, as the rest of the school seemed even more enthralled in the game than usual.

One day Harry had walked into the DA meeting to find a crowd of students gathered around Susan Bones, a 5th year Hufflepuff that had been in the DA the previous year. Walking over to see what was going on, he caught a few random bits of the conversation.

“Wow, what is it like?�

“…So she gets to live in some big mansion now, right? Have you been there?�

“Did you just barely find out or have you known for a while?�

“She’ll be loads better than Fudge!�

“Well, er…we’ve known for a while, but we weren’t supposed to say anything until it was official,� Susan said tremulously. She looked embarrassed by all the attention.

“What’s this?� asked Harry. “What’s going on?�

“Susan’s aunt is the new Minister of Magic!� said Justin-Finch Fletchly excitedly.

Harry had met Susan’s aunt Amelia the year before when he had been sent to the Ministry for a hearing on misuse of magic by an underage wizard. She was one of the few that hadn’t seemed intimidated by Fudge. From what he knew she would make a pretty good Minister.

“That’s great. Er…congratulations,� said Harry, not sure what was the appropriate thing to say to someone whose aunt had just been made Minister of Magic. Susan gave him a look of pleading before getting sucked back into the crowd of students. Harry felt a little sorry for her, though not too much. It was good to be out of the spotlight for once.

It was now late November and a blanket of snow had covered the grounds of Hogwarts, causing the students to break out their heavy winter cloaks and winter gloves for the first time that year. As if anxious for a break from the constant tension of the war the students welcomed the snow, starting snow-ball fights, building large snow sculptures of unicorns and dragons (something much easier to do with magic than without), and making animated snow-angels. It had a strange, calming influence on them; for a brief moment at least it seemed hard to believe that war or anything horrible could be happening in the world. Even Harry felt a little bit lighter.

All of it came crashing down one day, however, as they were brutally reminded what was going on in the world. It happened one Tuesday morning as Harry, Seamus, and Neville made their way into the Great Hall for breakfast.

“Uh-oh, something bad has happened. Everyone’s crowded round the paper,� said Seamus as they passed the Hufflepuff table.

“Something bad’s always happened. Aren’t you used to it by now?� replied Harry wearily as he glanced through a defense against the dark arts book.

“No, he’s right,� said Neville. “This one must be particularly bad. Look how quiet everyone is.�

Closing the book and looking around, Harry realized that Seamus and Neville had a point. The students were gathered together in little groups, all reading that morning’s Daily Prophet. Very few of them were talking—the ones that were whispered in frightened, sickened tones. Some of them were crying. No one was even looking at their food. As they passed the Ravenclaw table Harry saw Cho Chang with her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide open in disbelief. She looked like she was about to cry.

He had become accustomed to bad news from the Daily Prophet. Nearly every day it had brought grizzly news about the war—kidnappings, murders, sightings of Voldemort, the Dark Mark floating in the sky—but something told him whatever had happened was much, much worse than anything that had happened before.

As he approached the Gryffindor table, his suspicions were confirmed. Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Colin Creevey were huddled around a paper. Ron had his arm around Hermione, trying to comfort her. Ginny had a look of shocked disbelief on her face. Colin Creevey was completely white.

“What is it? What happened?� Harry said in a flat, emotionless voice. Hermione didn’t look up. She was muttering to herself.

“He wouldn’t… How could he…�

Ron looked up at him. He looked worried and angry. Without a word he took the paper and dropped it in front of Harry.

Dementors Attack Orphanage

Reader advisory- The following article and accompanying photograph detail an especially hideous crime which may be too gruesome for our more sensitive readers.

Suffolk, Cambery. Last night a pack of dementors, most likely organized by You-Know-Who, attacked the Abagail Anders Orphanage in Cambery, taking the lives of 26 children. This horrendous attack is the most recent example of the cruelty and utter heartlessness of You-Know-Who, who apparently has no compunctions against attacking innocent, defenseless children in his war against wizardkind.

The attack is expected to have occurred sometime between 10:34 and 12:47 last night, after Delilia Humbcroft, the resident caretaker of the orphanage, returned from a…

Harry felt a sickening sensation in the pit of his stomach. He stopped reading and his eyes flicked towards the picture, knowing that he would be horrified by what he saw but unable to resist. At first he couldn’t tell what he was looking at. It seemed to be of a large, open room empty other than a large number of wooden chairs strewn about the floor. Apparently there had been some sort of struggle as most of the chairs lay twisted and distorted on the ground. While most pictures in the wizard world moved, the only motion in this one was the gentle fluttering of a curtain next to an open window. Looking closer at the chairs, Harry suddenly recoiled in horror. They weren’t chairs at all. They were people. Children. Or at least, the shriveled husks of what had once been children, faces shrieking in horror as the dementors had slowly ripped their souls from them…

He looked away hurriedly, though he knew it was too late. Shock and disgust overwhelmed him. He sat down and buried his face in his hands. It was inconceivable. The Dementor’s Kiss. A means of death so vile the ministry had reserved it for only the worst criminals. The victim’s soul sucked out of them, leaving only an empty, soulless husk behind. A fate worse than death…

Nausea swept over Harry as he tried to make sense of it. How could Voldemort… how could anyone do something so cruel, so heartless? He couldn’t fathom it. Innocent, defenseless children. Orphans. Just like him. Just like Voldemort…

For a brief second Harry thought he was going to be sick. The feeling left. In its place was a burning, overwhelming anger. Hate. Not even aware of making the choice to, Harry rose to his feet and began smashing his fist into the table. He was yelling.

“CHILDREN! WHY CHILDREN? WHAT THE HELL DO CHILDREN HAVE TO DO WITH THIS!�

Everyone at the Gryffindor table looked at him in alarm. He was barely even aware of their presence. All he could see was the table, blood spurting out of his fist, and the horrible image of the orphans, an image that would be permanently seared into his brain.

It was too much. He had to get out. He had to be alone. Dumbledore, who had been at the staff table talking somberly with the other professors, had just stood up and was talking to the assembled students. Ron said something to Harry. Hermione was looking at him, frightened. Ginny was moving towards him, a concerned look on her face. Children, dead. Voldemort was out there. Out there killing. And he couldn’t stop him.

Dumbledore had just said something about classes being cancelled for the morning. Harry didn’t hear any of it. Turning towards the corridor, he walked straight out of the Great Hall and away from everyone, the prophecy burning through his heart more than ever.

Chapter 27
Prophecy Revealed


The next couple of weeks were some of the hardest and darkest of Harry’s life. Immediately after reading about the Dementor attack he felt a felt a wild, desperate desire to track Voldemort down and make him pay for what he had done. He might have tried it, had he any idea where the Dark Lord was located or how to find him. Fortunately the anger died down enough for Harry to realize that such an action would be extremely foolish.

Following the attack at the orphanage came a succession of killings, kidnappings, and tortures that further horrified everyone in the wizarding world. Giants attacked a remote Muggle village west of Bristol, killing the villagers and toppling over their houses as if they were nothing more than toys. One of the Ministry’s top aurors had been found dead in an old Muggle church, apparently the victim of a vampire attack. Worst of all, a group of Death-Eaters broke into the home of a high-ranking foreign official, holding him and his entire family hostage for two days before slaughtering them and disappearing into the night. They were never caught.

In addition to all these attacks, the Goblins made matters worse by continuing their own unique kind of onslaught against wizards. Apparently, in addition to Gringotts, they owned quite a few other financial institutions and their stubborn stance of not doing business with humans until past wrongs had been righted had thrown the economy into disarray. At first Harry didn’t see why this was such a big issue (weren’t Voldemort and the Death-Eaters a much bigger problem?), but the number of articles in the Prophet dealing with failed businesses, starving families, and widespread robberies quickly changed his mind. Nearly every paper brought pictures of Amelia Bones and her assurances that food and other supplies were on the way.

As if that weren’t bad enough, it now appeared that the house-elves were turning their backs on wizardkind as well. One morning the front page of the Prophet blared the headline: “Death-Eaters Attack: House-Elves Watch as Masters are Murdered� Underneath this was the now-familiar picture of the Dark Mark hovering ominously over an empty house. The article went on to describe a grizzly attack by three Death-Eaters on a wealthy family in Stratfordshire. The family’s nanny, who had been in an adjoining room and heard a struggle, ran to see what was going on only to be stupefied and forced to watch, helpless on the floor, as her masters were murdered. Most disturbing of all, she reported that the family’s two house-elves, Jinky and Poppy, watched the whole thing happen from the hallway without ever lifting a finger to stop it.

“‘They just stood there! Stood and watched!’� Hermione read out loud from the paper at breakfast. “‘…watched as those horrible…demons…taunted and murdered Mr. and Mrs. Honeycutt!’ recounted a hysterical Gretchen Hollinger, nanny of the deceased Honeycutt family, not long after the attack. ‘I never would’ve imagined it. I mean, a house-elf’s whole duty in life is to serve their master. You would think that would include lifting a finger to help if you were being brutally murdered, but those two vermin did nothing! You can’t trust house-elves! Filthy, ungrateful little ver…’� Hermione stopped reading and folded up the Daily Prophet, a disgusted look on her face.

Harry was startled by the news. Remembering the amount of torture Dobby inflicted upon himself when he thought he was betraying the Malfoys, it seemed impossible that any house-elf would just stand by as his or her masters were killed. Hermione explained that while the terms of their enslavery forbade them from doing anything to harm their masters, it didn’t require them to actually protect them in the face of danger either. Everybody just assumed that they would.

“I hate to say it, but it’s not as though we don’t deserve it, is it?� she said with a bitter, I-dare-you-to-disagree-with-me look at Harry and Ron. “I mean, we’ve treated them so poorly for so long, is it any wonder they wouldn’t want to help us?� They nodded in agreement. It looked as though the house-elves were beginning to get fed up with the way they were treated.

The whole house-elf issue turned out to be rather tricky, as many wizard families who owned them no longer trusted them, but were even more afraid of giving them clothes for fear of what they would do once they were freed. House-elves held powerful magic, but they were restricted to using it for simple house keeping chores. Harry thought back to his second year when Dobby had blasted Lucius Malfoy, a fully trained dark-wizard, across the hallway and down a set of nearby stairs. If Dobby could do that when he was trying to protect someone, Harry couldn’t help but wonder what he could do if he fully unleashed his powers.

The giant attacks, goblin indifference, and revolt of the house-elves were all met with what could best be described as chaos by the wizarding public. If Voldemort’s goal was to strike fear and confusion into the hearts of the wizarding public, his plan was working admirably. Most people criticized the Ministry, finding it easier to find fault with someone else than actually doing something themselves. A few brave ones called for an all-out war against Voldemort, though they were outnumbered by the ones who felt the whole thing would just blow over if they waited long enough. Worst of all was the small group who suggested that they share power with Voldemort, that all he really wanted was to have a voice in the government. The end result was a lot of bickering and internal fighting among the wizarding public, leaving little chance of any progress being made.

The public fear reached Hogwarts in the form of a few parents withdrawing their children from school, thinking they would be safer in another country. Other parents felt that Hogwarts was the absolute safest place for their children, even trying to convince Dumbledore to take students older and younger than the acceptable admission age in order to keep them from harm. One man had even tried to set up a tent next to the greenhouses, claiming that living at Hogwarts was his best chance of survival.

If the recent events were hard on the wizarding public, however, it was nothing compared to what Harry felt. The truth was he felt responsible for all the acts of death and destruction that were going on. A small, logical part of him tried to argue that this wasn’t true, that he couldn’t possibly be accountable for the horrible things that Voldemort was doing, but it was no use. After all, wasn’t he the one the prophecy had been made about 17 years before? Wasn’t he the only one who ‘held the power to vanquish the Dark Lord’? Wasn’t it up to him to destroy Voldemort and stop him from committing such hideous acts of violence and murder? He and Dumbledore may have been the only ones who really knew it, but the blame for all the horrendous acts that were going on fell squarely on him, Harry reasoned.

The tremendous pressure caused by these thoughts began to take their toll. When he had first learned of the prophecy just a few months before, Harry had felt isolated from the rest of the students at Hogwarts. That feeling was multiplied several times over now. Even Ron and Hermione seemed part of a different world, a world where they could never understand what he was going through. He found himself withdrawing from them and everyone else, lost in dark thoughts about Death-Eaters, Dementors, and Lord Voldemort.

Classes were torture. All of them – with the exception of Professor Grendelhall’s Defense Against the Dark Arts – were meaningless and trivial, teaching him nothing that would help him face Voldemort. And even Defense Against the Dark Arts was beginning to feel useless, as he had progressed so far beyond the other students it would be a better use of time to study on his own.

Quidditch felt trivial and insignificant; he had resigned from the team soon after the orphanage incident. The team had been surprised. Ron had been utterly flabbergasted. He and Hermione had tried to have a heartfelt talk with Harry soon after the decision, but Harry had brushed them off. Telling them the real reason would involve telling them the prophecy, and he wasn’t about to do that. It was a burden he needed to bear alone.

In addition to Quidditch, he had temporarily given up on seeking Wulfric Gryffindor’s tomb, feeling it was a hopeless. They had already tried every tower in the building and still no sign of the cramped room with wooden cross-beams. Harry silently cursed whoever had hid the diaries for making it so hard.

Perhaps worst of all for Harry, however, was the return of the nightmares. He had them after Cedric had been killed and he had them over the summer after Sirius had died, but he had enjoyed a temporary reprieve, which he attributed to increased skill in Occlumency. Now, however, he seemed defenseless against them. Nearly every night they came: Death-Eaters in hideous, blood-red masks, cackling with delight as they stepped through the shattered husks of dead orphans; Harry watching helplessly as Tom Riddle ordered an enormous, skeletal basilisk to kill Ginny, who was lying defenseless and unconscious on the floor; Ron and Hermione being chased through the Forbidden Forest by Dementors, eventually falling to the ground in exhaustion as the legion of Dementors pulled back their hoods to reveal dark, gaping mouths…

He soon found that it was easier not to sleep at all.

So it was that Harry found himself sitting in the Gryffindor common room incredibly early one morning, breathing heavily as he stared into the dying flames of the fire. In tonight’s nightmare he had been forced to relive Sirius’s death in the Department of Mysteries. Instead of dueling Bellatrix Lestrange, however, Sirius had been battling his dead mother; a hideous, skeleton-like woman with wild hair who shrieked like a banshee. Once again Harry had been unable to help, chained into one of the chairs he had seen the Ministry use to subdue Death-Eaters on trial. All he could do was watch and scream as Sirius took blow after blow from his mother, inching perilously close to a gaping black hole in the middle of the room where the crumbling archway should have been. An unconcerned Dobby stood nearby, mumbling: “Master should have been nice to Dobby,� while sweeping the floor. Mrs. Black struck the fatal blow, sending Sirius flying through the air in slow-motion towards the pit, falling, falling...

Harry had woken in a cold sweat, Dean looking at him in alarm. Knowing he would not sleep the rest of the night, he decided once again to visit the common room.

As he gazed dully into the fire, the remnants of the dream slowly fading away, he heard a tired, friendly voice speak from the darkness.

“Hi Harry. Can’t sleep?�

Harry looked up in surprise to see who had spoken. Ginny.

She walked towards him, wearing a set of blue-striped pajamas with her bright red hair pulled back in a ponytail. She took the seat next to him, tucking her feet under her and yawning. She turned to look at him, the dying embers illuminating her red hair and bright eyes, giving them a fire of their own.

“No,� Harry replied quietly, too tired and still too shaken to bother coming up with an excuse. “You?�

“Oh, I’ve been up for a while, thinking I’d run into you if I waited long enough,� she said simply, as though staying up until 3:00 in the morning to catch someone in the common room was the most normal thing in the world.

Harry looked back into the fire, trying to work out the meaning of what she had just said. She had been waiting? How did she even know he would be here? Why would she wait up just to run into him?

Then it all made sense. Ginny was bound to have noticed the change in his behavior lately, just as Ron and Hermione had. Unlike Ron and Hermione, however, Ginny wouldn’t easily be shaken off. She regarded him silently for a moment, then asked the question he had known was coming.

“Harry, what’s going on?�

Her voice was calm but firm. He could feel her eyes on him, boring uncomfortably into the side of his head. Part of him wanted to be left alone, but a different, smaller part was glad for her company. He had become better friends with Ginny this year; Ron and Hermione’s “Prefect Duties� causing them to be gone more than usual, and somehow he didn’t feel as distant from her as he did with others. Perhaps it was because she knew what it was like to be up against Voldemort, having faced him herself in the form of Tom Riddle during her first year. Harry felt his determination to keep the prophecy to himself soften.

But only slightly.

“There’s a war going on,� he replied.

“What’s going on with you? You’ve completely withdrawn yourself. You don’t talk. You quit the Quidditch team—I don’t think I’ve seen you laugh since Halloween.�

“There’s not much to laugh at, is there?� he replied darkly.

“Maybe not, but that doesn’t mean we have to make ourselves completely miserable. You seem to be doing a pretty good job of that though,� she replied, her voice still calm but with a bit of an edge to it.

He looked up at her, a short burst of anger flaring up inside of him at the remark. Did she think he wanted to be like this? That he enjoyed feeling the weight of the entire wizarding world on his shoulders? She looked at him expectantly, her brown eyes shining in the darkness.

“You don’t understand.�

“What don’t I understand Harry?� she pried.

He didn’t answer, knowing that it was a weak claim. Ginny would understand. But he couldn’t do it, couldn’t drop the weight of the prophecy on her.

Shaking his head, he looked back into the fire. “Nothing. Look, I’m ok, all right? I just need to be alone.�

“No Harry, the last thing you need is to be alone,� said Ginny, her voice becoming more forceful. “I know how your mind works. Whenever you are dealing with something hard you shut everyone out, thinking you are protecting them instead of actually talking about what is bothering you. Just like you did last year at Grimmauld Place when you thought Voldemort was possessing you.�

She looked at him, her expression scolding yet caring. He quickly thought back to Grimmauld Place the year before, when he had locked himself in his room for two days thinking that Voldemort was possessing him in order to attack his enemies. Ginny had been the one to snap him out it, bluntly telling him he had been stupid not to come to her as she had been possessed by Voldemort and could tell him what it felt like. He realized later that he had been stupid for not confiding in her. Perhaps he should confide in her now…

But still a part of him resisted.

“Look, it’s none of your business, all right?�

“Whose business is it then Harry?� Ginny retorted, her voice becoming angry. A few strands of scarlet hair had come loose from her ponytail and were hanging over her face. “Hermione’s? Ron’s? You aren’t talking to them either! Ever since you saw the paper about the orphanage you’ve withdrawn. Why?�

Harry didn’t respond. He sat and stared angrily into the fire.

She waited a few moments. When he didn’t answer she spoke, her voice once again calm, almost flippant.

“Ok then, how about this. I’ll just start guessing what’s wrong. Let me know when I hit it, will you?�

Harry cast a sideways glance at her but didn’t respond.

“Er….let’s see…what could be making Harry act like such a git…� she said in a tone of mock-concentration, as though she were thinking really hard. “I know, Quidditch! You realize quitting the Quidditch team was a mistake, but you’re afraid to ask Ron to take you back because he might say no. Is that it?�

Harry didn’t bother responding. Quidditch? She thought he was concerned about Quidditch?

“No? Hmmm… something else then,� she said lightly, as though they were playing a game. “How about…classes! Classes haven’t been going well and you’re concerned Hermione is going to lecture you because your grades aren’t good enough? That’s it, isn’t it?�

Hermione most likely would lecture him on his poor grades, but that was beside the point. Harry got the distinct impression Ginny was toying around with him. He ignored the last comment and continued starting into the fire, thinking he might prefer her to leave after all.

Suddenly Ginny’s voice became soft and completely serious, all hint of teasing gone from it. “Not that either, huh? Well, how about this: you feel like everything going on in the war is your fault, you feel guilty for not stopping it, and you think you’re the one who has to stop Voldemort from hurting people.�

Harry glanced up at her in shock before he could stop himself. How did she know?

Seeing she had hit home, Ginny shook her head sadly at him and frowned in exasperation.

“Oh Harry, why do you do it?�

He tried to keep his composure, but it was no use. It was as if her words had opened a dam of emotion. Everything he had been keeping inside, all the fear, anxiety, and guilt came pouring out as he sunk his face into his hands, his body racked with sobs.

Her face full of concern, Ginny leaned towards him and placed her hand on his back.

“The orphanage…Dementors…they didn’t have any chance against them…� he managed to gasp out.

“No one thought he would do such a horrible thing. You couldn’t have stopped him even if you were…�

“They were only children! The bastard killed a bunch of children…�

“Yes, he did, Harry!� Ginny interrupted angrily, “Because he’s a filthy evil murderer and they will kill him! But that doesn’t mean you…�

“And he’s out there RIGHT NOW, doing who knows what, and…�

“It’s not your fault!�

“Then whose is it? I’ve been stuck in h…�

“Harry, will you quit being so damned noble!� she cut across him, almost shouting now. She grabbed his arm and looked directly into his eyes. “Look at me! It...is...not…your…job…to…destroy...Lord…Voldemort!�

“YES IT IS, ALL RIGHT! THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT MY JOB IS!� Harry shouted, the sound of his voice reverberating throughout the empty common room.

Ginny looked at him, startled and confused. A strange stillness fell over the room, as if the very walls were waiting to hear what he had to say next. When Harry spoke again he could barely manage a whisper, his voice choking with emotion.

“I am the only one who can destroy Lord Voldemort.�

Silence. Ginny looked at him incredulously at first and for a split second he thought she was going to start arguing with him again. Something in the tone of his voice, however, must have told her there was something she was missing. Her expression turned to one of confusion, then to intense thought. After a moment, her eyes widened and her hand shot to her mouth in startled realization.

“The prophecy!� she whispered.

Harry nodded, surprised at the Hermione-like quickness with which she had put things together.

“You heard it?�

He nodded again, shutting his eyes. He could feel hot tears stream down his face, though he hadn’t been aware of crying. This was it. He had to tell her now.

“But…how? You said it fell out of Neville’s robes, that it was smashed…�

“Dumbledore has a copy of it. He showed it to me,� said Harry emotionlessly. He opened his eyes and looked at her.

The strands of red hair that had fallen loose from the ponytail now hung limply down the sides of her face. Ginny looked down and exhaled sharply, her eyes full of worry and shock. She shut her eyes and took a deep breath, as if trying to compose herself. When she looked up her face was set in a sort of rigid determination.

“What does it say, Harry?�

“It says…that I’m the only one who has the power to defeat Voldemort.�

He then recited the prophecy word for word, just as he had heard it in Dumbledore’s office. It came out effortlessly, almost automatically, every word having seared itself into his mind a long time before.

After he had finished they sat in silence. Ginny stared into the black, empty fireplace, letting everything sink in. At length she spoke, her voice flat and emotionless.

“Harry…How long have you known about this?�

The question took him by surprise. He had expected her to ask something dealing with the prophecy itself.

“Er…since the end of last year. Why?�

All at once Ginny erupted like a dormant volcano.

“You prat! You stupid prat!� she exclaimed, hitting him in the arm each time she said the word “prat�.

“Ginny! Stop…what are you…ouch!�

“You’ve known about it for this long and it’s taken you until now to tell someone about it? Are you mental?�

Now it was Harry’s turn to be completely startled. The last thing he had expected after sharing the prophecy was to be attacked. Ginny hit surprisingly hard for a girl.

“No wonder you’ve been acting so weird. You can’t keep something like that a secret and not go crazy! Why didn’t you tell Hermione and Ron about this?� she demanded.

Feeling slightly affronted and completely bewildered, Harry struggled for an answer. It wasn’t easy, as Ginny glared at him in a way that reminded him of Professor McGonagall demanding an explanation from a student for misbehavior.

“They…I…it’s not their business. They would only worry…this is something I have to deal with alone…�

“Harry!� Ginny interrupted him, “Don’t you get it? Hermione and Ron care about you! My Mum cares about you! My father cares about you! My entire family cares about you!�

Her voice lowered gradually. The indignation in her face slowly evaporated, her expression softening into one of sadness.

“We can’t help you if you don’t let us in. You should have told someone after you found out. Anyone. �

Still confused and slightly offended that he had been yelled at after having revealed the darkest secret of his life, Harry racked his brain for a proper response.

“Er…I’m sorry?�

Ginny shook her head as if the apology wasn’t necessary, then leaned over and embraced him.

Harry sat there, letting himself feel the comfort of human contact. As he did so, the pressure and anxiety he had been feeling for so long eventually began to disappear. Soon he felt as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He had shared the prophecy. Someone other than Dumbledore now knew of his horrible destiny. He was no longer alone.

“Harry?� Ginny said after some time.

“Yes?�

“You’re going to win.�

Chapter 28

The Legend of the Half-Blood Prince


That night Harry slept better than he had for months. With the weight of the prophecy lifted from his mind he was able, for the first time in quite a while, to dream about something other than death and Lord Voldemort. He was flying on his Firebolt high in the sky, laughing as he swirled around clouds and through thunderstorms. A large eagle with the body of a lion flew up alongside him. He raced it to the peak of a nearby mountain, buzzing over some ruins and a small, forested village as they went. Now he was back at Hogwarts, soaring effortlessly through the castle towers before shooting out over the lake. He dipped the nose of his broom downwards and entered into a dive, headed straight for its icy center. The wind screamed around him. He fell further and further, faster and faster, the shimmering surface of the water reflecting the sun back towards him in a million points of light. Soon he could see a group of merpeople staring back up at him from below the surface of the lake, each gazing up at him in astonishment as he rocketed towards them. At the last moment he reared back on the broom and shot back into the sky, the force from his dive causing an enormous splash. With a feeling of ecstasy he got only from flying he shot through the bottom of a dark cloud and burst through the other side, finding himself in a glorious, light-filled sky.

It was then that he felt it.

A presence. It was small and barely perceptible, but he felt it just the same. Somebody else was in his dream.

He felt his dream slowly, imperceptibly change. He was looking over his shoulder at the sun as he flew away from it. Its warm rays touched his shoulders as it grew smaller and smaller. Soon it was no more than a small, buzzing ball. A Snitch. Instinctively he reached out and grabbed it. He opened his hand to look at it and found that it wasn’t a Snitch, but a small glass orb. A small glass orb with a strange light inside. It felt warm in his hand. Hundreds of other orbs appeared behind it, each sitting on small stands set into large, wooden shelves. He was no longer soaring through the air on a broom. He was in the Hall of Prophecies.

Harry observed as the presence guided his dream, not bothering to resist. It was a strange feeling; the thoughts and memories that flashed through his mind were still his own, but somehow the presence knew how to guide them, to direct them to the information it was trying to get. Whoever it was, they weren’t aware that he was observing.

The orb in his hand began to grow hot and Harry realized it contained the prophecy concerning him and Lord Voldemort. An image formed in the orb as he looked at it, a tall, slender figure with large glasses. The figure rotated slowly above the orb and soon it became a young Professor Trelawney. The words of the prophecy started to go through his mind.

Realizing the prophecy was something he didn’t want the presence to know, Harry tried to turn his focus away from the figure and on something else. He did it slowly, gently, realizing if he did it too quick the presence would be on to him. He decided to focus on the wooden shelves. There were hundreds of them. Hundreds of long, wooden planks fastened to each other, criss-crossing and intersecting like some great structure. Wooden planks.

Harry felt the presence become frustrated and it tried to veer his attention back to the prophecy. But it was too late. There was another image in his mind now, an image that had been going through his mind for quite a while now: a small, cramped room with wooden beams criss-crossing across the ceiling. There was a wooden shelf in this room as well, only it was small and short. The top shelf was completely empty. It was the room he had seen at the end of Ravenclaw’s second diary.

At first the presence continued trying to pull Harry’s attention back to the Hall of Prophecies, but all at once it stopped as if surprised at the new image. Harry could feel confusion from the presence as it lingered for a split second on the image. Then, all at once, the presence left. Harry was alone.

Once again he was soaring through the skies above Hogwarts, the wind blowing tears out of his eyes as he yelled in jubilation.

***

Harry woke to a soft knock at the dormitory door. He sat up and searched for his glasses. Finding them on a shelf next to the bed he looked around the room. Everyone else was gone. The knock came again and the door opened slightly, revealing a bright, red head.

“Harry? Oh good, you’re awake.�

Ginny entered the room, followed closely by Ron and Hermione – Hermione looking anxious and worried, Ron confused and apprehensive. Harry had agreed the night before to tell them about the prophecy, and apparently Ginny was wasting no time in making him keep his promise. Studying his best friends’ faces, he briefly wondered what Ginny had told them – it was obvious from their expressions that they expected the worst. It was probably better that way, Harry figured.

They took the news rather as he thought they would. Tears welled up in Hermione’s eyes as she hugged him, Ron simply stared at the corner of the room before saying in amazement, “Blimey, Harry. No wonder you’ve been studying so much! Why didn’t you tell us sooner? We could have helped.�

They talked about the prophecy for a while, each sharing their different opinion on what each part could mean which Harry found very helpful, as each had their own views that showed him there were many different ways to interpret the prophecy. After all this Ron and Hermione still looked shocked, and Harry realized it would take some time for it all to sink in. Though he was sad to realize that things would never be the same between them, Harry was glad that he had told them about it – it had felt strange and almost unnatural to have kept a secret from Ron and Hermione for so long.

Eventually there was nothing else to be said, and Hermione suggested going down to the Great Hall to see if they could scavenge any last bits of breakfast. The rumble in his stomach telling him he was hungry, Harry agreed, and the four of them started to head out of the common room. After Ron and Hermione had left Harry pulled Ginny back into the room.

“Thanks Ginny.�

Judging by the number of students in the halls, breakfast had just ended and the first morning classes were about to begin. Though they each had classes beginning in only a minute or two, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny all wanted to walk with Harry and stay with him as he ate. Eventually he was able to convince them that he would be ok and they should go to class. Grabbing a few pieces of untouched toast left on the Ravenclaw table, Harry hurried out of the now empty Great Hall to meet with Ron in Herbology. He had just turned the corner leading to the main corridor, a piece of toast stuffed into his mouth, when he ran into Professor Dumbledore and Professor Sinistra walking the other way.

“Ah, hello Harry,� the headmaster said cheerfully. “You know, the toast here is rather good, but I don’t know if it’s worth skipping class over. Now the raspberry tart, that’s another story…�

“Oh, er, hi Professor,� Harry replied, removing the piece of toast from his mouth in embarrassment. He was about to offer an explanation (Professor Sinistra was looking at him dubiously) when Dumbledore narrowed his eyes briefly, cocked his head to one side, then said with a smile, “I take it you have completed my assignment?�

Harry hesitated (for a split second horrified that he had forgotten an assignment from the headmaster), then relaxed as he recalled their previous meeting and could say that he had completed the assignment in question.

“Yes sir,� he replied in relief.

“Excellent! Then I shall see you at our usual time this evening. Good-bye Harry.� With that Dumbledore and Professor Sinistra continued walking down the hallway, conversing with one another.

As he resumed his course towards the greenhouses for Herbology, Harry felt a surge of excitement followed by a quick stab of fear. Excitement that he could finally resume his Occlumency lessons and possibly learn more from Dumbledore about what Voldemort was up to lately; fear because he had broken into the Ravenclaw common room since their last visit and there was really no way he could hide it.

Herbology passed by rather uneventfully (with the exception of a Screaming Ficus swallowing Parvati Patil’s wand whole) and Harry soon found himself in Defense Against the Dark Arts watching a terrified Neville Longbottom trying his hardest to fight off Professor Grendelhall in a mock-duel.

“Now quick, get ready for the next jinx, WAND IN FRONT OF YOU BOY! ALWAYS IN FRONT OF YOU!� Grendelhall shouted by way of instruction as she closed in on Neville, surprisingly nimble for such an old woman. For his part, Neville had improved tremendously since their fifth year, able to block most spells and fire back a few of his own, though he still had a tendency to let his guard down. Grendellhall shot off two more quick jinxes that Neville was able to block, his tongue protruding from his mouth in intense concentration, and it looked like he was about to make it when he tripped backwards over an empty chair, fell flat on his back, and lost his wand in the fall. Grendelhall cackled, cast a quick Summoning charm on Neville’s wand, then walked over to help him up.

“Your surroundings, Longbottom, never forget about your surroundings!� she said as she pulled him to his feet. She turned to the class.

“Dark Wizards will use any means they can to gain the upper hand. Never become so focused on your spells that you forget where you are!�

Professor Grendelhall then divided the class up into pairs and had them practice a few new spells on each other. Hermione with paired with a Ravenclaw named Douglas Nance (a quiet, thoughtful boy with specs that Harry had often seen with Dunston Marlowe), Ron was paired up against Parvati, and Harry against Theodore Nott, the Slytherin whose father was a Death Eater.

Harry found it hard to focus on the duel as his mind had already gone ahead to this evening’s meeting with Dumbledore. Although he was fearful of what the headmaster might do once he found out Harry had taken the second diary from the Ravenclaw common room, he was also immensely curious what, if anything, Dumbledore could tell him about the small cramped tower room with wooden rafters. Harry had given up on finding it after the incident at the orphanage, but now that the weight of the prophecy was lessened he found himself eager to try once again.

Nott circled around him, a cold, determined look on his face. Apparently he was waiting for Harry to make the first move. Realizing he would have to wait until his meeting with Dumbledore to have his questions answered, Harry raised his wand and was about to cast an Impediment jinx when he was interrupted.

“Nance!� Grendelhall’s shrill voice called from across the room. She stomped over to where Ron and Douglas Nance had been dueling next to Harry as the rest of the class continued the exercise. “Was that your Confundus jinx that just broke my vase?�

Harry looked to the left side of the room and saw the vase she was referring to, a fat, ordinary piece of pottery that had been smashed into pieces. A simple Reparo charm would put it together in a snap.

“Um, yes ma’am,� Nance replied in confusion. Stray spells flying around the room were common in Defense Against the Dark Arts, especially on days they practiced dueling.

“Detention!� Grendelhall snapped triumphantly.

Nance’s mouth dropped open in bewilderment. Even Harry was surprised.

“I can’t have novice wizards like yourself destroying my classroom simply because they haven’t learned how to point a wand yet, can I? See you tonight after supper,� Grendelhall said merrily over her shoulder as she walked back through the dueling students.

“I swear, that old kook’s the most detention-happy teacher there’s ever been!� Ron said later as they walked through the corridors after class. “Snape’s going to have to really get on it if he wants to catch up. I mean, putting Nance in detention just because his spell hit a vase? The only thing more ridiculous than that was the time she got Nott for dropping his quill in the hallway.�

“Well, maybe it was an important vase,� said Hermione, always the one to defend teachers, though even she didn’t seem convinced by the explanation.

“Yeah, I’m sure that was it,� Ron said sarcastically, then opened his eyes wide in alarm as Hermione looked daggers at him. Eager to change the subject he quickly added, “Erm…Harry, did you hear she put Malfoy in detention this morning?

“Really?�

“Yeah. She was walking behind him in the corridors when she heard him call Hagrid a ‘despicable drunken oaf’. Gave him detention today and tomorrow for ‘disrespecting Hogwarts staff.’ So I suppose she’s not all bad.�

After grabbing a quick dinner and hastily finishing an essay on the restorative powers of Mandrake for Herbology, it was finally time for Harry’s meeting with Professor Dumbledore. He walked through the corridors, still feeling the strange combination of excitement and trepidation, as he rounded the final turn in the corridor leading to the headmaster’s office. Apparently Dumbledore had informed the gargoyle guarding his door that Harry was coming, for it immediately leapt aside when he arrived revealing the revolving spiral staircase. Pausing briefly, Harry took a deep breath and ascended.

“Ah, greetings Harry,� Dumbledore said from behind his desk as Harry walked into the room. The headmaster was pacing behind his desk, apparently in the middle of a conversation with a few of the portraits that hung behind his large oaken desk. The past headmasters and headmistresses turned towards him curiously, as though he had been the subject of their conversation.

“Welcome. Please, have a seat,� the headmaster said, motioning to the empty chairs as he strode back to his desk, stopping for a brief moment at Fawkes’s perch. Fawkes gazed up at the headmaster and sang a soft note, his brilliant red plumage shining in the light of the sun coming from the window. Harry took his usual seat at the other side of the desk.

“To be truthful with you, I had hoped you would finish your ‘assignment’ long before now, Harry. But I am delighted to see you here just the same,� said Dumbledore cheerfully as he took his own seat and regarded Harry from behind his half-moon spectacles.

Harry had been amazed at how quickly Dumbledore picked up that he had shared the prophecy that morning. He hadn’t felt any probing into his mind, yet somehow the headmaster seemed to know instantly.

“Sir, if I can ask, how did you know I shared the prophecy when I saw you this morning? I mean, I didn’t feel you in my mind at all.� Harry asked.

Dumbledore shook his head with a small chuckle. “That’s because I didn’t use Legilimency, Harry. The absence of the usual marks of stress on your face was enough to clue me in. One doesn’t need to read minds to see that�

“Oh.� Harry replied, somewhat abashed. He hadn’t known he had been that obvious.

“When did you share it?�

“Er…just last night.�

“And how did Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley react to the news?�

“Well, actually I told Ginny Weasley first.�

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, apparently surprised. “Really? A good choice. I believe young Miss Weasley’s past experience can provide a unique insight into this situation.�

“Yes. Then I told Ron and Hermione this morning. They seemed to take it all right.�

“Excellent. Now tell me, how does it feel now that the secret is out?�

“Loads better,� Harry replied truthfully. “I kind of wish I had done it sooner.�

Dumbledore nodded wisely. “I’m glad that you see that Harry. We all need people we can confide in, no matter how strong we think we are. I am no exception to that rule either.�

The headmaster gestured to the portraits behind him, many of which were still studying Harry interestedly. Harry found this slightly odd, as they most often pretended to be asleep when anyone was in the room. The sight of all of them gazing at him suddenly jogged his memory, reminding him there was something else he wanted to ask the headmaster.

“Professor, last night I was dreaming about flying around on my broom when…� Harry stopped for a moment, unsure how to describe what he had happened, “…when I felt someone. It seemed like they were watching my dream with me, and after a little while the dream started to change.�

The headmaster leaned forward in his chair in interest.

“Tell me about it, Harry,� he said seriously.

“Well, it was pretty late in the night, after I had spoken with Ginny, and I was dreaming about flying. Then I got this strange feeling, like someone looking over your shoulder while you’re reading a book, and I felt the dream start to change. I…I was back in the Ministry of Magic, I think, and I was holding the prophecy in my hand. The prophecy began to glow and it became really warm. Before I could stop it, Trelawney…I mean, Professor Trelawney appeared, just like it was out of your pensieve, and she began to quote the prophecy.�

Dumbledore’s eyes widened in alarm. Seeing this made Harry pause in his narrative.

“What happened then?� the headmaster urged after a short time.

“Well, I realized that it might have been Voldemort, so I quickly changed the image to…to something else. I don’t know if it was him or just my own dreaming, but I thought it would be safer to change it anyway,� Harry replied uncertainly, hoping that he had done the right thing. “When I focused on something else, whoever it was seemed to become frustrated and tried to change it back to the prophecy, but I kept focusing on this other image, and eventually they went away.�

Harry looked up at Dumbledore, who now wore a look of relief on his face.

“Er…do you think it was Voldemort?� Harry asked.

The headmaster leaned back in his chair and looked at Harry.

“I have no doubt it was Lord Voldemort, Harry. He is still trying whatever means he can to discover the full content of the prophecy, and I am glad you had the presence of mind to hide it from him. Tell me, did he ever become aware that you were watching him?�

“I don’t think so.�

“You would definitely know if he did. Very impressive,� the headmaster said, gazing at Harry in what seemed to be admiration. “Well Harry, this tells me two things: First, Lord Voldemort is once again attempting to use the link between the two of you. He will try to get certain information out of you this way, so you must always be on your guard. He will attempt it again, make no mistake of that.�

Harry gulped inadvertently. Being told that one of the evilest Dark Wizards ever known was likely to pop in and out of your dreams over the next little while wasn’t very comforting.

“And second?� he asked, wanting the headmaster to move on.

“Second,� Dumbledore said with a smile, sensing Harry’s discomfort, “it tells me that we are finished with your Occlumency training.�

“What?� Harry asked, looking at the headmaster incredulously.

Seeing this, Dumbledore explained. “Now I don’t mean that you have mastered Occlumency, Harry, that takes decades to accomplish. But I have no doubt that it was Voldemort who attempted to enter your mind. He would naturally wait until you were the most vulnerable. He would also be the only one who could use your memories from the Ministry to get at what you were hiding, for they were his memories too. The fact that you were able to divert him, one of the most accomplished Legilimens alive, without his knowing it, shows that you are sufficiently skilled in the art and that our time here would be better spent in other activities.

“Congratulations Harry, you have passed.�

Taken aback, Harry looked back into the eyes of the headmaster, not quite believing what he was saying. Had he really repelled Voldemort out of his dream? Was he really good enough at Occlumency to do it again? Dumbledore had just said he was, so it must be true. At that realization Harry began to feel a warm, pleased feeling spread throughout his body.

“Out of curiosity though, what was this ‘something else’ you diverted his attention to?� Dumbledore asked casually.

The warm feeling disappeared. Harry had been hoping he wouldn’t ask that question, as answering it would be admitting that he had broken into the Ravenclaw common room and taken the second diary.

“Well,� Harry began sheepishly, “Do you remember at the end of Ravenclaw’s diary, that blue room with the bookcase that I asked you about?�

“Yes,� Dumbledore replied, interested. Harry noticed that quite a few of the portraits had turned to look at him as well.

“Well, after you showed me the diary I kept thinking about that room, because it seemed like a hint or something. Like a clue. When I asked you about it you didn’t tell me anything, so I thought I’d try to find it myself…�

Harry hesitated, not wanting to say the last part. Every single one of the portraits were now staring intently at him. Apparently he was going to get into more trouble than he had thought.

“And this blue room was the image you showed Voldemort?� Dumbledore asked casually.

There was nothing for it. He might as well come clean.

“Well, no. It turns out that I found the blue room (Harry made sure not to say the Ravenclaw common room) and the bookcase, which had another diary in it, and at the end of that diary there was another clue, a small, curved room with wooden beams crisscrossing the ceiling and another bookcase with the top shelf empty. That’s the image I showed Voldemort,� Harry gushed out in one breath.

“Oh, and right now the diary is hidden in my trunk wrapped up in an old T-shirt,� he added quickly, not wanting to leave anything out.

Harry gazed cautiously into the wizened face of the old headmaster. He expected him to be surprised. Expected him to be angry. He half expected him to raise his wand and turn him into a three-toed sloth. What he didn’t expect, however, was for him to swivel around in his chair so he was facing the portraits, laugh triumphantly, and say:

“Well, Percival, it appears that young Mr. Potter here does in fact have the ‘intellectual ingenuity’ to pursue the Half-Blood Prince, doesn’t it?�

Many of the portraits laughed and began speaking to one another excitedly. The portrait Dumbledore seemed to be addressing was of a stout, proud looking warlock with a large bald spot and a dark black beard that hung in ringlets from his face. He looked extremely surprised and flustered. Harry recognized him as one of the largest protestors when Dumbledore had decided to show him the Headmaster’s Vault.

“Had the wrong read on a student again, eh Percival?� shouted a blonde, thin wizard hanging on the other side of the wall. “Pity that being dead hasn’t improved your judgment at all, eh? Ha ha!�

This comment was followed with laughter and jeers from some of the other portraits.

“Oh quiet, the whole lot of you!� the portrait named Percival snapped. “I admit it, I was wrong about the boy. Now you don’t need to carry on about it like children!�

“Well let’s not give the boy too much credit,� said a smooth, sarcastic voice Harry recognized at once as Phineas Nigellus. “It’s most likely that brainy, female, Muggle-born friend of his did most of the work, isn’t it Potter?�

“No, I found it on my own!� Harry replied defensively, not even sure what they were talking about. The reaction of the portraits had made him supremely confused. He looked up questioningly at Dumbledore.

“Ah, my apologies, Harry. Allow me to explain,� he said consolingly, still with a broad smile on his face. “You see, some of my colleagues here have doubted whether or not I made the right decision to share Rowena Ravenclaw’s diary with you. Some of them,� here he looked meaningfully at the man named Percival, “think you lack the necessary attributes to embark on the quest for the Half-Blood Prince. Tonight, however, I am proud to say you have proved them wrong.�

“Oh yeah, if the boy is so smart, let’s see him find the third diary then, hah!� snapped Percival to scattered boos and hisses from the other portraits.

Harry couldn’t believe what he was hearing. What was going on? Had they been testing him? Had it all been a lie? There was no Wulfric Gryffindor? Half of him felt angry at being used. The other half disappointment.

“Then, the Half-Blood Prince isn’t real?� he asked bitterly.

“Don’t be a fool, boy. Of course he’s real!� barked the blonde wizard indignantly from the other side of the wall.

“That hasn’t been proven yet, has it Tradwell?� retorted Percival, raising his eyebrows severely.

Several other portraits had opened their mouths to join the argument when Professor Dumbledore raised his hand for silence. “That is enough, everyone. We can resume our debate on this matter some other time. I believe Harry here has the right to an explanation.� He turned towards Harry.

“The Half-Blood Prince is a legend, part of the vast lore and mythology of Hogwarts. And as with all legends, some of it is fact and some of it is the product of overactive imaginations. While there has been much speculation and many theories as to the nature and background of Wulfric Gryffindor, or the Half-Blood Prince, the only sure sources of knowledge we have are the diaries left behind by Rowena Ravenclaw.�

“Why did she leave behind diaries at all?� Harry asked. “Couldn’t she have just told us where he is?�

“There is much more to the story than just where Wulfric was buried, Harry,� Dumbledore said with a frown as he shook his head. “But I think I am not the best person to give that story to you. Perhaps you should hear it as I did.�

He swiveled around in his chair and looked up towards the highest part of the wall. Then he called out in a voice that carried throughout the office, “Mortimer?�

“Yes, Albus?� said an old voice that sounded like the rustling of old parchment.

“Would you be so kind?�

“Certainly.�

Harry craned his neck backwards to see who was talking. It was a portrait of an old, small man with erratic white wisps of hair coming from his scalp and small specs at the end of his nose. The portrait seemed dusty and grainy and seemed far more ancient than the rest.

“Allow me to introduce you to Mortimer Darlisscrop, seventh headmaster of Hogwarts and the first of us to be immortalized in portrait form. Most of the knowledge we have about Wulfric Gryffindor we owe to him.�

The old man coughed a couple times and took a deep breath. He removed his tiny spectacles and polished them with an old handkerchief. When he spoke it was as though he were reciting from a book.

“The story of the Half-Blood Prince has been passed along through the headmasters since the death of the founders themselves. For centuries the brave and the wise, the noble and the…�

“The shortened version, if you would, Mortimer. Potter does have classes he has to get to tomorrow,� interrupted Phineas Nigellus.

“…impertinent youths…,� Harry heard Mortimer Darlisscrop mumble, “…no appreciation of pomp and ceremony.� When he started again he looked down at Harry and his voice sounded much more natural.

“Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin lived as close friends for much of their lives, brothers in the cause of ennobling wizardkind. After the founding of Hogwarts, however, a rift began to form between the two. Slytherin couldn’t bear Godric’s candid friendship of those he deemed unworthy to hold the gift of magic, and Gryffindor couldn’t bear Salazar’s intolerance and pigheadedness towards Muggles. As the years passed this rift grew wider and deeper and the two former friends distanced themselves from one another. Finally, Gryffindor did something that was, in Slytherin’s mind, utterly inexcusable. Disgusted and vengeful, Slytherin left Hogwarts cursing the very stones it was built on and cursing the man whom he claimed drove him from it.�

“What did Gryffindor do?� Harry asked tentatively, not sure if he was allowed to interrupt the past headmaster’s narrative.

“None of us know Harry. All we know is Slytherin was so upset he abandoned Hogwarts and vowed to come in contact with Gryffindor again,� Dumbledore said in a low, hurried tone that told Harry it was better not to interrupt.

Mortimer Darlisscrop continued. “This argument was the starting point of a decades-long battle of ideals within the wizarding race. Wizardkind has always been at odds on the proper place of half-bloods, Muggle-borns, and what we consider the ‘lesser magical races,’ and Slytherin reignited public passion on the issue by spending the rest of his life preaching the ancient gospel of pure-blooded wizard supremacy. Aided by others who shared the same philosophy, he was able to widen the rift between those who believed blood didn’t matter and the pure-blood, anti-Muggle fanatics, almost to the point of open warfare.

“It is at this point that Wulfric Gryffindor comes into the story. Always a champion of the downtrodden and neglected, Godric Gryffindor had created many enemies for himself over the years. While general public sentiment at that time leaned more towards the subjugation of the ‘lesser races’ and keeping the wizarding race pure…�

“Ahh, the golden age,� Harry heard Phineas Nigellus say mournfully before being hushed by the red-nosed wizard Harry had seen the year before.

“…Gryffindor boldly proclaimed equal status for half-bloods and Muggle-borns as well as fair treatment of elves, goblins, centaurs, and other magical creatures. Before starting Hogwarts he had even founded his own village, allowing members of any magical species the chance to live together in harmony.�

“Elm’s Hollow,� Harry whispered out loud without meaning to. Dumbledore looked at him and nodded.

“Wulfric Gryffindor, the eldest son and successor to Godric’s legacy, shared his father’s attitude regarding the magical races and frequently associated with Muggles, elves, and centaurs himself, making himself the same enemies as his father. After Godric’s death it soon became evident that all three of his sons were in great danger of being killed off by his enemies. With the help of some of his father’s close associates, Wulfric placed his two younger brothers in a safe haven and was then placed in hiding himself to save his life and preserve the Gryffindor line.

“Unfortunately, however, the ruse failed and Wulfric was killed. Nothing is known about the circumstances leading to his death, whether it was the work of Gryffindor’s enemies, the result of a tragic accident, or the cowardly act of a traitor. Whatever happened, the Half-Blood Prince (as his father’s past acquaintances had affectionately named Wulfric) was no more. It is said that in honor of his and his father’s past deeds he was buried secretly and with an item of enormous power, so powerful, in fact, that both it and the location of Wulfric Gryffindor’s tomb had to be kept secret, known to only a few.�

Harry remained silent, riveted to every word Mortimer was saying.


“One of the few was Rowena Ravenclaw, who was a close friend of Godric’s until his death and instrumental in preserving his other two sons. She was also the architect of an ingenious plan to keep the location of Wulfric Gryffindor’s tomb secret from his enemies, yet make his power accessible to future headmasters should the need arise. She did this by recording her memories leading up to the death of Wulfric Gryffindor in four separate diaries and hiding them throughout the castle in locations only accessible to headmasters and headmistresses. Each diary contains a short narrative of crucial events at the time, as well as a clue as to where the next diary can be found. The diaries culminate with the fourth and final diary, which is said to point the way to the map which leads to Wulfric Gryffindor himself.�

Harry continued to sit motionless in his seat, overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of what he had found himself in. He had originally thought of Ravenclaw’s diaries as some sort of exciting treasure hunt. Now he could see he was immersed in an epic struggle that had stretched over centuries.

“While Hogwarts holds many mysteries and legends, none have baffled the stewards of these ancient halls more than the Half-Blood Prince. For hundreds of years noble headmasters and headmistresses have searched for the tomb of Wulfric Gryffindor, yet none have found it. Of the four diaries that were left behind by Mistress Ravenclaw, only two have ever been recovered. Should someone succeed in locating the final diaries and, in turn, the Half-Blood Prince, that person will gain the mysterious artifact and with it, the power to shape history.�

Here the ancient headmaster’s voice became mechanical once again as he broke eye-contact with Harry.

“This information was passed onto me by Adrius Hellisfurth, sixth headmaster of Hogwarts, who had it passed onto him by his grandsire and second Regent of Hogwarts, Hellsforth Condrius, who was taught at the foot of Godric Gryffindor himself. See that it is made known to none but the worthy.�

The last part was said with a quick nod. The ancient wizard once again removed his tiny spectacles from where they were perched on his nose and was silent.

Chapter 29


“Thank you Mortimer,� Dumbledore said with a nod at the ancient headmaster before turning back in his seat to face Harry. “There you have it. Now you have heard the story just as I did when I first became headmaster decades ago.�

Rather than clearing things up, Darlisscrop’s explanation had left Harry with even more questions before. Worst of all being why hadn’t anyone been able to find the third diary? Apparently his confusion was fairly obvious, for Dumbledore then asked with a smile, “Is there anything about Wulfric Gryffindor that we could attempt to clear up for you, Harry?�

“Er, yes.� He had no idea where to begin.

“Well, first of all, how exactly would he help us destroy Voldemort? I mean, you said back in Godric’s Hollow that if we knew where the Half-Blood Prince was we could stop Voldemort and win the war. But I thought I was the only one who could destroy Voldemort.�

Dumbledore shook his head patiently. “While the artifact that Wulfric Gryffindor possesses may indeed be powerful, I doubt it could destroy Voldemort. You are right – the only one with that power, apparently, is you. No, the power of the Half-Blood Prince is different altogether.�

Here the headmaster leaned back in his chair and gazed at the wall behind Harry with a faraway look in his eyes. Fawkes made a soft chirping sound.

“When I told you he could be the key to winning the war, I meant that he would help us unite wizardkind with its past allies, allies whose help we stand sorely in need of. I am speaking mainly of the goblins and centaurs. If we had their support, Harry, Voldemort would not dare to challenge the Ministry for a long time, during which we might hope to destroy him.�

“He’s preparing to attack pretty soon then?�

“According to my sources (Harry assumed he meant Snape), he is still amassing his army. When that has been completed and he has enough strength, he will free his imprisoned Death Eaters from Azkaban and wage a full-scale assault on the Ministry. His purpose, of course, is to destroy the collective will of the wizarding public by crushing its head – the government. Considering the current state of chaos and fear we are in, as well as the refusal of the centaurs and goblins to come to our aid, he has a pretty good chance of doing so. That is, unless the current situation changes drastically.

“If he succeeds in overthrowing the Ministry, he and his supporters will then systematically eliminate any remaining resistance by using his usual weapons, subterfuge and treachery. We will, at that time, be too scattered and too unorganized to mount any real opposition and few will have the courage to fight at all. Once all resistance is gone he will establish a new government with the goal of purifying the wizarding race – a bit ironic considering his own parentage – and appoint himself the head. Not satisfied with conquering this small island, he will then focus his attention on the continent. Who knows where it will end from there…

Harry sat in silence, almost overwhelmed. Noticing this, Dumbledore nodded sadly.

“Yes, I know how you feel. You can see why I have been interested in the legend of the Half-Blood Prince as of late. If we could win the support of the goblins and centaurs we would be able to stop Voldemort’s advance before it gained momentum. �

Not wanting to dwell on the unpleasant picture the headmaster had painted, Harry quickly asked the next question that had been hovering in his mind.

“So, what exactly is this artifact? I mean, what has the power to make the goblins and centaurs help us in the war?�

Dumbledore had just opened his mouth to reply when someone else’s voice called from across the room.

“It’s a golden scepter, with gems set into it representing each of the original goblin tribes!� blurted out the blonde wizard named Tradwell. “Whoever holds it has the power to make the goblins do their bidding…�

“Nonsense!� interrupted a bland, scholarly looking headmaster with straight grey hair whose portrait hung on the lower half of the wall in front of Harry. “The Kletchak documents turned out to be phony, Timothy, the Scepter of Rule doesn’t exist! Actual historical documents point to some sort of magical gauntlet forged by the great goblin chieftain Werkchuck himself…�

“Oh bosh on your historical documents, Hammerton, according to them the Chamber of Secrets doesn’t exist either, does it?� said a third portrait, this time a plump, strong jawed witch just above Dumbledore’s head. The rest of the portraits nodded in agreement and glared at the wizard named Hammerton, who snapped his mouth shut, clearly scandalized.

“That’s what happens when you rely too much on books and not enough on your own research!� resumed the witch. “From what I found, the artifact is most likely a jade crown that bestows mind control powers on its wearer. After all, he is called the Half-Blood Prince, isn’t he?�

“It’s not a crown, it’s the Monmouth stone!� yelled someone.

“It’s a ring, dolt!� called out someone else.

“As you see, many theories exist,� Dumbledore said to Harry in a weary undertone while the portraits raged on all around them. He motioned Harry nearer then leaned forward himself so only Harry could hear him.

“I do have my own theory, of course, but, unlike my colleagues here, I also have some very convincing evidence to support it. But I shall tell you more of that some other time.�

After giving him a secretive wink, Dumbledore rose from his seat and raised his hand for silence. It took the portraits a minute or so to settle down enough. Once they did, Dumbledore took his seat, turned once again to Harry and said, “But I think you have one more question that is undoubtedly gnawing at you, Harry – the same question that tortures us all…�

At this the few portraits who had still been arguing (Tradwell foremost among them), fell silent and turned deflated, resentful looks towards Harry, as if they knew exactly what he were going to ask next.

“So…if no one has ever found it, does that mean there is no third diary?�

“That’s the one,� one of the portraits replied sorrowfully.

“It might, Harry. It might.� Dumbledore replied simply.

Harry looked at him despairingly. It seemed cruel to hear such an amazing story just to be told it was all a dead end.

“Welcome to the hoax that is the Half-Blood Prince, boy!� the wizard named Percival said triumphantly, noting the forlorn look on Harry’s face. He was quickly hushed by a number of other portraits.

“Come now, Percival,� scolded the strong-jawed witch. “Just because you weren’t able to find him after a lifetime of searching doesn’t mean it’s a hoax.�

“You fool, Grenhilda!� Percival snapped back. “We’ve all spent lifetimes trying to find him! Centuries of fruitless searching, wandering around the castle at nighttime like imbeciles hoping for some clue somewhere that might point the way. And what do we have to show for it? Nothing! And now we’re infecting this poor boy, dooming him to the same lifetime of frustration we’ve had. If it were up to me we would put a torch to the whole matter and never speak of it again!�

“Percival spent the last ten years of his tenure here searching for the third diary. You might even say it grew into a bit of an unhealthy obsession,� Dumbledore explained to a pronounced “Humph!� from Percival.

“So, is there a third diary or isn’t there?� Harry asked again, hoping for a more definitive answer than ‘maybe’. He was beginning to feel slightly infuriated himself – why spend all this time talking about something if it didn’t exist?

“Well, none of us can definitively say that there is, but at the same time, we can’t say that there isn’t,� said Dumbledore, shaking his head.

“What do you mean?�

The headmaster looked at him inquiringly. “Tell me, have you found the second hidden room, the small one with wooden cross-beams yet?�

Harry shook his head. Apparently this surprised a few of the portraits.

“Really?� asked Tradwell incredulously.

“Perhaps he’s not so intelligent after all, eh, Albus? I mean, that room is the easiest one to find,� added Phineas Nigellus in a smug tone.

All this further irritated Harry, who suddenly felt a need to defend himself.

“Look, I know it’s in one of the towers, and I know it’s towards the top of the castle, but I’ve searched every tower and it’s not there!�

Dumbledore raised his hand again to restore silence.

“It’s ok Harry, it’s no matter. Don’t mind them,� he said, casting a reproachful glance at Phineas. “Once you have found the room you will understand our consternation. I will not tell you any more than that. I would, however, suggest searching the towers again. If you are truly observant I think you should find the room. And allow me to offer you one small clue: Not all doors are placed in the most practical of places.�

“Oh sure, Albus. Why don’t you just tell him where the room is?� Phineas said sarcastically as he rolled his eyes.

Harry left the headmasters office that night with his head abuzz. Search all the towers? They had already done that, was it possible they could have missed it? With the exception of the Astronomy tower he had searched every one of them personally, and Ron and Hermione had assured him there was nothing there. And what did Dumbledore’s clue mean? Not all doors are placed in the most practical of places. Did that mean it was some sort of hidden door, like the entrance to Diagon Alley or the Slytherin common room? Perhaps a trapdoor, like the one that lead to Trelawney’s classroom? All these questions and more circled through his head as he made his way back through the nearly empty corridors of Hogwarts. The sound of a door opening in the hallway up ahead snapped him from his reverie.

A large figure slipped out of the doorway, followed by two slender ones. It didn’t take Harry long to realize who they were: Malfoy, Crabbe, and Pansy Parkinson. They were far enough away that he would have to yell for them to hear him, yet close enough that they would recognize him at once. Harry halted and slipped his hand underneath his robes, grasping his wand. He doubted Malfoy would try to start anything – ever since the altercation in Privet Drive that summer he had been surprisingly quiet – but it was better to be prepared, just in case. Knowing Malfoy it was most likely he would yell a derisive, partially-clever insult to which Pansy would shriek in laughter and Crabbe would chuckle stupidly, then walk away. Harry readied himself.

It came as a bit of a shock, then, when Malfoy looked down the hall at Harry, appeared to study him for a second, then turned and walked away without saying a word, accidentally running into a small statue of an inebriated dwarf as he went. Pansy and Crabbe, having also spotted Harry, watched him walk away with the same surprise, apparently expecting some sort of insult themselves. When none came, they hurriedly followed after.

That was strange, Harry thought to himself as he continued his course towards the Gryffindor common room. It was most unlike Malfoy to pass-up any opportunity to taunt or insult him. He had barely even given a sneer before walking off. And hadn’t Ron said Grendelhall had given him detention tonight? He couldn’t possibly have finished it already. Unless he had gotten out of it somehow. Perhaps his father had bought his way out of detention…

Then Harry remembered that Malfoy’s father was in Azkaban and highly unlikely to buy his way out of anything. The thought gave him immense satisfaction.

Shrugging off the strange encounter with Malfoy, Harry’s thoughts quickly returned to the Half-Blood Prince and the third diary. Dumbledore had advised him to research all the towers again. The mere thought gave him a hot twinge of frustration. They had already searched every tower in the castle – what exactly had they missed? Trelawney’s tower had the wooden rafters but was much too big to be the room he had seen in the diary. He had been in the Ravenclaw common room tower and knew that wasn’t it. McGonagall’s classroom was also in a tower, but had a metallic, domed-type ceiling in it. All that was left were the smaller towers (which he had already checked) and the Astronomy tower, which Ron and Hermione had already investigated. For a brief moment he considered checking the Astronomy tower himself, just in case they had missed something, but quickly decided it was pointless. Hermione was one of the most observant people he had ever known. There was no way he was going to find something there if she hadn’t.

Just then Harry heard a soft, hushed noise coming from behind a tapestry he had just passed, almost like a giggle. He stopped walking and leaned towards the tapestry. After a brief moment he heard two faint voices that sounded like they were far away.

“Come on, just one more…you promised that if I got an ‘E’ on my Transfiguration essay you would…� said a familiar male voice.

“Ok, ok, but then that’s it. We’ve got to get back to the common room, we’re prefects…� said a female voice that also sounded familiar. Then there was silence.

Knowing that he didn’t really want to see what he was about to see, but somehow unable to stop himself, Harry slowly drew aside the corner of the tapestry and looked in. There, at the top of a short staircase, stood Ron and Hermione, locked in each other’s arms and sharing a long, tender kiss.

He hurriedly released the tapestry and continued on his way to the common room, a strange, sick sort of feeling in his gut. For some time now he had been fairly certain his two best friends were together, even expected that they probably did a fair bit of snogging, but seeing it first hand was almost too much. He walked even faster, trying to get the image from his mind.

If this was what they did while on “Prefect Duty�, Harry suddenly realized he wouldn’t bet on Hermione spotting a fully-grown Mountain Troll, let alone a hidden doorway during their previous visit to the Astronomy tower. He would have to go there himself.

Chapter 30
The Tower Room



“He told you to search all the towers again?�

Harry and Ginny sat talking in the common room before breakfast while they waited for Ron and Hermione to come down. Harry had just spent the last 10 minutes telling Ginny about the previous night’s visit with Dumbledore. She had listened intently, curled up in a squishy armchair across from him.

“Yes. Apparently the room isn’t too hard to find, either. Most of the portraits seemed surprised that I hadn’t found it yet.�

Ginny’s brow furrowed and she began twirling a strand of red hair around one of her fingers in thought. “But we’ve searched all of them already, haven’t we? Let’s see, there’s the Ravenclaw tower – but you and I checked that – Trelawney’s tower…�

“I think I know which one it is,� Harry said, interrupting her.

“Really? Which one?�

“The Astronomy tower.�

“I thought Hermione and Ron checked it.�

“They did,� Harry replied. “At night.�

Ginny looked at him, puzzled.

“Alone,� he added with a meaningful look.

Her expression immediately went from puzzlement to slightly revolted comprehension.

“Gross,� she said, rolling her eyes. “You’re right – we should definitely check it again. Those two are horrible, you know I accidentally ran into them snogging in the Owlry the other day?�

“The Owlry? Yeah, I ran into them last night. I think I’m going to start taking the Marauder’s Map with me everywhere I go just so it doesn’t happen again.�

“Yeah, or maybe we could get Peeves to drop a used chamber pot from the Infirmary on them. Teach them not to do it where some poor unsuspecting person can come across them. Honestly, get a room…oh, quiet, here she comes.�

Hermione had appeared at the top of the girls dormitory stairs and began making her way down. Ginny quickly changed the subject.

“So, when are you going to go check the tower?�

“Well, it’s a full day of classes, so I reckon I won’t be able to until after dinner. You want to come?�

“Can’t, we have Quidditch practice today,� Ginny said with a small sigh as she turned to look out the window. The weather had been cold and dismal all week. Today didn’t appear to be an exception.

“Morning,� Hermione said cheerfully as she sat down on the chair next to Ginny. She looked up suddenly at Harry. “Oh! How did it go last night with Dumbledore? Does he know about the second diary?�

By the time Harry had finished explaining the previous night’s meeting to Hermione, Ron had joined them and he had to start all over again. He filled Ron in as they walked towards the Great Hall for breakfast. Once he had finished, Hermione (who had been quiet and thoughtful for some time) looked up suddenly and said, “Well, at least there’s a bit of good news too, isn’t there?�

Harry and Ron looked at her incredulously.

“Er…good news?�

“Yeah, which part are you talking about? The part about having to search all the towers again or the part about how the whole thing may be a hoax?� asked Ron sarcastically.

Hermione shook her head and rolled her eyes impatiently. “No, how about the fact that the headmasters were even talking about the Half-Blood Prince at all? I mean, before last night we weren’t even sure if the legend was real or not. But if it’s been passed down through the headmasters for centuries and they’re all still talking about it, there’s bound to be some truth to it, right?�

“Well, not all of them think there’s truth to it,� said Harry.

“What do you mean?�

“There was one old headmaster named Percival, I guess he spent the last part of…�

“Wait, Percival Hamascus?� asked Hermione in surprise.

“Er…I dunno. I never heard his last name. Why?�

“Headmaster Hamascus contributed most of what we know about Godric Gryffindor. He spent a good deal of his life researching him and his family. It’s all in Hogwarts, A History.�

“Oh yeah, I read that chapter just last night. Couldn’t put it down,� said Ginny in a tone of mock-enthusiasm. Harry and Ron laughed. Hermione rolled her eyes.

“Well, whatever he did, he sure doesn’t think searching for Wulfric Gryffindor is a good use of time. Said if there really was a third diary we would have found it by now and we were all fools for still looking.�

“Really?� Hermione said in surprise. Her eyes narrowed and she looked deep in thought, as if hearing that Percival Hamascus thought the Half-Blood Prince was a waste of time were causing her to doubt too.

“Well, I suppose spending a lifetime searching for Wulfric Gryffindor and never finding anything made him bitter,� she said at length. “I would be too, if it happened to me.�

“Maybe, but the whole thing doesn’t sound too promising, does it?� said Ron, shaking his head skeptically. “I mean, if past headmasters spent years looking for this bloke and couldn’t find anything, what chance do we have?�

Harry didn’t want to admit it, but he was inclined to agree with Ron.

Hermione shook her head stubbornly. “It can’t be completely hopeless, Ron. I mean, Dumbledore’s probably the busiest person in England right now, and if he thinks searching for Wulfric Gryffindor is worth his time than he must have a pretty good reason. I think he thinks Harry might be able to help them find the Half-Blood Prince, otherwise he never would have told him about it in the first place.�

“Well, I guess we won’t know until we find the next room, will we?� Ginny said in a tone of finality as they entered the Great Hall. “Harry’s going to go check the towers again today after dinner if you want to go with him Hermione.�

“I’ll go too.� Ron said absently, his attention on a plate of bangers and mash set on the Ravenclaw table they were walking past.

“We can’t Ron, we’ve got Quidditch practice. You’re the captain, remember?�

“Oh yeah,� Ron replied, disappointed.

“Well I’ll go with you, Harry,� said Hermione. “Let’s meet in the common room after dinner.�

***

Harry found it hard to concentrate during classes that day. In Herbology Professor Sprout had them pruning Bulgarian Murknestles, a task that was made especially difficult due to the fact that if you cut off the wrong branch they would spit a milky white slime that stuck that stuck to your clothes and skin like a gigantic piece of foul chewing gum. His mind on the third diary and not the task at hand, Harry mistakenly snipped the wrong branch and the gigantic plant launched its white, glutinous missile at him. Fortunately, he was able to dodge move his head out of the way just in the nick of time. Unfortunately, the slime whizzed past him and hit Lavender Brown squarely in the back of the head and she had to be taken, crying, to Madame Pomprey’s to be given a dissolving solution.

After what seemed like an eternity (Transfiguration took just as long) Harry finally found himself trudging alongside Ron down the corridor leading to the Great Hall for dinner. After a quick bite Harry and Hermione said goodbye to Ginny and Ron (though Ginny looked like she was seriously considering skipping Quidditch practice and going with them) dropped their books off in the dormitories, then set out to search the towers.

“What do you think Harry? Where should we begin?� asked Hermione as they made their way down the moving staircases and into the main corridor.

Harry had planned on her asking this. He had actually spent part of Herbology trying to come up with a legitimate reason for suggesting they check the Astronomy tower first, something more tactful than ‘I don’t think you checked it well enough the first time because you were snogging Ron.’ Hopefully it would work.

“Er…how about the Astronomy tower? I figured it was the furthest away, so if we started there we could work our way back and make it to the common room before it got too late.

The reason seemed to be good enough for Hermione, as she gave a small shrug and nodded her head. They walked through the corridors towards the tower, occasionally running into other students and exchanging greetings but for the most part silent and lost in their own thoughts. At one point they came across Peeves ricocheting off the walls in a corridor adjoining theirs. Once he saw them he flew towards them.

“Oooohhh! Poopy-Peppy-Potty and Mistress Prefect!� he taunted, giving an overly dramatic bow to Hermione as he said the last part. “What are you two doing out together? Won’t the ickle fireheads be jealous?�

He cackled heartily as he sat hovering in the air several feet above them.

“Come off it Peeves,� said Harry, slightly annoyed.

“Come off what? This?� he smirked as he detached an iron candle-holder from the wall next to him, sending it crashing down a few feet from Harry.

Harry reached inside his robes to remove his wand. He had come across a spell recently in his studying that was supposed to work on ghosts and other incorporeal beings, something called an Ethereal Displacement jinx. He had been hoping for a chance to use it on Peeves, just to see what it would do.

“Peeves, get out of here right now,� Hermione ordered.

“Or what, you’ll give me…� he blew a giant raspberry in her direction, “Detention? Ha ha ha ha!�

“No, I’ll go tell the Bloody Baron that you got soot and ash all over the tapestry of Hildecrest the Hungry,� she said, pointing bossily at the space on the floor where the candle had smashed against a tapestry hanging on the wall. “That’s one of his favorite tapestries, you know.�

Peeves laughed derisively, then bounded off back down the corridor he had come from.

“You know the Bloody Baron’s favorite tapestries?� Harry asked in disbelief as they continued towards the Astronomy tower. The very idea that the Bloody Baron would even have a favorite tapestry seemed absurd.

“No, I just made that up. Peeves is too scared of him to ever check if you’re lying or not, so you can pretty much tell him anything you want.�

At length they came to base of the Astronomy tower. It was, for the most part, a broad, hollow cylinder with a wide, winding staircase that followed its outer wall all the way to the top, then tapered off into a small, rectangular slot. In the rectangular slot the staircase narrowed and doubled back on itself a couple times for about six feet before opening up into the broad stargazing platform on the roof above. It was one of the tallest towers at Hogwarts and generally took at least 10 minutes to ascend.

As they began climbing up the long staircase, Harry thought back to the last time he had been there. It had been during the practical portion of their Astronomy OWL exam the year before. Umbridge and her cronies had snuck out of the castle in an attempt to apprehend Hagrid. Hagrid had escaped, but poor Professor McGonagall had been blasted by about four stunners all at once, causing her to have an extended stay at the hospital. Professor Umbridge. Her name still made his blood boil. He thought back to the article about her getting sacked from the Ministry and suddenly felt much better.

Realizing they were already almost a quarter of the way up the tower, Harry looked around for any sign of a hidden room. There were a couple rooms set in the outer wall at the base of the tower, but they were used for storage and were much too long to be the room they had seen in the diary. The rest of the tower was surprisingly bare (its main purpose being stargazing and surveying the surrounding countryside) and there was nothing but a few tapestries and the occasional window to break up the monotony.

They continued their ascension. Hermione was now panting slightly from the physical exertion and they were nearly halfway up the tower. Still no sight of anything out of the ordinary. Could the room be invisible? No, Harry reasoned, that would make it much too hard to locate. From the way the portraits talked it seemed like it was reasonably easy to find. Perhaps there was a secret passage behind one of the tapestries, a doorway leading to a secret side-room? He pulled the next few tapestries they passed from the wall and searched behind them, until a quick glance out of one of the windows showed him such a room was impossible – the outer wall was only a couple feet thick and there wasn’t nearly enough space to hid an entire room. Harry cursed the simplicity of the tower. He had expected there to be nooks and crannies, dark corners that could hide a secret door. Instead it was just a giant, hollow cylinder, nothing but staircase and windows all the way up. The feeling of anticipation he had felt the night before began to slip away. It didn’t look like the hidden room was in the Astronomy tower. They might have to check the other towers after all…

As they reached the top of the winding staircase they paused to catch their breath. Hermione’s face was red and they were both panting.

“I suppose we might as well check the top since we’re here,� said Harry, defeated. Hermione only nodded, too out of breath to reply.

They made their way up the second, shorter staircase set in the rectangular shaft in the center of the tower and out onto the roof. The sun was just beginning to set behind the mountains in the distance, painting the clouds a magnificent gold. It was a breathtaking view was unfortunately lost on Harry, who had already begun thinking about what tower to search next.

“You were right, there’s nothing here,� he said to Hermione sullenly. “D’you reckon we should we check the North tower next?�

“Yes, I suppose we should,� said Hermione with a reluctant glance towards the staircase that told Harry she wasn’t too keen on starting down them just yet.

They trudged back down the rectangular shaft and its five or six feet of stone wall on each side and back onto the winding staircase. Just as they started the long decent, disappointment settling in Harry’s stomach like a bar of lead, something suddenly occurred to him.

“Wait.�

He put his arm out in front of Hermione and they both stopped in their tracks. He looked back up at the rectangular shaft they had just come through. There was something strange about it…

“What? What is it?� Hermione asked as she came up behind him.

Harry didn’t answer immediately. He was busy investigating the wall. Why would there be a rectangular shaft leading upwards to the roof of the tower? Why wouldn’t the spiral staircase lead all the way up? Unless…

“Hermione, look at this wall,� he said, placing his right hand over the cool stone. Keeping his hand there he stretched out his left arm towards the other wall. The space was so narrow he could almost reach. “The tower is just as wide up here as it is at the bottom, but for some reason the staircase narrows right in this area. There’s at least five feet here of just stone. What do you suppose is behind these walls?�

Hermione looked at him puzzled for a moment, as if she didn’t understand what he was talking about. Then the comprehension began to dawn on her face. Harry was surprised she hadn’t noticed it first.

“You’re right, Harry. That is a bit peculiar,� she said distractedly as she investigated the wall herself. “I never even noticed this part before – I just assumed it was part of the ceiling. Now that you mention it, though, it does seem rather large to just be part of the ceiling. You don’t suppose…there could be a room in there?�

They gazed at the dimensions of the shaft, trying to recollect the size and shape of the room in the diary.

“I remember the diary room had one wall, the one on the right, that was curved and the other was straight,� said Harry, picturing it in his head. “So I guess this couldn’t be it, because the entire thing is circular?�

“Hmm,� said Hermione, biting her lip. “Maybe you’re right. It does look about the same size as the room in the diary, doesn’t it? Yes, it definitely had a curved wall and a flat one. Kind of like a half-moon shape…Wait!

She put her hands on the wall in front of them, then looked over excitedly.

“But if we were in the space inside of this wall, the outer wall of the tower would be curved, and this one…� she patted the wall with her hands, “…would be straight! Harry! I think this is it!�

Harry’s heart began to race with excitement. His eyes darted around the small stairwell they were in, looking for an entrance. Instead all he saw was a blank, stone wall.

“Great. Er…how do we get in?�

“What did Dumbledore tell you again?�

Harry thought back to the advice the headmaster had given him the day before. “Er…He said, not all doors are in the most practical of places. What do you suppose that means? There’s a secret entrance or something, like Diagon Alley?�

Hermione pulled out her wand, a thoughtful expression on her face. “Possibly, let’s check,� she said as she prodded anxiously at the giant, rectangular stones that made up the wall.

Harry joined her and they spent the next few minutes searching the wall for any sign of a hidden door.

“Wait, let’s take a step back and think about this,� said after a couple minutes of fruitless searching. She stepped back from the wall and put her wand down. “The clue Dumbledore gave you was not all doors are in the most practical of places, right?�

“Yes.�

“So that means there definitely is a door…it’s just not in a very practical place...�

She remained thoughtful. Harry looked at her, wondering what she was getting at. After a moment or two she looked up at him.

“Harry, I don’t think he was saying that the door is hidden, I think he means that the door is in an unusual place!�

“What d’you mean?�

“Well, look at it this way – if this really is a room, where would the most practical place to have a door be?�

“Er…right here,� he said, placing his hand on the wall in front of them.

“Right, so where would the most impractical place be?�

Harry thought for a moment. The most impractical place to have a door? That would be…

Without answering he ran back down the stairs, Hermione on his heels. Once they were back on the spiral staircase they looked up at the underside of the room above them, trying to find some hint of a doorway.

Nothing.

“Hmm,� Hermione said, her brow furrowed. “I don’t see anything. And there’s not a trapdoor opening up from the roof – I noticed when we were up there. I don’t see where else you could have a door. Unless…�

Harry’s brain made the connection the same time she did. They looked at each other in shock.

“No,� Hermione shook her head in disbelief. “But why would they…�

Harry was halfway up the rectangular shaft before she could even finish the question. He raced up the last remaining stairs and out onto the stargazing platform. The sun had sunk even lower beyond the horizon and the clouds were now a deep, bold crimson. He walked towards the edge of the tower where a short wall built of stone had been placed to protect the unwary stargazer from a chillingly far drop to the ground below. Lifting himself so his chest was flat against the top of the wall he gazed down at the side of the tower. The sight was dizzying.

The outside of the tower was made of the same grey, rugged stone they had seen on the inside. The stone had been cut into giant square and rectangular blocks that were stacked on top of each other, leaving deep, dark fissures between them. His eyes quickly scanned the surface of the tower. At first he didn’t notice it; the entire wall was the same somber, drizzly grey, but after a moment something caught his eye. A small indentation beneath him and slightly off to the left where rough surface of the wall suddenly became smooth.

A doorway.

It appeared to be made of iron, had a flat base and pointed top and was only a few feet tall, as though it were made for a rather short person. The outside of the door blended in with the rest of the wall so well it was barely noticeable; Harry doubted he would have ever noticed it if he hadn’t been looking. His heart raced even faster.

“Hermione! Come look!� he shouted.

Hermione, who had been peering cautiously over the wall on the other side of the tower, ran over.

“The door, it’s there! Look!�

He pointed at the doorway. Hermione leaned over the wall, trying to look at where he was pointing.

“Oh my! That’s it…we found it!� They exchanged an excited glance. Suddenly Hermione’s expression turned to one of confusion.

“But who in their right mind would build a room at the top of a tower with the door opening up from the outside?� she asked logically.

“What, and the rest of the castle makes sense?� Harry replied absently, still too excited to care who had built the room or why they had put the door where it was. “The real question is, how are we going to get down there?�

“Hmm…rope? Some sort of ladder? There’s that levitation charm Professor Flitwick mentioned in Charms the other day, I’ve been wanting to try that out,� Hermione suggested.

“No, that would take too long. I’ve got a better idea,� said Harry anxiously. Hearing Hermione mention Charms and looking out across the grounds had given him an idea. His fourth year, task one of the Triwizard Tournament…

“Why don’t I just summon the Firebolt? We could fly down there.�

Hermione shook her head. “Um, I don’t think that’s a good idea.�

“Why not? It worked during the Triwizard Tournament, didn’t it?�

“Yes but the castle was empty then. If you go summoning your broom now, who knows what it will…�

“It’ll be all right,� Harry interrupted, anxious to get down to the room and see what was there. Before Hermione could protest he had his wand out.

“Accio Firebolt!�

A few moments of silence. Then there was a soft swishing sound that grew louder and louder. Suddenly the broom came sweeping over the corner of the tower, straight into Harry’s open hand. Grinning, he kicked one leg over it and was about to take off when he noticed small and black dangling from the back of his broom.

On closer inspection he realized it was a book bag. Its leather strap had somehow become entangled with the broomstick and its flap hung open, spilling parchment, quills, and a book out onto the ground. From what it looked like the bag had lost half its contents on its trip up to the tower. Harry leaned over and picked up the book, Beginning Transfiguration by Brinhilda Hobblescop.

“Property of Madeline Hillman,� Harry read from inside the cover. Apparently the broom had passed poor Madeline in one of the corridors and made off with her book bag. Harry glanced at Hermione, who was glaring at him accusingly with her hands on her hips.

“Er…I’ll make sure Madeline gets her bag back,� Harry said, trying to act remorseful.

Hermione continued to glare at him.

“So give me detention then,� said Harry as he dumped the bag unceremoniously to ground, too anxious to see what was in the room to care that his broom had assaulted an unsuspecting first-year. He launched into the air and circled the tower, getting a closer look at the door.

Now that he could see it up close, Harry realized why they had never spotted the door before. It was small – probably only about three feet tall – and blended almost perfectly with the stone surrounding it. Even if someone did see it they probably wouldn’t pay it any attention, thinking it was just a sealed window or some sort of storage room. He flew up to the roof, hovering alongside Hermione.

“You coming?�

“Um…yes,� Hermione said nervously, looking wide-eyed at the perilous drop below them.

Harry helped her onto the broom behind him (she threw her arms around his waist as if her life depended on it) and dropped down a few feet to the door.

“Hermione, can you get it for us? I can’t exactly reach my wand right now.�

“Oh…Y…yes, just a moment,� he heard her reply. She took a deep breath (Harry suddenly realized she wasn’t used to flying so high) and he felt one arm unwrap itself from him as she took out her wand.

“Alo..Alohomora!�

The sturdy iron door creaked on its hinges as it slowly opened towards them, revealing a dim, dingy room behind. Maneuvering the broom so they could climb inside (not an easy task considering the doorway was only three feet high and there were two of them on the broom) they looked up to see a small, cramped room full of cobwebs and dust.

At first Harry thought it was the wrong room, as the one they had seen in the diary looked much different, but on further inspection realized the passing of centuries was bound to have changed its outside appearance. The room was shaped just as the one in the diary had been, had the same criss-crossing rafters as the one in the diary, and (Harry noticed as his heart raced even faster than before), had a small, wooden bookcase against the wall with the top shelf completely empty.

Hermione exhaled excitedly, apparently coming to the same realization about the room that he had. “This it, isn’t it? This is the room we saw! What do you suppose this table is all about?�

She put her hand on a small, square table that had been placed next to the doorway. A similarly small chair was placed next to it. On top of it were a few random pieces of pottery and eating utensils, as if it had once been used for dining.

Harry walked by, barely even paying attention to it, focusing on the small bookcase across the room from them. He walked across the room, tearing down the cobwebs in front of him with his left arm while he pulled out his wand with his right. This is why he had come here. This is what would hopefully provide him with the answers he wanted.

He waved his wand and said the word that had been hovering about in his mind for so long, the word Rowena Ravenclaw had said at the end of her last diary.

“Acclaronius!�

He waited expectantly. Nothing happened. He said it again, this time tapping the bookshelf with his wand.

Nothing.

By this time Hermione had come up alongside him, watching excitedly.

“Acclaronius!� he said again and tapped the bookshelf a couple times more. Still nothing.

“Perhaps you’re not waving your wand correctly. Maybe it’s more of a flick than a swoop. Let me try,� Hermione said impatiently. She waved her wand and said the same word, but to no avail.

After about ten minutes of this Hermione finally gave up, leaning back against the wall behind them.

“Well, I don’t know what we expected,� she said resignedly. “I mean Dumbledore and the other headmasters did tell you there was nothing there.�

“I don’t know. I guess I expected something though, like a clue or a hint to give us something to go on,� Harry replied in frustration as he said the incantation and tapped the bookshelf again.

By this time the sky outside had darkened considerably. Giving it up as useless, Hermione returned to the Gryffindor common room (Harry had to give her a lift back to the top of the Astronomy tower) while Harry stayed behind and kept trying. He kept at it for a half-hour more before finally admitting defeat and leaving the tower. It was getting late and he would get in trouble if he were found roaming about the castle much longer.

Deciding it was safer to walk back to the dormitories than to fly around the castle at night, Harry hovered down to the base of the tower and entered the castle through a side door, his Firebolt thrown over his shoulder. A feeling of frustration like he had never felt before engulfed him as he walked through the nearly empty corridors. He could now begin to understand Percival’s contempt for the whole Half-Blood Prince; he had only spent a few months tracking Wulfric Gryffindor and was ready to give it up. Percival had spent half his life. A part of him had been so excited to find the hidden room, so excited that he was part of this ancient legend that he had been sure he would find something there. Instead all he found was a plain, wooden, bookcase whose top shelf remained infuriatingly empty.

He took the long way back, not wanting to meet up with Ginny and Ron and admit that there had been nothing there. As he stalked through the corridors, lost in his thoughts, he came across Peeves floating through the air. He was trailing a long, thin chain behind him that looked suspiciously like it had belonged to a chandelier.

“Ooooo! Potty-wee-Potty, out past curfew again! Filchy would want to know about this!� he threatened with his usual cackle.

Annoyed (an encounter with Peeves was the last thing he felt like right now), Harry pulled out his wand. Perhaps he would get a chance to try out that new spell after all. It would definitely feel good to vent some of his frustration.

“Come off it Peeves, I’m warning you,� Harry replied, knowing it would only egg him on.

“Oooo, a warning!� Peeves cackled in delight. “I had better watch my step, or Potty here will…�

Without warning Peeves threw the long chain at him. Harry dodged out of the way and pointed his wand at him.

“Aeris Iacio!�

What happened next was one of the oddest things Harry had ever seen. A ghostly white bolt shot out of his wand and caught Peeves on the side of his face, causing his entire plump frame to vibrate as if he were being electrocuted. He emitted a strange sputtering noise then all at once the side of his face that had been hit (which included his right eye, entire nose and a greater part of his mouth) splattered against the wall behind him. It was a very strange sight – a roaming eye (not unlike Mad-Eye’s), a nose, and half a mouth all strewn across the back wall, glowing a pale ghostly white. For a brief moment Harry worried that he had seriously injured Peeves until he realized he was a poltergeist and the worst the spell could do was annoy him and cause intense discomfort. Completely shaken by the experience (apparently the Ethereal Displacement jinx was new to Peeves as well) the mischievous poltergeist flew quickly to the wall where the various parts of his face had been splattered, picked them up with a trembling hand, and attempted to meld them back into his disfigured face. When he turned around his nose was where his eye should have been, one half of his mouth sat where the nose used to be like a grotesquely large nostril, and his right eye was peering out of the side of his head, as if there were a small creature living in his ear, waiting to pounce.

Harry let out a roaring laugh to which Peeves (whom he had never seen so mad) responded by making an extremely rude gesture and rocketing out of the room furiously.

Feeling slightly better and making a note to show Ginny and Ron the Ethereal Displacement jinx as soon as he had a chance, Harry continued through the castle toward the Gryffindor common room. His thoughts soon turned back to the tower room and the third diary, and he tried to think up possible explanations for why there was nothing there.

Perhaps one of the first headmasters, one of the first six whose portraits hadn’t been done, had found the third diary but neglected to replace it? Maybe they had studied it and left it somewhere else in the castle, somewhere they had no hope of finding? No, that didn’t seem very likely. A Hogwarts headmaster would be sure to take care of an important artifact like the diary.

What if Ravenclaw had never made a third diary? Perhaps she put together the first two and meant to finish the others but something had come up unexpectedly and she wasn’t able to? No, that didn’t seem very likely either, as all the previous headmasters seemed pretty sure that there were four diaries.

Not able to think up any other reason for the missing diary, Harry resorted to the feeble explanation that maybe the diary really was in the bookshelf, but he just hadn’t said the words with the correct intonation or waved his wand correctly. That, at least, gave him hope.

Firebolt slung over his shoulder with his left hand, wand in his right, Harry said the words over and over, each time trying a slightly different wand movement. He knew it was feeble, but part of him refused to admit there was nothing in the room, that there was nothing he could do.

As he entered a large corridor not far from the Great Hall there was an odd swishing noise, followed by a gentle clanking. Harry looked up to see Peeves (who had a nasty, vindictive look on his still-deformed face) pushing an enormous set of armor off its pedestal a few feet above him. He tried to jump out of the way but the breastplate and shoulder of the armor caught him in the back as it came thundering down around him. He rolled down a small set of stairs, the armor with him, and as he hit the ground both his wand and his Firebolt flew out of his hands.

Peeves (who, while he enjoyed dropping things on students must have been extremely angry at having his face rearranged, as he had never done something so heavy and dangerous as a full suit of armor) hovered over Harry, made a spitting noise in his direction and said, “Serves you right, whelp.� He then flew away laughing, though the laughter had a humorless, menacing tone to it.

Harry closed his eyes for a moment, trying to sort through the pain in his body to see if anything was broken. Everything seemed to be working, though he was bound to have quite a few bruises in the morning. He should have known Peeves would try to get revenge. Lying still for a moment longer, Harry had just begun pushing the heavy pieces of armor off him when he heard a number of footsteps enter the room.

Fearing it was Filch and Mrs. Norris, Harry quickly rose to his knees. Who he saw standing in front of him made his heart sink. He much would have preferred Filch and his cat.

Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson, Crabbe, and Theodore Nott had just entered and were looking about the room in confusion. Malfoy’s eyes met Harry’s. All at once Harry realized the seriousness of the situation – he had been hurt, his wand was lying on the floor seven or eight feet away from him (closer to Nott than to himself), and he was outnumbered four to one. Apparently Malfoy made this realization the same time he did, for his face broke into a triumphant sneer. He had undoubtedly been looking for a chance to get revenge on Harry ever since summer. This was the perfect opportunity.

Harry quickly tried to get to his feet and to his wand. His body was sluggish and still in pain from the fall – it was all he could do to stand on his feet and not fall over. The sound of the armor falling off him caused the rest of Malfoy’s group to look towards him. Pansy Parkinson squealed with delight.

“It’s Potter, Draco! And look at the mess he’s made of the place. I think that this deserves at least a week of detention, don’t you?� she said gleefully. Malfoy had a similar look of glee on his face, as though Christmas had just come early, but with it was a strange sort of vengeful hatred that frightened Harry.

“No, no detention for Potter,� he said as he strode forward a few paces, flanked by Crabbe and Nott. Crabbe’s expression was angry. Nott’s was impassive.

“Well, there’s no ogre of a Muggle here to help you this time Potter, and no Dumbledore to bail you out of trouble like usual. I think it’s time for a little payback, don’t you, Nott? Crabbe?�

Harry’s eyes darted to where his wand was lying on the ground, just a few feet from Nott. Nott, noticing this, looked down to where he was looking and saw the wand. Harry cursed himself silently. He might have had a chance if he could have distracted them and gotten to the wand. Now there was no hope as Nott had moved towards it and picked it up.

Smirking venomously, Malfoy removed his own wand and pointed it at Harry. “Well, what should we start with first, boys? I’ve always found Potter’s face to be particularly offensive, perhaps we should clear it up a bit?� Harry braced himself, knowing he was in for a lot of pain. All he could hope for was to dodge Malfoy’s first spell and get one good shot at him before Nott or Crabbe hit him with a spell. He balled up his fist and prepared himself to strike.

Then something happened that totally caught Harry off guard. Nott, who had been silent the entire time, walked calmly up to Harry and handed him his wand back.

“I think the Furnunculus curse would be a good place to start, don’t y…Nott? What are you…What the hell are you doing!? Malfoy screamed.

Harry looked down at his wand, dumbstruck. What the hell was Nott doing, giving him his wand back? Nott looked at him for a second, his face still impassive, then turned and moved out of the way, as though he were only a spectator.

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Pansy all glared furiously at Nott, apparently even more confused at what he had just done than Harry was.

“Come on then, Draco. You’re always banging on about how you could out-duel Potter if you wanted to. I want to see you do it.� Nott’s face remained stone-like as he spoke, though Harry thought he could detect a hint of contempt in his voice.

Malfoy looked absolutely furious, though after a quick look at Harry the fury was joined by fear. Harry smiled expectantly as he raised his wand. He didn’t know what Nott was playing at, but for the moment, he didn’t care.

“Go ahead Malfoy, I’ll give you the first shot.�

Malfoy glared venomously at Nott, then at Harry, then back to Nott. Nott only looked back at him, an expectant expression on his face. Harry noticed Malfoy take a couple steps back so Crabbe was in front of him. He looked at Harry calculatingly for a few moments, then put down his wand.

“No, no. I can’t. Prefects aren’t supposed to use magic in the halls,� he said in what he was obviously hoping was a convincing voice. “I think we will just give you deten…�

He stopped mid-sentence, looking at Harry’s wand pointed at his chest, seeming to rethink what he was saying.

“…Don’t let us catch you wandering about the halls anymore, Potter! Or next time it will be a week of detention. Now get out of here!� he said lamely. Harry stood right where he was, though he lowered his wand.

Malfoy then turned to Nott, who was still standing at the side of the group. Malfoy looked more furious than Harry had ever seen him.

“You’re finished with us, Nott, you understand? Finished!� he yelled. Nott looked back at him, completely indifferent.

“I knew you wouldn’t do it. You’re a weakling Malfoy.�

With that Nott turned and walked out of the room. Malfoy watched him go, his usually pale face flushed bright red. He glanced contemptuously at Harry one last time before turning on his heel and stalking from the room. Crabbe and Pansy followed, both with confused looks on their faces.

Retrieving his Firebolt from where it had skidded beneath a tapestry, Harry walked quickly back to the Gryffindor common room to tell Ginny, Ron and Hermione what had just happened.

Ch 31
Edgarin Smeade


Winter was now in full swing as a blanket of snow covered the grounds of Hogwarts. The evergreens bowed under the weight of the snow, looking like fat, hunched over friars wearing white robes. The students spent most of their free time indoors, huddled around common room fires studying and doing their best to talk about something other than the war with Lord Voldemort. To a certain extent they were able to go about their lives at Hogwarts like normal, though it wasn’t easy with the threat of Voldemort and the Death Eaters constantly hovering over them.

Harry revisited the hidden tower room a few more times as the weeks passed. Ginny and Ron had been almost as disappointed as he had when they first learned it was a dead-end (Harry and Hermione had taken them to the room the next day), but were somehow able to get over it much quicker. For Harry it felt like nothing short of a direct punch to the stomach. To have come all that way, to have heard the legend of the Half-Blood Prince in its entirety and not be able to find the next diary was nothing short of torture. He reread the second diary (it was his last chance, as Dumbledore had requested it so he could return it to the Ravenclaw common room) and spent hours in the room just in case there were any clues he had overlooked, but to no avail. For him the trail of the Half-Blood Prince ended at a short, empty bookcase, just as it had for dozens of other people over the centuries.

Something soon happened, however, that took his focus at least partially off of finding Wulfric Gryffindor.

It was a Saturday evening. It had been a Hogsmeade weekend and, not feeling like going, Harry and Ginny had spent much of the day practicing spells that would be sure to come up on Ginny’s O.W.L.’s and helping Neville (whom they had run into in the Room of Requirement and whose grandma had forbidden him to go on any Hogsmeade trips since their fourth year) practice reflecting charms. They returned to the Gryffindor common room to find most of their house gathered together in small groups, each speaking in worried, anxious tones.

“What happened? What’s going on?� Harry asked a distraught looking Lavender Brown who was sitting alone on a couch next to them with her face buried in her hands.

She looked up slowly, her face wet with tears. When she spoke it was little more than a whimper. “The Death-Eaters…came into the Three Broomsticks…some man they were talking to…killed him! In front of everybody! They just killed him!�

She broke into tears and Parvati Patil walked over from small group of people to comfort her. She continued, her voice a high-pitched squeak.

“Madame Rosmerta got in the way, one of them pointed his wand at her… and…and…she had to be taken to St. Mungo’s!�

Lavender buried her head in Parvati’s shoulder and sobbed hysterically. Parvati did her best to console her, though she looked close to collapsing in a fit of tears herself.

Harry and Ginny exchanged a troubled look. He could tell what she was thinking. There had been dozens of attacks by Voldemort and the Death Eaters this year, but so far this was the closest one had ever come to Hogwarts. While he couldn’t say he hadn’t expected an attack at Hogsmeade, now that it had actually happened it made the war seem more real than it ever had before.

Later on Harry heard the entire story from Hermione and Ron, who had been in the Three Broomsticks when the attack had happened and had helped shepherd the younger students back to Hogwarts. Apparently the man who had been killed, a ministry worker named Dorian Sigwell, had been lured into a meeting with the two Death-Eaters (no one was sure of their identities) thinking he was meeting with a pair of affluent foreign businessmen to discuss possible aid arrangements (the goblins still retained their strangle hold on the wizard economy). The real purpose for the Death Eaters setting up the meeting, however, was to recruit him into Voldemort’s service. After bluntly refusing them they pulled their wands, he pulled his, and they dueled right in the middle of the crowded pub. Before anyone else could react one of the Death Eaters hit him with the killing curse which sent him flying into a nearby table and scattering drinks everywhere. Luckily Professor Gredellhall had been there. Quickly surmising what was going on (apparently she had been the only one) she had taken cover behind the bar and began firing off stunners at them (“Surprisingly quick for an old bat, that one,� Ron had said in admiration). She had almost succeeded in immobilizing one of them when the other cast a conflagration jinx at the bar, causing it to explode and filling the room with fire and smoke. In the ensuing chaos the Death-Eaters made their escape, one of them even laughing maniacally as they ran out the door.

“Madame Rosmerta was absolutely livid that the Death Eaters had come into her pub and tried to block the exit,� Hermione said heavily. “One of them pointed their wand at her, there was a strange orange light, and she fell to the floor. I think it must have been some sort of befuddlement curse. As far as we know she’s in St. Mungo’s.�

“I still can’t believe it,� Ron said in awed disbelief. “I mean, we’ve been reading about stuff like this the whole year, but in Hogsmeade? It just seems unreal.�

Harry noticed similar reactions from most of the students. For some reason they all seemed surprised that an attack would happen so close to home. He couldn’t help but feel slightly aggravated by this. What did they expect? That the war was going on in another country, to other people? Perhaps it was because he had been dealing with Voldemort ever since the end of his fourth year (first year, actually, he noted darkly to himself) that he had no patience for their naiveté. Now they had some taste of what he had been dealing with for years.

It came as no surprise to anyone, however, when Dumbledore announced that there would no longer be any more trips to Hogsmeade at breakfast the next day.

After a week or so the excitement died down and things had almost returned to normal when, one day, in the middle of Herbology, Harry received a summons to Professor McGonagall’s office. Feeling slightly alarmed (it was highly unusual to be taken out of class to visit the head of house) and trying desperately to think which rules he had broken lately, Harry made his way through the long corridor to her office. When he entered he was surprised to find McGonagall accompanied by a thin, wiry man with spectacles and a great, bald forehead. A worn, black carrying case sat on the floor next to the man’s feet.

“Take a seat, Potter,� said McGonagall in her usual, curt manner as he entered the room. Harry did as he was told, sitting in one of the uncomfortable, stiff-backed chairs in front of her desk. He was aware of the man with spectacles watching him curiously as he did so. What was this all about?

“This,� Professor McGonagall said, motioning to the man standing next to the desk, (Harry noticed that her mouth was a thin, disapproving line) “is Edgarin Smeade, Editor-in-Chief at the Daily Prophet. He is hoping to have a few words with you.�

Upon being introduced the man walked towards Harry with his hand outstretched. “Greetings, Mr. Potter. It is a pleasure to meet you. Thank you for taking the time to meet with me. I assure you it will be worth the trouble.�

The man spoke in a dull, perfunctory tone that didn’t match the politeness of the words he was speaking, as though he were merely selecting words to place in a new article instead of talking to an actual person. He also had an enormous Adam’s apple that bobbed up and down every time he spoke, almost like a snake that had swallowed a rodent but couldn’t quite get it all the way down. It was very distracting. When Harry shook his hand he found it cold and clammy. All this, coupled with the fact that he was from the Daily Prophet, made Harry dislike him immediately.

“Er…no problem. What exactly do you want?� Harry asked abruptly.

Edgarin Smeade cocked his head slightly, as though surprised by Harry’s forwardness. “Well, straight to business then.� He walked to the front of McGonagall’s desk, leaned against it, and fixed a commanding, almost condescending gaze on Harry.

“I, that is, the Prophet, would like to do an interview with you. It has been some time since the wizarding public has heard from the Boy-Who-Lived, and we feel having your take on recent events would go a long way in improving general spirits and confidence of the public. I have been…�

“Is this about Hogsmeade?� Harry interrupted, “because I wasn’t even there. You should ask Hermione Granger or Lavender Brown. They could tell you better than I could. Well…�

Harry made as if to leave. Smeade held out his hand, motioning him to stay put.

“No, no, this isn’t about Hogsmeade, Mr. Potter. That was yesterday’s news. Something else has come up. Something much bigger than the Hogsmeade story ever could have been,� he said, an almost pleased tone to his mechanical voice.

Harry waited for Smeade to fill him in on what the ‘something’ was. Apparently he had no intention of doing so, however, as he just stared blankly back at him and said nothing.

“So…what happened?� Harry asked finally.

“It is not in the best interest of the Prophet, nor in your own, for me to disclose that to you. We anticipate this story will break in the weekend edition of the Prophet. You can read it then,� he said in a tone of superiority, then took his eyes from Harry and gazed at his sleeve, brushing a small speck of dirt from it.

“Oh, just show him the article, Smeade,� McGonagall snapped impatiently. It was obvious to Harry that she liked Smeade just as much as he did.

The Editor-in-Chief looked at her uncertainly, his short, black eyebrows rising into the vast, pale expanse of his forehead. “My dear Professor McGonagall, I do not think a boy of Mr. Potter’s age…�

“Merlin’s Beard, man!� McGonagall snapped. “The lad has dueled with You-Know-Who! You think he’s too young to handle this tripe?�

Smeade’s eyes narrowed and his Adam’s Apple bobbed convulsively, as though the rodent inside was making a desperate attempt to escape. Apparently he took offense to having one of the Daily Prophet’s articles referred to as ‘tripe’. He said nothing, however, but cast a calculating gaze back at Harry, then back at McGonagall as if he were trying to make up his mind. Finally he acquiesced, reaching around the corner of McGonagall’s desk and picking up the worn, black carrying case.

“Very well. But you must agree that, as this story has not yet been released, you will not share its contents with anyone.� Smeade looked beadily at him.

“Er, yeah, I agree,� Harry said, fairly sure he would tell Ron, Hermione, and Ginny as soon as he had the chance.

Smeade nodded then opened the front latch of the case. There was a small ‘click’ as he pulled back the cover. Inside was a collection of parchment and quills, neatly set into slots along the outside of the case. Harry thought he heard a small ‘hoot’ come from the bag and, tilting his head slightly, saw a small owl sitting sedately on a perch sticking out of the corner of the bag. What caught his attention, however, wasn’t the owl but a series of seven long, black, cylindrical containers set in a neat row along the back of the bag. Looking closer at them Harry could see the days of the week inscribed in each cylinder. Smeade reached straight for the one labeled ‘Saturday’ and pulled it out.

He unscrewed the lid and pulled out several pages of crisp, white parchment that looked like empty pages of the Daily Prophet. Noticing his gaze, Smeade hurriedly removed the top page and rolled the rest of the parchment up so he couldn’t see it. He shot him a dirty look, then reluctantly handed over the page he had removed.

Harry took the sheet. It was, indeed, the cover page of the Daily Prophet, though much of it was blank. Apparently Smeade entered in the most important stories first, then filled in the rest with lesser stories and advertisements. Although this particular sheet already had a headline, written in bold, abnormally large letters:

YOU-KNOW-WHO SPEAKS AT LAST
Notorious Dark Wizard Offers Truce, Ultimatum

In a message given through one of his servants, a Death Eater referring to himself only as ‘Rubicus’, the dark wizard commonly referred to as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named made his first public statement late yesterday evening.

“I have the privilege and extreme honor to be the one assigned by the Dark Lord to speak on his behalf to the wizarding public� said the masked Rubicus during an exclusive interview with the Daily Prophet. “He has instructed me to give both a message and a promise to you. I shall deliver the message first. It is this: the wizarding race has gone astray. Wizardkind has been blessed with the gift of magic, a gift that sets us apart from every other species. This gift is a mandate from creation itself to excel above the other races, to subjugate them and rule over them in order that we can lead them. This mandate cannot be taken lightly. Yet we as a race have perverted that gift by intermingling our blood with Muggles and neglecting our mandate to rule the other races and guide them where they need to be. This will not continue. We hereby request the Ministry to step down and relinquish its governing power. It should be given to those who have kept creation’s mandate alive, namely the heads of the pure-blooded families. My master has returned, not to destroy wizardkind, but to set it right again.�

After being asked, if He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was so concerned about the welfare of the wizarding race, then why had his previous campaign of terror cost the lives of so many of its citizens, Rubicus replied somewhat defensively, “We have been forced to resort to violence because it is the only way our voices can be heard. The Ministry has long deprived us of our rightful voice in governing matters, and we have used the means we have to rectify this injustice.�

Harry couldn’t believe what he was reading. Voldemort and the Death Eaters resorting to violence because they had been ‘deprived of their rightful voice in governing matters?’ The absurdity was overwhelming. He wondered that this ‘Rubicus’ was even able to keep a straight face to the reporter when he gave the interview. Would anyone actually believe this rubbish?

Frustratingly enough, Harry realized sullenly, some people would. He read on.

“We do not wish to resort to violence again, but we are willing to do whatever necessary to restore things back to the rightful order. We have assembled a vast army. The dementors do our bidding. The giants of the north obey our every command. We have magical creatures, the likes of which you couldn’t comprehend, at our beck and call. If the Dark Lord decided to move now there would be no hope for the Ministry. And that is why he has requested that I meet with you today. I have delivered the message, now it is time for my master’s promise to the wizarding public. It is this: those who do not fight against us will be spared. To those who embrace our cause we extend the hand of fellowship and welcome them to our quest of purifying the wizard race. To those who do not, to those who choose to fight us, know that you will be utterly destroyed. That is my master’s promise. We are done here.�

At this point the dark wizard Rubicus indicated that the interview was over and refused to answer any more questions. It is this reporter’s personal opinion…

Harry had had enough. There was more written on the piece of parchment but he threw it back at Smeade without reading it. It was simple enough to see what Voldemort was trying to do: buy more time to build up his army while instilling even more fear in the public. The sad thing was that it would probably work marvelously. What was more, the Prophet was playing right into his hands by publishing the rubbish in the first place. He thought briefly of trying to convince Smeade not to run the article, but he knew enough about the Prophet to know it would be futile. This story would undoubtedly sell a lot of newspapers. Forget the negative impact the story would have on the public, or the fact that they were helping Voldemort by publishing it, as long as they were able to line their pockets with a few extra Galleons, none of it mattered.

“So you can see why we consider it important for you to give an interview,� said Smeade in his monotone voice as he delicately placed the parchment back in its canister. He then pulled out the Sunday canister and removed the parchment inside. Harry was surprised to see its headline already printed: Exclusive Interview with Harry Potter How the Boy-Who-Lived plans to defeat his long-time nemesis.

Harry read it in slight astonishment. Apparently Smeade shared Rita Skeeter’s talent for reporting the news before it actually happened.

“I can give you front page in the Sunday edition. Biggest day of the week for us.�

Harry looked at Professor McGonagall.

“What does Professor Dumbledore think about this?�

“The headmaster didn’t think you would be interested in talking to this man, but realizes this is a special circumstance and said you should be able to choose for yourself. He fully supports whatever decision you make.�

“Yes. The headmaster,� Smeade said distastefully, and for the first time his face registered some sort of emotion, “has restricted our access to you this entire year, claiming you were not to be bothered. Otherwise we would have done multiple interviews before now…�

Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise. He had had no idea that Dumbledore had been keeping reporters away from him the entire year. He made a mental note to thank him later.

“…but even he realizes the importance of the situation we are in. A few encouraging statements about how you plan to stop You-Know-Who, something along the lines of ‘I did it once, and I will do it again’ would really solidify your standing as hero and help improve public sentiment.�

Harry got the distinct impression that Smeade didn’t care about ‘public sentiment’ nearly as much as he did selling newspapers. And where did they get off acting like they had always believed him, that they had never slandered and insulted him?

“Wait a second. I spent my entire fifth year reading about how I was a nutter and everyone who believed what Dumbledore and I said about Voldemort…� Smeade flinched horribly at the name, making it only the second time Harry had noticed any sort of emotion in his face, “…was mental too. And now you come to me saying I’m a hero and everyone needs to hear from me, like nothing ever happened? What are you playing at?�

By the end of the question Harry was in a slight rage. Apparently he still had some anger and bad feelings left over from the previous year. McGonagall snorted triumphantly and fixed Smeade with an accusatory stare, the same one she gave students who had been caught red-handed breaking the rules.

Smeade, however, smiled a smug, humorless smile and reached back into his black case. He fished around for a little bit, then pulled out a small, black felt bag that jingled as he moved it.

“Yes, I thought that might come up. On behalf of the Daily Prophet I would like to present you with this compensation for the unfortunate misunderstandings of a year ago. In fulfilling the duty to wizard society we are not always able to report with one-hundred percent accuracy, though I am confident we are typically very close to that mark. For your troubles.�

With that he held the bag out in his cold, clammy had. Harry realized it was filled with money. He blinked in amazement. Was that supposed to have been some sort of apology? Did they think they could wave a few Galleons in his face and he would suddenly forget everything that they had written about him, about Dumbledore? Harry got the sudden urge to punch Smeade right in the face.

Fortunately he was able to keep his anger under control, and merely replied coldly, “Keep it. Maybe you can use it on actually finding out the truth before you report something.�

Smeade’s eyes grew wide, as though he had been totally convinced the money would be enough to make Harry forget what had happened. He looked flustered for a moment, but quickly recovered.

“Look, Mr. Potter, I came here to offer you a chance to help the wizarding public. You have some very important things to say, things that they need to hear. You have a duty, nay, a moral obligation to…�

“Oh, you’re one to lecture someone on their ‘moral obligations’ Smeade. Half the rubbish you print is exaggerated or sensationalized just to sell papers. Moral obligations, indeed!� McGonagall snapped.

Edgarin Smeade shot a nasty look at McGonagall.

Thankful for the head of house’s support, Harry was about to tell Smeade to do something very rude and walk away, but something made him stop. He thought about the proposal. He hated giving interviews, he hated the attention, but maybe it was a good idea to speak to the public. He could tell them they were fools for cowering before Voldemort, that they needed to stand up and fight for themselves and not expect to be rescued by himself and Dumbledore.

As this thought ran through his mind, the idea of giving an interview suddenly became appealing. It would be a good way to vent his frustration, something that would allow him to, albeit feebly, strike back at Voldemort…

His mind made up, he rose from his chair. Smeade was just about to make a rebuttal to Professor McGonagall’s statement, but stopped once Harry started talking.

“You’re right. There are some things I need to say. I think I will give an interview...�

McGonagall lifted her eyebrows in surprise. Smeade looked confusedly at him for a moment, then nodded, as though he had expected it all along.

“Well then. Excellent. Let me just get my…�

“…with the Quibbler,� Harry finished.

Smeade’s mouth dropped open in a look of supreme disbelief. Harry savored it for a moment, knowing that being rejected for the Quibbler had to be the biggest slap in the face possible for the Editor-in-Chief of the Daily Prophet. After pausing a few seconds he turned his back on Smeade and walked out of the room.

Chapter 31
The Blood Traitor


That weekend the Voldemort story came out. The reaction within the school was just as Harry had expected it would be – fear and anxiety.

“You don’t really think his army could defeat the Ministry, do you?� Parvati Patil asked anxiously at breakfast. Hermione had just finished reading the part about Voldemort’s warning to an assembled crowd of Gryffindors, most of whom had worried looks on their faces.

“Are you kidding?� said Seamus, a dark look on his face. “He’s got dementors, giants, the Death Eaters, who knows what else. All we’ve got is a bunch of old, overworked aurors. There’s no chance we can take him.�

“It’s true then, You-Know-Who really does have an army?� asked Dennis Creevey tremulously.

“Of course he has an army,� Hermione snapped, “Dumbledore’s been telling us that for ages, hasn’t he?�

The younger Creevey shrank under her gaze, muttering sheepishly, “Well I just sort of hoped he was wrong…�

Harry couldn’t stand it. Other than Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, (whom he had told about the story immediately after his encounter with Edgarin Smeade) they were all playing right into Voldemort’s hands. Couldn’t they see what he was trying to do?

“Don’t you lot see what’s going on here?� he demanded. “Voldemort is just trying to scare us all into surrendering.�

The gathered students blanched at the name. Harry rolled his eyes in frustration. He was about to say more when Ginny started up.

“Harry’s right. Think about it: if You-Know-Who really had an army strong enough to defeat the Ministry, d’you think he’d wait this long to attack? He’s doing the same thing a Boggart does – trying to frighten you because he knows he’s too weak right now to win a proper fight.�

“It’s true. There is no way Voldemort could beat us if we all banded together. He is trying to scare us into submission because he knows it is the only way he can win,� said Hermione in a calm, matter-of-fact way.

“If you ask me this whole thing,� she motioned to the paper, “is poppycock.�

The students seemed heartened by the remarks. Fortunately Hermione and Ginny had been there to back him up. He realized sadly, however, that most of the wizarding world would probably react the same way the Gryffindor students had, if not worse.

The next few days of reading the Prophet confirmed this suspicion. Story after story about how powerful and terrifying Voldemort’s army was likely to be and speculation on how soon he would attack littered the papers, as did stories about prominent wizarding families fleeing the country, preferring a life of hiding in a foreign country rather than facing Voldemort. One of the few bright points in all this was how Amelia Bones, the recently installed Mistress of Magic, was handling the situation. She, at least, was urging the public to prepare for Voldemort’s attack and called for the rest of the wizarding world to join her instead of panicking like everyone else.

All this made Harry even more anxious to give his interview with the Quibbler. He had sought out Luna Lovegood the first opportunity he had had and while she was certain her father would be delighted to run the interview, they already had the December filled and wouldn’t be able to get to him until January or February. Unfortunately he would have to wait until then.

One good side effect of Voldemort’s going public, however, was a rise in enrollment at DA meetings. This pleased Harry, as it showed that there were at least some people who preferred fighting Voldemort to surrendering or running away to a foreign country. One day, however, he received a very unexpected guest.

It happened just before the time where Harry usually called for everyone’s attention so they could start the meeting. He was talking with Ernie MacMillan about reflecting jinxes, the rest of the room full of the usual pre-lesson chatter, when he noticed something unusual happening towards the back part of the room near the entrance. The students there seemed to be nudging each other and falling silent as they turned to face someone who had just entered. A hush slowly fell over the room as the solitary figure made his way through the crowd.

Harry craned his neck trying to see over the crowd. When he saw who it was, he understood immediately.

Theodore Nott. The son of a Death-Eater.

At first Harry thought there had to be some kind of mistake. Why on earth would Nott, a Slytherin and the son of a Death-Eater, come to a Defense Against the Dark Arts club? What was he playing at? Then it hit him. Most likely he was sent to spy, sent to learn what they were studying so he could inform the Death Eaters.

Seeing the scowls and looks of distrust on the faces of the other students, Harry realized they were thinking along the same lines. Almost immediately the silence evaporated as the students started mumbling to one another in disbelief.

“What’s he doing here?� said Hannah Abbot to her friend in a not-so-quiet whisper that carried across the room.

“Shouldn’t he be in Death Eater training with all the other Slytherins?� muttered Seamus Finnigan to mumbled agreements from those around him.

But as he watched Nott walk uncertainly through the parted crowd, a determined yet scared look on his face, something else hit Harry that made him rethink his initial assessment. It was the memory of the night two weeks previous.

He had been walking back through the castle when he had an encounter with Peeves, who later pushed a heavy suit of armor on top of him. Malfoy and his cronies had stumbled upon him, trapped and helpless with his wand on the other side of the room. Just when Malfoy had been about to jinx him into oblivion, Nott had walked over and astonishingly, inexplicably, handed his wand back to him. Why?

Harry decided to at least wait and hear what Nott had to say before turning him out.

The muttering from the other students had grown louder. Nott had just about reached Harry, had just opened his mouth to say something when a Ravenclaw seventh-year spoke up.

“Get out of here, Nott, no one wants you,� he said rudely.

“That’s right, the Death Eater fan club is meeting in the Slytherin common room, not here,� said Justin Finch-Fletchly coldly to mutters of approval from the other students.

The expression that came on Nott’s face then completely surprised Harry. He had expected to see a sneer, expected his eyes would narrow in anger and he would shoot back at Justin with harsh words. His face, however, was completely void of malice or anger. Instead there was a sort of weary resignation, even disappointment in it that caused Harry to reflect back on it days later. It lasted only a split second, then was gone. In its place was a look of stony defiance.

“Quiet!� shouted Harry, looking at the students around him. A hush fell over the room. He looked back at Nott, who was looking at him uncertainly but with the same, determined look on his face.

“Let him talk.�

Silence. Nott didn’t answer immediately.

“I was told you could teach me how to defend myself against Dark Magic. I want to learn,� he said simply, his voice hollow. The students around Harry shook their heads in distrust. Seamus Finnigan muttered, “Yeah, you want to learn so you can go tell your dad all about it.�

Harry studied Nott closely. His initial instinct was not to trust him – after all, wasn’t he a Slytherin, wasn’t he connected to Voldemort through his father? But something made him rethink this. Hadn’t Nott given him his wand back that night? Hadn’t he basically told Malfoy to shove off? What if he had decided he didn’t want to walk the same path Malfoy and the others were on, what if he decided he wanted something else? But how could he know?

The answer, Harry realized, was that he couldn’t. He suddenly had a much greater appreciation for what Dumbledore must have gone through when giving certain individuals, Snape and Hagrid for example, a second chance.

He quickly weighed his options. If Nott was lying and Harry let him join, then he would potentially be putting his students in danger. If, however, Nott really was sincere and Harry turned him away, he would basically be slamming the door on Nott trying to choose a different path for himself. Which was worse?

Ron, apparently seeing that Harry was considering the issue, leaned in and whispered, “Harry are you mental? His dad tried to kill us last year.�

Surprisingly enough, it was this statement that brought Harry to his conclusion. It was true, Nott’s father had tried to kill them the previous year. But that was Nott’s father. Harry had never seen anything from Nott himself that would indicate he supported the Death Eaters. Harry knew what it was like to be mistrusted, to have everyone against you when you were only trying to do the right thing. If there was even a slight chance that Nott was being sincere, Harry had to help him.

He turned to face the class, all of whom were all watching him expectantly.

“We’re here to learn how to defend ourselves against Dark Magic. I won’t turn anyone away who comes to learn.� He extended his hand towards the Slytherin.

“Welcome, Nott.�

Nott looked at him in surprise for a moment, as if he hadn’t expected that particular response at all, then shook Harry’s hand.

“Does anyone have a problem with that?� Harry asked the assembled crowd, many of whom were looking at him as though he were a complete nutter. No responses came. As he scanned their faces his eyes connected with Professor Grendelhall’s, who had been watching the whole thing silently. She smiled at him and nodded in approval.

“Great. Well then, break up into pairs and let’s start practicing the Shield Charm. I saw some real shoddy wandwork last meeting. Everyone find a partner…�

***

“Psst. Pssst! Hey Harry, did you hear?�

It was a calm, snowy day during the last week of school before the Christmas holidays. Harry and the other NEWT level Herbology students were in the greenhouses learning the correct way to prune Japanese Fire Maples. It was tricky business, as a snip in the wrong place could result in the tree emitting a burning jet of fire. “It’s the plant’s natural defense!� Professor Sprout had told them excitedly. Harry carefully set his pruning shears down and turned to look at the owner of the voice. It was Justin Finch-Fletchley. He was leaning over the table across from him, an eager look on his face.

“Hear what?�

“You know Blaise Zabini, the Slytherin seventh year?� Harry had to think for a second before nodding. He had never met Blaise, but he knew though reputation that he was a conceited and arrogant sort that spoke openly about supporting Voldemort.

“Yeah, what about him?�

“He’s just been expelled!� Justin blurted out excitedly. “And two other Slytherins with him! Hannah just saw them being escorted out of the castle by Hagrid!�

“What for? What did they do?�

“I dunno, but it must have been pretty bad for Dumbledore to kick them out of school. Blaise has been in detention a lot recently, I wonder if it had anything to do with that? Doesn’t really matter though, does it? As long as they’re gone, right?� Justin added happily, then ran off to spread the news to other students.

The news came as a surprise. It wasn’t like Dumbledore to start randomly expelling students. As a matter of fact, in the six years he had been at Hogwarts Harry couldn’t recall it happening even once. Even Draco Malfoy had been given a second chance.

After a minute or two Ron walked over. “Hey, did you hear about Zabini? Wild, isn’t it? I don’t think Dumbledore’s ever given anyone the boot. Hey--!� Ron stopped suddenly, as if an idea had just sprung to his mind. “Justin said two other Slytherins got expelled too, right?�

“Yeah. So?�

“Well, what if Malfoy was one of them?� he said slowly, a hopeful smile on his face.

Harry thought for a moment, then shook his head. “Maybe, but I doubt we’d be that lucky. Stand aside, I’ve got to cut this branch and I don’t know if it’s going to shoot or not…�

It turned out that they weren’t that lucky. News quickly spread throughout the castle that the two other expelled Slytherins were a couple of fifth years named Thane Wilmot and Morrigan Wakeley.

Despite the war and everything else going on, a feeling of festivity and excitement had somehow snuck into Hogwarts. Maybe it was the elaborate Christmas decorations that had been set up (for some reason Dumbledore had made sure they were especially nice this year), or perhaps it was simply because everyone was sick of being worried and on edge all the time, but it was starting to feel like an actual, ordinary Christmas. Teachers and students seemed to talk a little more and laugh a little freer. Classes were a bit lighter and relaxed; even Professor McGonagall had allowed them to relax the last 10 minutes of her NEWT level Transfiguration class, though she hid it behind the guise of ‘exchanging magical theories with your peers’ time.

Not surprisingly, more students than ever before had put their names down to stay over the holidays, mainly because parents thought Hogwarts was likely to be safer than home. Harry suddenly realized that he didn’t know what he was going to do for the holidays. He had been too occupied with researching how to counter ancient curses and learning defensive spells to give it much thought. Luckily, however, it was taken care of for him.

He had returned to his dormitory one day to find this letter on his bed:

Dear Harry-

With the Christmas holidays fast approaching I feel it best for you to get away from the castle and take a break from the many concerns that confront you here. I have arranged for you to spend the holidays at Godric’s Hollow under the protection of an old friend. You would then spend Christmas Day at Grimmauld Place (or Weasley Place, as Molly so incessantly reminds me). If this is agreeable to you, meet me outside the castle on our designated departure day. If not, please let me know and we can make other arrangements. Merry Christmas Harry.

Sincerely yours,

Albus Dumbledore


Harry folded the letter back up and put it in his bag, feeling happier already. A holiday in Godric’s Hollow was just what he needed.

Chapter 33
Return to Godric’s Hollow


As Harry slept that night he felt the presence return into his mind. It was much the same as the first time he had felt it, just before he had told Ginny about the prophecy: a tiny, almost imperceptible feeling that he wasn’t alone. This time, however, it was more clear and obvious.

He had been dreaming, again, of soaring through the air on his Firebolt, though this time he was accompanied by a familiar looking man with dark hair. They had been racing each other and laughing. His first instinct upon noticing the presence was to wake up, but a small part of his consciousness understood that he needed to remain asleep. He let the dream continue, deciding to observe what thoughts the intruder would attempt to bring to his mind.

Nothing happened at first. He was still on his Firebolt, flying over enormous, snowy mountains with his friend. Soon a small building came into view. As he flew closer he realized it was Hogwarts. Preparing to redirect his thoughts away from the prophecy (which he assumed was what Voldemort would be after), Harry was surprised when his thoughts were focused instead on a tall, thin tower jutting up from the south-eastern side of the castle. It was the Astronomy tower. He circled closer and closer, wondering why Voldemort was interested in it, when the hidden metal door that opened into the secret room came clearly into view.

His mind making the connection immediately, Harry found the image of the small room with wooden crossbeams and the empty bookcase the focus of his thoughts. It seemed strange that Voldemort would want to see this room, as it had nothing to do with the prophecy and didn’t hold anything that would interest him. He felt Voldemort’s guiding presence back off slightly once he was in the room, however, as though he were waiting for something to happen. When nothing did, Harry felt his focus shifting once again to the Department of Mysteries the year before. He was again in the death chamber helping Neville up the stairs, he gave a mighty heave that tore Neville’s robes and sent the prophecy smashing onto the stone stairs. The pale, ghostly form of Professor Trelawney appeared and opened her mouth to speak.

Harry could feel Voldemort’s excitement as she began to recite the prophecy. Knowing that since he knew the words to the prophecy Voldemort was likely to hear the entire thing through this memory if he didn’t change it quick, Harry focused instead on a scream in the background. It was a high-pitched, fanatical shriek. A woman’s shriek.

Knowing this was the last memory he wanted to relive, but that it would keep him from revealing the prophecy to Voldemort, Harry allowed himself to turn around and watch as his Godfather went sailing through the air, his back making a graceful arc, and fall into the crumbling archway.

There was another scream, though it came from Harry. He fought to chase the memory away, regaining consciousness as he did so.

The intruder was gone.

Knowing that he had diverted Voldemort again, Harry sat up and breathed deeply. The dormitory room was lit with the pale, white light of the moon. He took a few minutes to breath and clear his mind of emotion, then gradually went back to sleep. Soon he was soaring through the mountains again on his Firebolt, a black haired man who looked oddly familiar flying next to him and laughing.

When he woke up that morning he only vaguely remembered anything about the dream. By lunchtime, he had forgotten it entirely.

***

The rest of the week passed rather uneventfully (Death-Eater attacks and supposed Voldemort sightings having become rather commonplace by now), and Harry soon found himself in the common room with Hermione, Ron, and Ginny. They were dragging their trunks behind them, talking excitedly over their plans for the Christmas holiday.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come for the entire holiday? Seems kind of boring, being there all alone, even if you do have your own Quidditch Pitch,� Ron said as they climbed out of the portrait hole.

“No, it will be all right. Besides, I won’t be alone.�

“Oh yes. Who did Dumbledore say would be there with you?� asked Ginny, grunting from the weight of her trunk.

“He didn’t,� Harry replied, bending over to give her a hand. “All he said was ‘an old friend.’�

They made their way down the moving staircases and out onto the grounds of the castle, dozens of other students around them. More people than ever before were had opted to stay in the castle over the holiday this year, but there were still a good number who were going home.

“You will write to us though, won’t you?� asked Hermione in a concerned, almost motherly tone. She had become much more protective ever since he had told them of the prophecy.

“Hermione, it’s only two weeks,� said Ginny, rolling her eyes. “You’re coming over on Christmas day too, right? You can make sure Harry’s been eating his vegetables and washing behind his ears then.�

As they neared Hogwarts station they said their goodbyes. Ron, Ginny and Hermione were taking the Hogwarts Express back to King’s Cross station, while Harry would meet with Dumbledore later that morning. Ginny and Hermione each hugged him in turn and they bid farewell.

Harry walked back towards the castle, saying hello to the students going to Hogsmeade station on his way. Just outside he met Dumbledore, who excused himself from a conversation with Filch and led Harry to a small clearing of evergreens.

Once they were out of view, the old headmaster lifted up what looked like a large, silver pinecone.

“This is your port-key Harry. It will take you to the clearing in the trees next to Godric’s Hollow, the same place you and I met during the summer. Do you remember how to find Potter’s Cove from there?�

Harry thought quickly. All he remembered was walking down a slight hill and turning just before reaching the village. After that, however, he wasn’t sure…

“Er…not really,� he admitted.

Dumbledore smiled. “Perfectly understandable. Allow me to show you. You’ll need to allow me entry into your mind, of course.� As he looked into Harry’s eyes Harry immediately felt the headmaster’s presence in his mind. Only then did he remember about Voldemort’s latest intrusion into his dreams. The difference between the two presences was definitely noticeable. Voldemort’s was an uncomfortable, nagging sort of feeling, while Dumbledore’s was calm and…strangely enough…musical.

All the same, Harry had to suppress the reflex to shut Dumbledore out, realizing he was about to show him how to get to Potter’s Cove. He took a deep breathe and forced himself to relax.

Almost immediately the forest around at Godric’s Hollow appeared clearly in his mind, as if he had just been there yesterday. The headmaster guided him down the path through the trees, past the village, and up over the hills. In a few moments he had seen the entire route to Potter’s Cove.

“Now, the only person in Godric’s Hollow that knows you are coming is the person I’ve asked to watch over you, so you should be completely safe,� Dumbledore said as he broke eye contact. Immediately the image in his head disappeared. “Nevertheless, I wouldn’t recommend venturing into the village, as we don’t want to attract any unnecessary attention. Understood?�

Harry nodded. The headmaster looked back at him with his clear, light blue eyes.

“Also, at the end of the holiday I will stop by personally to pick you up. We will then return to Hogwarts together. Understood?�

Harry nodded, though he didn’t want the headmaster to go out of his way.

“That’s not really necessary, sir. I could just take the port-key back. I mean, you’re busy enough as it is…�

“No, no, I don’t mind at all. Besides,� here the headmaster gave a mysterious smile, “there’s something in Godric’s Hollow I want to show you.�

Harry looked searchingly at him, trying to guess what he was talking about, but Dumbledore simply smiled his pleasant little smile and said nothing more on the matter. He then reached into his robes and withdrew his curious, twelve-handed watch.

“Splendid. Well Harry, I daresay Argus will have found something new to complain about since I’ve been gone, so I must be off. Good luck, Merry Christmas, and,� he placed his hand on Harry’s shoulder, “try to have a relaxing holiday, won’t you?�

Before he could respond Dumbledore put the pinecone in his hand, Harry felt the now familiar tug just behind his navel, and the world around him disappeared into a swirl of green, blue, and white.

He felt himself soaring through the air, then, just as soon as it started, the rush of color slowed down and the clearing in Godric’s Hollow came into view. Determined to make this the first trip by port-key that didn’t end with him in a crumpled heap on the ground, Harry waited until he had almost completely stopped, carefully gauged the moment of impact, and took a step forward. Unfortunately it was a split second too late and he found himself face first in cold, foot high snow.

Brushing himself off and looking around, Harry immediately recognized the clearing from when he had been there in the summer. It was much harder to make out where the trail began and where he was in the clearing, as the trees were now bare and everything was covered with snow, but eventually he was able to find the narrow, winding path that led to the village.

Trudging through the snow, he soon found the left hand turn that led away from the village and up a slow, gentle slope. Walking through the fresh, almost knee-deep snow wasn’t easy, and he had to stop to catch his breath several times. His toes quickly became cold and numb, but he traveled on. Soon he found himself overlooking the central part of the village, which looked cozy and rustic with its houses buried in the snow and smoke coming through the chimneys, like miniature ginger bread houses. Taking a couple more turns that lead to the left-hand pathway that led along the outskirts of the village, Harry continued his trek through the snow. By the time he saw the wooden, two storied outline of Potter’s Cove peeking through the trees, his feet were soaked, he was out of breath, and the bottom of his robes were frozen stiff. Smoke was coming from the chimney as well, evidence of a warm, comfortable fire within.

Thankful to have finally made it, Harry stepped up to the doorway, stomped his feet to get the snow off, and pushed the front door open.

“Ah, Harry. Here at last,� said a warm, tired voice that Harry recognized immediately.

Professor Lupin.

Chapter 34

Christmas Presents


“Professor Lupin!� said Harry in surprise. He hadn’t expected to see his old Defense Against the Dark Arts professor in Potter’s Cove, though now that he thought about it he was an obvious choice for Dumbledore. In addition to being a member of the Order of the Phoenix and someone Harry knew he could trust, Lupin had also been one of his father’s best friends. It was even likely that he had been to Godric’s Hollow before and knew the area.

“Welcome Harry, I am glad you made it all right,� said Lupin, walking to the door to greet Harry. He placed his hand on Harry’s shoulder and smiled his friendly, fatigued smile. “It’s good to see you. Come sit by the fire, you must be tired and freezing.�

Lupin took Harry’s bag and led him to the center of the living room in front of the giant fireplace. With a flick of his wand the logs inside burst into flame.

“Thanks.�

Harry sank down into one of the many mismatched chairs which were placed in the living room of Potter’s Cove, a soft, squishy maroon one that had become his favorite over the summer. He stretched his legs out over a small table next to it and soaked up the warmth from the fire. Lupin was right – he was cold and tired. Looking down at his feet he noticed the hems of his robes were frozen stiff.

Lupin settled down into a wooden chair lined with leather across from him. “So, how have you been holding up?�

Harry could have asked him the same question. Professor Lupin looked more haggard and worn than ever. His face was covered with gray stubble from not having shaven recently and the flesh beneath his eyes sagged even more than ever, making him look old and weary. Despite all this, however, his eyes glowed bright, warm, and alert.

“I’ve been all right,� Harry replied as he kicked his shoes off. He noticed a small pool of water accumulating at his feet from the melting snow and was about to clean it up, then realized it was his house and he didn’t care. He looked around fondly at the now familiar living room of Potter’s Cove. “It’s definitely good to be back here though.�

“Yes, I agree,� Lupin replied, looking around at the wood and stone interior of the house with his own expression of fondness. “This has always been a great place to visit and take a break from your problems.�

“So you’ve been here before?�

“Oh yes, many times,� Lupin said with a nostalgic smile. “Two weeks every summer since our third year, as a matter of fact. Four weeks after Sirius moved in. Some of my fondest childhood memories are in this place.�

“Really?� Harry asked interestedly. He had thought it likely that Lupin had visited the place, but had no idea it had been that often. “What was it like back then?�

Lupin stretched his legs out as well, the smile on his face becoming more pronounced as he thought back. “Well, first there was Mr. and Mrs. Potter – your grandparents, of course. Wonderful people. Very kind, very unassuming. It didn’t matter to them in the least that I was a werewolf. They always welcomed myself, Sirius, and…well, the rat.�

His countenance clouded slightly at the mention of Peter Pettigrew, but quickly returned to normal as he continued.

“Then there was the village. I understand Dumbledore has asked you to stay away from it, so as not to alert anyone to your presence…�

Harry nodded.

“…which is a good idea, of course, but a pity all the same. A very charming place. We spent nearly every day there, loafing about, Sirius and James usually getting into mischief. It was a good thing we were underage and not allowed to use magic, or we would have gotten into a lot more trouble then we did.� Lupin laughed at this last part, then smiled thoughtfully.

“Though, of course, your father found a way to get around that in our sixth year.�

“He did?� Harry asked, startled. “How?�

Lupin’s eyebrows rose in amusement and for a brief moment Harry thought he was about to tell him, but instead he only smiled and shook his head.

“I’ll tell you next year.�

Harry cursed inwardly.

“Once we were done with the village…� Lupin continued, “…we’d go explore the ruins to the north, then come back here for dinner. James’s mother was an excellent cook. When night came we usually slept outside under the stars and stayed up late imagining new pranks to pull the next year at school or listening to Sirius go on about his latest love interest. Then first thing in the morning James would drag us out of bed to go play Quidditch. There was one time where…�

Lupin seemed to grow younger as he reminisced about past experiences with Sirius and Harry’s dad at Godric’s Hollow. Harry listened intently, devouring his stories the same way Hermione devoured school textbooks. He smiled as he pictured a young Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, and James Potter gallivanting about the village of Godric’s Hollow, exploring its secrets and plotting new ways to get into trouble at Hogwarts. It occurred to him that in Lupin he still had a link to the past, a link he thought had disappeared forever with the death of Sirius. Before he knew it, almost two hours had passed.

“But enough stories for now, we’ve got the entire holiday for that,� said Lupin, apparently surprised at himself for having said so much. “I think it’s time we get something to eat.�

“I’ll get it.� Harry sprang up and was halfway to the kitchen before Lupin even got out of his seat. The pantry, thanks to Dobby, was fully stocked with food. “Er…what do you feel like, Professor?�

“Harry, please,� said Lupin, raising his hand in the air. “We’ve fought Death Eaters together. I was there the first time your father changed your diaper. I think after all we’ve been through it’s ok for you to call me Remus. Let’s have no more of this Professor nonsense, shall we?�

“Sorry,� Harry grinned. “What do you feel like Remus?�

The next few days were very enjoyable. They spent the time fixing up Godric’s Hollow (Lupin knew quite a lot about the old place and was able to point out things Harry had never noticed before), talking more about the old days (including how James eventually grew up, became Head Boy, and started dating Harry’s mother), eating, and generally just lounging about (something which Harry hadn’t been able to do for some time and found he enjoyed immensely). During this time Harry came to appreciate Lupin in a new light. Although he was more quiet and thoughtful then his godfather had been and perhaps not as fun, he had a sort of calm, detached wisdom about him that Harry found very helpful.

They were soon joined by Harry’s eccentric great-uncle, Angus Potter, whose portrait they removed from the Astronomy room and placed on the oak mantelpiece above the fireplace in order to give him some interaction with actual people.

“‘Bout time, Remus!� he roared. “Would’ve thought you wanted me to go crazy in here, nothing but dull, half-witted furniture to talk to!� Apparently Angus was already acquainted with Lupin from his school days.

In addition to telling him stories about his father and the past, Lupin also gave Harry a few pointers on dueling with dark wizards. He even offered to duel himself. Harry found this highly useful, as he had surpassed the other students at Hogwarts in dueling skill and it was good to have someone who could challenge him. Lupin even taught him a couple new spells: Caecullis, which caused a blinding flash of light to emit from your wand, temporarily blinding your opponent, (“Just make sure you are looking away or your eyes are covered when you do it,� instructed Lupin,) and Dissipio, a spell that issued a beam of smoke from your wand which temporarily made solid surfaces permeable.

“But what’s the use of that?� Harry had asked, slightly confused.

“Allow me to show you,� Lupin replied, walking over to the stone wall at the back of the living room. “Care for a Chocolate Frog?�

“Er…sure,� Harry replied, even more bewildered.

“Dissipio,� Lupin muttered. A strange, white smoke shot out of the tip of his wand, almost like the foam from a muggle fire-extinguisher, accompanied by a shrill sound like the hissing of a tea kettle. Lupin directed the smoke at the wall. Upon contact with the smoke, the wall seemed to melt a little and became blurry, almost like a watercolor painting in the rain. Then, astonishingly, Lupin reached his arm through the blurry spot, fished around a little bit, and pulled out three Chocolate Frogs. Harry was baffled at first, until he realized that the kitchen pantry was on the other side. He had reached straight through the solid stone of the wall into the pantry. As he pulled his arm out the wall seemed to solidify just as it was before. He tossed a Chocolate Frog to Harry.

“I see,� Harry said, highly impressed. With a spell like that he would no longer need doors or entryways – he could simply make his own.

“Well I don’t!� boomed Angus from across the room, a skeptical look on his face. “So what, Remus, your plan for the next time you face a Dark Wizard is to find the nearest pantry and pummel him to death with candy? Maybe if you’re lucky the pantry will have some old lady’s tea set so you can sit down for a nice cup of tea while you’re at it! HA HA HA!�

Calmly Lupin held his wand out, pointed it at the mantelpiece where Angus’s portrait was resting, and muttered, “Dissipio.� The white smoke shot across the room in a tiny, narrow stream. As it came in contact with the wood it seemed to blur, then, without warning, Angus’s portrait dropped straight through as if the wood were nothing but air. Angus screamed in surprise as he crashed to the floor, stood up on end just long enough for them to see his look of surprise and terror, then fell forward flat on his face.

“It has other uses as well…� Lupin said with a small smile as Harry laughed.

Before he knew it Christmas had arrived. They spent it at Weasley Place with the Weasleys and the few members of the Order of the Phoenix who weren’t on duty; Kingsley Shacklebolt, Mundungus Fletcher, Tonks, and a couple of wizards Harry hadn’t seen before. Tonks disappeared shortly after arriving and they didn’t get to see much of her, which was a pity as Harry had been wondering what she had been up to lately. Lupin also seemed to have made himself scarce during the same time, and it wasn’t until later that Harry realized the two absences might have been connected.

Apparently Ron had been rather sullen and distracted during the holiday, which, as Ginny had pointed out to Harry when he had first arrived, was most likely due to the fact that Hermione was spending the entire holiday with her parents and they wouldn’t be seeing her until school resumed.

“He says it’s because he’s anxious about the war,� Ginny had said to Harry, rolling her eyes. “Like we don’t know he’s absolutely pining for Hermione. Honestly, he’s like some love-sick, helpless puppy when she’s not around. Pathetic.�

Apparently word had gotten out that Harry had been spending most of his time studying defensive tactics and dueling, as most of his presents turned out to be books and defensive manuals on the subject. His favorite was an enormous volume the aurors had given him entitled, The Auror’s Manual of Counter-Curses, Jinxes, and Hexes.

“That one’s only supposed to be owned by aurors,� Kingsley Shacklebolt whispered to Harry after he had opened it, “So be a sport and don’t let anyone know you have it, eh?� he said with a wink.

The only exception to this was Fred, George, and Ginny’s present, a nice variety set of Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes top-of-the-line prank items.

“I figure that after all the studying you still ought to have some fun. Merry Christmas, Harry,� said Ginny as she gave him a hug.

After a good deal of pestering and the reassurance that Lupin would be there to watch over them, Mrs. Weasley finally agreed to let Ron, Ginny, Fred and George spend a couple of days back in Godric’s Hollow with Harry. They spent most of the time playing in the snow and having small Quidditch games on the miniature pitch in the backyard. Lupin proved to be a surprisingly able Chaser, one time even guiding the Bludger George had hit at him straight into Ron, leaving the way wide open for Ginny to score.

“James taught me that one,� he said to Harry with a wink as Fred and George applauded and Ginny helped Ron brush snow off his red face.

A couple days later the Weasley’s left and before he knew it, it was time to return to Hogwarts. He sat in the living room with Lupin the night before Dumbledore was scheduled to pick him up. They sat in companionable silience, Lupin reading from a book, Harry staring into the dying fireplace, thinking about the time he had spent at Potter’s Cove.

While he had enjoyed his stay there immensely, he realized a small part of him wanted to leave. Was even anxious to get out of there. Somehow the atmosphere at Potter’s Cove had gained a lonely, morose, quality for Harry. It hadn’t taken him long to figure out why.

As he contemplated the last burning embers in the fire, he broke the silence in the room by addressing the small, aching pain he had felt in his heart ever since Lupin had first told him stories about his family at Potter’s Cove.

“I wish I had known them.�

Lupin looked up. He closed the book and set it on the table. Harry felt his eyes on him, though he continued looking into the fire.

“Your parents?�

Harry nodded slowly. “Yes. But not just that. I wish I could have seen you and Sirius and my dad as kids. I wish I could have seen what my grandparents were like. Seen what it was like when my dad first introduced them to my…� Harry felt his throat constrict uncomfortably, “…my mum.�

The fire crackled in the fireplace, casting a warm glow around the room. Lupin said nothing.

“But most of all, I wish I just could have known them. My parents.�

He felt a twinge of emotion as he said it. He looked around at the empty living room of Potter’s Cove. It had once been filled with a happy family. With his family. But now it would remain empty forever, its only inhabitants the ghosts of the past. He wouldn’t mind leaving at all.

“But I never will. Because of Voldemort, I’ll never know what they were like.�

The emotion he had felt quickly turned to anger. His fist clenched involuntarily as he looked back into the smoldering red embers of the fire.

Lupin was silent for a moment, as if waiting to hear if he had more to say. When Harry didn’t say anything he asked, “Is that why you are fighting him, Harry?�

The question came as a surprise.

“What?�

“Is that why you’re fighting against Voldemort, to get even with him?�

Harry looked away from the fire and at Lupin, who was regarding him placidly. Why was he asking him that? It seemed pretty obvious.

“Well, yeah.�

Lupin’s eyebrows rose slightly and he shook his head. “Revenge is a very poor reason to fight anyone, Harry.�

“Why else would I fight him?� Harry asked, slightly irritated.

Lupin remained calm and answered the same way he would have if they were discussing an academic theory at school. “Well, let me ask you this – what happens after you have defeated him?�

“What do you mean?�

“I mean what happens to you after you kill Lord Voldemort? What are your plans?�

The question struck Harry as absurd. What would he do after he killed Voldemort? He had never given it any thought. Who cared what he did? All that mattered was that he made Voldemort pay for what he had done to his family and stopped him from doing it to anyone else.

“Voldemort killed my parents,� Harry replied, avoiding the question. He was beginning to feel slightly angry at Lupin. “He killed them and took away my childhood. What other reason do I need to fight him?�

“I’m not denying that he did all that,� Lupin replied, still calm. “But revenge, in itself, is not a good enough motivation for you to fight and defeat Lord Voldemort.�

“What does it matter why I want to kill Voldemort?� Harry asked incredulously.

“It matters tremendously. Killing Voldemort won’t give you your parents back, Harry.�

Lupin’s words were met with heavy silence. Harry could feel his heart pumping madly in his chest. He took his eyes from Lupin’s and glanced down at the floor. Why was Lupin trying to make things complicated?

“I know it won’t. But it will make me feel better,� he replied darkly. Lupin shook his head.

“It will not. You will be empty, alone, and bitter. In fact, if you do not have any other reason to fight, if you do not have any dreams or desires to look forward to after the threat is over, I doubt you will even be able to face Lord Voldemort. You need to be fighting for the future, Harry, not the past.�

Harry continued looking at the floor. The words sounded profound, though he wasn’t quite sure what Lupin was getting at. Seeming to sense this, Lupin sighed heavily and leaned forward in his chair, causing Harry to look up. His voice was no longer calm and emotionless, but had a tentative, vulnerable tone to it.

“Look, when I was first bitten by a werewolf I was devastated. My former friends and community ostracized me. Even my own parents weren’t comfortable with me around because they thought I was dangerous. I spent the next few years of my life wishing things had turned out different, wondering what my life could have been like if I hadn’t been bitten and mad at Fate for letting it happen. And it got me absolutely nowhere. I may have spent my entire life that way if it hadn’t been for a friend I made at Hogwarts. A friend that showed me that my future was unwritten and I could make whatever I wanted out of it.� Suddenly Lupin’s voice caught in his throat and Harry noticed his eyes tear up.

“That friend was your father.�

Harry thought he was going to elaborate further, but instead he wiped face with his hand to compose himself, took a deep breath, and looked Harry squarely in the eyes.

“Look. Voldemort killed your family and took away the life you could have had. Wondering what that life would have been like and getting back at him for taking it away will get you nowhere, even if you do defeat him. You had no choice in the matter and nothing you do can change what happened. But – here’s the point – he can’t take away your future unless you let him.

The words had an interesting effect on Harry. He had very seldom thought about life after Voldemort, figuring he could never really enjoy a real life after the lot Fate had dealt him.

“You still have a future, Harry. A bright, wonderful, future no matter what happened to you in the past. You are young. Intelligent. Talented. You will be able to do anything you want to once you are done with school. What’s more, you are surrounded by friends and other people that care about you. People who welcome you into their own families.

“And someday,� here Lupin smiled, “you will even be able to start a family. A family of your own that no one can take from you.�

Harry felt a warm, light feeling spring up inside his chest. His own family? The thought brought a strange happiness and contentment with it. Lupin nodded.

“Hope, Harry. That is what you should be fighting for. Hope for the future. I wish you could see your future,� he said, a confident and peaceful look on his face that told Harry he believed completely in what he was saying, “it has happiness in it that you can’t even comprehend. I don’t have to be a Seer to see that.�

Harry swallowed, not sure of what to say. Lupin sat at the front of his chair, hands still clasped together and with the peaceful look still on his face, looking expectantly at him. Harry found it hard to answer -- Lupin’s words were completely shifting his paradigm.

“I…I guess I never thought of it like that,� he stammered out finally.

“Well,� said Lupin, standing up and brushing off his robes, “perhaps it is time you did. Good night Harry.�

Harry spent the next hour gazing thoughtfully into the fireplace, then stood up, took Lupin’s mug to the kitchen, and went to bed.

***

The next morning Dumbledore arrived to take Harry back to Hogwarts. Lupin squeezed Harry’s shoulder as he bid him farewell at the door.

“Take care, Harry. Good luck, and� he leaned in closer, “do think about what we talked about last night, won’t you?�

Harry nodded in response and bid farewell. He walked out the door, trunk dragging behind him, took one last glance at Potter’s Cove, wondering when he would see it again, and joined Professor Dumbledore.

“Well Harry, how was your holiday? Everything went well, I presume?� the headmaster asked merrily as they made their way onto the snowy forest path.

“Yes sir. It was wonderful. Thanks for letting me come here,� Harry replied sincerely.

“You are quite welcome. I am glad to hear it. However, the holiday isn’t over quite yet.�

He stopped walking and turned to face Harry, who was surprised at the statement. “I have one last present for you, something I think you will be most interested to see. As we won’t be needing these anytime soon, why don’t I send them ahead for you?�

With a quick wave of his wand Harry’s luggage disappeared, making him feel considerably lighter.

“Now, if you will just follow me, we have a small hike ahead of us.�

Harry suddenly remembered that the headmaster had wanted to show him something in Godric’s Hollow before they returned. He had completely forgotten about it. The headmaster walked through the snow, back along the path that led towards the village.

Wondering how much the headmaster would tell him about this “present� before they got wherever they were going, Harry asked tentatively, “Er…does this have to do with the Half-Blood Price, sir?�

“It does,� Dumbledore replied, saying nothing more.

Harry frowned slightly. Truth be told he had rather enjoyed the short break he had had from the Half-Blood Prince. He had barely thought of the legend over Christmas holiday and he wasn’t quite sure he wanted to get back into it, knowing that it was a dead-end. Dumbledore seemed to be rather interested in whatever he was about to show him, however, so maybe there was something there after all. Reluctantly he felt his interest piqued.

As they walked through the forest (Harry soon realized they were taking the same path that had taken them to the ruins that summer) he thought back to the conversation he had had with Lupin the night before. As he thought of what he might do after the war he began to understand a little of what Lupin had been trying to get across. Maybe he would get away. Leave England for a bit, and leave being ‘The Famous Harry Potter’ with it. Perhaps his friends could come with him. He and Ginny, Ron and Hermione could go out and see the world, explore other countries. Once he was done, maybe he would come back and begin his auror training. Or maybe he would have grown tired of fighting Dark Wizards by that time, and instead he could try out for a professional Quidditch team. Perhaps he would even play in the Quidditch World Cup. The thought almost made him giddy.

And then, someday – not for several years, of course, but someday – he would even start his own family. Potter’s Cove would be full once more…

Eventually they arrived at the ruins, causing Harry to come out of his reverie. The enormous boulders and broken pillars of stone he had seen during the summer were now blanketed with heavy, untouched snow. It was hard to get his bearings at first – everything looked vastly different under the snow – so Harry trailed closely behind the headmaster. Something about the mysterious and ancient ruins captured his imagination and he felt his curiosity about what Dumbledore was about to show him grow immensely. At length Dumbledore spoke.

“Now Harry. Do you remember what I said to you about the Half-Blood Prince the last time you were in my office, the time we revealed the entire legend to you and during the argument among my colleagues that inevitably follows every time it is brought up?

“Er…� Harry thought back to the night in question. The rest of the portraits in Dumbledore’s office had been involved in a heated debate about the validity of the legend when Dumbledore had taken him aside…

“You said you had your own reason for believing in the legend, something that the other headmasters didn’t know.�

Dumbledore nodded in approval. “You are correct. I am about to show you the reason for my optimism. Ah, here we are.�

Harry looked up to see what the headmaster was referring to. With a twinge of disappointment he saw an empty, stone archway with three lions on it. It was the same archway Dumbledore had shown him in the summer, the one that held the family tree of Godric Gryffindor. While it was definitely interesting, he had thought Dumbledore was going to show him something new.

Dumbledore removed his wand from his robes and ran his open hand down the side of the archway, his gaze fixed on one of the lions.

“Now, before we go in I need to give you a small bit of the story which you do not know. Gryffindor’s Sanctuary,� here he nodded at the empty archway, “was discovered about 250 years ago by Headmaster Cerrigous Caldwell. While the rest of the headmasters and many historians have known about this archway for centuries, no one ever knew the password to enter the Sanctuary until Headmaster Caldwell stumbled across it in an old history book in Hogwarts’s archives. While it was an important discovery, the Sanctuary offered no new clues as to the whereabouts of Wulfric Gryffindor, so succeeding headmasters forgot about it, preferring to spend their time in worthier pursuits.�

He looked over at Harry suddenly.

“But they overlooked something.�

Silence. Harry looked at the archway, half-expecting to see what they had overlooked, but all he saw were the steely grey mountains behind it. Dumbledore looked back at the archway.

“I found it during the third year of my tenure as headmaster. It had slipped my notice the first time I came, but the second time something in my mind must have caught it, for I awoke in the middle of the night several days later, unable to sleep. I rushed back here as soon as I could. I had to make sure it was real…�

“What?�

“Something momentous. The biggest clue we’ve had about the Half-Blood Prince for centuries. Something that would completely change every theory we have about his life and disappearance.�

By now Harry’s curiosity was gnawing at him. He wished Dumbledore would stop talking and just show him what it was.

“What was it?�

Dumbledore smiled and shook his head. “To tell you would ruin the surprise. And I must admit, I’m rather curious to see if your reaction is similar to what mine was. I won’t be able to find out if I tell you. But enough, I will keep it a mystery no longer.�

He turned towards the archway, wand in head, and tapped each of the three lions while saying the words, "Templus, Fortum, Gryffindor." The lions turned their noble heads, let out a surprisingly realistic roar, and the dark interior of Gryffindor’s Sanctuary appeared in the archway. Harry stepped in, followed by Dumbledore, and they waited a moment while their eyes became accustomed to the absence of light in the chamber.

Once they had done so, Harry began walking towards the far end of the hall where the shimmering, golden light marked the location of Gryffindor’s family tree. Knowing there was nothing in the darkness to impede his progress, Harry moved quickly and impatiently, anxious to see what this secret was. He arrived shortly before Dumbledore, who came up next to him.

“Now, tell me what you remember about this room, Harry,� said the headmaster.

“You told me it was built by some of Gryffindor’s friends after he died. Kind of as a memorial to him,� replied Harry, looking intently for any clues.

“Good. What else?�

“Er…all the names on the wall are the descendents of Godric Gryffindor. The ones whose names are lit up are still alive, the ones that are dark are dead. You also said that not everyone who was a descendent of Gryffindor was necessarily brave, and that not everyone who came from Slytherin was evil,� he said distractedly. So far he hadn’t seen anything peculiar on the wall, just thousands and thousands of names, most of which meant nothing to him.

He continued to study the wall, Dumbledore standing silently behind him, watching from the corner of his eye. Harry grew increasingly inpatient. He looked at the very top of the wall where the Potter line and his own name were etched, then slightly down and to the right where the Weasley’s were. Nothing. What was he supposed to be seeing? Was there some connection he was missing? Somebody’s name on the wall he had missed?

He looked for what seemed like an eternity. Finally the headmaster spoke.

“Perhaps I can give you one small hint.� His voice was amused. “Who is the subject we have been talking about?�

Who was the subject they had been talking about? That was obvious, it was the Half-Blood Prince.

Harry looked down at the base of the trunk where Wulfric Gryffindor’s name was etched into the stone. There it was, illuminated by the light of the names at the top of the tree, with the conspicuous, empty space above it showing where his line had stopped. He studied it intently, trying to find what Dumbledore was talking about. Was there something about the spelling? A connection with another name that he had missed?

“Er…I don’t see anything unusual, sir.�

“Keep looking,� Dumbledore replied patiently.

He studied it for a moment or two longer until something caught his attention. The golden light at the top of the wall shone down from above, illuminating each of the names below, including Wulfric Gryffindor’s. Yet from this angle it almost looked like…

Curious, he took a couple steps towards the wall and placed his hand just above Wulfric Gryffindor’s name.

What he saw next took a second or two to register, but when it did the realization made him drop to his knees in shock and emit a strange yelping sound. He suddenly found it very hard to breathe.

“Ah yes,� said Dumbledore cheerfully, “I believe that is exactly how I reacted myself.�

Harry grasped at the wall in disbelief. How could he have missed it? How did he not notice it before? The light from the names above must have shone down in a strange way, making him overlook it. But there it was, right in front of him. And it could only mean…impossible! There was no way. How could it be?

Wulfric Gryffindor, the Half-Blood Prince and eldest son of Godric Gryffindor, was still alive.

Chapter 35
Giants and Centaurs


“But how is that possible? The bloke would have to be almost a thousand years old!�

The Christmas holidays had ended and Harry was back at Hogwarts. He was walking through the corridors with Ron and Hermione after lunch and had just filled them in on what Dumbledore had shown him in Gryffidor’s Sanctuary. Ron seemed incredulous. Hermione remained silent, a thoughtful look on her face.

“I dunno how it’s possible. That’s just what the wall says,� Harry shrugged.

Ron shook his head in disbelief. “Wait, how old would he be? Gryffindor founded Hogwarts a thousand years ago, probably had his kids not long after that, so that would make Wulfric…� Ron started counting on his fingers (math had never been a big concern in the magical world) “…seven, eight, nine. At least nine hundred years old, probably a thousand! There’s no way, even the oldest wizards barely make it past two-hundred.�

“Ron’s right, it does seem rather strange,� agreed Hermione. Harry couldn’t help noticing that the two had developed an annoying habit of agreeing with each other most of the time. “I mean, lets look at this logically. What are the ways a person could increase their longevity using magic?� She held out her hand and began to count off. “There’s anti-aging potions, but those are extremely expensive to make and only last for so long. I don’t think I’ve ever read about anyone making it over 200 years old using them. There’s the Ambriggio charm, but that is only a temporary fix—after a few hours you go back to how you were before and it would be extremely tedious to keep casting every two or three hours.�

Harry nodded along impatiently. He had already thought through all of this. There was only one theory that seemed plausible.

“What about the Philosopher’s Stone? Supposing he has one of them?�

“I doubt that,� said Hermione, biting on her lip. “First of all, they are extremely rare to come by—I don’t think anyone even knew how to make them until Dumbledore came along. Secondly, even if Wulfric Gryffindor had one, I don’t think he could stay alive that long. He wouldn’t want to. I mean, Nicholas Flamel and his wife only got to about six-hundred before they got tired of living, right? I can only imagine what it would be like to live for a thousand.�

“Well then, what are some other ways he could be alive?� replied Harry, a little irritated that his only idea had been shot down.

“Well, I’m thinking over that. Tell me again, what did the name look like on the wall?�

Harry rolled his eyes. He had already told them the story at least three times. “It’s written at the bottom of the wall, right over Godric Gryffindor’s. All the names at the top of the tree are lit up because the person is still alive. They have this twinkling, golden light shining through them. When they die the light goes out. Wulfric Gryffindor’s name is still lit up.�

“Hmmm,� said Hermione thoughtfully. “If it’s lit up, why didn’t you notice it the first time you went into the Sanctuary? It would seem that the name would stick out if all the others around it had gone out.�

Harry stopped. He had thought of that as well. “Well, the light from the top of the room kind of shines down on it so you can’t tell it’s lit unless you’re paying attention. Actually, I had to put my hand over the top of it to make sure.�

“So it’s dimmer than the rest of them?�

“Well…yeah.�

“Interesting…� said Hermione. They resumed walking.

“So why would it be dimmer? Does that mean he’s only kind-of alive?� asked Ron.

“I dunno,� Harry shrugged. “Maybe it means he’s alive, but not really in the sense we think of. Like in a different form, or something.�

“Like, a vampire, or something like that?�

“Er…yeah, I guess.�

“Hey, what if he is a vampire? That would make sense, wouldn’t it? How else could he live for so long? What if when he was young—“

“—I think,� interrupted Hermione with an air of putting an end to something foolish, “it is much more likely that there is a problem with the magic they used to make Gryffindor’s family tree. Charms only last for so long before wearing down. Remember those Irish rosettes we got at the Quidditch World Cup, how they were all but worn out by the end of the day? It’s the same thing. Gryffindor’s family tree is a thousand years old by now. The magic is old and worn out, causing odd things like Wulfric Gryffindor’s name lighting up for no reason to happen. It’s probably just a…a…malfunction or something.�

While he hated to admit it, there was definitely some logic to what Hermione was saying. Even in the magical world, there were still some things that were impossible. A human being living 1000 years was one of them. The only thing that kept him from conceding was the fact that he had been to Gryffindor’s Sanctuary and had seen the family tree himself. There was a definite feeling of awe, almost reverence, in the room and he couldn’t believe something so great could be ‘malfunctioning’. The way Hermione was talking you’d think the tree in Gryffindor’s Sanctuary was no more than a Muggle television set or something.

“I don’t think so. Everything else about it seems to be working properly. Besides, Dumbledore said Gryffindor’s followers made it for him after he died, as a sort of tribute. I doubt they would use some rubbish magic to do it.�

“Yes, but how do you know that?� Hermione asked stubbornly. “Besides, do we even know who put the wall together?�

“I don’t know, really powerful wizards, that’s what Dumbledore said,� replied Harry, feeling slightly defensive. Hermione simply shook her head.

“Well, it seems more logical to me that the wall is simply malfunctioning. More logical than a wizard living a thousand years, anyway. Unless one of you two have a more plausible theory?� She fixed them both with the know-it-all look that Harry hadn’t seen much of since their early years at Hogwarts.

“Yeah, I’ve got one,� chimed in Ron (who had been silent since bringing up vampires) excitedly. “What about the Dark Arts? There’s likely to be a few ways to do it with the Dark Arts that we don’t know about.�

“True, but I highly doubt the son of Godric Gryffindor would resort to using the Dark Arts, Ron.�

“Maybe he didn’t. Maybe it was someone else. You said that Wulfric Gryffindor had a lot of enemies, right? Well maybe some bad wizards captured him and found a way to keep him alive!�

“Yes but why would a group of Dark Wizards want to keep him alive for a thousand years?� Hermione asked.

“I dunno, maybe to make him tell them where his hidden weapon is. Or maybe to torture him. Maybe it’s like some sort of sick Slytherin club.�

Harry shook his head. Their explanations were getting more and more ridiculous by the minute. Malfunctioning walls? Slytherin torture clubs? It all seemed pretty far fetched. The most logical explanation was that there was another Philosopher’s Stone made and Wulfric Gryffindor had used it to stay alive all these years. Besides, the most important question wasn’t how he had done it, but where was he?

As he was pondering on this he realized Ron and Hermione had stopped walking and were looking just in front of him. Somebody was approaching. He looked up to see who it was.

Cho Chang.

She walked up to him and stopped, an uneasy look on her face and pulling nervously at a tassel on her bag.

“Hi Harry.�

“Hi.�

She was about to say something when she looked up to see Ron and Hermione watching—Hermione with a skeptical yet curious expression, and Ron with a look that was downright unfriendly.

“Er…can I speak to you in private?�

“Come on Ron,� said Hermione, pulling Ron to the side of the corridor and out of earshot. He cast one last distrustful glance in Cho’s direction then walked away.

Once they were gone Cho looked back up at him.

“Look Harry, I just wanted to tell you that I’m really sorry about what happened last year, with Marietta and our fight and all that. I…I was just wondering if it’d be all right if I came back to the DA meetings. Just me, not Marietta,� she quickly added.

“Yeah, no problem,� Harry replied, not understanding what Cho was so nervous about. “The next meeting is Wednesday at 7:00.�

Cho relaxed slightly. “Thanks. I’ll be there.�

She looked like she perhaps wanted to say a little more, but when she didn’t Harry figured the conversation was over.

“Well, see you.�

“Oh, yeah. Um…thanks. Bye.�

She walked away and Ron and Hermione joined him.

“So what did she want?� asked Hermione.

“She just wanted to know if she could come to the DA meetings. I told her yes.�

“Oh,� replied Hermione, as though she had expected more.

“You don’t fancy her again, do you?� asked Ron, rather bluntly.

“No,� Harry replied simply. He didn’t really have to even think about it, which surprised him for some reason. “I guess she’s just not my type.�

Ron nodded in approval. “Good. Because she wasn’t any good for you, mate. You need someone fun, that’s not always dragging you down.�

Harry shrugged.

“So, um, who exactly is your type then, Harry?� Hermione asked teasingly. “Because most of the girls at Hogwarts would be very interested to find out.�

Ron chuckled.

“Come off it,� said Harry, not too keen to continue that particular conversation. He quickly thought of something else to bring up to change the subject.

“Er…I was thinking we could stop by Hagrid’s cabin this evening since we haven’t seen him since before the break. What d’you guys think?�

“Sure,� replied Ron. Hermione didn’t answer at first, but instead smiled slyly at him with her eyebrows raised for a moment, just to show him she knew he was changing the subject on purpose. Then she agreed.

The rest of the day passed rather uneventfully. After dropping their things off at the dormitories and eating dinner, they hurried out the front entrance and across the grounds towards Hagrid’s cabin. It was a bitingly cold winter night. The sky was completely clear, allowing thousands of stars to shine down on the grounds below and illuminate the snow covered ground with a beautiful, frigid light. The three of them huddled close together for warmth as they walked (Ron and Hermione a little too close, Harry noticed) and soon arrived at Hagrid’s cabin. Light shone out from the window and smoke wafted out of the chimney, promising a warm fire within.

Harry knocked on the cold, hard wood of Hagrid’s door. It was somewhat painful as his knuckles were already frozen stiff. They heard a rustling from within and Fang barking. The door opened.

“I was ‘opin to see you lot before long. Come in, come in,� said Hagrid with a giant smile as he motioned for them to enter. As they made their way in Fang ran up and gave Harry his traditional greeting of jumping and slobbering all over him. They sat down as close to the fire as they could.

“I’ll make us some tea. Mus’ be cold out there� said Hagrid cheerfully as he busied himself in the small kitchen.

“How was your holiday, Hagrid?� asked Hermione as she unraveled a long muffler from her face.

“Good enough, I suppose. Oh! Tha’ reminds me. Yer presents!� He put the kettle down with a small clang and began fishing through a cupboard.

“Wasn’ able to make it teh headquarters, er…Weasley Place, I mean…� he said, looking at Ron, “…fer Christmas, so I decided I’d jus’ give em to yeh first chance I got. ‘ere you go.�

He produced three large, tidily wrapped packages. Each was the same size and shape and had a frilly pink ribbon on top that seemed to be the last thing Hagrid would use when wrapping a present.

“They’re French Rose Truffles. Olympe found ‘em for me. Supposed teh be real nice.�

“Thank you Hagrid. And how is Madame Maxime?� Hermione asked politely as they each took their present.

“Oh she’s fine. Jus’ fine,� said Hagrid, seeming to brighten at the mention of her name. “Course it’s a little hard, her having to run her school and me being all the way over here. Wouldn’ mind being a bit closer to each other, to be honest…�

His voice trailed off and for a moment he had a faraway look in his eyes. Then he shook his head as if coming out of a reverie and nodded in Ron and Hermione’s direction.

“But you two know what it’s like, what with being…�

Hermione shot Hagrid an angry warning glance and made a quick jerking motion with her hand indicating not to say another word. Hagrid looked at her confusedly. Harry was fairly certain he saw Hermione’s eyes shift his way as an explanation.

“Oh…righ’…� Hagrid bumbled, obviously trying to come up with something different to say.

“Er…wha’ with being prefects and all,� he finished triumphantly. Hermione put her face in her hands. Harry had to look away from both of them to keep from laughing.

“So…why weren’t you able to make it for Christmas?� he asked in an effort to save his friends any more humiliation.

“Well, I bin real busy.�

“Busy doing what?�

Hagrid stopped suddenly and a closed expression came on his face. Then he said half-heartedly, as though he knew it wasn’t going to work, “Er…official Order business ‘arry. Not supposed teh tell.�

Harry exchanged a furtive glance with Ron and Hermione and was about to say something when Hagrid interrupted.

“Oh all righ’. ‘s not like you don’ know anyways,� said Hagrid, handing out the tea and sitting down in his chair, an enormous beat up old thing that would have passed as a sofa in anyone else’s living room. He stretched his legs out and took a long pull from his giant mug.

“We’re still tryin’ ter persuade some o’ the giants ter join us.�

Harry nodded. He had figured as much.

“Really? Is there a new Gurg now? Because I don’t see any other way they would even it,� asked Hermione interestedly.

“Naw, same mean old cur, Golgomath. I’m surprised he’s made it this long, actually. Though’ someone else woulda killed him by now. They mus’ be protectin’ him. Anyways, ol’ You-Know-Who’s workin’ on bringin’ the whole lot of ‘em down righ’ now teh so use in ‘is army. But not all of ‘em want to come, see, an’ not all of ‘em want to fight fer You-Know-Who, either, so that’s our chance. We try to get ‘em on their own so we can talk to ‘em and convince ‘em teh join our side.�

“Who is we?� asked Hermione.

“Well, there’s me and Olympe, o’ course. Then a few wizards and witches from the Ministry. And sometimes a differen’ member o’ the Order, Shacklebolt or yer brother Charlie,� he nodded at Ron. “Dumbledore’s even come a couple o’ times.�

“Wait a minute Hagrid. Didn’t it take you months to get up there before? How can you go there now and still be back in time to teach classes?� asked Ron skeptically.

“Well tha’ was when we couldn’ use magic, wasn’ it? The Ministry ain’ trackin’ us no more, they’re helpin’ us, so we ken come an’ go as we please.�

“Have you had any success?� asked Hermione.

Hagrid let out a great sigh and took another pull from his enormous mug. “No’ much, teh be hones’. Problem is You-Know-Who knows what we’re about. He’s got Macnair an’ some other bloke watching ‘em so closely it’s hard teh get any of ‘em on their own. Anytime those berks think we bin talkin’ with someone Macnair tells Golgomath an’ they beat ‘em till they’re either dead or don’ want teh talk to us no more.

“But we have been able to reach a couple. Ol’ Grawpy’s been a load of ‘elp…�

“Grawp goes with you?� interrupted Harry incredulously.

“Oh yeah,� Hagrid beamed. “You lot haven’ seen Grawpy lately have yeh? Right ol’ gentleman now, he is. Well, gentleman may be pushin’ it, but he’s loads better then he used teh be. Can almos’ keep up a real conversation and everything. Matter of fact, Dumbledore says he could be real useful to us, built a shelter for him in the forest out back an’ everything.�

Ron stood up and went to the window to see while Harry and Hermione exchanged an impressed look. The last time they had seen Grawp he was rampaging around the Forbidden Forest, throwing centaurs about as if they had been rag-dolls. To hear that he was helping Hagrid instead of hurting him was an improvement indeed.

“All I see is a big, pointy thing,� said Ron from where from the window where he was gazing curiously out, presumably to see the shelter Dumbledore had made for Grawp. It hit Harry that Ron had still never seen Hagrid’s giant half-brother, although he had definitely heard a lot about him.

“I reckon it’s too dark. D’you think…� Ron had started to say when he suddenly stopped and pressed his face sideways along the glass, apparently to get a better look at something far past the cabin. “Oy, Hagrid, come over here! There’s something standing out there. I think they’re trying to spy on you.�

The three of them rose from their seats to join Ron at the window. Harry had to squeeze in between Ron and Hagrid’s massive girth to get a look. He couldn’t see it very clearly, but it definitely did look like there was a solitary figure standing in the frigid night air, drenched in pale moonlight. The figure was far enough away, however, that Harry doubted it was trying to eavesdrop. It was also hard to tell if the figure was looking towards Hagrid’s cabin or away from it.

“Oh, that’d be Firenze,� said Hagrid dismissively. “He’s bin out there almos’ every night lately. Studyin’ the stars, I reckon. Actually bin meanin’ teh have a chat with him. Let’s go see what he’s up to.�

They grabbed their cloaks and headed out into the cold night. While there was no moon the snowy ground was illuminated with a beautiful, pale white thanks to the thousands of shining from the sky above. As they came closer to the solitary form of Firenze they realized he was indeed studying the stars and didn’t seem aware of their presence.

“Ho, Firenze!� Hagrid called when they were within hailing distance. The centaur kept his gaze heavenward and still made no sign that he knew they were there until they had come within a couple yards of him. He slowly brought his head down and looked at them.

“Greetings Hagrid,� he said in his calm, serene voice. He then fixed his gaze on Harry and said, “Greetings Harry Potter. We meet again.� He looked next at Ron and Hermione, said each of their names in turn, and nodded as a greeting.

“Noticed yeh bin out ‘ere a lot lately, Firenze. Anything unusual going on?�

“Mars is about to cross paths with Opheuchus,� he answered, gazing back up at the stars. He pointed at the planet and traced an imaginary arc sweeping down to the right. Hagrid, Hermione, Ron, and Harry looked up to see what he was talking about, though with the immensity of stars it was impossible to pick out the two he was talking about.

“This is an extremely rare phenomenon. It has never happened in the four-thousand years of recorded centaur history. My people are watching its progression very closely.�

“I’ve never heard of Opheuchus,� said Hermione, her brow furrowed.

Firenze fixed his gaze on her, the seemingly endless depths of his eyes reflecting the stars above. He took his time speaking. “Opheuchus is a comet, a dark messenger that can only be seen from this planet once every seven hundred years. You humans refer to as a Doomsday Star. It signifies an upcoming cataclysm.�

They looked at each other, shocked. Harry was about to ask more when Firenze spoke again.

“Yet the meaning of its crossing with Mars is confusing. Such a thing has never happened before. We do not yet know how to interpret it. It is safe to say that either a cataclysm is coming…� suddenly he brought his head down and looked directly at Harry. None of the others noticed.

“…or that a cataclysm will be narrowly avoided. Mars has been traveling across Andromeda since…�

Firenze pointed back up at the sky and began a lengthy explanation of the relationship between different star transits and distant galaxies that Harry soon lost interest in. Hadn’t Firenze taught them in their Divination class the year before that even the centaurs often misread the stars, that nothing could be known for sure? While Ron, Hermione, and Hagrid arched their heads back trying to see what he was talking about, Harry turned his attention on Firenze instead.

The light of the stars glistened off the centaur in the same pale, white color as the grounds around them. His human torso and arms were completely naked, yet, amazingly enough, he didn’t seem at all bothered by the pervasive cold. Looking down at his palomino legs and Harry noticed fresh tracks in the snow. Following them to his left he saw they led to the Forbidden Forest. Apparently Firenze had just come from there. This surprised Harry as the year before Firenze had been banished from the forest by the other centaurs for supposedly betraying them and agreeing to teach at Hogwarts. In fact, if it hadn’t been for Hagrid’s interference they would have put him to death.

As he studied the tracks further he noticed strange, dark splotches that appeared regularly in the snow, as though something had been dropping from Firenze as he walked. Following the trail to where Firenze was currently standing, Harry was surprised to see a large, dark line across his left arm with a black liquid dripping freely from it. Blood.

“Firenze all you all right?� Harry interrupted, slightly aghast. “You’re bleeding!�

The rest of them turned at look where Harry was pointing. Hermione gave a small gasp. While the wound probably wasn’t life threatening it was definitely big enough to require immediate attention. It almost looked like an arrow had grazed Firenze, taking a fair sized piece of flesh with it. The centaur looked down at the wound, completely unconcerned, then reached around to a small leather bag on his side and pulled out what appeared to be a clean bandage and a bunch of leaves.

“I have been visiting my former friends in an attempt to persuade them to join you humans in your battle. So far they have been unreceptive,� he said as he wrapped the leaves in the bandage and expertly tied it around the wound in his arm.

“Unreceptive?� Hagrid suddenly said in an angry voice, “I’d say they’ve bin downrigh’ abusive! That bruise wasn’ there last time I saw yeh, an’ yer ear didn’ have a chunk missin’ from it neither!�

Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked to where Hagrid was pointing. Sure enough there was a large, hoof-shaped print just under Firenze’s left collar bone. As for the ear, Harry couldn’t see it from the angle he was standing at, but seeing Ron recoil in disgust (he could see it just fine from where he was) told him all he needed to know.

Firenze regarded Hagrid placidly. It was hard to tell if he appreciated Hagrid’s anger in his behalf, or was annoyed by it.

“My people have never meddled in the affairs of humans, Hagrid. It is against our nature and tradition to do so. The mere suggestion that they assist or join the humans in any capacity is considered high blasphemy to them, especially if that suggestion comes from one who has been branded a traitor.� He bowed his head slightly to indicate it was himself he was referring to. “Their reaction is perfectly understandable.�

Harry was slightly taken aback by the disconnected way Firenze said this last part. He would think Firenze would be a bit more angry about being shot at and having his ear nearly ripped off. Hagrid shook his great, hairy head.

“Now, I respect yeh an all, Firenze, but I got teh tell yeh that seems like a ruddy waste o’ time. What makes you think you can convince that lot to join us?�

Firenze didn’t answer at first but stood gazing at Hagrid. Then he turned his head back to the sky.

“Because it is written in the stars.�

They watched as Firenze gazed back into the heavens, studying something that they couldn’t see. Taking his silence as a cue that the conversation was over, they began the walk back to Hagrid’s cabin.

“It’s a bloomin’ shame, too,� Hagrid grumbled softly once they were out of earshot. “We could really use the centaurs ‘elp in this war.�

“Really?� Ron asked, somewhat surprised. “Seems to me all they’re good for is looking up into the sky and speaking rubbish. What good would a bunch of centaurs be in a war?�

“Well, besides bein’ crack shots with their bows, they’re amazin’ healers. Did yeh see that poultice he put on ‘is arm?�

“Yeah.�

“Well, that wound’ll be completely healed by mornin’. Not many creatures could top a centaur when it comes to healin’. But that’s not all. Centaurs have a way of seein’ things that are happenin’ in other parts of the world. Things that no one else could know about. I reckon Dumbledore’d find that handy when plannin’ a war against You-Know-Who, don’t you?�

They reached the cabin and Hagrid cast one long glance back towards Firenze. He was standing just as they left him, glistening white and staring up into the glittering infinity above. Hagrid gave a small chuckle and shook his head.

“In the same boat, Firenze and me, eh?� he said with a tone of amusement. “Both tryin’ teh convince our own kind teh join in the war. Though from the looks of things I’d say he’s havin’ the same luck I am.�

Chapter 36
Secretsss


A couple of weeks passed without any real news about the war. This was most likely a good thing, as it meant that nothing terrible enough to be considered newsworthy had happened. As it was, the Daily Prophet did their best to exaggerate whatever did happen to make it more terrifying, though it didn’t quite have the same effect.

Unfortunately nothing new had happened with the Half-Blood Prince either (with the exceptions of Hermione finding a new book on Godric Gryffindor and Ron coming up with a couple new hare-brained theories on how Wulfric Gryffindor could still be alive), which only meant more confusion and frustration for Harry. He hadn’t been back to visit the hidden Astronomy Tower room where Rowena Ravenclaw’s third diary supposedly was hidden since before the Christmas holidays. He knew that if he did so it would get his hopes up only to have them dashed to pieces as he realized, yet again, that there was nothing there.

Despite the frustration caused by the missing third diary, Harry found the brief lull in the war refreshing. He was even able to relax slightly. He was doing well in most of his classes (which was surprising as getting good marks had been pretty low on his list of priorities this year), and was thrilled about the progress most of the members of the DA were making. This was a source of no small amount of personal satisfaction to him, and the one thing that truly made him feel like he was doing something to fight Voldemort. One of the students in whom he was most proud (and baffled by) was none other than Theodore Nott. Ever since the first day Nott had shown up he had practiced with a dogged determination evocative of Neville the year before when he had found out that Bellatrix Lestrange had broken out of Azkaban. It was as though he were preparing himself for an anticipated, real-life encounter with a Dark Wizard, not just for some hypothetical, what-to-do-if-this-ever-happens type of scenario like the rest of them. Some of the other students (primarily Ron, Seamus, and Dean) still didn’t trust Nott and repeatedly questioned Harry’s wisdom in letting him join, but he paid them no attention.

While he didn’t think Nott was spying on them, Harry was still immensely curious as to what his real motives might be. Consequently he paid more attention to Nott whenever he saw him around school. He noticed, just after the altercation with Malfoy in the hallway and after Nott had first joined the DA, the rest of the Slytherins seemed to have ostracized him from their table in the Great Hall. He sat alone at the end of the table, several feet from his nearest classmate and spoke to no one. Similarly he walked through the corridors alone and sat alone in every class. Malfoy and a few of the other Slytherins whom Harry knew to be especially proud of their pure-bloodedness would occasionally shoot him dirty looks or make a snide comment or two as they passed him, but for the most part they left him alone. Interestingly enough, he had been completely indifferent to this treatment and almost seemed to prefer it. As time went by a few other students had joined him at his end of the table; a second year whom Harry had never noticed before, a tall, slender girl with curly blonde hair, and Thadius Rentley, the short, husky boy they had Defense Against the Dark Arts with. They seemed to be joined by one or two new students every week. It was apparent that a division of sorts was occurring within Slytherin House.

In addition to the time he spent with the DA, Harry also began playing Quidditch again. While he hadn’t rejoined Gryffindor’s team (Harry doubted he ever would while Voldemort was still around), Ginny had convinced him to join an inter-house group of students who played a couple times a week just for fun. Persuading him hadn’t been easy. He had returned to his dormitory after class one day to find a strange letter on his bed. Upon opening it he realized it wasn’t a letter at all, but a ransom note.

‘If you ever want to see your Firebolt again meet me at the Quidditch pitch. Alone. Right now.’

Unamused, he jogged out to the pitch to find Ginny, Gryffindor beaters Jack Sloper and Andrew Kirke, Seamus, Ravenclaws Terry Boot, Eddie Carmichael, and Stewart Ackerly along with a couple younger Hufflepuffs Harry didn’t know all flying around on their brooms playing a makeshift game of Quidditch. As he came to the outer boundary of the pitch Ginny swooped up to him with a cute, innocent smile and called out, “Hey everyone, look who’s wants to play! It’s Harry!� The rest of the players called out for him to join in and a short argument ensued about whose team would get him. Though he was reluctant to join at first, once he had found the Firebolt (Ginny had stuffed it in a bush on the other side of the pitch and acted completely surprised that it had been in there) and flown around the pitch a couple times (Ginny suggested he ought to try it out, just to make sure it was ok), he couldn’t resist. He spent the next couple of hours playing and felt quite disappointed when it was time to go in for dinner. Ginny knew him all too well.

Harry knew inside, however, that this temporary lull in the war wouldn’t last forever, that it was only a matter of time before Voldemort again engineered some horrible tragedy. He was right.

They had been sitting in a rather uneventful Transfiguration lesson, Professor McGonagall lecturing on the intricacies of turning an inanimate object into a living creature (she demonstrated by turning Neville’s book bag into a small hedgehog), when they heard a strange noise coming down the corridor just outside their classroom. It sounded like someone was running down the hall, yelling. As the noise grew louder they stopped listening to McGonagall’s lecture and strained to hear what the person was yelling. Once the boy was just outside their door (it turned out to be a young, male student) they heard it in chilling clarity.

“Dead! They killed her! She’s dead!�

Looking extremely annoyed that her class had been interrupted, Professor McGonagall swept out of the classroom and into the hallway. Although the door slammed shut behind her, they could hear her harsh, severe voice from inside the classroom.

“Dobson! What the devil do you mean by this, running up and down the halls like a deranged lunatic? Explain yourself!�

The boy named Dobson answered her, though not loud enough for them to hear.

Expecting to hear her shout again, Harry was surprised when McGonagall instead gave a small gasp, followed by an incredulous, “No!� A pause. “They couldn’t…how do you know this?�

Another brief silence, followed by McGonagall ordering, “Fetch me Professor Sprout,� then two sets of footsteps walking in different directions. They were left alone to guess what had happened. Whatever it was, it clearly wasn’t good if it had kept McGonagall from scolding a student who had disrupted her class. Within a couple minutes Professor McGonagall returned, followed by Professor Sprout, who had a very sad, compassionate look on her face.

“Susan? Susan, dear, will you come with me please?�

Every head in the classroom turned around to face Susan Bones, who was sitting towards the back of the room. Harry couldn’t recall ever having seen such a look of absolute dread and fear on someone’s face. She stood up slowly, trembling, and made the long walk to the door where Professor Sprout put her arm around her and escorted her away. Harry was fairly sure he knew what had happened. His suspicions were confirmed that afternoon.

MISTRESS OF MAGIC MURDERED

It is with the deepest regret that The Daily Prophet reports the killing of Amelia Bones, acting Mistress of Magic. Mistress Bones had served in this capacity ever since the public ousting of Cornelius Fudge, assuming control of Wizarding government at a chaotic and tumultuous time. Mistress Bones quickly became known for her clear and down-to-earth thinking, as well as her efforts in winning back the alliance of the goblins and establishing new diplomatic ties with the Centaurs and Giants.

Little is known about the demise of the Minister, though it is expected that she was killed by the group of You-Know-Who supporters known as the Death-Eaters, who…

Harry put down the special edition of the Prophet in disgust. “It is expected that the Death-Eaters killed her? Of course the Death-Eaters killed her, that’s the damn Dark Mark floating over the house, isn’t it?� Unlike the rest of the students who reacted to the news with fear and shock, Harry felt only frustration and a strong desire to strike back at Voldemort.

The entire school had been gathered in the Great Hall for a special assembly called by Professor Dumbledore. The meeting had been quite short and to the point. The headmaster confirmed what had happened, spoke about the importance of unity and courage in the face of opposition, then informed them that classes would be cancelled for the remainder of the day. With that he dismissed them back to their common rooms and swept away.

“I still can’t believe they killed her,� said a distraught Parvati Patil as she took the paper from Harry.

“Yeah, you’d think if anyone was safe it’d be the Mistress of Magic…� began Ron.

“If they want to get you, they get you,� Seamus said darkly. “That’s all there is to it.�

“That’s not true,� said Ginny defiantly. “I know someone they’ve been trying to ‘get’ for years. He’s still around.�

Harry wondered briefly who she was talking about, then realized, as everybody’s eyes turned to him, that it was himself.

Hermione was about to say something when Professor McGonagall’s voice rang out over the Great Hall.

“We are done here, return to your common rooms immediately. Dinner will be served at the usual time. Now return to your common rooms!� she said sternly. “Prefects, I need to speak with you.�

The Gryffindors slowly rose from their seats and began to file out of the Great Hall. Ron and Hermione made their way through the crowd to Professor McGonagall while Ginny went off to comfort a couple of crying first years, leaving Harry to walk back through the corridors to the Gryffindor common room alone. As he walked he pondered over what it all meant.

Obviously this would be a pretty serious blow to the already fledgling morale of the wizarding public. It was just as Ron had said – if the Mistress of Magic wasn’t even safe from Voldemort, what hope did the rest of them have? There would be more articles, discussions, and speculation in the Prophet on the immense power of Voldemort and how helpless the Ministry was to protect the wizarding public. This would be followed by even greater fear and hysteria, which was exactly what Voldemort wanted. On top of all that, they would also need to find a new Minister.

It was with these thoughts running through his head that Harry returned to the common room. Most of the Gryffindors had returned already and were talking in worried voices. A few motioned for him to join them, obviously wanting to know his take on what had happened, but he brushed them off and slumped down into an empty chair on the far side of the room. He felt restless.

From his seat he had a full view of the entire common room and all the students in it. If the reaction of his fellow students were any indication of how the general public would react to the news, they were in big trouble. They were all gathered together, talking in rushed, anxious voices, asking each other questions like ‘How do you think You-Know-Who did it?’, ‘Who’s next on his list?’, ‘Are we even safe in this school?’, ‘How big do you think his army is by now?’, and ‘Do we even stand a chance when he does attack?’. These were stupid questions that accomplished nothing except causing worry and increasing the dread and fear of Lord Voldemort. His frustration at not being able to strike back at the Dark Lord increased as he sat there, listening to the other students discussing their own destruction. Soon it became unbearable. He had to do something. It didn’t matter what, anything was better than sitting in here listening to the other students.

His mind made up, Harry practically jumped from his seat and fled the common room.

He made his way down the moving staircases and into the main corridor. He walked straight past the Great Hall, across the second floor corridor, and off towards the Northeast corner of the castle. The hidden room in the Astronomy Tower. He knew it was useless, knew that he would only be greeted by the same old boring, infuriatingly empty bookcase, but at least it was something.

As he drew nearer to the tower he passed a smaller, side corridor that intersected with his own. As he passed he caught a sudden flurry out of the corner of his eye, as if someone had just ducked around a corner to avoid being seen. Brushing it off he continued down the corridor and came to the large antechamber that opened up into the base of the tower. As he walked he tried to recall the words of conjuration Ravenclaw had given at the end of the second diary, the words that supposedly held the power to make the third diary appear and continue the trail of the Half-Blood Prince.

Arcana Fateorus.

He had said the words so often that recalling them wasn’t hard at all. Just as it occurred to him that he had no idea what they meant, he came to the bottom of the long, spiraling staircase and his attention was diverted. Too anxious to simply walk up the stairs Harry broke out into a laborious run, arriving at the top a few minutes later sweaty and panting. He went halfway up the small staircase that led to the observation deck and stopped. Making his best guess at where the hidden room was he removed his wand from his pocket and pointed it at the wall. Using the outside entrance took much too long.

“Dissipio!�

White, watery smoke shot out of his wand, bathing the hard stone surface of the wall and causing its surface to melt slightly. Making sure he had formed an opening large enough for his entire body, Harry stepped through the wall and into the hidden tower room. It was a strange feeling, moving through what had once been solid rock, and for a brief moment Harry feared it might harden while he was in it, trapping him in the wall. He came through without any trouble, however, other than hitting his shin on a small wooden stool one the other side and knocking it over.

“Lumos.�

He was in the hidden tower room, completely dark other than the light coming from the tip of his wand. Finding the small glass globe on the wall he tapped it and muttered, “Accendo�. Immediately the room was bathed in light, causing the familiar criss-cross of the wooden rafters to appear. He looked down and to the right.

The bookcase.

It was a short, plain, wooden bookcase, about waist-height and set against the wall so its open back showed the rough stones behind. It was just as he had left it – dusty, empty, and full of cobwebs. If it hadn’t been for the fact that it held the key to stopping Voldemort’s army, Harry never even would have given it a second glance. As it was, however, he couldn’t help but feel a small wave of awe as he looked at it. Rowena Ravenclaw had been here.

Taking a couple of deep breaths he walked up to the bookcase, waved his wand, and said the words that were supposed to trigger the appearance of the third diary.

“Arcana Fateorus.�

Nothing.

“Arcana Fateorus,� he said again.

Still nothing.

“Arcana Fateorus!� he commanded, tapping the bookcase sharply with his wand.

The only movement in the room was the small flicker of light in the globe.

He tried different wand movements, different inflections of the word, tried tapping different parts of the bookcase in an effort to make the diary appear. Nothing. The all-too-familiar frustration began to set in.

Next he tried summoning charms.

“Accio book!� “Accio diary!� “Accio.� “Accio!� “ACCIO!�

No response.

Harry tried everything else he could think of. Revealing charms – nothing. Negating jinxes – nothing. A variety of anti-concealment spells he had read about in his personal study – still nothing. He found himself becoming angrier and angrier despite the fact that he had known he wouldn’t find anything. He had been at it for nearly half an hour. Soon he found himself cursing Ravenclaw.

If she was looking out for the welfare of the school when she hid the diaries, then why hadn’t she left some sort of clue? Was this her idea of a joke? Why had she put together this whole stupid treasure hunt in the first place? They needed Wulfric Gryffindor and they needed him NOW. Feeling helpless and frustrated, Harry did the only thing left to do – he aimed a heavy kick at the bookcase and let loose.

His foot smashed into it and merely glanced off, as if it had been made of stone. His toes crushed painfully in the process.

Enraged and smarting from the pain, Harry took a couple of quick steps backward and jabbed his wand angrily at the bookcase. The spell on his lips was about to destroy hundreds of years of tradition, but he didn’t care.

“Reducto!�

A dull, low, clunking sound. A cloud of dust in the air, the cobwebs cleared, but the bookcase itself remained completely unchanged.

Tired and utterly defeated, Harry leaned against the wall opposite the bookcase and slumped to the floor. What more could he do? He didn’t even care about making the diary appear, all he wanted was to see the bookcase react in some way to something he did. Yet it denied him even that simple satisfaction. There it stood, straight across from him, mocking him with its stubborn emptiness.

He sat for a few minutes, head in his hands, staring numbly at the wall. An idea came to his mind.

Why not? He had tried everything else. He pointed his wand at the bookcase.

“Dissipio,� he muttered.

The white smoke shot out, engulfing the bookcase and the wall behind it. Sure enough, the bookcase remained completely unaffected by the spell. The wall behind it, however, seemed to melt under the influence of the dissolving spell. Harry picked up the stub of a burnt-out candle that had fallen on the floor not far from him and flung it at the bookcase, just to see if the wall behind it had indeed become permeable. Surprisingly it went straight through the stone, presumably into the thin air on the other side and plummeting to the bottom of the tower.

Amused by this paltry victory, Harry crawled across the floor to the bookcase and stuck his arm through the hole in the wall. While the stone was almost two feet thick his arm was long enough to reach completely through it. He felt his hand emerge through the other side into the cold, winter air. It was a most peculiar sensation. He put his other arm through, thinking how strange it would appear to someone walking by outside to see an arm protruding from the stone. As he thought this the stone around his arm began to harden. Not wanting it to get trapped in the wall he quickly withdrew it and watched as the rock solidified.

As he watched this, something peculiar in the rock caught his attention. The stone that Hogwarts was built out of was mainly a dark grey color with the occasional fleck or vein of some other, lighter colored stone in it. While the stone just in front of him had many of these lighter colored flecks, there was one spot that seemed lighter than the rest. It also had a peculiar, curving shape to it, quite unlike the rest of the markings in the stone. It was placed right in the center and a few inches down from the top shelf of the bookcase, in a spot where Harry wouldn’t have seen it if he hadn’t been sitting on the floor directly in front of it. He was about to brush it off as nothing when he looked closer and realized that the shape of the marking was too perfect, too deliberate to be in the stone naturally. Someone would have had to etch it in by hand, or put it there with a spell. As he ran his fingers over the small marking (it couldn’t have been even an inch tall) he realized it was indeed an indentation in the wall, a small, curvy ‘S’ shape that almost looked like…like…

A snake.

As he thought this he was reminded of a similar symbol, one he had seen during his second year in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. He had spoken to it and it had revealed a secret passage, something that someone hundreds of years earlier had tried to hide. This particular marking seemed much cruder and less obvious than that one had, but what if he tried talking to it anyway?

Knowing he was being stupid but past the point of caring, Harry began to weave his head back and forth, mimicking the motion of a snake. He looked at the small etching in the stone and spoke.

“Show me your secrets.�

Silence. Nothing happened.

Not sure he had spoken in Parseltongue, he decided to try again. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and did his best to clear his mind of all emotion. He pictured the boa constrictor he had seen at the zoo when he was younger, the one he had set loose on Dudley. He saw it – pictured its smooth slithering motion, the hypnotic movement of its head. The forked tongue flitting in and out of its mouth…

“Show me your secretsss.�

There was a low whooshing sound as if a breeze had just swept through the room. As he opened his eyes Harry found that the small snake marking had changed. It seemed to be glowing a pale, ghostly white color. His mind already resigned to the fact that the bookcase was a dead end, it didn’t quite register at first that something had just happened. He looked down.

There was something on the bookshelf.

Now it registered. His breath caught in his throat. His eyes grew wide. Was it real? Had it really worked? His heart began thumping in his chest.

There was something on the bookshelf! It hadn’t been there before

As he stared numbly at it he realized it wasn’t a book, but a small sheet of yellowed parchment with harsh, black writing on it.

THERE WAS SOMETHING ON THE BOOKSHELF.

He continued to stare with an awe that bordered on fear. It was several minutes before he dared to move. Then slowly, hand trembling, Harry picked up the ancient parchment. It appeared to be a note of some kind.


Victory!

Our battle won
the spoil plundered,
the Traitor’s seed never
to be discovered!

Should ye desire the path to Slytherin’s Captive,
seek thou the place where our dead brethren slumber.
Within the Defender’s cold embrace thou'llt find
the next key thou needest to find our plunder.

But friend of Slytherin beware,
lest the enemy thy purpose discover.
Our noble design foiled, the battle lost
and nature’s true Order again perverted.


Wand in one hand, cryptic parchment in the other, Harry left the hidden tower room the same way he had entered and flew down the stairs towards the headmaster’s office.

Chapter 37
The Crypt of Hogwarts


Harry descended the stairs as quickly as possible, taking three, sometimes four of them at a time. Twice he nearly tripped over his robes in his haste. A voice in his head told him he should probably slow down as the slightest misstep would send him hurtling head over heels to the bottom, but he couldn’t help it – he had found a clue to the whereabouts of the Half-Blood Prince! He had to show Dumbledore.

When he finally reached the bottom of the staircase he hurried through the small antechamber and tore down the corridor that led towards the headmaster’s office, disturbing a number of tapestries and portraits as he blew past. The ancient parchment with the cryptic note he clenched tightly in his left hand (afraid it might disappear if he eased his grip). In his right he held his wand. Realizing he wouldn’t need it anymore, he hurriedly shoved it back into his robes as he rounded a corner and leapt up a short staircase to the second floor. He ran through that corridor until it intersected with the one that led to Professor Grendelhall’s office, took a sharp left, and up another staircase. There were a number of students in this corridor, apparently on their way back to their common rooms after dinner.

“Hey! Slow down!�

“…What the…�

“Potter, what’s – ouch!�

He ignored them and continued to run. After several more sharp turns, staircases, and hidden doors, he came at last to the corridor that led to the headmaster’s office. As he ran towards the large, ugly gargoyle that stood guard over the door Harry looked up to see someone at the far end of the corridor facing him. It looked like Draco Malfoy.

He couldn’t be sure, however, for when he looked up again the person had darted off around the corner, apparently in a hurry to get somewhere himself. Brushing it off Harry ran up to the gargoyle and was just about to shout the password when he realized that it had already leaped out of the way, leaving the doorway to the spiral staircase open. Not seeing anyone coming down them, he ran through the entrance and up the stairs. The oak door with the griffin knocker was open as well. He hastily entered the office and found the Dumbledore walking towards him, his attention on something to Harry’s right.

“Professor!�

The headmaster looked up.

“Ah Harry. We were just on our way out,� he said cheerfully. “Has –�

“Professor! …the Astronomy Tower…snake…bookcase – I found something!� Harry gasped out, completely out of breath. The headmaster’s eyebrows rose slightly, telling Harry he hadn’t understood. He took a couple breaths and tried again.

“Sir! Wulfric Gryffindor…I was in the Astronomy Tower room looking at the bookcase. I found a small snake marking in the wall behind it and spoke to it in Parseltongue. An old… this…appeared. Look!� Harry held up the old piece of parchment.

The mention of the bookcase in the hidden Astronomy Tower room definitely got the headmaster’s attention. His eyes grew extremely wide and he snatched the parchment from Harry’s hand.

Dumbledore quickly read over the parchment, eyes darting from left to right, an intense, incredulous look on his face. When he was finished he looked up at Harry.

“No…this…you…!�

For the first time since Harry had known him, Professor Dumbledore looked completely, utterly flabbergasted. His mouth hung limp and open. His eyes, usually full of mirth and intelligence, now registered only supreme astonishment. On top of all this he was also at a total loss for words, something else Harry had never seen before in the headmaster, who was usually a paragon of composure and self-discipline. The sight was oddly satisfying.

“Er…is everything all right, Albus?� said a voice suddenly to Harry’s right. He wheeled around. A middle-aged, official looking wizard in purple robes stood just a few yards away from him next to the door. In his excitement to show Dumbledore what he had found Harry had completely overlooked him.

Dumbledore coughed and looked up from the parchment to the man, doing his best to regain his composure.

“Arrarrm. Erm. Ah yes, Tristan. Yes, everything is just fine. Harry here is just updating me on a…an assignment I gave him not too long ago. I must say he has done exceptionally well. Would you mind meeting me outside in the hall? I have a word or two for him before we depart.�

“Of course, Albus,� the man replied suspiciously, giving them a look that made it obvious that he wouldn’t mind staying to see what the excitement was all about. He threw his cloak over his shoulders and started making his way out of the office. “I’ll…er…just meet you outside, shall I? Though I needn’t remind you of the terrible hurry we are in…�

“Of course. I will be brief,� said Dumbledore with a short, graciously bow. He smiled politely as the man named Tristan walked out of the office. Once he had descended the stairs and was out of earshot Dumbledore turned quickly back towards Harry, eyes blazing with an excited, eager look.

“Listen Harry, I must be quick – there is an emergency meeting of the Wizengamot that I must get to. Here is what I want you to do.� He held up the small piece of parchment.

“The crypt. It appears that is where the next diary has been hidden. Take your friends, go to the crypt of Hogwarts. Ask my colleagues,� he nodded in the direction of the portraits hanging on the wall (many of whom were looking interestedly in their direction, aware that something was going on), “how to get there. The password is archio renovo. I will attempt to excuse myself from the meeting as soon as possible, but with any luck you will have found the diary by then. Any questions?�

“Er…no sir,� replied Harry, pretty sure he did have some questions but unable to think straight for all the excitement.

“Excellent. Then I must be off!�

Dumbledore took one step, paused, and turned back around to face Harry, a proud, amazed expression on his face.

“Remarkable boy…�

With that he swept out of the office and joined the wizard waiting outside the office. Remembering that he had instructed him to ask the past headmasters (all of whom were now looking fixedly in his direction) about the location of the crypt, Harry turned and walked quickly towards them, almost knocking over a table with the mysterious silver instruments on it. Phineas Nigellus spoke just as he reached the headmaster’s desk.

“Mr. Potter, we perceive something of significance has occurred.�

Still in slight shock at everything that had just happened, Harry did his best to fill them in. He told them how he had accidentally come across the sign of the serpent (leaving out, of course, the part about trying to blast the bookcase into smithereens), about how he had spoke in Parseltongue to it and how the mysterious note had appeared. He then read them the note, having to pause a couple times to make sure he was doing it right.

To say the portraits listened intently would be an understatement. Each one sat riveted to Harry’s every word, completely silent except for the occasional exclamation of surprise or disbelief. Even Fawkes seemed to be listening. After he finished there was a brief, stunned silence that lasted about five seconds.

Then the room erupted into pure bedlam.

“At last! At last! Our troubles weren’t for nothing after all!� cried the red-nosed wizard Fortescue.

“Unbelievable. Simply unbelievable!� said one of the witches.

“Incredible!� exclaimed another.

“But wait, how did they know how to find …?�

“Ha Ha! I told you there was something there, didn’t I, Percival?� the blonde wizard named Tradwell bellowed triumphantly across the room to Percival, the bald headmaster with the dark, black ringlet-filled beard who had claimed they were all fools for believing in Wulfric Gryffindor.

“Well, it appears some of us owe Albus an apology for underestimating the boy,� Harry heard Phineas Nigellus say, an impressed look on his face.

“…who could have stolen it and left the note? Surely it wasn’t one of us…?�

“A devilish knave! Thievery, debauchery!� quivered one of the older looking portraits.

“Hold on, the boy speaks Parseltongue?�

“Potter…Potter!� shouted Tradwell. Harry looked at him, trying to hear his voice over the din.

“Read the message again. What does it say?�

The rest of the portraits must have heard the question, as they immediately quieted down. Harry read from the note again.

�’Victory!

Our battle won
the spoil plundered,
the Traitor’s seed never
to be discovered!

Should ye desire the path to Slytherin’s Captive,
seek thou the place where our dead brethren slumber.
Within the Defender’s cold embrace thou’llt find
the next key thou needest to find our plunder.

But friend of Slytherin beware,
lest the enemy thy purpose discover.
Our noble design foiled, the battle lost
and nature’s true Order again perverted.’�

Once he finished the portraits immediately began talking again.

“The crypt! How do I get to the crypt?� Harry quickly yelled, knowing if he let them go it would be some time before he got their attention again. He was anxious to get out of the office and find the next diary. It worked, as most of the portraits stopped talking and looked back down in his direction.

“Professor Dumbledore told me to go to the crypt. He said you could tell me how to get there.�

“Never mind the crypt, lad, that’s the easy part,� said Tradwell, shaking his head. “First we need to know who this ‘Defender’ chap the poem’s talking about is. Sounds like he’s the one with the diary. Fortescue, have you any idea who he is?�

“No Tradwell,� replied the red nosed, corpulent wizard, shaking his head.

“McCaffrey?�

“Not an inkling old boy.�

“Anyone else?�

The rest of the portraits shuffled in their frames, thinking.

“Well then there’s no use sending the lad all the way down to the crypt if we don’t kn….�

But Tradwell never got the chance to finish his statement, as one of the portraits called out, “Quiet – Mortimer’s speaking!� and everyone fell silent, looking towards the top of the wall. Harry craned his head backwards as well and his eyes rested on the ancient, faded portrait of Mortimer Darlisscrop, the first headmaster to be immortalized in portrait form. It had been him who had given Harry the legend of the Half-Blood Prince in its entirety. The ancient wizard removed his tiny spectacles from his withered face and polished them on his vest before speaking.

“Dalthrop Rectillius the fifth. He was the first member of Slytherin’s house to be appointed headmaster and a passionate advocate of keeping Hogwarts for pure-bloods only. Although he was bound by his appointment to accept students of all backgrounds, he never wavered in his opinions, believing the ideology that nature had given wizardkind a mandate to subdue Muggles and the other magical races and lead them to a new order. His championing of this cause earned him the moniker “the Defender� by those who shared his ideology. He was also renowned for his –“

“Wonderful, Mortimer. Wonderful.� Tradwell interjected excitedly. “Have you any idea where Rectillius is buried?�

They all craned their heads upwards to hear the reply. Mortimer sat looking straight forward as though he was turning pages in an encyclopedia in his mind. Apparently finding the right spot, he again removed his glasses and polished them on his vest (though Harry was quite sure they were still clean) before answering.

“In honor of his contributions to the cause of the pure-bloods, Headmaster Rectillius’s followers erected a special mausoleum for him in the original crypt of Hogwarts. It is marked with two golden pillars and the Rectillius coat of arms – a crown with three wands. It is on the far south side of the crypt, as I recall. Shortly after Rectillius’s mausoleum was constructed the crypt went through the first of its two expansions before being closed as it was determined impractical to….�

“Golden pillars, crown and three wands, I know the place you are talking about—� interrupted Tradwell, cutting Mortimer’s history lesson short again. “Potter, when you enter the crypt and walk through the main entry chamber you will find a hallway opening off through an archway far to the right. Walk through that archway and follow the corridor a ways until you see the two pillars Mortimer mentioned on your right. You’ll find Rectillius’s old carcass in there!�

“Yes, but that still doesn’t answer the question as to who stole the diary in the first place, does it?� said a thoughtful, square-jawed witch on the bottom-left.

“Blast it, woman, we’ll have plenty of time to think about that later! The third diary is within our grasp! Go, lad! What are you waiting for?�

In his excitement Harry took a couple of steps towards the door, then realized they still hadn’t answered his original question. He stopped.

“Er…so how do I get to the crypt?�

“Past dungeon number five, past the statue of Hurl the Hunted until you see the iron portcullis,� blurted out, surprisingly enough, Percival. Apparently this new development had sparked his interest in the Half-Blood Prince again. “Simply raise the portcullis and exit through it. On the other side you will find a corridor leading off to the left, but the door you want will be directly ahead of you—�

“Wait, I thought the statue of Hurl the Hunted was in the 4th floor corridor by the Advanced Healing classroom. When did it get moved down to mark the way to the crypt?� asked the square jawed witch.

“We moved that ages ago, Gladys. And they don’t even teach Advanced Healing anymore. Now don’t interrupt,� said Tradwell.

“As I was saying. Go through the first door you see after the portcullis, I believe it is made of wood. You will find the crypt to your left. It is a large, stone door engraved with ancient runes. The password is Morte Diem.�

“No, Morte Diem was the password when you were headmaster, Percival. That was two-hundred years ago. It’ll have changed by then,� said a different portrait, this one newer looking than the others. Harry recognized it as Armando Dippet, the man who had been headmaster just before Dumbledore. “We need the current password. The boy will never be able to get past the wards placed there without it.�

The portraits looked at one another with looks of disappointment. Apparently no one knew the password.

The password. Harry’s mind raced. Dumbledore had said something about a password before he left. What was it he had said?

“Ar, archi…Archio renovo!� The portraits looked up in surprise. “That’s it! Archio renovo. Dumbledore told me before he left.�

“Excellent! Then what are you waiting for?� cried Tradwell with an exuberant look on his face. The rest of the portraits nodded eagerly. “Make haste. We’ll be waiting for your return!�

Not needing to be told twice Harry turned and ran out the door, hearing the portraits resume their excited discussion as he left. He had just turned towards the dungeons when he remembered Dumbledore’s instruction to take Hermione and Ron with him. Although he didn’t know if the headmaster had a specific reason for giving him the instruction, he knew it was a good idea. Venturing to the mausoleum of a deceased pure-blood fanatic hidden in a secret crypt, all alone and at night wasn’t exactly an appealing idea. He did a quick about-face and headed towards the Gryffindor common room instead.

He arrived to find that most of his classmates were still awake and hanging about. Doing a quick scan over the crowd he found Ron and Hermione sitting together by the fireplace, quills, parchment, and books spread across a table in front of them. He quickly searched for Ginny as well, but, not finding her, swept across the room to where Hermione and Ron were sitting. They looked up as he approached.

“Harry! There you are. We were wondering where—“

“I need to tell you something. Come with me,� interrupted Harry, cutting Hermione off mid-sentence. He motioned towards the door.

They looked at him quizzically at first, then, seeing something in his demeanor that told them it was best not to ask questions, followed him outside. He filled them in on his trip to the Astronomy Tower as they walked briskly down the stairs.

“WHAT! YOU FOUND SOMETHING?� Hermione squealed. “THE THIRD DIARY?�

Harry quickly shushed her, looking around the corridor to see if anyone had overheard. Fortunately it was empty.

“Sorry!� she said apologetically. “But you’re serious? You found it?�

Ron watched him wordlessly, mouth hanging open in disbelief.

“No, not the diary – somebody stole it ages ago. A note. A note that tells us where we can find the diary. That’s where we’re going,� Harry explained quickly, trying to think of the fastest route to the dungeons at the same time.

“But who could steal the diary? I thought only headmasters were supposed to know about it,� asked a confused Ron.

“I dunno. Doesn’t really matter, does it? As long as we get the diary and find Wulfric Gryffindor, who cares?� They turned a corner and made their way past the Great Hall and down the staircase that led to the Slytherin common room. Noticing the strange route they were taking, Hermione turned towards him and whispered.

“So where exactly are we going?�

“The crypt.�

Ron and Hermione gasped simultaneously.

“The crypt? Harry, that’s…it’s…the crypt is in the forbidden part of the dungeons. We’re not allowed there. Perhaps we should wait. I’m sure Professor Dumbledore wouldn’t want us wandering about the dungeons.�

“You’re sure about that, are you?� said Harry with a laugh as they passed the part of the dungeon where Snape’s stored old cauldrons and other Potions supplies. “Because he’s the one that told me to do it.�

“Oh,� she replied, taken aback. “He knows then?�

“Of course he knows. He would have come too but he had some Wizengamot meeting to go to.�

Harry stopped speaking as they passed Snape’s office. Technically they were well within their rights to be in this part of the castle at this time of night, but it was better to not even risk it with Snape. Once they were out of range, he resumed.

“I’ve never seen him so excited, actually. Looked like he was seriously considering skiving off the meeting. He said he’d try to get away as soon as he could, but to get you two and try to go get it on our own. But if you’d rather wait Hermione…�

“Oh no!� she said quickly. Harry could tell she was almost as excited as he was to find the next diary. “No. I just didn’t want to get in trouble.�

“Wait a minute. I didn’t know Hogwarts even had a crypt,� said Ron as they descended yet another staircase, going deeper and deeper into the depths of Hogwarts.

“Well, according to Hogwarts a History, they used to bury past headmasters, teachers, and students who went on to become prominent wizards or witches in the crypt. They did it as a token of appreciation for service to the school. But as time went on and more and more people requested it, the crypt got so full that it was no longer practical to keep burying people there. That and there was a severe problem with ghouls infesting the crypt and disturbing classes. Now only past headmasters receive the honor of being buried at Hogwarts, and they do that in a graveyard outside,� said Hermione in a scholarly, erudite tone that distinctly reminded Harry of Mortimer.

Suddenly she looked over at Harry, her brow furrowed in concern.

“But only select members of the staff know how to get to the crypt. I’ll bet some of the teachers themselves don’t even know how to…�

“I know how to get there, Hermione,� said Harry automatically.

“Oh. Good.�

At length they passed the statue of Hurl the Hunted (an old, stooped man holding a lantern and wearing a bewildered look on his face) and came to a dimly lit corridor that contained nothing but a few old tapestries and the odd sculpture. The stone walls here were rougher and darker than the rest of the castle. They immediately began looking for the iron portcullis the portraits had mentioned, but not seeing it, they continued to the end of the hallway and down a short staircase that opened up into another, narrower hallway that went for about twenty feet before ending abruptly in a blank, stone wall. Seeing nothing there they retraced their steps back up the stairs and into the first dimly lit corridor, eyes peeled for any sign of an iron portcullis.

Harry hadn’t thought it would be hard to spot something as large and distinctive as a portcullis, but it was several minutes before they found it. Hermione had been inspecting one of the old, faded tapestries when she discovered it actually was a representation of a castle wall, complete with a sturdy, rusted portcullis in the center. Having no luck with Alohomora or searching for a hidden passage behind the tapestry, Harry decided to do just what Percival had said and ‘open the portcullis’. He reached out, grabbed where the bar was printed on the tapestry, and lifted it up. Surprisingly enough the portcullis raised, revealing an opening behind the tapestry that hadn’t been there before. Tentative but curious, they stepped through one at a time, emerging into another corridor.

“Brilliant!� said Hermione, looking back at the opening they had just stepped through. “What an excellent way of keeping the crypt hidden. I mean, who would have thought of trying that?�

They looked around the new corridor. It was the same rough, dark stone as the other and had a few doors set into the walls. It went for about twenty feet, then branched off to the left, hinting of further corridors and rooms beyond.

“How big is this place?� said Ron, shaking his head. “Where are we supposed to go now?�

“There should be a wooden door…they said it would be…Ah. This is the one.�

Harry located the wooden door Percival had told him about just in front of them, slightly hidden in the shadows. He reached out and placed his hand on the smooth, old wood and gave it a push. It didn’t move. He pushed harder. It budged a little, then slammed shut. There was pressure on the other side of the door, almost as though something were pushing against it. Putting all his weight on the door this time he took a breath, readied himself, and gave a mighty heave. The door resisted at first, then finally flew open as a mighty gust of cold, damp air that smelled like bat droppings blew through the opening. He quickly stepped into the darkness and leaned against the door to allow Ron and Hermione entry. Once they were through he moved out of the way and the door snapped shut.

“What is this place?�

Hermione and Ron had lit their wands and were using them to investigate their new surroundings. They were no longer in a corridor, but in some large, natural cavern deep underneath Hogwarts. It wasn’t very wide, perhaps only twenty feet or so in diameter, but was so high they couldn’t see the ceiling when they shone their wands straight up.

“There must be an opening somewhere, a vent of sorts, otherwise there wouldn’t have been that gust of wind,� Hermione said absently as she directed the light from her wand to various parts of the cavern. Suddenly she stopped and emitted a small shriek that echoed throughout the cavern.

Harry and Ron turned quickly in alarm to face what she was looking at. Harry felt Ron jump in fright beside him and he removed his wand from his robe pocket. There was a dark, slender figure standing in the corner, its face hidden beneath a hood. He was about to fire off a spell, but stopped just as the words were forming on his lips. The figure wasn’t moving. He cast Lumos instead and found the figure to be made of smooth, dark marble.

“It’s just a statue, Hermione.�

“Sorry,� she said sheepishly. “It’s just, we’re looking for a crypt, and it’s completely dark…�

Something catching his attention, Harry shone his light behind and slightly below the figure. There was an alcove of sorts there, carved into the natural rock of the cavern. On closer inspection he realized there were several more figures behind the first one, and behind them a large stone door with ancient runes and inscriptions set into it. Harry felt his heart begin to race.

The crypt.

He quickly walked across the cavern to the alcove. The door rested on a stone platform that sunk three steps below the floor of the rest of the cavern. It was tall, narrow, and covered with runes and strange inscriptions. He was about to reach out and run his hand along its smooth stone surface, but something told him it was probably safer not to.

“This is it! This is the door to the crypt,� he called to Ron and Hermione, who quickly walked over to join him. He spoke the password Dumbledore had given him.

“Archio Renovo!�

It worked. There was the deep, rumbling sound of stone grinding on stone as the two sides of the door swung inwards, inviting them into the cold, black lap of death. He felt Ron and Hermione tense up behind him, but plunged into the darkness without a second thought. The excitement he felt at finding the third diary overrode any foolish childhood fears of the dark and crypts.

There was a dank, musty smell to the room. Though he couldn’t see anything yet, Harry could tell the ceiling was low, just a foot or two over his head. The beam of light from his wand illuminated a number of dark shapes in front of him, but didn’t seem to go very far, as if the all-pervading darkness of the room was swallowing it up. Stumbling down an unseen stair, he decided they had better find a better source of light than their wands if they were to venture much further. He cast his light on the nearest wall. It took some searching, but eventually he found a small, glass globe, not unlike the one in the hidden Astronomy Tower room.

“Accendo.�

The room illuminated slightly. Catching on, Ron and Hermione looked around for more of the glass globes and began igniting the magical fire within. Soon they were able to get their first real look at the crypt.

Harry had been right; the ceiling was comparatively low, perhaps only seven feet. The room itself was relatively long, stretching back at least a hundred feet or so before ending in the opposite wall, though the large amount of effigies, coffins, tombs, and sarcophagi combined with the low ceiling gave the room a crammed, almost claustrophobic feel, as though they were exploring a rocky cave. Ron and Hermione, feeling more at ease due to the increased light, ventured into the room and began investigating the different tombs.

“Look, this is the tomb of Eleanor Woodcastle!� called Hermione. “She wrote the definitive works on Jobberknoll migration patterns. Died in 1405…�

“Blimey, this one died in 1162. Reckon he knew the founders personally?�

As they read over the various inscriptions set into the graves, Harry impatiently studied the outer wall of the room feeling. At the moment all he cared about was locating the diary and taking the next step on the path to Wulfric Gryffindor. There would be plenty of time to investigate the crypt later.

“…And Travian Tettleburn, he was the first headmaster to institute a Muggle Studies class at Hogwarts, even though everybody thought it was a waste of time…�

“Hey, this bloke was ‘…brutally mauled while defending Hogwarts from a nomadic band of Mountain Trolls’� Ron read from a nearby tomb. “It’s even got a picture – urrgh.�

Harry quickly thought back to the directions Tradwell had given him. He had said the corridor that led to Rectillius’s mausoleum branched off from the right wall of the main chamber. He quickly scanned the wall. He thought he saw an opening of some kind, though it was hard to tell for all the statues and pillars in the way. He made his way around a couple of larger, elaborately decorated tombs so he could get a better look.

There it was. An old archway set into the wall, opening into a dark corridor beyond.

“It’s through here!� he called excitedly to Ron and Hermione, his impatience turning into anticipation as he rushed into the darkness, wand ignited.

“Harry, wait up!� he heard Ron call out, though his voice quickly faded away as Harry moved deeper into the corridor. He broke into a run. Plaques, inscriptions in the wall, open doorways leading to the tombs of other headmasters flew by. The beam of light from his wand hit on something just ahead of him and reflected back. It was a shiny, gold surface. A pillar…

He ran towards it. As he came closer he saw a second golden pillar set into the wall next to it. Engraved in the wall above the pillars was a family crest consisting of a crown and three crossed wands. The mausoleum of Dalthrop Rectillius the fifth.

Harry passed through the open doorway and directed his light on the walls, looking for another glass globe to illuminate the room. Finding a couple of old torches in iron sconces instead, he ignited them and got his first glimpse of the mausoleum.

It was impressive. A large, circular room with elaborate tapestries on the walls, an ornate coffin resting on a sunken dais in the center of the room, flanked by two dark, hooded statues almost exactly like the one they had seen outside the crypt, though one of these had its wand out and was pointing it at him…

What happened next caught Harry completely by surprise.

“Stupify!� the statue holding the wand shrieked in a shrill, vitriolic voice that echoed through the room.

The spell hit Harry straight in the face, knocking him backwards into the wall. His entire body went numb and he collapsed forward, smashing his head on the corner of something hard and made of stone on his way down. He caught a glimpse of his assailant’s face as he fell. It wasn’t a statue at all.

It was Bellatrix Lestrange.

He heard her cackle in triumph as he lay on the floor. He had landed in an awkward, twisted position where all he could see was the rough surface of the stone floor, the part of the room by the coffin, and, just above him, the entrance to the doorway he had just come through. He tried to move his arms, but it was useless. There was no feeling in his body at all.

“You see, Caspin? The Dark Lord knows. He always knows,� Harry heard her say as she circled around the room towards him.

“Astounding,� said a second voice, this one that of a deeper male.

What on earth was Bellatrix Lestrange doing in the crypt? How on earth did she get in the crypt? Had someone let her in? Did she know a hidden passage? And how had she known he would be there? These questions and more raced through his mind. Yet as he lay immobile on the floor, his gaze fixed on the open doorway in front of him, he realized it didn’t matter. She was there, and any moment now Ron and Hermione would come around that corner, completely unaware of what was waiting for them. He watched the door helplessly, dreading the moment they appeared.

But they didn’t come.

Harry heard Bellatrix and the Death Eater named Caspin move closer towards him, their long Death Eater robes sliding across the floor. Still Ron and Hermione didn’t come.

Had he lost them somehow? Run so fast they couldn’t retrace his steps? Impossible. They had been right behind him. They should have been there by now.

“Bind him fast. I’ll get his wand,� he heard Lestrange order from behind him. He heard Caspin’s footsteps come towards him while Lestrange’s moved away. They stopped suddenly as she bent over to pick up his wand. Just then he caught a flash of something in the doorway. A second voice rang out.

“Expelliarmus!�

The spell rocketed over Harry and apparently hit Lestrange in the chest, as she emitted a strangled cry and smashed into the stone wall opposite the doorway. Hermione.

Suddenly Ron came surging around the door and yelled, “Stupefy!� His spell shot across the room and hit Caspin, causing him to slump over the large coffin and onto the ground. By this time Bellatrix Lestrange had gotten to her feet, gnarling like some sort of rabid animal.

“Crucio!� she bellowed.

Harry watched as Ron dove to the ground behind the coffin in an effort to avoid the spell. It hit a tapestry on the wall behind him, causing it to burst into flames. Hermione was still at the doorway, shooting stunner spells into the room at Lestrange, who deflected them and sent a burning yellow bolt back at her. Hermione dodged out of the way at the last second and the spell hit the wall behind her, leaving a small crater.

Harry lay there, completely helpless, as his friends did their best to fight off the female Death Eater. She had now moved into his line of sight and he could see her deranged, vicious face as she fired off spell after spell. There was a maniacal, victorious gleam in her eyes that told Harry his friends wouldn’t be able to last very long. It was only a matter of time…

Just then he heard Hermione yell, not into the room, but down the hallway.

“PROFESSOR DUMBLEDORE, BELLATRIX LESTRANGE IS IN HERE! HURRY!�

Dumbledore? He was here? Had he gotten out of his meeting early? Hope began to well up inside Harry. From his vantage point on the floor he saw Bellatrix hesitate, the confident look on her face suddenly shattered. Her eyes darted uncertainly over to a dark corner of the room, apparently weighing her options.

“QUICK SIR! SHE’S GOTTEN HARRY!� Hermione yelled again.

Bellatrix Lestrange whirled around and ran towards the corner of the room she had just glanced at, out of Harry’s line of sight. He heard a quick grinding of stone followed by Ron’s voice as he shot a final stunner after her. Apparently she deflected the spell, as a red streak of light shot over Harry and into the wall next to him. There was the sound of stone on stone again, followed by Ron’s heavy breathing as he ran to the wall, then nothing.

Silence. For a few seconds that felt like an eternity to Harry, no one said anything. Finally Hermione entered the room and came to his side.

“Ennervate!�

All at once he regained the power of movement.

“Harry, are you ok?� she asked breathlessly, kneeling down next to him.

He sat up slowly, reaching a hand up to his head. There was a gash and some hair matted with blood where his head had been hit, but other than that he was all right.

“Yeah, I’m fine. It was just a stunner.� He rubbed the back of his head and looked towards the open doorway.

“But…where’s Dumbledore? Did he already go after Lestrange?.�

“He’s not here. I said that because I knew it would scare her,� replied Hermione uneasily as she looked about the room. The dancing light cast strange, moving shadows against the walls, making every corner and nook look like it had a Death Eater waiting to leap out from it.

Despite the throbbing in his head, Harry couldn’t help but be impressed with Hermione’s quick thinking.

“This is not good. We need to get out of here. What if there are more Death Eaters we don’t know about, or if she decides to return?�

Harry agreed. They needed to get the diary and alert someone in the castle as soon as possible.

“Oy, what should we do with this one?� asked Ron, prodding the stunned Death Eater with his own wand.

“We’d better bind him, that spell could wear off any minute.�

Ron set to work conjuring ropes to tie up the stranded Death Eater, while Harry quickly got up and went over to the tomb. It was about four feet tall and made entirely of a sleek, black marble that reflected the dancing fire of the torches. The top slab sealing the tomb was at least a foot thick. On top of it lay the full-sized effigy of the man buried beneath, a callous, bitter expression on his face and his arms folded across his chest. An elaborate network of runes and other engravings surrounded the effigy. As he stood there, studying its surface, Hermione came up next to him.

“So where’s the diary supposed to be hidden?� she asked nervously, her eyes darting back and forth from the open doorway to the corner with the hidden passage Bellatrix Lestrange had just disappeared into.

“The note says it’s ‘embraced in the arms of the Defender.’ This is the Defender, so I suppose it’s in his arms. We need to get in there somehow.�

Hermione studied the tomb quickly.

“Well, I suppose we could try Wingardium Leviosa, though this slab has got to be awfully heavy.�

Harry thought quickly. They could try to levitate the top off, or they could try Dissippio, the spell Lupin had taught him. But something didn’t feel right about either option. The name ‘Defender’ denoted reverence, respect. He doubted whoever had hid the diary here would want the corpse disturbed in any way. It wasn’t his style. There had to be some other way…

Harry quickly looked back over the effigy. He scanned its clothes, head, and legs. Nothing out of the ordinary. He repeated the words of the note in his head.

‘Embraced in the arms of the Defender…’

The arms. He looked closer. The arms were folded across the man’s chest. In his right hand he held his wand. His other hand was empty, except for a flat stone ring.

A ring with the small, twisted form of a snake engraved into it.

Knowing this was exactly what he was looking for, Harry shut his eyes and did his best to clear his mind. He took a few deep breaths. When he reopened his eyes he focused on the tiny snake, ignoring Hermione’s questioning.

“Open for me�

The snake started to glow, and all at once the section of the effigy where the arms crossed, about a square-foot across both ways, began to sink. Hermione gasped. The section went down an inch or so, stopped, then slid to the right, disappearing into the side of the stone slab. Within the hole it left rested a rectangular object the size of a book and wrapped in some sort of animal skin. Harry withdrew the object and took off its covering.

The third diary.

Without a word he wrapped it back up, placed it under his arm, and made his way towards the door. Hermione and Ron joined him. Quickly, quietly, they left the crypt and returned to the castle, glancing anxiously over their shoulders the entire way.