Kreacher

(This is a very important chapter, three years in the making, so before reading MAKE SURE TO READ THE PREVIOUS CHAPTER AS IT IS IMPORTANT TO THIS CHAPTER.)

Previous Chapters:

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003804769

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003805533

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003806102

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003806803

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003808304

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003810956

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003811902

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003814653

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003816806

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003819557

Tags:

@SaphireStark @Missy Clara Oswald @CatsAndRoblox @Pervaza972

Chapter Eleven: Magic is Might

As August wore on, the square of unkempt grass in the middle of Grimmauld Place shriveled in the sun until it was brittle and brown. The inhabitants of number

twelves were never seen by anybody in the surrounding houses, and nor was the number twelve itself. The Muggles who lived in Grimmauld Place had long since accepted the amusing mistake in the numbering that had caused number eleven to sit beside number thirteen.

And yet the square was now attracting a trickle of visitors who seemed to find the anomaly most intriguing. Barely a day passed without one or two people arriving in Grimmauld Place with no other purpose, or so it seemed, than to lean against the railing facing numbers eleven and thirteen, watching the join between the two houses. The lurkers were never the same two days running, although they all seemed to share a dislike for normal clothing. Most of the Londoners who passed them were used to eccentric dressers and took little notice, though occasionally one of them might glance back, wondering why anyone would wear such long cloaks in the heat.

The watchers seemed to be gleaning little satisfaction from their vigil. Occasionally one of them started forward excitedly, as if they had seen something interesting at last, only to fall back looking disappointed.

The occupants of twelve Grimmauld Place had been waiting for the Polyjuice potion to be finished before attempting their Horcrux hunt, but spending weeks just watching the Death Eaters outside grow more desperate was not helping anyone's mood. The only good news came close to the end of the month as Allison was lazily flipping through the channels of a small old wizarding radio she had found.

‘Wait? Go back,’ said Tracey suddenly, looking up from her copy of Magic Heart. ‘Was that Kingsley’s voice?’

Allison carefully turned the dial backwards and sure enough someone who sounded like Kingsley was speaking.

‘-for it is my greatest sorrow, River, to announce that on the evening of August first Minister of Magic Rufus Scrimgeour was in fact murdered by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named himself. He did not resign as the Daily Prophet claims.’

‘And the Ministry is now under You-Know-Who’s thrall, Royal?’ said the voice of Remus Lupin. Harry’s heart lightened, Remus did go back and was now helping in a safe way.

‘Yes Romulus, I’m afraid so. The current Minister, Pius Thicknesse, is under the Imperius Curse, and now most key positions in the Ministry are occupied by Death Eaters or their allies.’

‘And it is not only the Ministry that has succumbed to You-Know-Who’s corruption,’ said a familiar confidant voice that made Theodore’s eyes widen, ‘it is my deepest regret that I must inform anyone who is listening that the Daily Prophet has also been taken over.’

‘Colin, no…’ Theodore whispered.

‘Yes Rangefinder, but that is why we are broadcasting this new channel,’ said the voice of what Harry believed to be Fred and George’s friend Lee Jordan. ‘To report the truth of what is happening in these dark times, both the evils the Ministry doesn’t want you to know, and the little moments of good news they equally don’t want to reach your ears.’

‘Some of that good news is that Harry Potter was not involved in Albus Dumbledore’s death, and that he is safe for now and helping to fight this new dark power,’ said Remus. ‘And there is a lot to fight for, as all is not lost, there is still hope for a better future.’

‘With hope though we must remind our listeners of why we are fighting,’ said the voice of either Fred or George. ‘We have already confirmed the death of Rufus Scrimgeour, and we have to sadly announce the murder of the great Auror Alastor Moody, as well as the disappearance and likely death of former Hogwarts professor Charity Burbage. She did not resign or go on the run as the Prophet has claimed.’

‘With September first coming up soon we also want our listeners to be aware that they should be as cautious as possible while dropping off their children at King’s Cross,’ said Colin. ‘Only magical guardians should accompany their children, and should keep them by their side until they are safely on the train. Do not bring any children younger than eleven, if at all possible, to see their older siblings off. You should also make sure they do not pack any muggle items, for their own safety.’

‘Well I believe that is all the time we have, Potterwatch will continue to air as regularly as we can,’ said Lee. ‘For now, stay safe, and for future broadcasts make sure to tap your wand onto your radio and say that week’s password.’

‘That’s a genius idea, what they’re doing,’ said Harry, he was quite impressed.

‘Yeah, they’ll hopefully be able to help a lot of people and stay mostly safe while doing so,’ said Tracey.

‘Maybe, but what is Colin thinking? He’s a Muggle-born, our world is dangerous for him now, if he uses magic he'll set of the Trace, and he should be keeping his family safe and hiding,’ said Theodore, he looked quite shaken.

‘He’s being brave Theo, a true Gryffindor, doing what is right. Dennis was a member of Dumbledore’s Army too so I’m sure he’s keeping the rest of the Creevey’s safe,’ said Allison. ‘Besides, wasn’t it Colin’s dream to be a reporter?’

‘Yeah,’ said Theodore, a bit of blush crossing his cheeks, ‘I just wish sometimes he was a little less like a Gryffindor and a little more selfish like a Slytherin.’

Harry swore he heard him quietly add, ‘But I’m proud of him.’

On the first day of September the Polyjuice potion was finished, but there was also more people lurking in the square than ever before. Half a dozen men in long cloaks stood silent and watchful, gazing as ever at houses eleven and thirteen, but the thing for which they were waiting still appeared elusive. As evening drew in, bringing with it an unexpected gust of chilly rain, for the first time in weeks, there occurred one of those inexplicable moments when they appeared to have seen something interesting. Theodore panicked for one moment as he saw the Death Eater Dolohov point towards the door and his closest companion, a podgy pallid man, started forward, but a moment later they had relaxed into their previous state of inactivity, looking frustrated and disappointed.

Meanwhile, inside number twelve, Harry had just entered the hall. He had nearly lost his balance as he Apparated onto the top step just outside the front door, and thought that the Death Eaters might have caught a glimpse of his momentarily exposed elbow. Shutting the front door carefully behind him, he pulled off the Invisibility Cloak, draped it over his arm, and hurried along the gloomy hallway toward the door that led to the basement, a stolen copy of the Daily Prophet clutched in his hand.

The usual low whisper of ‘Severus Snape’ greeted him, the chill wind swept him, and his tongue rolled up for a moment.

‘I didn’t kill you,’ he said, once it had unrolled, then held his breath as the dusty jinx-figure exploded. He waited until he was halfway down the stairs into the kitchen, out of earshot of Mrs Black and clear of the dust cloud, before calling, ‘I’ve got news, and you won’t like it.’

The kitchen was almost unrecognizable. Every surface now shone; copper pots and pans had been burnished to a rosy glow; the wooden tabletop gleamed; the goblets and plates already laid for dinner glinted in the light from a merrily blazing fire, on which a cauldron was simmering. Nothing in the room, however, was more dramatically different than the house-elf who now came hurrying toward Harry, dressed in a snowy-white towel, his ear hair as clean and fluffy as cotton wool, Regulus’ locket bouncing on his thin chest.

‘Shoes off, if you please, Master Harry, and hands washed before dinner,’ croaked Kreacher, seizing the Invisibility Cloak and slouching off to hang it on a hook on the wall, beside a number of old-fashioned robes that had been freshly laundered.

‘What’d you learn?’ Tracey asked apprehensively. His three friends had been poring over a sheaf of scribbled notes and hand, drawn maps that littered the end of the long kitchen table, but now they watched Harry as he strode toward them and threw down the newspaper on top of their scattered parchment.

A large picture of a familiar, hook-nosed, black-haired man stared up at them all, beneath a headline that read:

“SEVERUS SNAPE CONFIRMED AS HOGWARTS HEADMASTER”

‘No!’ said the other three loudly.

Theodore was quickest; he snatched up the newspaper and began to read the accompanying story out loud.

‘“Severus Snape, long-standing Potions master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, was today appointed headmaster in the most important of several staffing changes at the ancient school.

Following the resignation of the previous Muggle Studies teacher,”-liars-“Alecto Carrow will take over the post while her brother, Amycus, fills the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

‘I welcome the opportunity to uphold our finest Wizarding traditions and values—’” What values are those? Murdering people who trusted you, sitting in a chair you don’t deserve? Bloody hell, how did I ever look up to this-ugh!’ he growled, making Harry, Tracey, and Allison all jump. He leapt up from the table and hurtled from the room shouting as he went, ‘I just thought of something, I’ll be right back!’

‘Poor Theo, these last few weeks have been even harder on him than us,’ said Tracey, and Harry silently agreed. Theodore had had to stay up late several nights to work on the potion, was worried about his boyfriend who was now in even more danger for going against Voldemort, and now the man he used to look to who became a traitor was now taking over one of the few places he considered home.

While they waited Harry pulled the newspaper toward him and continued to read the article about Snape.

Allison stood up angrily.

‘This won’t be the end. Professors Flitwick, McGonagall, and Sprout are members of the Order of the Phoenix and were loyal to Dumbledore. They won’t accept Snape as headmaster, they’ll fight back.’

Tracey nodded, then asked her own question, ‘Who are the Carrows? Are they related to the twins?’

‘They are Death Eaters,’ said Harry. ‘There are pictures of them inside. Yeah, Alecto is their mother, something Dumbledore said makes me think the twins didn’t know. They were at the top of the tower when Snape killed Dumbledore, so it’s all friends together. And,’ Harry went on bitterly, drawing up a chair, ‘I can’t see that the other teachers have got any choice but to stay. If the Ministry and Voldemort are behind Snape it’ll be a choice between staying and teaching, or a nice few years in Azkaban—and that’s if they’re lucky. I reckon they’ll stay to try and protect the students.’

Kreacher came bustling to the table with a large tureen in his hands, and ladled out soup into pristine bowls, whistling between his teeth as he did so.

‘Thanks, Kreacher,’ said Harry, flipping over the Prophet so as not to have to look at Snape’s face. ‘Well, at least we know exactly where Snape is now.’

He began to spoon soup into his mouth. The quality of Kreacher’s cooking had improved dramatically ever since he had been given Regulus’s locket: Today’s French onion was as good as Harry had ever tasted.

‘There are still a load of Death Eaters watching the house,’ he told the girls as he ate, ‘more than usual. It’s like they’re hoping we’ll march out carrying our school trunks and head off for the Hogwarts Express.’

Tracey looked at a clock on the wall.

‘Well they’ve been waiting a ridiculous amount of time then, the train departed nearly six hours ago,’ she paused for a moment. ‘It feels really weird not being on the train to go back. Do you guys feel the same?’

In his mind’s eye Harry seemed to see the scarlet steam engine as he and Theodore had once followed it by air, shimmering between fields and hills, a rippling scarlet caterpillar. He was sure Ron, Neville, Luna, Terry, and Ella were all sitting on the train at this moment, perhaps wondering where he, Theodore, Allison, and Tracey were, or debating how best to undermine Snape’s new regime.

‘They nearly saw me coming back in just now,’ Harry said. ‘I landed badly on the top step, and the Cloak slipped.’

‘Oh, I’ve done that…a few times actually,’ said Tracey, embarrassed. ‘I’m still not that great at Apparation, if I had gotten to take my test I probably would’ve failed.’

‘You’re to hard on yourself, I’m sure you would have been fine,’ said Allison, trying to be comforting.

Just as she pat Tracey on the back, Theodore came running back into the kitchen holding what appeared to be a large portrait with a silk sheet covering it.

‘Tracey, can I barrow your purse for a second?’

‘Er, sure. What’s all this about?’ she asked as she handed him her tiny bag and Theodore began shoving it somehow inside.

‘It’s Phineas Nigellus Black’s portrait,’ said Theodore, panting. ‘I realized now that Snape is headmaster he has access to the other one located in Hogwarts, and he could use it to spy on us.’

‘Paintings can do that?’ asked Allison, but Harry knew it was true. The painted image of Phineas Nigellus Black was able to flit between his portrait in Grimmauld Place and the one that hung in the headmaster’s office at Hogwarts: the circular tower-top room where Snape was no doubt sitting right now, in triumphant possession of Dumbledore’s collection of delicate, silver magical instruments, the stone Pensieve, the Sorting Hat and, and potentially if it hadn’t been stolen, the sword of Gryffindor.

‘Yes, but if Snape tries anything now, Phineas Nigellus will just see a black void, and I believe won’t be an to hear anything either.’

‘Well I’m glad you thought ahead like that,’ said Allison with an approving nod.

‘Thank you,’ smiled Theodore, pulling his soup toward her. ‘What else did you learn today, Harry?’

‘Nothing,’ said Harry. ‘Watched the Ministry entrance for seven hours. No sign of her. I saw Mr Weasley though. He looks fine, which is good. I wished I could have let him know we’re all ok.’

They had agreed that it was far too dangerous to try and communicate with any allies they had, or any Order member while they walked in and out of the Ministry, because they were always surrounded by other Ministry workers. It was, however, reassuring to catch these glimpses of people they knew and cared about, even if they did look very strained and anxious.

‘My mum mentioned a few times over the years that most Ministry employees Floo to work,’ said Tracey. ‘So that probably is why we haven’t seen Umbridge, she likely thinks walking is beneath her.’

‘And were the regulars on schedule, the older witch, the short wizard, and the nervous young witch?’ asked Allison.

‘Yes, and someone else I recognized from previous reconnaissance. I believe he’s a wizard, he’s tall with dark hair,’ answered Harry, Allison looked like she wanted to say something, but Harry wasn’t done with his thoughts. ‘So I think we should do it tomorrow.’

Tracey stopped dead, her jaw hanging; Theodore choked a little over his soup.

‘Tomorrow?’ repeated Tracey. ‘Are you crazy, Harry? We aren’t ready.’

‘I don’t think we’re going to be much better prepared than we are now even if we skulk around the Ministry entrance for another month. The longer we put it off, the farther away that locket could be. There’s already a good chance Umbridge has chucked it away; the thing doesn’t open,’ said Harry.

‘She’s had it for over a year, maybe she’s found a way to open it?’ suggested Allison.

‘If she did then the part of Voldemort inside would have possessed her,’ stated Theodore.

‘Wouldn’t make any difference to her, she was already so evil in the first place,’ Harry shrugged.

Tracey still looked hesitant.

‘We know everything important,’ Harry went on, addressing Tracey. ‘We know they’ve stopped Apparition in and out of the Ministry. We know only the most senior Ministry members are allowed to connect their homes to the Floo Network now, because Theodore heard those two Unspeakables complaining about it. And we know roughly where Umbridge’s office is, because of what you heard that bearded bloke saying to his mate—‘

‘“I’ll be up on level one, Dolores wants to see me,”’ Tracey repeated, trying to convince herself the plan would work.

‘Exactly,’ said Harry. ‘And we know you get in using those funny coins, or tokens, or whatever they are because I saw that witch borrowing one from her friend—‘

‘We currently don’t have any though,’ stated Allison.

‘If the plan works, we will have some,’ Harry continued calmly. ‘And now that the polyjuice potion is finished we have that to help us sneak in as well.’

‘This still seems risky, we still know so little about the new Ministry of Magic. If we’re caught we’ll likely be killed. Our survival seems to rely on the roll of a dice,’ said Tracey.

‘That will all be true even if we spend another three months preparing,’ said Harry. ‘It’s time to act.’

He could tell from Tracey and Theodore’s faces that they were scared, even Allison looked apprehensive, he was not particularly confident himself, and yet he was sure the time had come to put their plan into operation.

They had spent the previous four weeks taking it in turns to don the Invisibility Cloak and spy on the official entrance to the Ministry, which Tracey, thanks to her mother, had known since childhood. They had tailed Ministry workers on their way in, eavesdropped on their conversations, and learned by careful observation which of them could be relied on upon to appear, alone, at the same time every day.

Occasionally there had been a chance to sneak a Daily Prophet out of somebody’s briefcase. Slowly they had built up the sketchy maps and notes now stacked in front of all four of them.

‘Ok, so if we’ve decided tomorrow is the day,’ said Theodore, ‘maybe only two of us should go-‘

‘Oh no, we are all sticking together,’ said Allison firmly.

‘Yeah, either we all go or none of us go,’ said Tracey while folding her arms.

‘Four people hanging out at the Ministry who don’t normally spend any time together might look highly suspicious, it’s safer to do it in smaller numbers,’ Theodore tried to argue. He then pointed at a newspaper from several weeks ago. ‘Besides, you and your mother are wanted for “The Statute of Secrecy” to your father and brother and Harry has a ten-thousand-Galleon price on his head, if you two are caught it’ll be your life, it makes sense for just Allison and I to go.’

‘Fine, I’ll stay here,’ said Harry sarcastically. ‘Let me know if you ever defeat Voldemort, won’t you?’

As Theodore and Tracey laughed, pain shot through the scar on Harry’s forehead. His hand jumped to it: He saw Allison’s eyes narrow; and he tried to pass off the movement by brushing his hair out of his eyes.

‘Ok then, if all of us are going then we’ll either have to Disapparate separately or in pairs,’ said Tracey. ‘As it is impossible for us all to fit under the Cloak anymore, it should just be for Harry.’

Harry’s scar was becoming more and more painful. He stood up. At once, Kreacher hurried forward.

‘Master has not finished his soup, would Master prefer the savory stew, or else the treacle tart to which Master is so partial?’

‘Thanks, Kreacher, but I’ll be back in a minute—er—bathroom.’

Aware that Allison was watching him suspiciously and with concern, Harry hurried up the stairs to the hall and then to the first landing, where he dashed into the bathroom and bolted the door again. Grunting with pain, he slumped over the black basin with its taps in the form of open-mouthed serpents and closed his eyes…

He was gliding along a twilit street. The buildings on either side of him had high, timbered gables; they looked like gingerbread houses.

He approached one of them, then saw the whiteness of his own long-fingered hand against the door. He felt a mounting excitement...The door opened: A laughing woman stood there. Her face fell as she looked into Harry’s face, humor gone, terror replacing it…

‘Gregorovitch?’ said a high, cold voice.

She shook her head: She was trying to close the door. A white hand held it steady, prevented her shutting him out…

‘I want Gregorovitch.’

‘Er wohnt hier nicht mehr!’ she cried, shaking her head. ‘He no live here! He no live here! I know him not!’

Abandoning the attempt to close the door, she began to back away down the dark hall, and Harry followed gliding toward her, and his long-fingered hand had drawn his wand.

‘Where is he?’

‘Das welfs ich nicht! He move! I know not, I know not!’

He raised the wand. She screamed. Two young children came running into the hall. She tried to shield them with her arms. There was a flash of green light—

‘Harry! HARRY!’

He opened his eyes; he had sunk to the floor. Allison was leaning over him, when he lifted up his head he saw the door on the floor.

He had shouted out, he knew it. Allison had burst in and now could see him on the floor. He had no reason to, but he couldn’t face the truth, so Harry quickly got to his feet before the other two came running in.

‘Did you break down the door?’ Harry managed to gasp before the questions started rolling out.

‘What’s going on in here?’ shouted Theodore.

‘Are you ok Harry?’ asked Tracey. ‘You’re white as snow!’

‘Of course I’m fine, why wouldn’t I be?’ he lied with feeble bravado.

‘You’re making yourself look like a fool!’ snapped Allison. ‘We all heard you yelling your head off in pain. And don’t you dare insult my intelligence by lying to my face, I saw you touch your scar, as well as you spread-eagle on the floor without a thought behind your eyes! You saw through his eyes again, don’t deny it!’

Harry could tell he was going to pay for that lie later. He sat down on the edge of the bath.

‘Fine, I’ve just seen Voldemort murdering a woman. By now he’s probably killed her children, maybe her whole family. And he didn’t need to. It was Cedric all over again, they were just there…’

‘Harry, have you not read a word of the books I got you for your birthday?’ asked Tracey. ‘This isn’t supposed to be happening anymore, Dumbledore wanted you to break this connection!’

‘For once I agree with Tracey on this one, you need to find a way to close your mind,’ said Theodore with his arms folded. ‘What good is it to your mental health to watch him kill innocent people? I can’t see any benefit to you at all through this.’

‘It’s a benefit because it means I know what he’s doing,’ said Harry.

‘Are you saying you aren’t even going to try to close your mind from his?’ asked Tracey.

‘Tracey, I can’t. You know I’m lousy at Occlumency, I never got the hang of it. Your stupid books won’t help me with it.’

Tracey’s eyes welled up with tears, ‘I was just trying to help, I see how much pain these visions cause you. Also you never read a page of the books so you don’t actually know if you’d learn anything or not, you just refuse to learn Occlumency because it reminds you of Snape! Sometimes I think you prefer having these visions over doing what Snape wanted you to do!’

She faltered under the look he gave her.

‘You think I like it?’ he said quietly. ‘Would you like it?’

‘No, that’s not what I meant—Harry I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—‘

‘I hate it, I hate the fact that he can get inside me, that I have to watch him when he’s most dangerous. But I’m going to use it.’

‘Dumbledore—‘

‘I don’t care what you or Dumbledore want, Tracey! This is my choice, nobody else’s. I want to know why he’s after Gregorovitch.’

‘Who?’ asked Tracey, trying to use her anger to suppress her sobs. Harry had forgotten he had not told her about the vision he had had on his birthday.

‘He’s a foreign wandmaker,’ said Harry. ‘He made Krum’s wand and Krum reckons he’s brilliant.’

‘There is one thing I don’t understand,’ said Theodore, whose voice was filled with fury but it was clear he was trying to hide it. ‘You said Voldemort has Ollivander chained up somewhere. Why does he need two wandmakers?’

Previous Chapters:

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003804769

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003805533

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003806102

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003806803

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003808304

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003810956

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003811902

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003814653

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003816806

Tags:

@SaphireStark @Missy Clara Oswald @CatsAndRoblox @Pervaza972

Chapter Ten: The Bribe

(Some heavy topics this chapter, including emotional abuse and mental health, just letting you all know.)

If Kreacher could escape a lake full of Inferi, Harry was confident that the capture of Mundungus would take a few hours at most, and he prowled the house all morning in a state of high anticipation. However, Kreacher did not return that morning or even that afternoon. By nightfall, Harry felt discouraged and anxious, and a supper composed largely of overcooked Baxters Vegetarian Carrot and Coriander soup from a couple cans Tracey had packed in her purse did nothing to help.

Kreacher did not return the following day, nor the day after that. However, two cloaked men had appeared in the square outside number twelve, and they remained there into the night, gazing in the direction of the house that they cannot see.

‘They’re Death Eaters, I’m sure of it,’ said Theodore, as he, Harry, Allison, and Tracey watched from the drawing room windows. ‘Do you think they know we’re inside?’

‘There is no way to be absolutely certain, but I don’t believe they do,’ said Allison, trying to remain stoic but Harry could tell she was scared. ‘If they knew we were inside they’d send Snape after us, jinx’s or not.’

‘Do you guys think he’s been in here and Moody’s tongue-tie curse worked?’ asked Tracey.

Harry thought back to the spill ink and how that mess and a few others couldn’t have been caused by Mundungus over a year ago, they were much more fresh.

‘Yeah, I think we here,’ admitted Harry. ‘Sometime within the past couple weeks, but I think the curses, hexes, and jinxes worked otherwise all the Death Eaters would be able to get in.’

‘So they don’t know we’re here, they just know that this general area is somewhere we may potentially show up,’ concluded Theodore.

‘How do they know here is a potential place to be? Even the Blacks before Sirius didn’t want people knowing about this place,’ asked Harry.

‘Dumbledore intercepted the will at the time, but it’s Wizarding law that copies of wills are kept at the Ministry. Normally only very few people are allowed to see that will, but now that they have control obviously they’ve taken a peak,’ explained Tracey.

The presence of the Death Eaters outside increased the ominous mood inside number twelves. They had not heard a word from anyone beyond Grimmauld Place since Remus’ Patronus, and the strain was starting to tell. Restless and irritable, Allison had developed an annoying habit of playing with the Deluminator in her pocket. This was starting to get on the nerves of Theodore and Tracey who were trying to study The Tales of Beedle the Bard and One Minute Feasts - It's Magic! respectively.

‘Harry, you have to distract her, mate,’ begged Theodore on the third evening of Kreacher’s absence when Harry came to see how the polyjuice potion was coming. He was holding The Tales of Beedle the Bard in one hand and Allison's copy of Rune Dictionary in the other. ‘Dumbledore left me this book for a reason and I intend to find out why, but I can’t read it in the dark. I also can’t safely brew this potion with the lights out either.’

‘She’s just stressed about people she cares about and what’s going to happen when Kreacher brings Mundungus here,’ retorted Harry in defence of his girlfriend.

‘I know Harry, I’m not blaming her, but this can’t go on. Just talk to her, I think she’s in the drawing room.’

‘Yeah, alright,’ Harry agreed as he got up and walked up the first flight of stairs.

When he entered the drawing room he found Allison sitting by the window, absentmindedly clicking the Deluminator as she stared at the Death Eater’s bellow.

‘Is it a pleasant view?’ Harry asked to announce his presence.

‘No, but someone has to keep watch,’ she said solemnly, subconsciously still clicking the Deluminator.

‘Theodore is having a hard time downstairs studying Dumbledore’s book and working on the potion while the lights keep turning on and off,’ said Harry in as little of a judgmental voice as he could muster.

‘Sorry,’ she said immediately, putting the Deluminator in her pocket. ‘I just can’t stop thinking about my family.’

‘Your father?’ asked Harry quite confused, as last year Allison learned her father was likely responsible for her mother’s death.

Allison let out a sharp laugh.

‘Ha, no. I’m talking about my mother’s side, the Boots.’

‘They’re all Pure-bloods, aren’t they? While no one is safe, they should be safer than most.’

Allison’s face drooped once more.

‘Not all of them,’ she whispered. ‘My grandmother, who married into the Boot family, was a squib. When I was in Hogsmeade a couple weeks ago I learned Death Eaters killed her back in February for her blood status and for daring to fall in love with a Pure-blood.’

Allison got up from the window and sat down on a sofa that faced the fireplace. Wanting to comfort her, Harry sat down next to her.

‘On my birthday you said you wanted to tell me about your Hogsmeade trip, do you want to talk about it now?’

She gave a little nod.

‘Back in March after my birthday I wrote home and told my father not to come to King’s Cross at the beginning of the summer as I wouldn’t be going back there. I told Terry this and he offered for his family to take me in for the summer, I politely declined but he did insist that now that I was away from my father that I should finally meet the rest of my family, and near the start of the summer I did.’

‘That must have been nerve-racking, to meet them after such a long time.’

‘It was, I procrastinated at first, I got your Golden Stitch book during the time I was working up the courage to see them, but eventually I went to Terry’s house and met his parents and grandparents. His parents are just like him, treated me like family even though we had never actually met. After a couple hours Terry’s grandfather, Cregory, offered to take me a couple blocks up the road to meet his brother. My grandfather Fester.’

‘You got to meet your grandfather? That’s great!’

A small smile formed on Allison’s face.

‘He cried a bit when he first saw me, see he only received one photo of me when I was a baby, and with his wife and my mother’s recent deaths I think it was overwhelming for him.’

‘So,’ Harry asked carefully, ‘why weren’t you allowed to see any of your maternal family growing up?’

‘Well, for most of my life I was told the same story from my dad, and my mum reluctantly told it to. That my grandfather and especially my grandmother were liars who disapproved of my mother marrying my father who they hated, and that was why my parents cut themselves off from them. It was always very vague and now I know why,’ started Allison. ‘My grandfather told me the true story of what he believes happened all those years ago. As you know my mother was a French Squib who moved to Hogsmeade and fell in love with my grandfather. What I wasn’t really told was that she had been disowned by her parents for how she was born, and couldn’t find work in Paris’ Place Cachée because all the shop keepers feared her parents’ wrath. Not wanting to live in a muggle world she hardly knew anything about she immigrated to Hogsmeade as a last resort.’

'She must have been very brave, I'm sorry you never got to meet her.'

'Me too. Next my grandfather told me how she and him met and fell in love, and how when they decided to have a child they wanted them to have her surname as the name Noir carries power and respect and they wanted their child to have the greatest chance at life. Even though her family disowned her, my grandmother still wanted my mother to have all the families traditions, she named her after a French constellation, taught her French, carved her a wand when she turned eleven and taught her how to make them herself when she was older...I just wish she taught my mother to have higher standards or that my grandparents actually did what my father said and disapproved of my father, maybe my mother would still be alive if...'

'If they never got married you wouldn't be alive, and I'd miss you dearly,' said Harry took one of her hands in his. 'But why did your parents marry, Dumbledore once told me they stopped loving each other before you were even born.'

'Yeah, that fits with what Grandfather Cregory told me. Mum was sorted into Ravenclaw while dad was a Slytherin like me. While at Hogwarts my mother would write home about how this charming man was always complimenting her, but my grandparents were weary about him being a Slytherin but she told them not to judge him on that and so they didn't, she was right that not all Slytherin's are bad but wrong that he specifically was good. After Hogwarts he spent years trying to woo her to be with him and eventually she relented. They had a fiery whirlwind romance and after just a month they were engaged to be married and the ceremony was only a month after that. It was at the wedding that my grandfather says their relationship went down hill. When only Boots plus my mother showed up on my mother's side of the wedding that's when my father learned my mother wasn't a direct Noir. He went through with the wedding to save face, but not long after he told my mum he wanted an annulment, however by that point she knew she was pregnant with me, so he stayed. My grandfather believes, and I concur, that my father thought my mother was a direct descendent of La Cour Royale Des Noir and therefore had their status and money, that by marrying her he could instantly grow his own power, and while the Boots are Pure-bloods and have centuries of influence they haven’t had any political power in the UK for over two hundred years.’

‘So he stayed with her because of you, but why did your mum agree to stay with him after he made it clear he didn’t love her?’

‘Well this is my own speculation, but I think I’m the very beginning she stayed because she still loved him and wanted a father for her child, but eventually she stayed because of guilt. I think he told her that she owed him for lying to him, making him think she was rich and powerful when she was actually a daughter of a Squib and a middle class family.’

‘But that wasn’t his fault, he never asked her about her family, or met them before the wedding. Why would she allow herself to take the blame?’

‘Harry my father is a manipulative man, he’s been manipulating how my life will be since before I was born, and had been manipulating my mother since they were kids. I experienced it firsthand with how he guilted me about the friends I have or the goals I wanted to achieve. The only reason I got to do what I wanted was because I was away from him in Hogwarts, but once my mother married him she was isolated and alone. She was suffocating under him and I didn’t do anything or even notice.’

Harry finally realized what all this was about. He took her other hand in his.

‘Allison, you were a child, what happened to your mother was not your fault in any way.’

‘It doesn’t stop me from feeling like it is, do you still feel responsible for Sirius’ death even though it wasn’t your fault in the slightest.’

‘Every single day,’ Harry admitted.

Allison let out a small chuckle, ‘Then maybe we can be misguidedly guilty together.’

‘Together,’ Harry nodded in agreement. He then looked around the room and an idea popped into his head. He started pulling her towards the ancient tapestry of the Black family tree, ‘Come here, there is something I want to show you.’

He had her stand where Harry had exactly two years previously with Sirius when he explained the family tree. He pointed at a small burnt hole next to the name Regulus Black.

‘So this is where Sirius was on the tree, before his mother disowned him,’ Harry then traced his finger up six generations on the tree until he reached Licorus Black, with his other hand he then pointed towards Licorus’ youngest brother Eduardus. ‘This is Sirius’ great-something-great grandfather, and while here it writes Eduardus’ surname as Black, somewhere in France I think there is a similar tree where his name is written as-‘

‘Noir, you’re right, he’s the Black that travelled to France to start his own House. He’d be my great-something-great grandfather,’ said Allison, using the last part to tease Harry a bit. She then looked at the tapestry in awe. ‘It’s incredible that you noticed that.’

‘I didn’t, Sirius did,’ Harry admitted, now looking Allison in the eyes. ‘He showed it to me and said that one day if you got to come here that I should show you. While he didn’t tell me in person, Remus told me that Sirius knew even then that there was more between us than just friendship. He knew I had feelings for you before I even did and even though he never got the chance he wanted you to be welcomed into his family, or as this tapestry shows, re-welcomed.’

‘I liked Sirius, and I regret I didn’t get to know him more,’ said Allison, leaning in.

‘Well I could tell you more about him… later,’ said Harry, now leaning towards her too.

‘Later…’ she agreed.

Their lips were just about to touch when they both heard it. A tap on the front door.

Quickly they started running down the stairs, drawing their wands as they heard the metallic clicks and the grinding of the chain. Every nerve in Harry’s body seemed to tauten, he and Allison moved into the shadows beside the decapitated elf heads, and waited.

The door opened: He saw a glimpse of the lamplit square outside, and a cloaked figure edged into the hall and closed the door behind it. The intruder took a step forward, and Moody’s voice asked, ‘Severus Snape?’ Then the dust figure rose from the end of the hall, and rushed him, raising its dead hand.

‘It was not I who killed you, Albus,’ said a quiet voice.

The jinx broke: The dust-figure exploded again, and it was impossible to make out the newcomer through the dense gray cloud it left behind.

Harry pointed his wand into the middle of it.

‘Don’t move!’

He had forgotten the portrait of Mrs Black. At the sound of his yell, the curtains hiding her flew open and she began to scream,

‘Mudbloods and filth dishonoring my house—‘

Theodore and Tracey came crashing down from the other end of the hall, wands pointing, like Harry and Allison’s, at the unknown man now standing with his arms raised in the hill below.

‘Hold your fire, it’s me, Remus! Your father!’

‘Thank goodness, what a relief,’ said Tracey happily, pointing her wand at Mrs Black instead; with a bang, the curtains swished shut again and silence fell. Harry, Allison, and Theodore however did not lower their wands.

‘Show yourself!’ Harry called back.

Remus moved forward into the lamplight, hands still held high in a gesture of surrender.

‘I am Remus John Lupin, werewolf, sometimes known as Moony, one of the four creators of the Marauder’s Map, was married to Sirius, sometimes known as Padfoot, father of Harry, Canini, and Theodore, and I taught you how to produce a Patronus, Harry, which takes the form of a stag.’

‘Oh, all right,’ said Harry, lowering his wand, ‘but I had to check, didn’t I?’

‘Speaking as your ex-Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, I quite agree that you had to check. Tracey, you shouldn’t be quite so quick to lower your defenses.’

Harry ran down the stairs toward him while Theodore ran down the hall. Wrapped I a thick black traveling cloak, he looked exhausted, but pleased to see them as the two brothers gave him a quick hug.

‘No sign of Severus then?’ he asked as Harry and Theodore let go and the girls caught up.

‘No,’ said Harry, ‘What’s going on? Is everyone okay? Where’s Canini?’

‘Yes everyone including Canini is safe,’ said Remus, ‘but we’re all being watched. There are a couple of Death Eaters in the square outside—‘

‘We know—‘

‘I had to Apparate very precisely onto the top step outside the front door to be sure that they would not see me. They can’t know you’re in here or I’m sure they’d have more people out there; they’re staking out everywhere that’s got any connection with you, Harry. Let’s go downstairs, there’s a lot to tell you, and I want to know what’s happened after you left the Burrow.’

They descended into the kitchen, where Tracey pointed her wand at the gate. A fire sprang up instantly. It gave the illusion of coziness to the stark stone walls and glistened off the long wooden table. Remus pulled a few butterbeers from beneath his traveling cloak and they sat down.

‘I’d have been here three days ago but I had to ensure Canini was safe and I needed to shake off the Death Eater tailing me,’ said Remus. ‘So, you came straight here after the wedding?’

‘No,’ said Harry, ‘only after we ran into a couple of Death Eaters at Laghari's Convenience.’

Remus slopped most of his butterbeer down his front.

‘What?’

They explained what had happened; when they had finished, Remus looked aghast.

‘But how did they find you so quickly? It’s impossible to track anyone who Apparates, unless you grab hold of them as they disappear.’

‘And they didn’t seem to be following us down Caring Cross Road,’ said Harry.

‘Something we thought about,’ said Theodore tentatively, ‘is whether it’s possible they put the Trace back on Harry?’

‘Impossible,’ said Remus. Harry felt hugely relieved. ‘Apart from anything else, they’d know for sure Harry was here if he still had the Trace on him, wouldn’t they? But I can’t see how they could have tracked you to Laghari's Convenience, that’s worrying, really worrying.’

He looked disturbed, but as far as Harry was concerned, that question could wait.

‘Tell us what happened after we left, we haven’t heard a thing since you told us everyone was safe.’

‘Well, Kingsley saved us,’ said Remus. ‘Thanks to his warning most of the wedding guests were able to Disapparate before they arrived. The rest I learned from Arthur afterwards.’

‘Were those that attacked Death Eaters or Aurors from the Ministry?’ interjected Allison.

‘A mixture; but to all intents and purposes they’re the same thing now,’ said Remus. ‘There were about a dozen of them, but they didn’t know you were there, Harry. Arthur heard a rumor that they tried to torture your whereabouts out of Scrimgeour before they killed him; if it’s true, he didn’t give you away.’

Harry looked at his friends; their expressions reflected the mingled shock and gratitude he felt. He had never liked Scrimgeour much, but if what Remus said was true, the man’s final act had been to try to protect Harry.

‘The Death Eaters searched the Burrow from top to bottom,’ Remus went on. ‘They interrogated those that stayed behind for hours. They were trying to get information on you, Harry, but of course nobody apart from the Order and their allies knew that you had been there.’

Guilt once again began to well up in Harry, all his friends and loved ones went through all of that for him.

‘At the same time that they were smashing up the wedding, more Death Eaters were forcing their way into every Order-connected house in the country. No deaths,’ he added quickly, forestalling the question, ‘but they were rough. They burned down Dedalus Diggle’s house, but as you know he wasn’t there, and they used the Cruciatus Curse on Andromeda and Ted. Again, trying to find out where you went after you visited them. They’re all right—

shaken, obviously, but otherwise okay. They came to our Cottage and threatened to make Canini and I to Azkaban under the pretext of us being werewolves, but I think they realized they’d have a better chance at catching you if we were free so eventually they left. They expelled Canini from Hogwarts though.’

‘The Death Eaters got through all those protective charms?’ Harry asked, remembering how effective those had been on the night he had crashed in the Tonks’ garden.

‘What you’ve got to realize, Harry, is that the Death Eaters have got the full might of the Ministry on their side now,’ said Remus. ‘They’ve got the power to perform brutal spells without fear of identification or arrest. They managed to penetrate every defensive spell we’d cast against them, and once inside, they were completely open about why they’d come.’

‘I’m guessing they’re not making any excuses for torturing people for information about Harry? asked Tracey, an edge to her voice.

‘Well,’ said Remus. He hesitated, then pulled out a folded copy of the Daily Prophet.

‘Here,’ he said, pushing it across the table to Harry, ‘you’ll know sooner or later anyway. That’s their pretext for going after you.’

Harry smoothed out the paper. A huge photograph of his own face filled the front page. He read the headline over it:

“WANTED FOR QUESTIONING ABOUT THE DEATH OF ALBUS DUMBLEDORE”

Tracey, Allison, and Theodore gave roars of outrage, but Harry said nothing. He pushed the newspaper away; he did not want to read any more: He knew what it would say. Nobody but those who had been on top of the tower when Dumbledore died knew who had really killed him and, as Rita Skeeter had already told the wizarding world, Harry had been seen running from the place moments after Dumbledore had fallen.

‘I’m sorry, Harry,’ Remus said.

‘So the Daily Prophet is under the thumb of the Death Eaters? Colin must be pissed if he knows,’ asked Theodore furiously.

‘I’m sure he is,’ Remus nodded.

‘But everyone must know it’s a lie?’ insisted Theodore.

‘The coup has been smooth and virtually silent,’ said Remus. ‘The official version of Scrimgeour’s murder is that he resigned; he has been replaced by Pius Thicknesse, who is under the Imperius Curse.’

‘How come Voldemort has a puppet Minister instead of taking the position himself?’ asked Tracey.

Remus laughed.

‘He doesn’t need to, Tracey. Effectively he is the Minister, but why should he sit behind a desk at the Ministry? As you said, his puppet, Thicknesse, is taking care of everyday business, leaving Voldemort free to extend his power beyond the ministry. Theodore is correct however, naturally many people have deduced what has happened: There has been such a dramatic change in Ministry policy in the last few days, and many are whispering that Voldemort must be behind it. However, that is not the point: They whisper. They dare not confide in each other, not knowing whom to trust; they are scared to speak out, in case their suspicions are true and their families are targeted. Yes, Voldemort is playing a very clever game. Declaring himself might have provoked open rebellion: Remaining masked has created confusion, uncertainty, and fear.’

‘And this dramatic change in Ministry policy,’ said Harry, ‘involves warning the Wizarding world against me instead of Voldemort?’

‘That’s certainly part of it,’ said Remus, ‘and it is a master-stroke. Now that Dumbledore is dead, you—the Boy Who Lived—were sure to be the symbol and rallying point for any resistance to Voldemort. But by suggesting that you had a hand in the old hero’s death, Voldemort has not only set a price upon your head, but sown doubt and fear amongst many who would have defended you. Meanwhile, the Ministry has started moving against Muggle- borns.’

Remus pointed at the Daily Prophet.

‘Look at page two.’

Theodore turned the pages with much the same expression of distaste she had worn when handling Secrets of the Darkest Art.

‘“Muggle-born Register,”’ he read aloud, ‘“The Ministry of Magic is undertaking a survey of so-called ‘Muggle-borns,’ the better to understand how they came to possess magical secrets. Recent research undertaken by the Department of Mysteries reveals that magic can only be passed from person to person when Wizards or Witches reproduce. Where no recent proven Wizarding ancestry exists, therefore, the so-called Muggle-born is likely to have obtained magical power by theft or force.” This is ridiculous.’

‘Please keep reading,’ Tracey snapped, and none could blame her as they all knew she was thinking about Terence just as Theodore was thinking of Colin. Theodore continued.

‘“The Ministry is determined to root out such usurpers of magical power, and to this end has issued an invitation to every so-called Muggle-born to present themselves for interview by the newly appointed Muggle-born Registration Commission.” These dark times are only getting darker.’

‘You need to read a little more, I’m afraid,’ said Remus, and Harry couldn’t help notice he glanced at Allison for a second. For a final time Theodore read aloud.

Previous Chapters:

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003804769

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003805533

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003806102

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003806803

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003808304

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003810956

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003811902

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003814653

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@SaphireStark @Missy Clara Oswald @CatsAndRoblox @Pervaza972

Harry woke early the next morning, wrapped in a sleeping bag on the drawing room floor. A sliver of sky was visible between the heavy curtains. It was the cool, clear blue of watered ink, somewhere between night and dawn, and everything was quiet except for Tracey, Allison, and Theodore’s slow, deep breathing. Allison had slept beside him, and her hand was stretched out towards him, just barely not touching his arm. Had she tried to comfort him while he slept?

Harry glanced over at the dark shapes they made on the floor beside him. They all looked so peaceful despite the attack they all experienced just hours before.

He looked up at the shadowy ceiling, the cobwebbed chandelier. Less than twenty—four hours ago, he had been standing in the sunlight at the entrance to the marquee, waiting to show in wedding guests. It seemed a lifetime away. What was going to happen now? He lay on the floor and he thought of the Horcruxes, of the daunting complex mission Dumbledore had left him…Dumbledore…

The grief that had possessed him since Dumbledore’s death felt different now. The accusations he had heard from Muriel at the wedding seemed to have nested in his brain like diseased things, infecting his memories of the wizard he had idolized. Could Dumbledore have let such things happen? Had he been like Dudley, content to watch neglect and abuse as long as it did not affect him? Could he have turned his back on a sister who was being imprisoned and hidden?

Harry thought of Godric’s Hollow, of graves Dumbledore had never mentioned there; he thought of mysterious objects left without explanation in Dumbledore’s will, and resentment swelled in the darkness. Why hadn’t Dumbledore told him? Why hadn’t he explained? Had Dumbledore actually cared about Harry at all? Or had Harry been nothing more than a tool to be polished and honed, but not trusted, never confided in?

Harry could not stand lying there with nothing but bitter thoughts for company. Desperate for something to do, for distraction, he slipped out of his sleeping bag, picked up his wand, and crept out of the room. On the landing he could smell the being stage of a brewing polyjuice potion emanating its way upstairs. Harry whispered, ‘Lumos,’ and started to climb upwards by wandlight.

On the second landing was the bedroom in which he, Theodore, and Ron had slept last time they had been here; he glanced into it. The wardrobe doors stood open and the bedclothes had been ripped back. Harry remembered the overturned troll leg downstairs. Somebody had searched the house since the Order had left. Had it been Mundungus, who had pilfered plenty from this house both before and after Sirius died, or perhaps Snape? Harry’s gaze wandered to the portrait that sometimes contained Phineas Nigellus Black, Sirius’s great-great-grandfather, but it was empty, showing nothing but a stretch of muddy backdrop. Phineas Nigellus was evidently spending the night in the headmaster’s study at Hogwarts.

Harry continued up the stairs until he reached the topmost landing where there were only two doors. The one facing him bore a nameplate reading Sirius. Harry had never entered his godfather’s bedroom before. He pushed open the door, holding his wand high to cast light as widely as possible. The room was spacious and must once have been handsome. There was a large bed with a carved wooden headboard, a tall window obscured by long velvet curtains and a chandelier thickly coated in dust with candle scrubs still resting in its sockets, solid wax banging in frostlike drips. A fine film of dust covered the pictures on the walls and the bed’s headboard; a spiders web stretched between the chandelier and the top of the large wooden wardrobe, and as Harry moved deeper into the room, he head a scurrying of disturbed mice.

The teenage Sirius had plastered the walls with so many posters and pictures that little of the walls silvery-gray silk was visible. Harry could only assume that Sirius’s parents had been unable to remove the Permanent Sticking Charm that kept them on the wall because he was sure they would not have appreciated their eldest son’s taste in decoration. Sirius seemed to have gone out of his way to annoy his parents. There were several large Gryffindor banners, faded scarlet and hold just to underline his difference from all the rest of the Slytherin family. There were many pictures of Muggle motorcycles, and also several posters of bikini-clad Muggle girls, which Harry assumed must have solely been to peeve off his parents. Harry could tell that they were Muggles because they remained quite stationary within their pictures, faded smiles and glazed eyes frozen on the paper. This was in contrast the only Wizarding photograph on the walls which was a picture of four Hogwarts students standing arm in arm, laughing at the camera.

With a leap of pleasure, Harry recognized his biological father, his untidy black hair stuck up at the back like Harry’s, and he too wore glasses. Beside him was Sirius, carelessly handsome, his slightly arrogant face so much younger and happier than Harry had seen it in the last couple years of his life. To Sirius’s right stood Pettigrew, more than a head shorter, plump and watery-eyed, flushed with pleasure at his inclusion in this coolest of gangs, with the much-admired rebels that James and Sirius had been. On James’s left was Remus, even then a little shabby-looking, but he had the same air of delighted surprise at finding himself liked and included or was it simply because Harry knew how it had been, that he saw these things in the picture? He tried to take it from the wall; it was his now, after all, Sirius had left him everything, but it would not budge. Sirius had taken no chances in preventing his parents from redecorating his room.

Harry looked around at the floor. The sky outside was growing brighter: A shaft of light revealed bits of paper, books, and small objects scattered over the carpet. Evidently Sirius’s bedroom had been searched too, although its contents seemed to have been judged mostly, if not entirely, worthless. A few of the books had been shaken roughly enough to part company with the covers and sundry pages littered the floor.

Harry bent down, picked up a few of the pieces of paper, and examined them. He recognized one as a part of an old edition of A History of Magic, by Barhilda Bagshot, and another as belonging to a motorcycle maintenance manual. The third was handwritten and crumpled. He smoothed it out.

“Dear Padfoot,

Thank you, thank you, for Harry’s birthday present! It was his favorite by far. One year old and already zooming along on a toy broomstick, he looked so pleased with himself. I’m enclosing a picture so you can see. You know it only rises about two feet off the ground but he nearly killed the cat and he smashed a horrible vase Petunia sent me for Christmas (no complaints there). Of course James thought it was so funny, says he’s going to be a great Quidditch player, but we’ve had to pack away all the ornaments and make sure we don’t take our eyes off him when he gets going.

We had a very quiet birthday tea, just us and old Bathilda who has always been sweet to us and who dotes on Harry. We were so sorry you couldn’t come, but the Order’s got to come first, and Harry’s not old enough to know it’s his birthday anyway! James is getting a bit frustrated shut up here, he tries not to show it but I can tell—also Dumbledore’s still got his Invisibility Cloak, so no chance of little excursions. If you could visit, it would cheer him up so much.

Wormy was here last weekend. I thought he seemed down, but that was probably the next about the McKinnons; I cried all evening when I heard.

Bathilda drops in most days, she’s a fascinating old thing with the most amazing stories about Dumbledore. I’m not sure he’d be pleased if he knew! I don’t know how much to believe, actually because it seems incredible that Dumbledore-“

Harry’s extremities seemed to have gone numb. He stood quite still, holding the miraculous paper in his nerveless fingers while inside him a kind of quiet eruptions sent joy and grief thundering its equal measure through his veins. Lurching to the bed, he sat down.

He read the letter again, but could not take in any more meaning than he had done the first time, and was reduced to staring at the handwriting itself. She had made her “g”s the same way he did. He searched through the letter for every one of them, and each felt like a friendly little wave glimpsed from behind a veil. The letter was an incredible treasure, proof that Lily Potter had lived, really lived, that her warm hand had once moved across this parchment, tracing ink into these letters, these words, words about him, Harry, her son. Impatiently brushing away the wetness in his eyes, he reread the letter, this time concentrating on the meaning. It was like listening to a half-remembered voice.

They had a cat…perhaps it had perished, like his parents at Godric’s Hollow…or else fled when there was nobody left to feed it…Sirius had bought him his first broomstick, he never remembered Sirius telling him that…His parents had known Bathilda Bagshot; had Dumbledore introduced them? Dumbledore’s still got his Invisibility Cloak…there was something funny there…Harry paused, pondering his mother’s words. Why had Dumbledore taken James’s Invisibility Cloak? Harry distinctly remembered his headmaster telling him years before, ‘I don’t need a cloak to become invisible’ Perhaps some less gifted Order member had needed its assistance, and Dumbledore had acted as a carrier?

Harry passed on…Wormy was here…Pettigrew, the traitor, had seemed “down” had he? Was he aware that he was seeing James and Lily alive for the last time? And finally Bathilda again, who told incredible stories about?Dumbledore. It seems incredible that Dumbledore—

That Dumbledore what? But there were any number of things that would seem incredible about Dumbledore; that he had once received bottom marks in a Transfiguration test, for instance or had taken up goat charming like Aberforth…

Harry got to his feet and scanned the floor: Perhaps the rest of the letter was here somewhere. He seized papers, treating them in his eagerness, with as little consideration as the original searcher, he pulled open drawers, shook out books, stood on a chair to run his hand over the top of the wardrobe, and crawled under the bed and armchair.

At last, lying facedown on the floor, he spotted what looked like a torn piece of paper under the chest of drawers. When he pulled it out, it proved to be most of the photograph that Lily had described in her letter. A black-haired baby was zooming in and out of the picture on a tiny broom, roaring with laughter, and a pair of legs that must have belonged to James was chasing after him. Harry tucked the photograph into his pocket with Lily’s letter and continued to look for the second sheet. Remus and Sirius had tried to show Harry every picture that had belonged to his birth parents and every item they had owned, but this letter must have been lost in a book or something ever since Sirius received it, and now Harry felt desperate to have it.

After another quarter of an hour, however he was forced to conclude that the rest of his mother’s letter was gone. Had it simply been lost in the sixteen years that had elapsed since it had been written, or had it been taken by whoever had searched the room? Harry read the first sheet again, this time looking for clues as to what might have made the second sheet valuable. His toy broomstick could hardly be considered interesting to the Death Eaters…The only potentially useful thing he could see her was possible information on Dumbledore. It seems incredible that Dumbledore—what?

‘Harry? Beau? Where are you?’

‘I’m here, jaanu!’ he called, ‘What’s happened?’

There was a clatter of footsteps outside the door, and Allison came inside.

‘Sorry, when we woke up we weren’t sure where you were,’ she explained. She turned and shouted over her shoulder, ‘It’s alright guys, I found him!’

Theodore’s annoyed voice echoed distantly from several floors below.

‘Great! Never do that again Harry!’

‘What did I do?’ Harry asked Allison, not fully understanding the other’s concern.

‘Oh, we were a little silly I guess, we just didn’t know where you had gone so the worry set into our heads that Snape snuck in through the night and took you. I guess our nerves as still on edge,’ She gazed around the ransacked room. ‘What have you been up to?’

‘Look what I’ve just found’

He held out his mother’s letter. Allison took it out and read it while Harry watched her. When she reached the end of the page she looked up at him.

‘Harry, this is...’

‘And there’s this too.’

He handed her the torn photograph, and Allison smiled at the baby zooming in and out of sight on the toy broom.

‘You were very cute…still are.’

‘Thanks. I’ve been looking for the rest of the letter,’ Harry said, ‘but I can’t find it.’

Allison took out her wand and pointed it to the center of the room, and while holding the letter her other hand she said, ‘Accio Lily Potter’s letter,’ but only the letter in her hand moved closer.

‘Sorry Harry, I guess some has taken it,’ she then looked around the room. ‘Speaking of which, did you do all this, or did you find it like this?’

‘Someone had searched before me,’ said Harry.

That’s what I thought. Tracey and I were looking into the rooms and they’re all like this. What do you think the searcher was after?’

‘Information on the Order, if it was Snape’

‘But Snape betrayed the Order long after this place was abandoned, he’d know the information here would be more out of date than his own information from being a member up until June.’

‘Well then,’ said Harry, keen to discuss his theory, ‘what about information on Dumbledore? The second page of the letter, for instance. You know this Bathilda my mum mentions, you know who she is?’

‘Who?’

‘Bathilda Bagshot, the author of A History of Magic.’

‘Oh, I never really payed attention to that book,’ replied Allison. ‘I guess that means your parents were friends with her. I wonder if her stories were more interesting than her book?’

‘Not were, is. She’s still alive,’ said Harry, ‘and she lives in Godric’s Hollow. Ron’s Auntie Muriel was talking about her at the wedding. She knew Dumbledore’s family too. Be pretty interesting to talk to, wouldn’t she?’

‘Harry…’

There was a little too much understanding in the smile Allison gave him for Harry’s liking. He took back the letter and the photograph and tucked them inside the pouch around his neck, so as not to have to look at her and give himself away.

‘Maybe afterwards you can go talk to her in Godric’s Hollow, but for now we have to focus on the Horcruxes.’

Harry did not answer, and she rushed on, ‘Harry, if you choose to go to Godric’s Hollow I will support you and go with you, but with Voldemort seemingly on the hunt for you now, I really believe that’d be somewhere he’d set a trap or have Death Eaters waiting. I don’t know if a quick trip to talk to Bathilda about your parents and visiting their grave is the safest choice.’

‘It’s not just that,’ Harry said, still avoiding looking at her, ‘Muriel said stuff about Dumbledore at the wedding. I want to know the truth…’

He told Allison everything that Muriel had told him. When he had finished, Allison said, ‘I see, that must have been very troubling for you, Harry—‘

‘I’m not troubled,’ he lied, ‘I’d just like to know whether or not it’s true or—‘

‘Harry, you yourself described Muriel are a rude old woman and the Weasley siblings call her a gossip so I wouldn’t trust her word, and your mother described Bathilda as already ancient nearly twenty years ago so I wouldn’t put much worth into her words either. You shouldn’t take their word for who Dumbledore was, you knew him yourself.’

‘I thought I did,’ he muttered.

‘Look, think about it this way, you and I both know everything Rita writes on her own is a complete lie, so everything you know from that book you should just think of the opposite and that’s more likely to be the truth,’ Allison let out a sigh. ‘Look, just don’t let Rita and others ruin your memories of Dumbledore.’

He looked away, trying not to betray the resentment he felt. There it was again: Choose what to believe. He wanted the truth. Why was everybody so determined that he should not get it? How could Allison not understand?

‘We should go down stairs, Tracey is “cooking” breakfast,’ said Allison. ‘Yeah, we realized when we got up that all of us grew up with either servants or our parents just never taught us to cook. The best I can do it peel a potato. We should still show our support.’

He agreed, but grudgingly, and followed her out onto the landing and past the second door that led off it. There were deep scratch marks in the paintwork below a small sign that he had not noticed in the dark. He passed at the top of the stairs to read it. It was a porapous little sign, neatly lettered by hand the sort of thing that Percy Weasley might have stuck on his bedroom door.

“Do Not Enter

Without the Express Permission of

Regulus Arcturus Black”

Excitement trickled through Harry, but he was not immediately sure why. He read the sign again. Allison was already a flight of stairs below him.

‘Allison,’ he said, and he was surprised that his voice was so calm. ‘Come back up here.’

‘What’s the matter?’

‘R.A.B. I think I’ve found him.’

There was a gasp, and then Allison ran back up the stairs. ‘Where? Was it in letter?’

Harry shook his head, pointing at Regulus’s sign. She read it, then clutched Harry’s arm so tightly that he winced.

‘Who is, who is he to Sirius?’ she whispered excitedly.

‘He was Sirius’ brother, he was also Death Eater,’ said Harry. ‘Sirius told me about him, he joined up when he was really young and then got cold feet and tried to leave—so they killed him.’

‘That makes sense,’ said Allison. ‘Being a Death Eater would have granted him access to Voldemort, then from being in close proximity to Voldemort he probably would have seen how truly horrible he is and become determined to stop him.’

She released Harry, leaned over the banister, and screamed, ‘Theo! Trace! Drop everything and get up here! Harry found it!’

Tracey and Theodore appeared, panting, a minute later, their wands ready in their hands. Theodore was also holding what appeared to be a brand new copy of Moste Potente Potions.

‘What did he find?’ asked Tracey, out of breath.

She frowned at the sign on Regulus’s door, in which Allison was silently pointing.

‘Sirius’ younger brother’s room, I don’t get it,’ said Theodore, when Allison pointed more directly at the sign he started reading. ‘Regulus Arcturus Black…Regulus…R.A.B.! The locket—could it be in—?’

‘Let’s find out,’ said Harry. He fiddled with the handle and pushed the door: It was locked.

Tracey pointed her wand at the handle and said, ‘Alohamora.’ There was a click, and the door swung open.

They moved over the threshold together, gazing around. Regulus’s bedroom was slightly smaller than Sirius’s, though it had the same sense of former grandeur. Whereas Sirius had sought to advertise his diffidence from the rest of the family, Regulus had striven to emphasize the opposite. The Slytherin colors of emerald and silver were everywhere, draping the bed, the walls, and the windows. The Black family crest was painstakingly painted over the bed, along with its motto, Toujours Pur. Beneath this was a collection of yellow newspaper cuttings, all stuck together to make a ragged collage. Tracey crossed the room to examine them.

‘They all cover things Voldemort did,’ she said with a bit of disgust. ‘Sirius’ brother must have been a big fan before he ever even became a Death Eater…’

A little puff of dust rose from the bedcovers as she sat down to read the clippings. Harry, meanwhile, had noticed another photograph: a Hogwarts Quidditch team was smiling and waving out of the frame. He moved closer and saw the familiar snakes emblazoned on their chests: the Slytherin team uniforms were the same as him and Allison wore today. Regulus was instantly recognizable as the boy sitting in the middle of the front row: He had the same dark hair and slightly haughty look of his brother, though he was smaller, slighter, and rather less handsome than Sirius had been.

‘He played Seeker,’ said Harry.

‘Sorry?’ said Tracey vaguely; she was still immersed in Voldemort’s press clippings.

‘He had my position on the team, he’s sitting in the middle of the front row, that’s where the Seeker…Never mind,’ said Harry, realizing that only Allison was vaguely listening.

Theodore was on his hands and knees, searching under the wardrobe. Allison was going through wardrobes and bookshelves. Harry looked around the room for likely hiding places and approached the desk. Yet again, somebody had searched before them. The drawers’ contents had been turned over recently, the dust disturbed, but there was nothing of value there: old quills, out-of-date textbooks that bore evidence of being roughly handled, a recently smashed ink bottle, its sticky residue covering the contents of the drawer.

‘What are you all doing?’ said Tracey, looking up from reading the papers. She drew her wand. ‘Accio Slytherin’s Locket!’

Nothing happened. Tracey put her wand away again. Theodore, who now had decades of dusk on his clothes and in his hair, looked disappointed.

‘Well this is too bad, I really thought for just a moment that we would find a Horcrux on our very first night, but I guess it’s not in Grimmauld Place.’

‘Not necessarily,’ said Tracey. ‘In Ancient Studies the Professor and the textbook mentioned that some objects enchanted with old dark magic are resistant to summoning and/locating charms. Neither specifically said if the ancient dark objects were Horcruxes or not, but the lack of specifics makes me believe that it they were. So the locket may be here, we’ll just have to find it the old fashioned way.’

(Today's second chapter)

Previous Chapters:

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003768423

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003769317

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003770117

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003771789

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003772695

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003774876

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003775746

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003776170

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003776958

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003777821

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003778655

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003779874

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003781975

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003784137

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003786670

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003788477

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003788958

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003789922

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003790766

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003792515

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003794298

Tags:

@Teddy.J.B @Pervaza972 @CatsAndRoblox @Missy Clara Oswald

Chapter Twenty-Two: The Unknowable Room

Harry wracked his brains over the next week as to how he was to persuade Slughorn to hand over the true memory, but nothing in the nature of a brain wave occurred and he was reduced to doing what he did increasingly these days when at a loss: poring over his Potions book, hoping that the Prince would have scribbled something useful in a margin, as he had done so many times before.

‘I doubt there is a “compel you to give up your memory to me” potion in there,’ said Theodore when he saw Harry flipping through the book once more late on Sunday evening.

‘Very funny, Theo,’ said Harry. ‘If it hadn’t been for the Prince, Tracey wouldn’t be sitting here now.’

‘If you remember what Professor Snape taught us in our very first lesson with him she would,’ replied Theodore.

Harry ignored this comeback. He had just found an incantation (“Sectumsempra!”) scrawled in a margin above the intriguing words:

“For Enemies”

And was itching to try it out, but thought it best not to in front of the others. Instead, he surreptitiously folded down the corner of the page.

They were sitting beside the fire in the common room; the only other people awake were other sixth-years as well as a couple seventh-years. There had been a certain amount of excitement earlier when they had come back from dinner to find a new sign on the notice board that announced the date for their Apparition Test. Those who would be seventeen on or before the first test date, the nineteenth of April, had the option of signing up for additional practice sessions, which would take place (heavily supervised) in Hogsmeade.

Allison’s seventeenth birthday had just passed, and Theodore had been seventeen for months, so of their group Tracey would have to wait for the final test slot in June before the school year ended while Harry would have to book his test through the Ministry to take his test at the end of July or wait until April eighteenth of the following year.

Allison was a little nervous as she had yet to successfully Apparate and wasn’t sure if she’d be ready in less than a month’s time for the test. Theodore, on the other hand, was gaining confidence as in the last lesson he partially succeeded in apparating (he had splinched his left hand), then after he was whole again he managed to do a full successful apparition.

Harry still felt bummed out that he wouldn’t get to take the test with any of his friends though.

‘Well, when you do get to take your test you’ll do great,’ encouraged Allison. ‘All those side-along apparitions seemed to have helped you.’

‘I’ve only done it on my own once,’ Harry reminded her; he had finally managed to disappear and rematerialize inside his hoop during their previous lesson.

‘That’s one more than me,’ said Allison stoically with a shrug.

‘You’ll do great, beautiful,’ said Harry. He had been experimenting with terms of endearment.

What the others were working on was a viciously difficult essay for Snape that Harry had already completed. Harry fully expected to receive low marks on his, because he had disagreed with Snape on the best way to tackle dementors, but he did not care: Slughorn’s memory was the most important thing to him now.

'Harry, Theodore is right,' said Tracey when she saw Harry was still nose deep into the book, 'if the book is over fifty years old and the Prince created a spell or potion to control people I think we'd have heard about it. Right now the only way to force someone to do something they don't want to do is the Imperius Curse, but it is illegal—'

'Yeah, I know that, thanks,' said Harry, not looking up from the book. 'That’s why I’m looking for something different. Dumbledore says Veritaserum won’t do it, but there might be something else, maybe not a persuasion spell but something we aren't thinking of that can get us what we need.'

'Maybe Tracey and Theo are right though, Harry,' said Allison. 'If the answer was magic Dumbledore would have done it himself. He thinks only you can get the memory. So there has got to be something you can do or say that will make him willingly give up the correct memory.'

Harry knew they all were probably right, but Theodore had said there wouldn’t be anything in the book about curing multiple poisons at once and he had been wrong so Harry thought reading through the book once more was at least worth a shot. After another hour though, Harry, who had found nothing useful in the Half-Blood Prince’s notes so far, looked around; the four of them were now the only ones left in the common room, Blaise having gone up to get his beauty sleep and Draco being absent in the evenings as always. The only sounds were the crackling of the fire and his three friends scratching out the last of their Defence Against the Dark Arts essays on dementors. Harry had just closed the Half-Blood Prince’s book, yawning, when—

Crack.

Tracey let out a little shriek; Theodore accidentally spilled ink all over him and Allison, and Harry said, ‘Kreacher!’

The house-elf bowed low and addressed his own gnarled toes.

‘Master said he wanted regular reports on what the Malfoy boy is doing, so Kreacher has come to give—‘

Crack.

Dobby appeared alongside Kreacher, his tea-cozy hat askew.

‘Dobby has been helping too, Harry Potter!’ he squeaked, casting Kreacher a resentful look. ‘And Kreacher ought to tell Dobby when he is coming to see Harry Potter so they can make their reports together!’

‘What’s going on?’ asked Tracey, still looking shocked by these sudden appearances. ‘You did what, Harry?’

Harry hesitated before answering, because he had not told his friends about setting Kreacher and Dobby to tail Malfoy; he knew they’d once again accuse him of being obsessed.

‘Well…they’ve been following Malfoy for me,’ he said.

‘Night and day,’ croaked Kreacher.

‘Dobby has not slept for a week, Harry Potter!’ said Dobby

proudly, swaying where he stood.

Tracey looked indignant.

‘What do you mean you haven’t slept, Dobby? Harry couldn’t have asked that of you—‘

‘No, of course I didn’t,’ said Harry quickly. ‘Dobby, you and Kreacher can eat and sleep, all right? But has either of you found out anything?’ he hastened to ask, before anyone could intervene again.

'Master Malfoy moves with a nobility that befits his pure blood, unlike this blood traitor,' croaked Kreacher at once, glaring at Theodore. 'Master Malfoy features recall the fine bones of my mistress and his manners are those of—'

'Draco Malfoy is a bad boy!' squeaked Dobby angrily. 'A bad boy who—who—'

He shuddered from the tassel of his tea cozy to the toes of his socks and then ran at the fire, as though about to dive into it; Harry, to whom this was not entirely unexpected, caught him around the middle and held him fast. For a few seconds Dobby struggled, then went limp.

'Thank you, Harry Potter,' he panted. 'Dobby still finds it difficult to speak ill of his old masters...'

Harry released him; Dobby straightened his tea cozy and said defiantly to Kreacher, 'But Kreacher should know that Draco Malfoy is not a good master to a house-elf!'

'Yeah, we don’t need to hear about you being in love with Malfoy,' Harry told Kreacher. 'Let’s fast forward to where he’s actually been going.'

Kreacher bowed again, looking furious, and then said, 'Master Malfoy eats in the Great Hall, he mostly sleeps in his dormitory in this very dungeon, he attends his classes in a variety of—'

'Dobby, you tell me,' said Harry, cutting across Kreacher. 'Has he been going anywhere he shouldn’t have?'

‘Harry Potter, sir,’ squeaked Dobby, his great orblike eyes shining in the firelight, ‘the Malfoy boy is breaking no rules that Dobby can discover, but he is still keen to avoid detection. He has been making regular visits to the seventh floor with a variety of other students, who keep watch for him while he enters—‘

‘The Room of Requirement!’ said Harry, smacking himself hard on the forehead with Advanced Potion Making. Allison, Tracey, and Theodore stared at him. ‘That’s where he’s been sneaking off to! That’s where he’s doing…whatever he’s doing! And I bet that’s why he’s been disappearing off the map—come to think of it, I’ve never seen the Room of Requirement on there!’

‘It is possible this is one of Hogwarts’ secrets the Marauders never physically found and therefore couldn’t be put on the map,’ suggested Allison.

‘It could also be the effects of the room’s magic,’ said Theodore. ‘If Malfoy requires it to be Unplottable then it and its inhabitants won’t show up on maps.’

‘Dobby, have you managed to get in to have a look at what Malfoy’s doing?’ said Harry eagerly.

‘No, Harry Potter, that is impossible,’ said Dobby.

‘No, it’s not,’ said Harry at once. ‘Malfoy got into our headquarters there last year, so I’ll be able to get in and spy on him, no problem.’

‘I’m not so sure, Harry,’ said Tracey slowly. ‘The I.S. managed to get in because we were all inside and had no look out. Draco does have a look out that will prevent you from entering, and when Draco and his guard leave you might not be able to get in as you won’t know what function Draco uses it for and therefore won’t know what the room needs to be to help you.’

‘There’ll be a way around that,’ said Harry dismissively. ‘You’ve done brilliantly, Dobby.’

‘Kreacher did his job as well,’ Tracey reminded; but far from looking grateful, Kreacher averted his huge, bloodshot eyes and croaked at the ceiling.

‘The Half-Blood is speaking to Kreacher, Kreacher will pretend he cannot hear—‘

‘Get out of it,’ Harry snapped at him, and Kreacher made one last deep bow and Disapparated. ‘You’d better go and get some sleep too, Dobby.’

‘Thank you, Harry Potter, sir!’ squeaked Dobby happily, and he too vanished.

‘How good’s this?’ said Harry enthusiastically, turning to his friends the moment the room was elf-free again. ‘We know where Malfoy’s going! We’ve got him cornered now!’

‘I just don’t understand how he’s getting all these young girls help to guard?’ asked Theodore, scratching his head. ‘Is he paying them or something, then paying them more to stay quiet?’

‘Yeah, that is weird,’ said Harry, frowning. ‘I heard him telling Crabbe it wasn’t Crabbe’s business what he was doing…so what’s he telling all these…all these…’

Harry’s voice tailed away; he was staring at the fire.

‘God, I’ve been stupid,’ he said quietly. ‘It’s obvious, isn’t it? There was a great vat of it down in the dungeon…He could’ve nicked some any time during that lesson…’

‘Nicked what?’ asked Tracey.

‘Polyjuice Potion. He stole some of the Polyjuice Potion Slughorn showed us in our first Potions lesson…There aren’t a whole variety of students standing guard for Malfoy…it’s just Goyle as usual, maybe Blaise or Crabbe as well…Yeah, it all fits!’ said Harry, jumping up and starting to pace in front of the fire. ‘They’re stupid enough to do what they’re told even if he won’t tell them what he’s up to…but he doesn’t want them to be seen lurking around outside the Room of Requirement, so he’s got them taking Polyjuice to make them look like other people…That girl I saw him with when he missed Quidditch—ha! Goyle!’

‘Wait?’ said Tracey suddenly looking disgusted with herself, ‘are you saying the little girl who broke her scale’s and I fixed them was—‘

‘Ha! You helped Goyle!’ laughed Allison.

‘Yes, that was probably him!’ said Harry loudly, staring at her. ‘Of course! Malfoy must’ve been inside the room at the time, so she—what am I talking about?—he dropped the scales to tell Malfoy not to come out, because there was someone there! We’ve been walking past him all the time and not realizing it!’

'That also explains why Goyle's been in such a fowl mood all year,' said Theodore. 'Probably bruises his masculine ego to have to wear pigtails. I bet he's regretting rejoining Draco's group now.'

'I bet the only reason he's still helping Malfoy at this point is because he's loyal to Death Eaters like him,' said Harry.

'Harry, we agree with you that Malfoy is up to something, working on something in the Room of Requirement, his argument with Snape, spending most evenings out of the dormitory and three nights so far since Christmas he hasn't returned at all, but none of that has yet to prove he is now a Death Eater,' explained Theodore.

'We’ll see,' said Harry confidently.

'I guess we will,' Theodore said, getting to his feet and stretching. 'I just don't want you to forget, Harry, that you aren't supposed to be putting all your effort into getting into the Room of Requirement, you are supposed to be focusing on having Slughorn willingly give you his memory. Anyway, its really late, I need to get some sleep, have a goodnight everyone.'

Harry watched him go, feeling slightly disgruntled. Once Theodore was up the staircase to the boy's he rounded on Allison and Tracey.

'What d’you think?'

‘I think both you and Theo are right,’ said Allison, ‘Malfoy is up to something and it is nothing good, but we don’t have the proof that he is doing anything truly wicked. In my opinion if we believe anything other than the facts then we may miss what’s truly going on.’

Harry was hoping for a better response from his girlfriend, but he had to admit she was probably right. Not that he’d say that out loud at this moment.

‘And you, Tracey?’ he asked her. Tracey looked quite sleepy.

‘All I can think about right now is I wish I could Apparate like a house-elf.’

Harry did not sleep well that night. He lay awake for what felt like hours, wondering how Malfoy was using the Room of Requirement and what he, Harry, would see when he went in there the following day, for whatever Theodore said, Harry was sure that if Malfoy had been able to see the headquarters of the D.A., he would be able to see Malfoy’s…what could it be? A meeting place? A hideout? A store-room? A workshop? Harry’s mind worked feverishly and his dreams, when he finally fell asleep, were broken and disturbed by images of Malfoy, who turned into Slughorn, who turned into Snape…

Harry was in a state of great anticipation over breakfast the following morning; he had a free period before Defense Against the Dark Arts and was determined to spend it trying to get into the Room of Requirement. Allison had Study of Ancient Runes during that period while Tracey had Ancient Studies and Theodore would be attending Alchemy so Harry was mostly sharing his plan just so he could vocalize his thoughts. Theodore didn’t protest to the plan, but he was more focus on reading the morning post with Colin who was sitting next to him.

To try and get back on Theodore’s good side he tried to say what he thought sounded reasonable.

‘Look,’ he said quietly, ‘I haven’t forgotten about Slughorn, but I haven’t got a clue how to get that memory off him, and until I get a brain wave why shouldn’t I find out what Malfoy’s doing?’

‘Do what you want Harry, I just think you shouldn’t pursue Malfoy at all and should put all your efforts into Slughorn,’ said Theodore, still not looking up from him and Colin’s paper. ‘Stop trying to find a way jinx the memory out of him and start thinking up things to say to make him do the right thing.’

Tracey decided to change the subject, ‘Is there anyone we know in the news today?’ as Theodore continued to scan the pages.

‘There is,’ said Theodore, causing Harry, Tracey, and Allison to gag on their breakfast. ‘Don’t worry, he’s not dead, just got what he deserved—it’s Mundungus, he’s finally been caught and sent to Azkaban! Apparently he tried to impersonate an Inferius during an attempted burglary. The rest of the people in the paper I don’t think we know. Someone named Octavius Pepper has vanished, and…oh dear, a nine-year-old boy is being detained as he tried to murder his grandparents, they believe he is under the effects of think the Imperius Curse. The grandparents have written an open letter begging the dark magic user responsible to release him from their control so they can have their child back…’

They finished their breakfast in silence. The others set off immediately for each of their classes, and Harry for the corridor on the seventh floor and the stretch of wall opposite the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy teaching trolls to do ballet.

Harry slipped on his Invisibility Cloak once he had found an empty passage, but he need not have bothered. When he reached his destination he found it deserted. Harry was not sure whether his chances of getting inside the room were better with Malfoy inside it or out, but at least his first attempt was not going to be complicated by the presence of Goyle pretending to be an eleven-year-old girl.

He closed his eyes as he approached the place where the Room of Requirement’s door was concealed. He knew what he had to do; he had become most accomplished at it last year.

Concentrating with all his might he thought, “I need to see what Malfoy’s doing in here…I need to see what Malfoy’s doing in here…I need to see what Malfoy’s doing in here…”

Three times he walked past the door; then, his heart pounding with excitement, he opened his eyes and faced it—

But he was still looking at a stretch of mundanely blank wall.

He moved forward and gave it an experimental push. The stone remained solid and unyielding.

‘Okay,’ said Harry aloud. ‘Okay…I thought the wrong thing…’

He pondered for a moment then set off again, eyes closed, concentrating as hard as he could.

“I need to see the place where Malfoy keeps coming secretly…I need to see the place where Malfoy keeps coming secretly…”

After three walks past, he opened his eyes expectantly.

There was no door.

‘Oh, come off it,’ he told the wall irritably. ‘That was a clear instruction…Fine…’

He thought hard for several minutes before striding off once more.

“I need you to become the place you become for Draco Malfoy…”

He did not immediately open his eyes when he had finished his patrolling; he was listening hard, as though he might hear the door pop into existence. He heard nothing, however, except the distant twittering of birds outside. He opened his eyes.

There was still no door.

Harry swore. Someone screamed.

He looked around to see a gaggle of first years running back around the corner, apparently under the impression that they had just encountered a particularly foulmouthed ghost.

Harry tried every variation of “I need to see what Draco Malfoy is doing inside you” that he could think of for a whole hour, at the end of which he was forced to concede that Tracey might have had a point: The room simply did not want to open for him.

Frustrated and annoyed, he set off for Defense Against the Dark Arts, pulling off his Invisibility Cloak and stuffing it into his bag as he went.

Previous Chapters:

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003768423

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003769317

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003770117

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003771789

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003772695

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003774876

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003775746

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003776170

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003776958

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003777821

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003778655

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003779874

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003781975

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003784137

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003786670

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003788477

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003788958

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003789922

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003790766

Tags:

@Teddy.J.B @Pervaza972 @CatsAndRoblox @Missy Clara Oswald

Chapter Twenty: Elf Tails

‘I should have taken her to the kitchen for our date, we would have had food, we would have been warm, and we wouldn’t have left early, and she wouldn’t be lying here,’ said Terence miserably.

It was the next morning; the hospital wing was quiet, the windows closest to Tracey’s bed had yet to be drawn open. Harry, Terence, Allison, Theodore, and Canini were sitting around her, Terence holding her hand; they had spent all night waiting outside the double doors, trying to see inside whenever somebody went in or out. Madam Pomfrey had only let them enter at eight o’clock in the morning. It had been a long sleepless night.

‘It’s not your fault,’ protested Theodore. ‘If anything it’s mine because if I had been in the dormitory or common room I could have cured her and Harry wouldn’t have had to take her to Slughorn.’

‘Theo, don’t say that, it was clearly none of our faults,’ expressed Canini.

‘She’s right, Trace would not want us to blame ourselves and tear ourselves apart. She’d want us to stick together,’ said Allison in a matter-of-fact way while standing next to Harry.

‘I still don’t understand how this happened?’ said Terence, who for the first few hours after Tracey was poisoned had been in shock and hadn’t really processed what Harry had said the first time.

Harry retold the story he had already recounted, it felt like a hundred times, to Dumbledore, to McGonagall, to Madam Pomfrey, to his friends, and then to Canini. In each of his accounts to his friends he had left out who the love potion had been from, as while what Romilda Vane had done was wrong, she didn’t deserve to be blamed for Tracey nearly dying.

‘…and then I got the bezoar down her throat and her breathing eased up a bit, Slughorn ran for help, McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey turned up, and they brought Tracey up here. They reckon she’ll be all right. Madam Pomfrey says she’ll have to stay here a week or so...keep taking essence of rue...'

'I'm just glad you thought of the bezoar, if you hadn't pulled that stunt in Potions class Tracey would be dead, so while I was mad at the time, I'm glad you did it now,' said Theodore solemnly.

'Thank you, although I'm just lucky there was one in the room,' said Harry, who kept turning cold at the thought of what would have happened if he had not been able to lay hands on the little stone.

'Don't dwell on the "what-if's", Harry, you saved her, focus on that,' said Allison, taking his hand in hers. It felt nice, and comforting, although he couldn't help noticing Theodore now looking at them.

'Does Tracey's family know what happened yet?' asked Canini who had only found out what happened when she woke up this morning.

'Yeah, her parents and brother arrived just after midnight, they were with her most of the night and are now talking with Dumbledore,' said Terence. 'I don't think this is how Liano or her father wished to first see Hogwarts.

There was a pause while they all watched Tracey mumble a little in her sleep.

'Do you know what poison it was?' asked Theodore.

'No, just that it was in the mead and that thankfully it was not the kind that kills instantly,' said Harry at once; he could think of nothing else and was glad for the opportunity to start discussing it again.

'Could Slughorn have been the one who poisoned the mead, or even Tracey's glass specifically?' asked Terence.

'Possibly,' said Harry, 'but why would Slughorn want to poison Tracey?'

'I'm just trying to think of what possibly happened,' answered Terence.

'What if Slughorn did poison a cup, but meant to give it to Harry but got them mixed up,' speculated Canini.

'But why would he try to poison Harry?' asked Allison.

'I'm not sure, but a lot of people want to hurt Harry now, and Harry has told me he doesn't fully trust Slughorn, that and Slughorn is from an older generation of Slytherins.'

'I said that back in July, you are making him sound like a Death Eater, I thought you'd like him alright since he makes you Wolfbane potions every month,' said Harry, not expecting this from his sister.

'Slughorn doesn't make me my potions, I still get mine from Snape. He insisted on still being on Wolfbane making duty this year, probably to help D-er, to help keep himself in a similar routine.'

'But do you think he is a Death Eater, it wouldn't be the most surprising thing,' asked Allison to the group.

'If he poisoned the glass, to be clear though I think the poison was in the bottle not the glass, it is more likely that he's under the Imperius Curse,' said Harry, but then thinking about the memory Slughorn contained and how Voldemort might see it as a threat he continued. 'I think its more likely the the poison was meant for Slughorn himself. He was in hiding for a year before he came to Hogwarts. And maybe Voldemort wants him out of the way, maybe he thinks he could be valuable to Dumbledore.'

'However you told us Harry that Slughorn had originally planned to gift the bottle to Dumbledore for Christmas,' Theodore reminded him. 'That leaves the possibility that the poisoner could have intended it to be for Dumbledore.'

'Well then the would be assassin does not know Slughorn very well,' responded Harry. 'If they spent even ten minutes with him outside of his classroom duties they'd know Slughorn would rather keep a good drink to himself then gift it to Dumbledore as his relationship with him is still rocky.'

The infirmary doors flew open, making them all jump: Hagrid came striding toward them, his hair rain-flecked, his bearskin coat flapping behind him, a crossbow in his hand, leaving a trail of muddy dolphin-sized footprints all over the floor.

'Bin in the forest all night!' he panted. 'Aragog’s worse, I bin protecting him from night threats—didn’ get up ter breakfast till jus’ now an’ then Professor Sprout told me abou’ Tracey! How is she?'

'Not bad,' said Harry. 'They say she’ll be okay.'

'No more than six visitors at a time!' said Madam Pomfrey, hurrying out of her office.

'But with Hagrid there is only six?' Terence pointed out.

'Oh...yes...' said Madam Pomfrey, who seemed to have been counting Hagrid as several people due to his vastness. To cover her confusion, she hurried off to clear up his muddy footprints with her wand.

'I don’ believe this,' said Hagrid hoarsely, shaking his great shaggy head as he stared down at Tracey. 'Jus’ don’ believe it...Look at her lyin’ there...Who’d want ter hurt her, eh?'

'That’s just what we were discussing,' said Harry. 'We don’t know.'

'Someone couldn’ have a grudge against certain Quidditch teams, could they?' said Hagrid anxiously. 'Firs’ Katie who's a Captain, now Tracey who's a Captain's girlfriend...'

Terence let out a low whimper, he evidently didn't need more speculation that Tracey's current state was his fault.

'If they were trying to weaken rival Quidditch teams, then that would imply Summerby or Duncan Inglebee was behind the attacks and I just don't see them stooping anywhere close to murder,' said Harry.

'Maybe Cho Chang is trying to get revenge,' said Theodore in a joking way, and Harry could guess what he meant.

'Why would ya say dat, Theodore,' said Hagrid in shock.

Harry looked at Allison, who gave him a little nod. They then raised their intertwined hands.

'Theodore is joking. He said that because I turned her down and I am now dating Allison,' answered Harry.

‘I knew it,’ said Theodore smugly.

‘Wait, is this true?’ asked Canini, with her first smile since she arrived.

‘Yes, it is true,’ said Allison with a small smile.

‘Congrats,’ said Terence, though he wasn’t smiling.

Hagrid seemed to lighten up, even if just for a second, 'Ah, well, at least a little good news came from all a dis.'

They stayed silent for another second, then Allison got them back on track.

'While I agree with Harry that this likely wasn't Quidditch based, I think its possible the to attacks may have been by the same person or group.'

‘I’m not sure that it is the same person,’ said Terence.

‘No, let’s hear out Allison’s logic on this one,’ said Harry, making good on his promise he had given her about helping her get recognized for more than just her Beater skills. Allison smiled slightly.

‘The reason I think they might be connected is while on the surface the two attacks look nothing alike, when you think about them more there are some significant similarities,’ said Allison, very serious. ‘They both should have been deadly, but both the curse and the poison were a type where there was a possibility to survive, even if only slight. Then in both cases the attack did not reach who it was supposed to. Katie Bell was Imperiused to take it to some in the castle but never got that far, and then no offence to Tracey but she was not the target, it was most likely for Slughorn or Dumbledore. Then finally let’s discuss the methods, both times the person or people responsible tried to use another person to deliver the attack, but the chances of the people chosen reaching their target were slim, I think whoever is responsible either doesn’t have their heart in the act or don’t care that people other than their target get hurt or killed along the way.’

Before anybody could respond to this ominous pronouncement, the infirmary doors opened again and the Davis’ hurried up the ward. They quickly joined the group surrounding Tracey as she silently slept; now Mr Davis firmly grasped Harry’s shoulder so that they were now face to face.

‘Professor Dumbledore explained that it was you who gave my daughter the bezoar that saved her life. As a doctor I can not be more grateful that someone who knew emergency lifesaving knowledge was with her when she had her medical emergency. I wanted to thank you in person, Harry Potter, for being Tracey’s friend, and for helping her,’ said Dr Nigel Davis, holding his hand out to Harry, and while wished they were shaking hands under better circumstances, he did take Tracey’s father’s hand and gave it a firm shake.

‘Yes, while we are not members of the Order we are loyal to its cause, but now we also owe you a debt, Mr Potter,’ said Jahzara Davis. ‘And as a Legislator at the Ministry I don’t say that lightly.’

‘You don’t owe me, Mrs Davis, last year you helped organize a ruling that prevented my sister here from being expelled because she’s a werewolf—‘

Tracey’s older brother, Liano, was still only wearing his St. George University green and gold pajamas, and while he had looked worried up until now, his face lit up with curiosity and looked straight at Canini.

‘—wait? You’re an actual werewolf?—‘

Mrs Davis shot her son a look that clearly meant “that’s rude” and then Harry finished.

‘—my family owed you a debt, and now I’ve repaid it…not that I wouldn’t have saved Tracey if we didn’t owe you,’ added Harry.

‘Very well,’ said Mrs Davis, ‘but should you need us for anything, in the magical or muggle world, know that you only need to ask.’

Harry was starting to feel very uncomfortable and being praised for something hopefully anyone would do for a friend, and was almost glad when Madam Pomfrey reminded them that there were only supposed to be six visitors around Tracey’s bed; he, Allison, Theodore, and Canini rose at once to leave and Hagrid decided to go with them, leaving Tracey with her family and Terence.

‘It’s terrible,’ growled Hagrid into his beard, as the five of them walked back along the corridor to the marble staircase. ‘All this new security, an’ kids are still gettin’ hurt…Dumbledore’s worried sick…He don’ say much, but I can tell…’

‘Has he not got any theories as to what’s happening?’ asked Theodore desperately.

‘I ’spect he’s got hundreds of theories, brain like his,’ said Hagrid. ‘But he doesn’ know who sent that necklace nor put poison in that wine, or they’d’ve bin caught, wouldn’ they? Wha’ worries me,’ said Hagrid, lowering his voice and glancing over his shoulder (Harry, for good measure, checked the ceiling for Peeves), ‘is how long Hogwarts can stay open if kids are bein’ attacked. Chamber o’ Secrets all over again, isn’ it? There’ll be panic, more parents takin’ their kids outta school, an’ nex’ thing yeh know the board o’ governors…’

Hagrid stopped talking as the ghost of a long-haired woman drifted serenely past, then resumed in a hoarse whisper, ‘…the board o’ governors’ll be talkin’ about shuttin’ us up fer good.’

‘They wouldn’t?!’ said Canini, a little scared.

‘Gotta see it from their point o’ view,’ said Hagrid heavily. ‘I mean, it’s always bin a bit of a risk sendin’ a kid ter Hogwarts, hasn’ it? Yer expect accidents, don’ yeh, with hundreds of underage wizards all locked up tergether, but attempted murder, tha’s diff ’rent. ’S’no wonder Dumbledore’s angry with Sn—‘

Hagrid stopped in his tracks, a familiar, guilty expression on what was visible of his face above his tangled black beard.

‘What?’ said Harry quickly. ‘Dumbledore’s angry with Snape?’

‘I never said tha’,’ said Hagrid, though his look of panic could not have been a bigger giveaway. ‘Look we’ve all been up all night, but it’s Saturday so maybe we should all be gettin’ some rest—‘

‘Hagrid, why is Dumbledore angry with Snape?’ Harry asked loudly.

‘Shhhh!’ said Hagrid, looking both nervous and angry. ‘Don’ shout stuff like that, Harry, d’yeh wan’ me ter lose me job? Mind, I don’ suppose yeh’d care, would yeh, not now yeh’ve given up Care of Mag—‘

‘Don’t try and make me feel guilty, it won’t work!’ said Harry forcefully. ‘What’s Snape done?’

'I dunno, Harry, I shouldn’ta heard it at all! I—well, I was comin’ outta the forest the other evenin’ an’ I overheard ’em talking—well, arguin’. Didn’t like ter draw attention to meself, so I sorta skulked an’ tried not ter listen, but it was a—well, a heated discussion an’ it wasn’ easy ter block it out.'

'Well?' Harry urged him, as Hagrid shuffled his enormous feet uneasily.

'Well—I jus’ heard Snape sayin’ Dumbledore took too much fer granted an’ maybe he—Snape—didn’ wan’ ter do it anymore—'

'Do what?'

'I dunno, Harry, it sounded like Snape was feelin’ a bit overworked, tha’s all—anyway, Dumbledore told him flat out he’d agreed ter do it an’ that was all there was to it. Pretty firm with him. An’ then he said summat abou’ Snape makin’ investigations in his House, in yer House Harry,' said Hagrid, though Harry couldn't remember seeing Snape lurking in the common room or dormitories, only his talk with Draco came to mind. 'An its not just Slytherin, all the Heads o’ Houses were asked ter look inter that necklace business—'

'Yeah, but Dumbledore’s not having rows with the rest of them, is he?' said Harry.

'Look,' Hagrid twisted his crossbow uncomfortably in his hands; there was a loud splintering sound and it snapped in two. 'I know what yeh’re like abou’ Snape, Harry, an’ I don’ want yeh ter go readin’ more inter this than there is.'

'Fine,' said Harry, but all parties involved knew Harry was not going to forget this.

'We're all exhausted, ya all should get goin' to breakfast or to ya dormitories ter rest,' said Hagrid. 'I'm goin' ta stick back and watch over Tracey a little longer.'

Harry did not need telling twice; he, Theodore, Allison, and Canini all hurried off; they practically ran. When they reached the Entrance Hall Canini went one way towards the Hufflepuff common room and the others headed towards the Slytherin Dungeon. When Harry, Allison, and Theodore reached the common room, they were greeted by a nervous Daphne.

'Allison, how is she? I've been worried all night?' she asked, her brown eyes filled with panic.

'Tracey'll be ok, but she's not going to be in our dormitory for a while,' answered Allison, and the two roommates went off to talk.

Harry however wanted to put Tracey out of his mind for just a minute, and so so he went up to his dormitory and lay down on his bed to think about what Hagrid had said. So Dumbledore had argued with Snape. In spite of all he had told Harry, in spite of his insistence that he trusted Snape completely, he had lost his temper with him...Dumbledore did not think that Snape had tried hard enough to investigate the Slytherins, and considering Harry had not seen this investigation of the whole House perhaps this was true...or, perhaps Snape was investigating a single Slytherin: Malfoy?

Was it because Dumbledore did not want Harry to do anything foolish, to take matters into his own hands, that he had pretended there was nothing in Harry’s suspicions? That seemed likely. It might even be that Dumbledore did not want anything to distract Harry from their lessons, or from procuring that memory from Slughorn. Perhaps Dumbledore did not think it right to confide suspicions about his staff to sixteen-year-olds...this was the thought Harry was thinking about before he fell asleep and didn't wake up until past noon.

The news that Tracey had been poisoned spread over the rest of the day, but it did not cause the sensation that Katie’s attack had done. Most people seemed to think that it might have been an accident, given that he had been in the Potions master’s room at the time, and that as he had been given an antidote immediately there was no real harm done. In fact, the Slytherins were generally much more interested in the upcoming Quidditch match against Ravenclaw, some were worried that Terence's head wasn't in the game as days slowly passed and Tracey still hadn't fully woken up.

Harry, however, had never been less interested in Quidditch; he was rapidly becoming obsessed with Draco Malfoy. And over the course of the week following Tracey's poisoning, Harry started checking the Marauder’s Map whenever possible. Despite his determination to catch Malfoy out, Harry had no luck at all in his endevours. Although he consulted the map as often as he could, sometimes making unnecessary visits to the bathroom between lessons to search it, he did not once see Malfoy anywhere suspicious. Admittedly, he spotted Goyle or Blaise moving around the castle on their own more often than usual, sometimes remaining stationary in deserted corridors, but at these times Malfoy was not only nowhere near them, but impossible to locate on the map at all. This was most mysterious. Harry toyed with the possibility that Malfoy was actually leaving the school grounds, but could not see how he could be doing it, given the very high level of security now operating within the castle and him not knowing about the Honeydukes tunnel. He could only suppose that he was missing Malfoy amongst the hundreds of tiny black dots upon the map. As for the fact that Malfoy, Goyle, and Blaise appeared to be going their different ways when they were usually inseparable, these things happened as people got older.

Harry couldn't ignore Quidditch much longer however as the Thursday afternoon after Tracey's accident, which was only a couple days before Slytherin's next match, Terence approached him in the common room. He looked a mess as he had not sleep much the past week as he had most evenings by Tracey's side.

'Harry, can I talk to you quickly.'

'Of course,' answered Harry, who was now worried Terence was going to cancel or post-pone the match.

'I know the rumours that have been going around about me, but they aren't true, Slytherin's going to play on Saturday and I'm going to be our Chaser, but I don't know if I am in the right head space to lead. All week I've been worried about Tracey as she has yet to fully wake up, the few times she's opened her eyes she's been disoriented and confused, but you seem to have been handling what happened better than I have. If Tracey doesn't get better by Saturday morning, will you lead the team in the match against Ravenclaw?'

It took Harry a few seconds to realize what Terence was asking?

'Wait? You mean as acting Captain?' he said after he finally figured out what Terence meant.

'Yes, I saw last year how good of a leader you were with the D.A. I think you would make an excellent substitute if I'm not on the top of my game. Will you accept?'

'Yes,' said Harry. 'But only if Tracey doesn't get better.'

This was a really nice gesture from Terence, but it turned out not to be necessary as Tracey finally became fully conscious that night. They all to tell her how happy they were that she was ok, what they believed to have happened, Terence apologized for not choosing a better date location and Tracey apologized for how she acted while under the effects of the love potion. What Tracey truly was focused on however was the last thing she remembered before the poison took effect.

'So, Harry, what you said to Slughorn right before I drank the mead, was that just meant to lighten the mood further, or was it true?' she asked, choosing her words carefully incase she was wrong.

'It is all true, me and Allison are now dating,' said Harry with a soft smile.

'Eeee! I'm so happy for you two. You got to tell me every detail,' she said Happily, and now with the mood much lighter everyone got to celebrate the good news.

More good news was to come as that evening Harry received a letter from Tonks saying she had gone on a Valentine's Day date with Tulip, that it had gone well, and that she had just got a new letter from Tulip asking to go on another date. She thanked Harry for helping her work up the courage to pursue her happiness.

Not everything was sunshine and rainbows however, as Harry was still checking the Marauder’s Map whenever he got a chance, he sometimes made detours to wherever Malfoy happened to be, but had not yet detected him doing anything out of the ordinary. And still there were those inexplicable times when Malfoy simply vanished from the map...

But Harry did not get a lot of time to consider the problem, what with all the weeks homework, Friday's pre-game Quidditch practice, and visiting Tracey whenever he got the chance as she still was not allowed to leave the hospital wing.

This is currently a trend on the hp wiki, so I do it! lol

Previous Chapters:

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003768423

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003769317

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Chapter Three: Reading of the Will

'If you don’t mind, Harry,' said Dumbledore, as stood on the opposite side of the road from the large cottage, 'I’d like a few words with you before we go inside. In private.'

They walked over to a wooded area next to the house. Dumbledore illuminated the tip of his wand, so that it glowed like a torch, and smiled down at Harry.

'I hope you will forgive me for mentioning it, Harry, but I am pleased and a little proud at how well you seem to be coping after everything that happened at the Ministry. Permit me to say that I think Sirius would have been proud of you.'

Harry swallowed; his voice seemed to have deserted him. He did not think he could stand to discuss Sirius; it had been painful to hear Sirius’s name thrown out casually by Slughorn.

'It was cruel,' said Dumbledore softly, 'that you had another parent taken away from you, especially while still so young. A brutal ending to what should have been a long and happy relationship.'

Harry nodded, his eyes fixed resolutely on the spider now climbing Dumbledore’s hat. He could tell that Dumbledore understood, that he might even suspect that until his letter arrived, Harry had spent nearly all his time at the Dursleys’ lying on his bed, refusing meals, and staring at the misted window, full of the chill emptiness that he had come to associate with dementors.

'It’s just hard,' Harry said finally, in a low voice, 'to realize I won't ever see him again, or get touching letters from him while I'm at Hogwarts.'

His eyes burned suddenly and he blinked. He felt stupid for admitting it, but the fact that he had people outside Hogwarts who cared what happened to him, and now he had one less and the post owls would never bring him a letter from Sirius again...

'Sirius, as well as Remus, represents much to you that you that you don't have elsewhere,' said Dumbledore gently. 'Naturally, the loss is devastating...'

'But while I was at the Dursleys’...' interrupted Harry, his voice growing stronger, 'I realized I can’t shut myself away or—or crack up. Sirius wouldn’t have wanted that, would he? And anyway, life’s too short...Look at Madam Bones, look at Emmeline Vance...It could be me next, couldn’t it? But if it is,' he said fiercely, now looking straight into Dumbledore’s blue eyes gleaming in the wandlight, 'I’ll make sure I take as many Death Eaters with me as I can, and Voldemort too if I can manage it.'

'Spoken both like your mother and father’s son and Sirius’s true godson!' said Dumbledore, with an approving pat on Harry’s back.

‘And now, Harry, there are only a couple more topics we must discuss before we enter the Cottage…I gather that you have been taking the Daily Prophet over the last two weeks?’

‘Yes,’ said Harry, and his heart beat a little faster.

‘Then you will have seen that there have been not so much leaks as floods concerning your adventure in the Hall of Prophecy?’

‘Yes,’ said Harry again. ‘And now everyone knows that I’m the one—‘

‘No, they do not,’ interrupted Dumbledore. ‘There are only two people in the whole world who know the full contents of the prophecy made about you and Lord Voldemort, and they are both standing right here. It is true, however, that many have guessed, correctly, that Voldemort sent his Death Eaters to steal a prophecy, and that the prophecy concerned you. Now, I think I am correct in saying that you have not told anybody that you know what the prophecy said?’

‘No,’ said Harry.

‘A wise decision, on the whole,’ said Dumbledore. ‘Although I think you ought to relax it in favor of your friends, Mr Nott, Miss Howling, Miss Runcorn, Miss Davis, and perhaps Remus as well. Yes,’ he continued, when Harry looked startled, ‘I think they ought to know. You do them a disservice by not confiding something this important to them.’

‘I didn’t want—‘

‘—to worry or frighten them?’ said Dumbledore, surveying Harry over the top of his half-moon spectacles. ‘Or perhaps, to confess that you yourself are worried and frightened? You need your friends and family, Harry. As you so rightly said, Sirius would not have wanted you to shut yourself away.’

Harry said nothing, but Dumbledore did not seem to require an answer.

He continued, ‘On a different, though related, subject, it is my wish that you take private lessons with me this year.’

‘Private—with you?’ said Harry, surprised out of his preoccupied silence.

‘Yes. I think it is time that I took a greater hand in your education.’

‘What will you be teaching me, sir?’

‘Oh, a little of this, a little of that,’ said Dumbledore airily.

Harry waited hopefully, but Dumbledore did not elaborate, so he asked something else that had been bothering him slightly.

‘If I’m having lessons with you, I won’t have to do Occlumency lessons with Snape, will I?’

‘Professor Snape, Harry—and no, you will not.’

‘Good,’ said Harry in relief, ‘because they were a—‘

He stopped, careful not to say what he really thought.

‘I think the word “fiasco” would be a good one here,’ said Dumbledore, nodding.

Harry laughed.

‘Well, that means I won’t see much of Professor Snape from now on,’ he said, ‘because he won’t let me carry on Potions unless I get “Outstanding” in my O.W.L., which I know I haven’t.’

‘Don’t count your owls before they are delivered,’ said Dumbledore gravely. ‘Which, now I think of it, ought to be some time later today. Now, two more things, Harry. Firstly, I wish you to keep your Invisibility Cloak with you at all times from this moment onward. Even within Hogwarts itself. Just in case, you understand me?’

Harry nodded.

‘And lastly, while you stay here, the Cottage has been given the highest security the Ministry of Magic can provide. These measures have caused a certain amount of inconvenience to Remus, Mr Nott, and Miss Howling—all their post, for instance, is being searched at the Ministry before being sent on. They do not mind in the slightest, for their only concern is your safety. However, it would be poor repayment if you risked your neck while staying with them.’

‘I understand,’ said Harry quickly.

'Now we best get inside, they are waiting.'

'"They"? I doubt anyone other than Remus stayed up for my return,' said Harry, though for the first time noticed most of the lights were on in the Cottage which was odd for past midnight.

'There is one more task that needs to be completed tonight,' Dumbledore said more somberly as they approached the Cottage. They were still several feet away from the door when it suddenly opened and Remus stepped out.

'Harry, you're alright!' he said as he brought his adoptive son in for a hug. Even in the two weeks since Harry had last seen Remus he had developed more grey in his hair, and alongside his mustache he was growing a stubbly beard from lack of shaving, it was clear Sirius' death was taking a toll. 'We were expecting you to arrive over an hour ago, even though I knew you were with Dumbledore I became quite worried that something had happened.

'I'm fine Moony, really, I was just helping Dumbledore with something, I though you knew,' but by the sudden glare Remus gave Dumbledore it was very clear that at most Remus knew only that Dumbledore was picking Harry up at eleven. Still, Remus opened the door wider for the three of them to enter. 'Oh, and what do you mean by "we"?'

'Wotcher, Harry,' said his cousin Nymphadora Tonks, who was standing in his foyer. She was trying to smile but Harry thought she looked pale and drawn, even ill. Certainly her appearance was less colorful than usual with her hair being flat and brown unlike her customary pixie-cut bubble-gum-pink hair.

As he gave her a hug he heard yet another familiar voice coming from the living room.

'Oh, is Harry here. We're glad you arrived safely,' he heard his aunt Andromeda say. He entered the living room and saw his aunt Andromeda sitting in an arm chair who only seemed to get more beautiful with age, and his uncle Edward standing behind her who was wearing his wizarding attire apposed to the muggle clothes he wore to his job at a muggle architecture firm. Sitting on a Sofa was his foster brother Theodore, who only gave Harry a little wave as Harry's adopted sister Canini had dozed off on his shoulder.

Seeing this specific group of people Harry now could guess what was going on, but Dumbledore soon confirmed his suspicion.

'Well, Harry,' said Dumbledore, turning toward him, 'as I am sure you have now guessed, we are all gathered here today for the reading of Sirius' will.'

Theodore nudged Canini enough that she woke up and the two siblings moved over enough for Harry to join them on the sofa, then Tonks sat on the arm next to Harry. Dumbledore sat down on the second armchair, and Remus pulled up a chair from the dinning room.

‘Normally with will readings someone from the Ministry would discuss its content with its recipients, however given that their are property within pertaining to Order of the Phoenix I volunteered to read so that no classified secrets escape,’ explained Dumbledore. ‘Before I begin I must ask if everyone is ready for what I am about to read.’

Everyone nodded or verbally said ‘yes’.

‘Very well,’ said Dumbledore and he pulled a document out from his enchanted blue handbag and began to read. ‘For Sirius Black’s portion of the Black family fortune he divided it up so that five percent is split between his cousin Andromeda Tonks and her husband Edward Tonks, five percent to his first cousin once removed Nymphadora-its a legal document Tonks it had to use your full name-Tonks, fifteen percent to his husband Remus John Lupin, and the remaining seventy-five percent is to be slip evenly between his three adoptive children Harry James Potter, Canini Cicero Howling, and Theodore Luke Nott. The gold will be transferred to each of your vaults by sunrise.’

There was a murmur of acceptance, although Harry could tell that receiving Sirius’ wealth was little comfort after losing someone they all cared for.

‘On to more personal possessions,’ continued Dumbledore. ‘Most of Sirius’ possessions were co-owned with either Remus or one of his kids so those items stay with their second owner. For possession that solely belongs to Sirius, first we have his flying motorcycle and helmet, which he has left to his daughter Canini, however she can not legally drive it until her sixteen birthday. To his son Theodore he leaves his tent and camping supplies.’

There was a pause, and before Dumbledore could even continue all eyes landed on Harry.

‘Now for the more complicated part,' said Dumbledore, turning toward Harry, 'a difficulty has arisen which I hope you will be able to solve for us. By us, I mean the Order of the Phoenix. Our problem is that Sirius also left you number twelve, Grimmauld Place, as well as everything within.'

Harry had not been expecting that, of all the things Sirius could have left him, why the house Sirius himself hated all his life. After stopping to think for a moment he now realized why this was an Order matter as Grimmauld place was there headquarters.

'You can keep using it as headquarters,' said Harry. 'You can have it,' and in his mind he thought, "I don’t really want it.” Harry never wanted to set foot in number twelve, Grimmauld Place again if he could help it. He thought he would be haunted forever by the memory of Sirius prowling its dark musty rooms alone with only Remus and the treacherous Kreature inside, imprisoned within the place he had wanted so desperately to leave.

'That is generous,' said Dumbledore. 'We have, however, vacated the building temporarily.'

'Why?'

'You see Harry,' said Remus, 'there is an older will that we are not sure if it will over rule Sirius' or not. When Sirius' mother died she specifically willed Grimmauld Place to her closest living relative, at the time that was reluctantly her son Sirius, however now that he is gone her next closest living relative would be her eldest niece Bellatrix Lestrange...'

Without realizing what he was doing, Harry sprang to his feet; the telescope and trainers in his lap rolled across the floor. Bellatrix Lestrange, Sirius’s killer, inherit his house? Andromeda also whimpered at the name of her wicked older sister.

'No,' he said.

'Well, obviously we would prefer that she didn’t get it either,' said Dumbledore calmly. 'The situation is fraught with complications. We do not know whether the enchantments we ourselves have placed upon it, for example, making it Unplottable, will hold now that ownership has passed from Sirius’s hands. It might be that Bellatrix will arrive on the doorstep at any moment. Naturally we had to move out until such time as we have clarified the position.'

'But how are you going to find out if I’m allowed to own it?'

'Fortunately,' said Dumbledore, 'there is a simple test.'

'Not so simple...' Canini mumbled under her breath.

'You see,' Dumbledore said, turning back to Harry and again speaking as though Canini had not uttered, 'if you have indeed inherited the house, you have also inherited—'

He flicked his wand. There was a loud crack, and a house-elf appeared, with a snout for a nose, giant bat’s ears, and enormous bloodshot eyes, crouching on the living room carpet and covered in grimy rags.

'Kreacher,' finished Dumbledore.

'Kreacher won’t, Kreacher won’t, Kreacher won’t!' croaked the house-elf, quite as loudly as he stompt his long, gnarled feet and pulling his ears. 'Kreacher belongs to Miss Bellatrix, oh yes, Kreacher belongs to the Blacks, Kreacher wants his new mistress, Kreacher won’t go to the Potter brat, Kreacher won’t, won’t, won’t—'

'As you can see, Harry,' said Dumbledore loudly, over Kreacher’s continued croaks of 'won’t, won’t, won’t,' 'Kreacher is showing a certain reluctance to pass into your ownership.'

'I don’t care,' said Harry, looking with disgust at the writhing, stamping house-elf. 'I don’t want him.'

'Won’t, won’t, won’t, won’t—'

'You would prefer him to pass into the ownership of Bellatrix Lestrange? Bearing in mind that he has lived at the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix for the past year?'

'Won’t, won’t, won’t, won’t—'

Harry stared at Dumbledore. He knew that Kreacher could not be permitted to go and live with Bellatrix Lestrange, but the idea of owning another sentiant being, or having responsibility for the creature that had betrayed Sirius, was repugnant. Reluctantly he said what must be done.

'Fine, I'll retain ownership of him, but again, how do we know I am the true owner of the house and him?'

'Give him an order,' said Dumbledore. 'If he has passed into your ownership, he will have to obey. If not, then we shall have to think of some other means of keeping him from his rightful mistress.'

'Won’t, won’t, won’t, WON’T!'

Kreacher’s voice had risen to a scream. Harry could think of nothing to say, except, 'Kreacher, shut up!'

It looked for a moment as though Kreacher was going to choke. He grabbed his throat, his mouth still working furiously, his eyes bulging. After a few seconds of frantic gulping, he threw himself face forward onto the carpet and beat the floor with his hands and feet, giving himself over to a violent, but entirely silent, tantrum.

'Well, that simplifies matters,' said Dumbledore cheerfully. 'It seems that Sirius knew what he was doing. You are the rightful owner of number twelve, Grimmauld Place and of Kreacher.'

'Do I—do I have to keep him with me?' Harry asked, aghast, as Kreacher thrashed around at his feet.

'Of course not Harry,' said Remus in a reassuring tone. 'You can have him be wherever you want, just as long as he's still under your ownership.'

'If I might make a suggestion, you could send him to Hogwarts to work in the kitchen there. In that way, the other house-elves could keep an eye on him,' said Dumbledore.

'Yeah,' said Harry in relief, 'yeah, I’ll do that. Er—Kreacher—I want you to go to Hogwarts and work in the kitchens there with the other house-elves.'

Kreacher, who was now lying flat on his back with his arms and legs in the air, gave Harry one upside-down look of deepest loathing and, with another loud crack, vanished.

'Well, with that settled that concludes the will reading,' said Dumbledore, placing the will back into his handbag. 'And I shall bid you all a goodnight, or more accurately good morning.'

'Not just yet,' said Remus, who now sounded tense. 'I would like a word.'

'Certainly.'

Remus led Dumbledore to the Cottage's basement which was mostly soundproof. Harry wanted to go to the door to eavesdrop but Tonks stopped him.

'He's mad because Dumbledore stretched the truth,' she explained. 'He told uncle Remus that he would be picking you up at eleven and dropping you off here, he did not mention that in between those two events he'd be taking you on some sort of mission. What was it by the way?'

'Recruiting this years DADA teacher, I think, I never actually learned what he teaches,' said Harry, he didn't want to discuss more about Slughorn incase some of it was meant to be a secret, so he changed the subject. 'Anyway, what are you going to do with your share of the gold?'

'I'm not sure, I didn't know uncle Sirius left me anything until today. Maybe I'll use it to move out of my little apartment into something nicer, I've been looking at some property in North Lincolnshire, but I didn't think about it seriously until now...'

'It is very late, I think I'm going to take your mother home now Dora,' said uncle Ted to Tonks. 'Do you want to come with us and spend the night in Bedford or wait to say goodbye to Remus and go back to London?'

‘I think I’ll go home with you guys, I-I think I need some extra comfort right now,’ said Tonks, and after they said their goodbyes it was just the three siblings left in the living room. Harry turned to Theodore who came over and gave him a hug.

‘Harry, I’ve missed you,’ he said.

‘I’ve missed you too. It’s been hard here these past couple weeks, hasn’t it?’

‘It has,’ said Canini drowsily, giving Harry a hug as well. ‘We each have had our moments but I think we’re slowly bringing each other back up. I’m glad you’re back though, and much sooner than I thought.’

‘Yeah, I was under the impression I wasn’t going to be back until the very end of August, but it seems that for the first time since I was ten I’ll be spending most of the summer home.’

‘Well, if we’re going to have more time with you, then I am going to spend my time right now going to sleep, love you Theo, love you Harry,’ said Canini as she made her way towards the stairs.

‘Love you sis.’

‘See you tomorrow.’

‘She’s also right, I’m exhausted Harry. I want to hear about your mini adventure with Dumbledore, but not until morning.’

‘Okay,’ Harry agreed, and so the two brothers went upstairs and after what seemed like a never ending day finally came to a close with a good night’s sleep.

Previous Chapters:

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Tags:

@Bellatrisblack @CatsAndRoblox @Rose.gold.kiisses @MeowTasticCat @Jellybean Jade @Missy Clara Oswald @Teddy.J.B @Pervaza972 @BellatrixLestrangeLover

(This chapter starts similarly as canon, but there quite a few divergence through out.)

Chapter Thirty-Nine: The Lost Prophecy

Harry’s feet hit solid ground again; his knees buckled a little and the golden wizard’s head fell with a resounding clunk to the floor. He looked around and saw that he had arrived in Dumbledore’s office.

Everything seemed to have repaired itself during the headmaster’s absence. The delicate silver instruments stood again upon the spindle-legged tables, puffing and whirring serenely. The portraits of the headmasters and headmistresses were snoozing in their frames, heads lolling back in armchairs or against the edge of their pictures. Harry looked through the window. There was a cool line of pale green along the horizon: Dawn was approaching.

The silence and the stillness, broken only by the occasional grunt or snuffle of a sleeping portrait, was unbearable to him. If his surroundings could have reflected the feelings inside him, the pictures would have been screaming in pain. He walked around the quiet, beautiful office, breathing quickly, trying not to think. But he had to think...There was no escape...

It was his fault Sirius had died; it was all his fault. If he, Harry, had not been stupid enough to fall for Voldemort’s trick, if he had not been so convinced that what he had seen in his dream was real, if he had only opened his mind to the possibility that Voldemort was, as his friends had said, banking on Harry’s love of playing the hero...It was unbearable, he would not think about it, he could not stand it...There was a terrible hollow inside him he did not want to feel or examine, a dark hole where Sirius had been, where Sirius had vanished. He did not want to have to be alone with that great, silent space, he could not stand it—

A picture behind him gave a particularly loud grunting snore, and a cool voice said, 'Ah...Harry Potter...'

Phineas Nigellus gave a long yawn, stretching his arms as he watched Harry with shrewd, narrow eyes.

'And what brings you here in the early hours of the morning?' said Phineas. 'This office is supposed to be barred to all but the rightful headmaster. Or has Dumbledore sent you here? Oh, don’t tell me...' He gave another shuddering yawn. 'Another message for my worth-less great-great-grandson?'

Harry could not speak. Phineas Nigellus did not know that Sirius was dead, but Harry could not tell him. To say it aloud would be to make it final, absolute, irretrievable. A few more of the portraits had stirred now. Terror of being interrogated made Harry stride across the room and seize the doorknob.

It would not turn. He was shut in.

'I hope this means,' said the corpulent, red-nosed wizard who hung on the wall behind Dumbledore’s desk, 'that Dumbledore will soon be back with us?'

Harry turned. The wizard was eyeing him with great interest. Harry nodded. He tugged again on the doorknob behind his back, but it remained immovable.

'Oh good,' said the wizard. 'It has been very dull without him, very dull indeed.'

He settled himself on the thronelike chair on which he had been painted and smiled benignly upon Harry.

'Dumbledore thinks very highly of you, as I am sure you know,' he said comfortably. 'Oh yes. Holds you in great esteem.'

The guilt filling the whole of Harry’s chest like some monstrous, weighty parasite now writhed and squirmed. Harry could not stand this, he could not stand being Harry anymore...He had never felt more trapped inside his own head and body, never wished so intensely that he could be somebody—anybody—else...

The empty fireplace burst into emerald-green flame, making Harry leap away from the door, staring at the man spinning inside the grate. As Dumbledore’s tall form unfolded itself from the fire, the wizards and witches on the surrounding walls jerked awake. Many of them gave cries of welcome.

'Thank you,' said Dumbledore softly.

He did not look at Harry at first, but walked over to the perch beside the door and withdrew from his midnight-blue handbag, the tiny, ugly, featherless Fawkes, whom he placed gently on the tray of soft ashes beneath the golden post where the full-grown Fawkes usually stood.

'Well, Harry,' said Dumbledore, finally turning away from the baby bird, 'you will be pleased to hear that none of your siblings and fellow students are going to suffer lasting damage from the night’s events. Nor has Remus or your cousin, and they know you are here safe.'

Harry tried to say 'Good,' but no sound came out. It seemed to him that Dumbledore was reminding him of the amount of damage he had caused by his actions tonight, and although Dumbledore was for once looking at him directly, and though his expression was kindly rather than accusatory, Harry could not bear to meet his eyes.

'Madam Pomfrey is patching everybody up now,' said Dumbledore. 'Alastor Moody may need to spend a little time in St. Mungo’s, but it seems that he will make a full recovery.'

Harry contented himself with nodding at the carpet, which was growing lighter as the sky outside grew paler.

'I might have taken you away to soon, your friends and family seemed desperate to make sure you were alright,' said Dumbledore, although Harry couldn't tell if he genuinely thought it was a mistake to take Harry when he did. 'Remus wanted me to tell you he loves you very much.'

He was sure that all the portraits around the room were listening eagerly to every word Dumbledore spoke, wondering where Dumbledore and Harry had been and why there had been injuries.

'I know how you are feeling, Harry,' said Dumbledore very quietly.

'No, you don’t,' said Harry, and his voice was suddenly loud and strong. White-hot anger leapt inside him. Dumbledore knew nothing about his feelings.

'You see, Dumbledore?' said Phineas Nigellus slyly. 'Never try to understand the students. They hate it. They would much rather be tragically misunderstood, wallow in self-pity, stew in their own—'

'That’s enough, Phineas,' said Dumbledore.

Harry turned his back on Dumbledore and stared determinedly out of the opposite window. He could see the Quidditch stadium in the distance. Sirius had appeared there once, disguised as the shaggy black dog, so he could watch Harry play...He had probably come to see whether Harry was as good as he and James had been...Harry had never asked him...

'There is no shame in what you are feeling, Harry,' said Dumbledore’s voice. 'On the contrary...the fact that you can feel pain like this is your greatest strength.'

Harry felt the white-hot anger lick his insides, blazing in the terrible emptiness, filling him with the desire to hurt Dumbledore for his calmness and his empty words.

'My greatest strength, is it?' said Harry, his voice shaking as he stared out at the Quidditch stadium, no longer seeing it. ‘You haven’t got a clue…You don’t know…’

‘What don’t I know?’ asked Dumbledore calmly.

It was too much. Harry turned around, shaking with rage.

‘I don’t want to talk about how I feel, all right?’

‘Harry, suffering like this proves you are still a man! This pain is part of being human—‘

‘THEN—I—DON’T—WANT—TO—BE—HUMAN!’ Harry roared, and he seized one of the delicate silver instruments from the spindle-legged table beside him and flung it across the room. It shattered into a hundred tiny pieces against the wall.

Several of the pictures let out yells of anger and fright, and the portrait of Armando Dippet said, ‘Really!’

‘I DON’T CARE!’ Harry yelled at them, snatching up a lunascope and throwing it into the fireplace. ‘I’VE HAD ENOUGH, I’VE SEEN ENOUGH, I WANT OUT, I WANT IT TO END, I DON’T CARE ANYMORE—‘

He seized the table on which the silver instrument had stood and threw that too. It broke apart on the floor and the legs rolled in different directions.

‘You do care,’ said Dumbledore. He had not flinched or made a single move to stop Harry demolishing his office. His expression was calm, almost detached. ‘You care so much you feel as though you will bleed to death with the pain of it.’

‘I—DON’T!’ Harry screamed, so loudly that he felt his throat might tear, and for a second he wanted to rush at Dumbledore and break him too; shatter that calm old face, shake him, hurt him, make him feel some tiny part of the horror inside Harry.

‘Oh yes, you do,’ said Dumbledore, still more calmly. ‘You have now lost your birth mother and father, your adoptive grandfather, you watched your friend Cedric Diggory die, and now one of the two people you’ve called your father for the last fourteen years has died. Of course you care.’

‘YOU DON’T KNOW HOW I FEEL!’ Harry roared. ‘YOU—STANDING THERE—YOU—‘

But words were no longer enough, smashing things was no more help. He wanted to run, he wanted to keep running and never look back, he wanted to be somewhere he could not see the clear blue eyes staring at him, that hatefully calm old face. He ran to the door, seized the doorknob again, and wrenched at it.

But the door would not open.

Harry turned back to Dumbledore.

‘Let me out,’ he said. He was shaking from head to foot.

‘No,’ said Dumbledore simply.

For a few seconds they stared at each other.

‘Let me out,’ Harry said again.

‘No,’ Dumbledore repeated.

‘If you don’t—if you keep me in here—if you don’t let me—‘

‘By all means continue destroying my possessions,’ said Dumbledore serenely. ‘I daresay I have too many.’

He walked around his desk and sat down behind it, watching Harry.

'Let me out,' Harry said yet again, in a voice that was cold and almost as calm as Dumbledore’s.

‘Not until I have had my say,’ said Dumbledore.

‘Do you—do you think I want to—do you think I give a—I DON’T CARE WHAT YOU’VE GOT TO SAY!’ Harry roared. ‘I don’t want to hear anything you’ve got to say!’

‘You will,’ said Dumbledore sadly. ‘Because you are not nearly as angry with me as you ought to be. If you are to attack me, as I know you are close to doing, I would like to have thoroughly earned it.’

‘What are you talking—?’

‘It is my fault that Sirius died,’ said Dumbledore clearly. ‘Or I should say almost entirely my fault—I will not be so arrogant as to claim responsibility for the whole. Sirius was a brave, clever, and energetic man, and such men are not usually content to sit at home in hiding while they believe others to be in danger. Nevertheless, you should never have believed for an instant that there was any necessity for you to go to the Department of Mysteries tonight. If I had been open with you, Harry, as I should have been, you would have known a long time ago that Voldemort might try and lure you to the Department of Mysteries, and you would never have been tricked into going there tonight. And Sirius would not have had to come after you. That blame lies with me, and with me alone.’

Harry was still standing with his hand on the doorknob but he was unaware of it. He was gazing at Dumbledore, hardly breathing, listening yet barely understanding what he was hearing.

'Please sit down,' said Dumbledore. It was not an order, it was a request.

Harry hesitated, then walked slowly across the room now littered with silver cogs and fragments of wood and took the seat facing Dumbledore’s desk.

‘Am I to understand,’ said Phineas Nigellus slowly from Harry’s left, ‘that my great-great-grandson—the last of my descendants to hold the Black name—is dead?’

‘Yes, Phineas,’ said Dumbledore.

‘I don’t believe it,’ said Phineas brusquely.

Harry turned his head in time to see Phineas marching out of his portrait and knew that he had gone to visit his other painting in Grimmauld Place. He would walk, perhaps, from portrait to portrait, calling for Sirius through the house…

'Harry, I owe you an explanation,' said Dumbledore. 'An explanation of an old man’s mistakes. For I see now that what I have done, and not done, with regard to you, bears all the hallmarks of the failings of age. Youth cannot know how age thinks and feels. But old men are guilty if they forget what it was to be young...and I seem to have forgotten lately...'

The sun was rising properly now. There was a rim of dazzling orange visible over the mountains and the sky above it was colorless and bright. The light fell upon Dumbledore, upon the silver of his eye-brows and beard, upon the lines gouged deeply into his face.

'I guessed, fourteen years ago,' said Dumbledore, 'when I saw the scar upon your forehead, what it might mean. I guessed that it might be the sign of a connection forged between you and Voldemort.'

'You’ve told me this before, Professor,' said Harry bluntly. He did not care about being rude. He did not care about anything very much anymore.

'Yes,' said Dumbledore apologetically. 'Yes, but you see—it is necessary to start with your scar. For it became apparent, shortly after you rejoined the magical world, that I was correct, and that your scar was giving you warnings when Voldemort was close to you, or else feeling powerful emotion.'

'I know,' said Harry wearily.

'And this ability of yours—to detect Voldemort’s presence, even when he is disguised, and to know what he is feeling when his emotions are heightened—has become more and more pronounced since Voldemort returned to his own body and his full powers.'

Harry did not bother to nod. He knew all of this already.

'More recently,' said Dumbledore, 'I became concerned that Voldemort might realize that this connection between you exists. Sure enough, there came a time when you entered so far into his mind and thoughts that he sensed your presence. I am speaking, of course, of the night when you witnessed the attack on Mr Weasley.'

'Yeah, Snape told me,' Harry muttered.

'Professor Snape, Harry,' Dumbledore corrected him quietly. 'But did you not wonder why it was not I who explained this to you? Why I did not teach you Occlumency? Why I had not so much as looked at you for months?'

Harry looked up. He could see now that Dumbledore looked sad and tired.

'Yeah,' Harry mumbled. 'Yeah, I have wondered.'

'You see,' continued Dumbledore heavily 'I believed it could not be long before Voldemort attempted to force his way into your mind, to manipulate and misdirect your thoughts, and I was not eager to give him more incentives to do so. I was sure that if he realized that our interactions were—or had ever been—a little closer than that of headmaster and pupil, he would seize his chance to use you as a means to spy on me. I feared the uses to which he would put you, the possibility that he might try and possess you. Harry, I believe I was right to think that Voldemort would have made use of you in such a way. On those rare occasions when we had close contact, I thought I saw a shadow of him stir behind your eyes...I was trying, in distancing myself from you, to protect you. An old man’s mistake...'

Harry remembered the feeling that a dormant snake had risen in him, ready to strike, on those occasions when he and Dumbledore made eye contact.

'Voldemort’s aim in possessing you, as he demonstrated tonight, would not have been my destruction. It would have been yours. He hoped, when he possessed you briefly a short while ago, that I would sacrifice you in the hope of killing him.'

He sighed deeply. Harry was letting the words wash over him. He would have been so interested to know all this a few months ago, and now it was meaningless compared to the gaping chasm inside him that was the loss of Sirius, none of it mattered...

'Sirius told me that you felt Voldemort awake inside you the very night that you had the vision of Arthur Weasley’s attack. I knew at once that my worst fears were correct: Voldemort from that point had realized he could use you. In an attempt to arm you against Voldemort’s assaults on your mind, I arranged Occlumency lessons with Professor Snape.'

He paused. Harry watched the sunlight, which was sliding slowly across the polished surface of Dumbledore’s desk, illuminate a silver ink pot and a handsome scarlet quill. Harry could tell that the portraits all around them were awake and listening raptly to Dumbledore’s explanation. He could hear the occasional rustle of robes, the slight clearing of a throat. Phineas Nigellus had still not returned...

'Professor Snape discovered,' Dumbledore resumed, 'that you had been dreaming about the door to the Department of Mysteries for months. Voldemort, of course, had been obsessed with the possibility of hearing the prophecy ever since he regained his body, and as he dwelled on the door, so did you, though you did not know what it meant. And then you saw Rookwood, who worked in the Department of Mysteries before his arrest, telling Voldemort what we had known all along—that the prophecies held in the Ministry of Magic are heavily protected. Only the people to whom they refer can lift them from the shelves without suffering madness. In this case, either Voldemort himself would have to enter the Ministry of Magic and risk revealing himself at last—or else you would have to take it for him. It became a matter of even greater urgency that you should master Occlumency.'

'But I didn’t,' muttered Harry. He said it aloud to try and ease the dead weight of guilt inside him; a confession must surely relieve some of the terrible pressure squeezing his heart. 'I didn’t practice, I didn’t bother, I could’ve stopped myself having those dreams, Theodore and I had a row about me continuing to practice but I ignored him, if I had Voldemort would never have been able to show me where to go, and—Sirius wouldn’t—Sirius wouldn’t—'

Something was erupting inside Harry’s head: a need to justify himself, to explain—

'I tried to check he’d really taken Sirius, I went to Umbridge’s office, I spoke to Kreacher in the fire, and he said he hadn't seen Sirius, and that if he went to the Department of Mysteries Sirius would never return!'

'Kreacher lied,' said Dumbledore calmly. 'You are not his master, he could stretch the truth without even needing to punish himself. Kreacher intended you to go to the Ministry of Magic.'

'He—he sent me on purpose?'

'Oh yes. Kreacher, I am afraid, has been serving more than one master for months.'

'How?' said Harry blankly. 'He hasn’t been out of Grimmauld Place for years.'

'Kreacher seized his opportunity shortly before Christmas,' said Dumbledore, 'when Sirius, apparently, shouted at him to "Out." He took Sirius at his word and interpreted this as an order to leave the house. He went to the only Black family member for whom he had any respect left...Black’s cousin Narcissa, as you know she is Bellatrix Lestrange's sister and wife of Lucius Malfoy.'

'How do you know all this?' Harry said. His heart was beating very fast. He felt sick. He remembered worrying about Kreacher’s odd absence over Christmas, remembered him turning up again in the attic...

'Kreacher told me last night,' said Dumbledore. 'You see, when you gave Professor Snape that cryptic warning, he realized that you had had a vision of Sirius trapped in the bowels of the Department of Mysteries. He, like you, attempted to contact Sirius at once. I should explain that members of the Order of the Phoenix have more reliable methods of communicating than the fire in Dolores Umbridge’s office. Professor Snape found that Sirius was alive and safe in Grimmauld Place. When, however, you did not return from your trip into the forest with Dolores Umbridge, Professor Snape grew worried that you still believed Sirius to be a captive of Lord Voldemort’s. He alerted certain Order members at once.'

Dumbledore heaved a great sigh and then said, 'After Snape's first message Remus had gotten worried and summoned Alastor Moody, Nymphadora Tonks, and Kingsley Shacklebolt just in case something happened, they were all at headquarters when Snape made contact the second time. All agreed to go to your aid at once. Professor Snape requested that Sirius remain behind, as he needed somebody to remain at headquarters to tell me what had happened, for I was due there at any moment. In the meantime he, Professor Snape, intended to search the forest for you. But Sirius did not wish to remain behind while the others went to search for you. He delegated to Kreacher the task of telling me what had happened. And so it was that when I arrived in Grimmauld Place shortly after they had all left for the Ministry, it was the elf who told me—laughing fit to burst—where Sirius had gone.'

'He was laughing?' said Harry in a hollow voice.

'Oh yes,' said Dumbledore. 'You see, Kreacher was not able to betray us totally. He is not Secret-Keeper for the Order, he could not give the Malfoys our whereabouts or tell them any of the Order’s confidential plans that he had been forbidden to reveal. He was bound by the enchantments of his kind, which is to say that he could not disobey a direct order from his master, Sirius. But he gave Narcissa information of the sort that is very valuable to Voldemort, yet must have seemed much too trivial for Sirius to think of banning him from repeating it.'

'Like what?' said Harry.

'Like the fact that who Sirius cared most about in the world was his husband and children,' said Dumbledore quietly. 'Or that Sirius had a very special connection to you because of your resemblance in both looks and actions to James. Voldemort knew already, of course, that Sirius was in the Order, that you knew where he was—but Kreacher’s information made him realize that the one of the only people in the world whom you would go to any lengths to rescue was either Sirius Black, or Remus Lupin. Kreature choose Sirius in hopes to finally be free of him.'

Harry’s lips were cold and numb.

'So...when I asked Kreacher if Sirius was there last night...'

'The Malfoys—undoubtedly on Voldemort’s instructions—had told him he must find a way of keeping Sirius out of the way once you had seen the vision of Sirius being tortured. Then, if you decided to check whether Sirius was at home or not, Kreacher would be able to pretend he was not. It appears that Sirius and Remus had been up stairs and Kreacher had used his elf magic to put a Silencing Charm, Muffliato Charm, Quietening Charm, or a combination of them around the kitchen so that no one outside of it could your conversation with him.'

There seemed to be very little air in Harry’s lungs, his breathing was quick and shallow.

'And Kreacher told you all this...and laughed?' he croaked.

'He did not wish to tell me,' said Dumbledore. 'But I am a sufficiently accomplished Legilimens myself to know when I am being lied to and I—persuaded him—to tell me the full story, before I left for the Department of Mysteries.'

'And,' whispered Harry, his hands curled in cold fists on his knees, 'Canini and Hermione were telling us to be nice to him—'

'They were quite right, Harry,' said Dumbledore. 'I warned Sirius when we adopted twelve Grimmauld Place as our headquarters that Kreacher must be treated with kindness and respect. I also told him that Kreacher could be dangerous to us. I do not think that Sirius took me very seriously, or that he ever saw Kreacher as a being with feelings as acute as a humans—'

‘Don’t you blame—don’t you—talk—about Sirius like—‘ Harry’s breath was constricted, he could not get the words out properly. But the rage that had subsided so briefly had flared in him again; he would not let Dumbledore criticize Sirius. ‘Kreacher’s a lying—foul—he deserved—‘

‘Kreacher is what he has been made by wizards, Harry,’ said Dumbledore. ‘Yes, he is to be pitied. His existence has been as miserable as your friend Dobby’s. He was forced to do Sirius’s bidding, because Sirius was the last of the family to which he was enslaved, but he felt no true loyalty to him. And whatever Kreacher’s faults, it must be admitted that Sirius did nothing to make Kreacher’s lot easier—‘

‘DON’T TALK ABOUT SIRIUS LIKE THAT!’ Harry yelled.

He was on his feet again, furious, ready to fly at Dumbledore, who had plainly not understood Sirius at all, how brave he was, how much he had suffered…’

Kreacher was deathly loyal to the Blacks, and Sirius gave everything (The Black Estate) to Harry. It makes me think that the only way Sirius could make Harry his Heir is not because of him being Sirius's godson but because he was descended from one of the legitimate succession lines of Phineas Nigellus, specifically Belvina Burke nee Black. Belvina is known to have a daughter, and Burke is an Irish Clan; Euphemia would not have been a strange traditional name. Plus, Burke is mainly Irish, which would fit the Potters and Redheads trope; Ireland is noted to have the highest world percentage of red hair.

The Wizarding World obviously has a problem with slavery, not just in wealthy Pureblood households, but at Hogwarts and probably other places too, and Hermione seems to be the only one who cares. Not even Harry seems to care. So questions.

• How would abolishing house elf slavery be done?

• How would making up for the labor done by house elves work?

• Other thoughts?

Ever since I read the 2nd book I didn’t really like dobby he seemed annoying and I didn’t like him and in the 5th book kreacher was introduced and I liked him better then dobby even though I knew he was rude and in the 7th book I just loved kreacher and I didn’t really care about dobby dying.