“Well, don’t look so surprised, Harry,” the person who looked like Dumbledore said. “You wanted to talk with me, so here I am.”
Harry opened and closed his mouth wordlessly, then stammered, “But... You fell! I saw ” I saw you die! How is it ” How are you ” Who are you?”
The person who looked like Dumbledore lifted an eyebrow. “I am Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, and you are Harry James Potter, a former student in this school. I trust I am correct in assuming you won’t be coming back?”
“But ” But how?” Harry said in confusion. Was this a fake, a trap? How could Dumbledore possibly be sitting here, supposedly alive and well, when Harry himself had seen him fall off the Astronomy Tower, dead, almost a year ago?
Dumbledore pointed at the wall. His portrait was still there, sleeping peacefully. “I am not real, Harry,” he said sadly. “I am a projection, a mere image being cast out by the portrait. Even as a picture, I do have some small talents. I am simply a thought, an idea. Here,” he said, extending a hand. “Try to touch me.”
Harry looked at the hand, which was no longer blackened and withered, as it had been last year. Dumbledore gave him a reassuring nod. Harry took a deep breath and reached out to grasp his hand. To his complete surprise, his hand went right through Dumbledore’s. It was rather like touching a ghost, except there wasn’t anything there at all. It felt like Harry was simply putting his hand in the air. Harry quickly pulled his hand back and stared at the projection of his Headmaster, who sighed. “No, I am not a ghost, Harry,” he said gently. “I was not afraid of death, you knew that.”
“But then why ”” Harry began, but Dumbledore put up his hand for silence. “I know what you are about to ask, but I am not the right person to answer those questions. You will know in time. Just believe this: Professor Snape is not a Death Eater, nor will he ever be so again. He is still with the Order, or what is left of it, and on this I completely trust Severus Snape.”
Harry frowned in frustration. He wanted to scream, “But Snape killed you! He murdered you in cold blood, and then he ran away with Draco Malfoy! How can you possibly still trust him, even when you’re dead because of him?” but Dumbledore’s tone left no room for argument.
“I do not have much time, Harry,” Dumbledore said, glancing up at his portrait. “So let us get straight to the heart of the matter. You wish to ask me a question?”
“Yeah!” Harry said. “Er ” May I sit down, Professor?”
“Of course, Harry,” Dumbledore said graciously.
Harry sat in the chair across from the desk and gripped the arms of the chair. He opened his mouth, and for the second time that night the whole story rushed out: the long summer; walking to the Burrow; his fears of being followed by Nagini; Ginny’s death ” Harry felt his throat constrict again, and Dumbledore’s eyes grew suspiciously moist. He leaned across the desk and dropped his immaterial hand to just above Harry’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Harry,” he said softly. “I know how close you were to her...”
Harry’s eyes burned, and he drew away from Dumbledore. “Yeah, well... I ” I’m pretty much over it by now,” he lied.
Dumbledore regarded him over his half-moon glasses. Harry once again felt the curious sensation of being X-rayed, his teacher’s gaze was so penetrating. He cleared his throat and looked down, sure that Dumbledore saw how he truly felt about Ginny’s death.
“Please continue, Harry,” Dumbledore said, refolding his hands. Harry cleared his throat again, then told the Headmaster about Ginny’s funeral; leaving the Burrow without Ron and Hermione, only to have them catch up at Godric’s Hollow along with Neville and Luna; then finally, after telling about their infiltration of Hogwarts, Harry said, “And Professor...”
“Yes, Harry.”
“When I was in Godric’s Hollow... there was this old woman. She ” she seemed sort of strange, and... She knew my name.”
Dumbledore frowned and leaned forward. Harry continued, “She knew loads about me... and... She even knew about the Horcruxes, sir, and how man were left and everything! Then she went all rigid and, well... she said...”
Harry told Dumbledore about the old woman’s cryptic message, trying to get it word for word. When he was finished, Dumbledore sat back in his chair and stared off thoughtfully. “Hmmm... Very curious...” he murmured.
Harry blinked, then remembered his question. “Sir...” he said tentatively. “My mother... Lily Evans... How much d’you know about her, about her family?”
Dumbledore looked surprised as he answered, “Well... quite a bit, Harry. Every piece of information I could find. What would you like to know?”
“Everything you can tell me.”
Dumbledore sighed, then said, “Please get comfortable, Harry. It is a very long and colorful history, and we may be here a while. I hope Mr. Weasley, Ms. Granger, Mr. Longbottom, and Ms. Lovegood do not get too impatient.
“We shall begin with your grandparents and their story. They were called Thomas and Rose Evans.”
“Excuse me, sir... They were muggles, weren’t they?”
“No, Harry. More accurately, they were Squibs.”
“Squibs?” Harry said, puzzled. “Then why did Snape, and Voldemort and everybody call my mother a Mudblood?”
“Well, Harry, in our biased world today, to people like Voldemort a Squib is no better than a muggle. Thomas Evans, your grandfather, was the first Squib in a very long line of pureblood wizards. For this reason, his family shunned him and he was thrown out to die.”
“That ” That’s so horrible!” Harry said.
Dumbledore nodded gravely. “And believe me, Harry, some pureblood families still do that today. The minority, of course, but it is not unheard of. Anyway, Thomas wandered for several days, alone and hungry, until he was taken in by another family of wizards, who had a young daughter. She was also a Squib. Her name was Rose Mercier. Thomas lived with the Merciers until he was almost grown, and of course by that time he and Rose had fallen in love with each other. They were married a few years prior to Lord Voldemort’s rise to power.
“To Rose and Thomas’s surprise, their first daughter (your mother, Lily) was a witch. They had another daughter, about two years later, whom they named Petunia. She, unfortunately, possessed no magical abilities and so was dubbed a muggle.
“As Lily’s powers slowly began to develop, Petunia grew extremely bitter. When Lily received the letter from Hogwarts, at age eleven, her parents were ecstatic. Petunia, on the other hand, began to see her sister as a freak. She despised her sister all the more for her differences from the rest of the family, and for the attention Lily took away from her. And so the sisters drifted further and further apart.
“Then, at Hogwarts, Lily met a handsome boy named James Potter. At first she loathed him, because James seemed so conceited, but in spite of herself she fell madly in love with him.
“Two years after leaving Hogwarts, they married and soon had you, Harry, and then I suppose you know the rest.”
Harry nodded. One year later, the Potters had been mercilessly killed by the greatest Dark wizard of their time, Lord Voldemort. Harry sat back and pondered all he had been told. ’The secret lies with the blood of the Evanses.’ Did the story begin further back, before Rose Mercier and Thomas Evans even met? But how to phrase the wuestion? “How long exactly were my grandparents’ bloodlines? Professor?”
Dumbledore smiled slightly. “I was hoping you’d ask that, Harry. Rose’s family didn’t go back very far for pure-bloods, only five or six generations. But Thomas, now... Thomas’s family, the Evanses, traced all the way back to Rowena Ravenclaw, one of the founders of this school.”
“Rowena Ravenclaw?” Harry gasped. “But then ” But that means... I’m descended from Rowena Ravenclaw?! That’s just ” It’s not possible!”
“Yes, it is highly improbable, but true,” Dumbledore said calmly. “I did not believe it myself at first. I looked through the family’s history, however, and found Rowena at the very beginning.”
Harry sat there, stunned beyond words. Everything was coming together. The old woman’s message. Harry’s inexplicable longing to see Godric’s Hollow. His family’s history. It was all connected, a huge puzzle that was slowly assembling itself. If he was really descended from Rowena Ravenclaw herself...
“Professor,” Harry breathed, his mind working furiously. “Might they ” the Merciers, I mean ” have had an object that’d been passed down to Lily, that Voldemort turned into a Horcrux? You said he would most likely want to use objects from the four founders... Couldn’t he have found something that had belonged to Rowena Ravenclaw, and made it into a Horcrux when ” or before ” he killed my mum and dad?”
“It’s possible, Harry, and the same thought occurred to me, a few years ago. But I searched the ruins of the Potters’ home, and found nothing that may have belonged to Rowena.”
Harry thought hard. ’The secret lies with the blood of the Evanses... One close to your life but not your heart unknowingly holds the first piece of the Dark Lord’s soul...’ Another possibility suddenly came to him.
“No...” Harry whispered. “No way, that couldn’t be...”
“Harry?” Dumbledore said, a puzzled expression on his face. The projection suddenly flickered in and out of sight. “What’s going on?” Harry asked.
“I’m waking up,” Dumbledore said. Harry looked up at the portrait on the wall and saw tha it was indeed beginning to stir. “What was that you said, just a minute ago?” the Headmaster asked urgently. “Quickly, Harry.”
Harry said, “I was just thinking... What if my aunt somehow got ahold of the object? Then it would still ‘lie with the blood of the Evanses’, and it’d explain why you couldn’t find it in Godric’s Hollow! And that would mean... All these years I’ve lived at Privet Drive, I’ve been right with a Horcrux, all this time!”
The Dumbledore in the chair was fading quickly. He nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, Harry, I think... That could be it... If Petunia has it, that would certainly raise ”” There was a sudden staticky sound, then the Headmaster faded completely, leaving an empty chair and no evidence of his ever being there. Harry murmured, “Thank you, Professor!” He saw the portrait shake himself awake and stare directly at Harry. “So... Did you get it?” he said.
Harry nodded. Does it even remember our conversation?
The portrait Dumbledore nodded back and said, “Glad to be of help. I hope you two worked something out, Harry. Good luck!”
“Goodbye,” Harry said quietly. Looking round the office one last time, he backed out, closed the door, and turned to his waiting friends.
“Well?” Hermione asked anxiously. “Was the portrait there? Did you work out any clues? Where do we go now?”
“Yeah. C’mon, Harry, spill it,” Ron said, grinning.
Harry put a finger to his lips and went down the marble stairs, his friends close behind, peppering him with questions. Finally, Harry turned around and said, “Listen, I’m not saying anything till we get outside. There’s too many people, ghosts, whatever, in here to talk about all that stuff. Let’s just get out, and then I’ll tell you. But please, please be quite until then. Okay?”
Hermione, Ron, Neville, and Luna grumblingly agreed. They all followed Harry down several sets of stairs and through a few corridors. Then, just as they were nearing the Slytherin common room, they heard a loud *CRACK!* and Peeves the poltergeist appeared above them.
“Ooh, naughty ickle students shouldn’t be here! School’s closed, lake’s hosed!” he sang in his annoyingly nasal voice. Then he spotted Harry. His small, dark eyes narrowed. “Ooh, it’s Potty and his ickle friends!” he said with a fiendish grin. “How sweet! Oh, and Loony!” he exclaimed with delight, recognizing Luna, who was standing at the back. “Potty and Loony, Loony Loony Lovegood! Students ought not to be wandering about when the school’s closed. Should tell you on the ghosties, I should! Or maybe,” he said, smiling wickedly, “maybe on Filchie!”
Seeing the looks of horror on the five friends’ faces, Peeves cackled loudly. “Ooh, yes, Filchie’s still here too! Making sure nobody tries sneaking into the school! Not going to be pleased with you, now is he? OY, FILCHIE!” he suddenly screeched. Harry cringed. “Please, Peeves, no...” he whispered. This scene was all too familiar, but he couldn’t move a muscle. Just when they were about to get away safe...
“STUDENTS IN THE SECOND-FLOOR CORRIDOR!” Peeves shrieked. “ICKLE POTTY AND HIS LOONY FRIENDS ON THE SECOND FLOOR CORRIDOR! COME AND GET ’EM, FILCHIE!” Then, with another wicked grin, he disappeared with another loud crack.
But the damage was already done. Harry heard Argus Filch’s shuffling footsteps not a minute later, and was suddenly spurred into action. “Come on! Hurry, we have to get to the common room, Filch is coming! Everybody, move!”
Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Luna dashed around the corner into the Slytherin common room. Filch sounded closer than ever, and he shouted, “I know you’re here! Come out and show yourself, it’ll be worse for you if you don’t!”
Ron reached the trap door first and yanked it open. Neville jumped inside, forgetting the drop to the floor, and smashed down. “Neville!” Hermione cried. “You could have waited a moment, then we’d ””
“There isn’t time to wait!” Harry shouted urgently, regardless of who might be around to hear. “Get in, everyone, quick!”
Ron and Luna dropped into the passage, almost at the exact same time. Hermione hesitated at the edge. Harry looked back and saw Filch enter the common room, with Mrs. Norris trailing close behind. “Go on, Hermione! You can do it! Jump!”
Ron’s muffled voice came from below. “Come on, don’t worry, Hermione. I’ll catch you!”
Hermione closed her eyes and gasped as she fell into the space beneath the trap door. There was a groan, and Harry heard Ron say snidely, “Woah, you’re heavy, Hermione.” Then there came a slapping sound, and Harry assumed Hermione had gotten down unharmed.
Harry looked over his shoulder and saw Filch and his cat standing just inside the door, staring at Harry. “You!” Filch wheezed. He began to hurry as fast as he could to get to Harry, arms outstretched.
Now or never, Harry thought. He lunged through the hole in the floor, slamming the trap door shut as he fell past it. He landed on all fours and was up in an instant, running to catch the others. He vaguely heard Filch panting and cursing as he struggled to open the door, but after a moment Harry was too far down the passage to hear anything from the common room.
He finally caught up to his friends near the end of the passageway, nearly running them over with the speed of his dash. They all stopped to rest. Neville slumped against the wall, panting. Luna, Ron, and Hermione were breathing heavily, but other than that they seemed to be fine.
“Everybody okay?” Harry asked, wiping a layer of cold sweat from his forehead. They all nodded breathlessly, and after a few minutes continued through the tunnel.
They finally saw a weak light at the end, and staggered gratefully towards it. Harry stopped and, bracing himself against the wall, said quickly to the others, “Let’s get out of here, I have loads to tell you...”
They left the secret passage and walked straight into Hagrid, who anxiously peered down at them. “Well? Did you get any advice or help from the portrait? An’ why were you runnin’ so fast to get outta there?”
“Filch,” Harry explained. He briefly told Hagrid about finding Dumbledore and running into Peeves, but something kept him from telling about his conversation with Dumbledore. Finally, Hagrid sighed and said, “Well, I guess you’ll be goin’, then. How about some tea before you go?”
Hermione, Ron, and Hermione politely refused, speaking for the whole group. They’d had too much experience with Hagrid’s cooking to stick around for tea. “Thanks anyway, Hagrid,” Harry said. “And thanks for helping us get in, we could never have done it without you.”
A half-hour later, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Luna, and Neville were standing outside the Hogwarts gates. They had said goodbye to Hagrid, and he’d then let them out through the gate. (True to his word, the key had been about three times as elaborately made as the back key.) Hagrid had offered to take care of Hedwig, and Harry had reluctantly accepted. Much as he hated to leave Hedwig behind, it would be hard enough without having to keep track of an owl on top of everything else.
They stood there for a minute, staring at each other, hardly daring to believe they’d made it inside and back again. Then Harry took a deep breath. “Well... We did it.”
Ron gave a shaky little laugh. “Yeah, guess we did. Now can you tell us what went on in there? We know something happened. You wouldn’t have been in the office for an hour just chatting.”
Harry told them about the fright he’d had when he saw Dumbledore’s projection, and what he had said. “...So I’m thinking maybe the Horcrux is with my aunt, that make any sense?” he finished.
They all had disbelieving looks on their faces. After some time, Hermione sputtered, “But ” You ” Rowena Ravenclaw?! The Rowena Ravenclaw? It’s not ” That’s just ” Well...”
“That’s just bizarre,” Ron cut in. “I think it’s brilliant, though, the way Dumbledore could figure that out, on such little information... I always said he was a genius. A bit off it, ’course, but absolutely brilliant.”
“That’s really cool, Harry!” Neville said, his face glowing with a sort of feverish awe. “Wow... I’ve never met anybody related to one of the founders. Wonder what Gran’d say about this...”
Hermione was still struggling to speak. “But ” but ” but... That can’t be!” she blurted. “Nobody ” you... Snape called your mother a Mudblood! If Dumbledore was right, she was anything but! How could ””
“I’m not quite sure about it myself, Hermione,” Harry said thoughtfully, “but Dumbledore put it this way: He said, er... ‘To people like Voldemort, a Squib is no better than a muggle.’ I guess Voldemort and Snape count on blood so much, they didn’t really care about two generations ago, they just looked at her parents, saw they weren’t wizards, and branded them muggles.” Ron gritted his teeth upon hearing Voldemort’s name. Everyone else ignored him. Luna hadn’t even flinched.
“Well, yes, I suppose,” Hermione said. “But even so...”
“Look, I don’t want to have to go through it all again,” Harry said wearily. “I trust Dumbledore one hundred percent, and I don’t think he’d tell me stuff like that unless he knew it to be true.”
He didn’t tell them about what the projection had said, that he still trusted Severus Snape, that he was still with the fragmented Order of the Phoenix. He couldn’t believe it himself, but he didn’t want to stand here arguing about it. How could Snape still be on our side? It doesn’t make sense...
His friends had gathered into a tight cluster, and he heard them whispering urgently. Probably trying to puzzle out the Horcrux’s location for themselves, he thought wryly.
Ron came back over to him. “We all think you’re right about the Horcrux, Harry, but then if your aunt had it how would You-Know-Who have gotten his hands on it?”
Harry shrugged, anxiety rising. They had to get out of the vicinity of Hogwarts as soon as possible. If Voldemort had placed his Death Eaters around here, too, he didn’t want there to be more casualties because of him. “I dunno, maybe he had it before Petunia got it, then he passed it on to her. As a sort of natural safekeeping. No one would ever think to look at the Dursleys’ house, they’re far too intolerant of magic. So what d’you say? Should we head over to Privet Drive, see what we can find?”
In the end they all agreed, and for the third time in a day Harry prepared himself to Apparate. This is getting to be my major way of getting around, he thought, stepping forward again.
“Let’s go,” he said quietly. Could this really be it, could they be so close to already finding the first piece of Voldemort’s soul? It felt too simple, and yet... It all made sense. But what if they had set out a trail of false clues, knowing Harry and his friends would follow? What if... But that was a risk they’d have to take. If they didn’t go, and it turned out the Horcrux really was at the Dursleys’, Harry would never forgive himself. This has to be it... Dumbledore wouldn’t lead me wrong...
But what if it wasn’t Dumbledore? What if he was really...
Harry blocked out the argument in his head. He had to have a clear mind if he didn’t want to arrive in his aunt and uncle’s yard missing an arm or a leg. He walked forward, then slowly spun in a circle, all the while thinking: Privet Drive, Privet Drive, Privet Drive... The one place he had never wanted to see again and he was heading straight for it. I must be mad...
...And suddenly he wasn’t there.