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!”