The Serpent Of Lord Voldemort

  — CHAPTER THREE —

The Boy Who Returned  

Mr Malfoy took Harry's cage down two flights of stairs to a large, airy drawing room. Putting the cage on an end table, he called out sharply, 'Bandy!'

Lucius Malfoy was bearing down upon the elf to give it another kick when Harry's outraged hiss halted him in his tracks -- apparently he remembered what Voldemort had said about the snake being easily upset.

'Silence this instant!' spat Mr Malfoy. 'Else I'll give you something to squeal about!'

'Now go and tell Draco I want to see him in here at once,' Mr Malfoy ordered.

The elf vanished, and a few minutes later Draco Malfoy came swaggering into the room. When his father informed him of the task the Dark Lord had assigned him, Malfoy's pale face lit up with glee and he gave off an odour unpleasantly reminiscent of Voldemort's when he was torturing someone. Using a ruby ring from his own finger, Mr Malfoy taught Draco a simple charm to pop out the stone and then a slightly more complex one which, combined with the jewel from the ring Voldemort had given to him, would evidently turn Harry into an Aitvaras, whatever that was.

Once Malfoy had mastered the wand movements of the spell to his father's satisfaction, Lucius had him very carefully take Harry out of the cage to practise on. Harry was sorely tempted to get his own back on both of them by being as uncooperative as possible, but didn't dare risk jeopardising his return trip to Hogwarts. So he put up no resistance when Malfoy laid him on the table, held him rather tightly at the neck and balanced the ruby on top of his head.

Despite Harry's good behaviour, Mr Malfoy's frightened smell returned in full measure the second that his son touched the snake. When Draco (unaccustomed to working charms whilst bent over an end table using his other hand to pin down a serpent) had some initial difficulty managing the spell, his father grew quite snappish and short with him. This in turn caused Malfoy to become sullen and ill-tempered and even less able to do the thing properly.

It took him twice as long it normally would have to get the hang of the Aitvaras Charm, and he gave Harry several painful squeezes in the process. Harry had to work extremely hard to stop himself hissing with irritation, which would have only made Mr Malfoy more nervy yet and drawn the proceedings out that much longer. Mr Malfoy made Draco keep at it until he had cast the spell correctly seven times in a row. Even though the real Aitvaras Eye wasn't being used, a nasty shiver went down Harry's spine each instance the charm was successfully completed.

'... and try to get it right the first time when you do it at Hogwarts,' Mr Malfoy said coldly, as Draco left the room still looking thoroughly put out.

*

Lucius Malfoy seemed to take very seriously Voldemort's admonition to take special care with the snake. He didn't let Harry's cage out of his sight for the rest of the day and placed it in close reach on the bedside table that night. This resulted in some coolness towards him on the part of his wife Narcissa, who felt that the presence of such a drab and unprepossessing creature subtracted markedly from the bedroom's decor. To her even greater displeasure, Mr Malfoy insisted on bringing Harry down to breakfast with him the next morning, keeping the cage on the table right beside his plate.

When Draco arrived in the breakfast room, he was wearing his Hogwarts robes. Pinned to his chest was a bright silver badge with the letter P on it. Harry gazed at the badge resentfully, but it was only to be expected that Malfoy would be made a Prefect -- he was Snape's favourite student amongst the Slytherins.

But thinking of Snape brought on too many other unhappy thoughts. To distract himself, Harry turned his attention to the Malfoys' sideboard, which was laden with more hot dishes than he had seen on the tables at most Hogwarts feasts: bacon, sausages, ham and smoked fish; eggs cooked five different ways; porridge and newly-baked rolls with marmalade, honey, cream, butter and seven kinds of jam; fried mushrooms and tomatoes and an enormous bowl of fruit, as well as a number of highly peculiar-looking foods Harry couldn't even put a name to.

Mrs Malfoy was shooting affronted looks at him between bites of what appeared to be a thick slice of clear jelly on toast. When Harry fluttered his tongue at her, attempting to identify the curious substance by scent, she pushed her breakfast away half-eaten, a revolted expression on her face.

Harry considered this something of a waste. The clear jelly had an enticing odour of prawns to it and was practically the only food on the table he could have brought himself to eat as a snake. To varying degrees the rest of the dishes smelled burnt, greasy, over-salted or rotten. It was weird for Harry to remember how good they had all tasted to him when he was human.

After breakfast, Draco and his parents went out the manor together. Parked near the massive oak front door was a dark red, silver-trimmed Aston Martin being driven by a man who looked a lot like Malfoy's friend Goyle. The resemblance was easy to spot, as Goyle himself sat in the front seat beside the driver. Malfoy's other friend Crabbe was sitting in the back.

Mrs Malfoy hugged and kissed her son and Mr Malfoy handed him Harry's cage. Draco climbed into the back seat with Crabbe and the car started off down the long and winding drive.

Crabbe and Goyle immediately leant over to get a better view of Harry. Malfoy told them impressively but vaguely that he had been entrusted with the snake as part of a special mission for the Dark Lord. He had hardly finished speaking when a low rumble went through the car. Seconds later, it pulled to a halt, much to Harry's surprise. They hadn't been driving for five minutes; surely Malfoy Manor couldn't be that close to King's Cross station? Had the car broken down?

But when the doors opened, they were inside platform nine and three-quarters. Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle scrambled out of the car and made their way towards the Hogwarts Express. Malfoy brought Harry's cage with him, but neither he nor his two cronies were carrying any other luggage. When they stepped into a compartment near the front of the train, however, three trunks were waiting for them in the luggage racks.

Harry thought gloomily of his own trunk, left behind at Mrs Figg's so many weeks ago. No doubt she'd given it to the Dursleys when they returned from Majorca. He didn't relish the prospect of trying to get it back from them, not after what Voldemort had done to the house and garden. A vision of Uncle Vernon's large, purple face, screwed up with wrath, floated before Harry's eyes. He shuddered.

Could an entire trunk be sent by owl post? Harry devoutly hoped that he wouldn't have to go back to Privet Drive and fetch his things personally. Even the ten months of the school year felt like far too short a time before having to face his aunt and uncle again. Maybe he could ask Dumbledore to let him stay at Hogwarts next summer holidays ...

When Malfoy and his friends had settled into their seats, the three of them began discussing how immensely improved Hogwarts would be once Voldemort took over. Or rather Malfoy began holding forth on the subject whilst Crabbe and Goyle listened, giving the occasional grunt or snigger in response.

'... at least we won't be having to put up with Dumbledore for much longer ... or that ugly great moron Hagrid, or famous Harry Potter. And once the Dark Lord's properly back in power, all the Mudbloods'll be thrown out, and Muggle-lovers like the Weasleys ...'

Malfoy's thin mouth curved into a malevolent smirk.

'Well, maybe we'll keep Granger around. We can use that bushy head of hers to scrub the toilets.'

Crabbe and Goyle chuckled stupidly. Harry tensed his coils in fury.

'Professor Snape will be able teach us the Dark Arts,' Malfoy went on. 'He knows some really good curses, but he says he won't show them to me until I'm older.'

A petulant note crept into Malfoy's voice.

'And Father's just as bad ... Once I've carried out the job the Dark Lord gave me, perhaps he'll stop treating me like a child ...'

With a small spluttering noise, Harry let out the breath he'd been holding. The task Voldemort wished Malfoy to perform was an impossible one, though neither of them realised it. Considering what Harry had seen of how Voldemort customarily treated failure on the part his supporters, Malfoy would be lucky if all the Dark Lord did to him was use his hair to clean toilets.

As for Snape, he wasn't going to be teaching anything at Hogwarts after Harry told Dumbledore what he'd done. At the memory of the Potions master's treachery, Harry's insides churned with anger once more. He had half a mind to let Malfoy go ahead and transform him into a poisonous snake, so he could bite Snape.

The conversation then turned to Slytherin's Quidditch prospects for the upcoming year. Malfoy seemed to take it as given that he'd be made captain now that Marcus Flint had left Hogwarts, and promised to install Crabbe and Goyle as Beaters. A little later Pansy Parkinson came into the compartment to simper at Malfoy and admire his prefect badge.

When the lunch trolley arrived, Malfoy bought huge quantities of sweets and pasties, nearly all of which were pigged by Crabbe and Goyle. After his fourth stack of cauldron cakes, Goyle left off stuffing himself long enough to try feeding Harry a Jelly Slug. Its smell was indescribably repulsive to Harry now that he was a snake -- he'd've rather eaten a real slug as a human being. Harry buried his face amongst his coils to block out the stench. Goyle shrugged and ate the Jelly Slug himself.

In the afternoon Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle went off to visit friends in other compartments. As soon as the vibrations of their footsteps faded away, Harry had a go at the door of his cage. It was a simple up-and-down sliding door, and no one had troubled to fasten it shut. By pressing his nose firmly against the horizontal bar at the bottom and raising his head, Harry was able to lift it sufficiently to wriggle underneath.

He could have got out of the cage at that point, but chose not to. If he, Harry, suddenly turned up on the Hogwarts Express, he'd have a lot of explaining to do, which he didn't really feel up to at present. If he reappeared in Malfoy's compartment at the same time that Malfoy's snake vanished, someone might put two and two together. Being a secret shape-shifter was the only thing that had saved Harry from Voldemort -- he wasn't eager to give that secret away.

If he waited until the other students were at the feast, then sneaked off and lay low until morning, it ought to put enough time between the snake's disappearance and Harry's arrival to confuse matters a bit. Thus Harry lay quietly in his cage as the Hogwarts Express continued on its journey north.

The door of the compartment had been left wide open, allowing him to eavesdrop on what people were saying in the corridor. The main topic of discussion was Harry himself. By now the whole train knew he wasn't aboard, and mad stories were flying around as to why.

News of what had happened to the Dursleys' house had spread like wildfire, although the damage was greatly exaggerated. Rumours ranged from number four being completely flattened to the entire street having been left a smoking ruin. The Dursleys themselves were universally presumed dead, and so, for some reason, was Rita Skeeter. Harry's fate was the subject of some debate: murdered, in hiding or on the run from Magical Law Enforcement, being himself responsible for the carnage.

Other suspects included Voldemort, Sirius Black, students from Durmstrang or Beauxbatons (to pay Harry back for winning the Triwizard Tournament), members of the Diggory family or Hufflepuff house (in revenge for Harry's supposed murder of Cedric) and, most disquietingly, Albus Dumbledore having faked the whole thing to convince the Ministry of Magic that Voldemort truly had returned.

Certainly Malfoy professed to believe the latter theory.

'Of course I don't think he's dead,' he was snapping at Crabbe as they re-entered the compartment. 'Father says Dumbledore's hidden him somewhere and is staying quiet about it to put the pressure on the Ministry. Just you wait, he'll be back at the Gryffindor table by the time the Sorting starts.'

Harry spent the rest of the trip in a very subdued frame of mind. When he was trapped in Voldemort's hideout, he hadn't given a second thought to what might be going on in the outside world -- he'd had too many other things to worry about. The snatches of talk he'd overheard had served as a nasty reminder of what he was escaping to: a school that suspected he was dangerous and disturbed and had killed Cedric Diggory, and a Ministry of Magic that refused to accept that Voldemort was back and was at odds with the one man who stood some chance of stopping him. Worse, it looked as though Harry's disappearance over the summer had only added fuel to the fire ...

Once the train arrived at Hogsmeade station and all the students disembarked, Harry wasted no time in squirming under the cage door. He glided down the carriage, peering into open compartments. If he could conceal himself in a Gryffindor's luggage, he'd be taken straight to Gryffindor Tower. Unfortunately, it hadn't occurred to any of his fellow Gryffindors to write their house name on their trunks.

Just as Harry was starting to panic, he heard familiar loud spitting sounds issuing forth from of one the doors he had just passed. Doubling back, he saw that the source of the noises was a small wickerwork basket lying on the floor. On top of a nearby seat was a cage with a maroon velvet cover that suspiciously resembled Ron's old dress robes. The instant Harry stuck his head into the compartment, Pigwidgeon added his mad twitters to Crookshanks' angry hissing.

'Crookshanks, Pig!' gasped Harry in relief. 'It's all right, it's me, Harry!'

The spitting from the basket grew even louder and it began to rock from side to side. Harry hastily changed back into himself, slid the compartment door shut, crouched down and unfastened the straps of the basket. Crookshanks emerged, purring as Harry patted him.

'Crookshanks, I need to hide,' Harry whispered urgently. 'I'll have to turn into a snake. Don't -- don't try and eat me or anything, OK?'

Crookshanks purred harder than ever. Harry transformed, ready to become human again at any moment should Crookshanks -- now the size of an elephant from his perspective -- attack. But Crookshanks didn't attack; instead he placed his front paws on the rim of the basket and tipped it onto its side. Standing away from basket's mouth, Crookshanks fixed his great yellow eyes unblinkingly on Harry.

Harry, realising what Crookshanks wanted, slithered inside. Crookshanks pulled the basket upright, leapt in and caught his claws on the lid, drawing it shut. He prodded Harry to the rear of the basket and curled himself up in the front, still purring softly.

It was dark inside the basket and naturally smelled quite strongly of cat, but Harry didn't mind -- soon he'd be safe in Gryffindor Tower. Outside, Pigwidgeon was finally beginning to calm down. Harry made a mental note to ask Ron to send him to fetch Hedwig first thing in the morning. She'd been off carrying a letter to The Burrow at the time Harry was captured by Voldemort, which had been of some comfort to Harry when he was languishing in the tank. Whilst the Dursleys' deep fear of magic had likely kept them from damaging his trunk, if Mrs Figg had turned Hedwig over to them they'd've probably had her stuffed and mounted.

Loud cracking noises and the shrill voices of house-elves suddenly filled the compartment. Tiny footsteps pattered over to the basket, then stopped. The basket jerked slightly and a sound like two firecrackers going off one after the other rent the air.

Harry heard several more distant cracks and felt a number of muffled thuds. After some time had passed since the last one, Crookshanks pushed open the lid of the basket and had a look around. Apparently seeing nothing amiss, he hopped out and pulled the basket over so Harry could crawl out.

Harry found himself inside a circular room which apart from small differences in the furnishings was indistinguishable from his own dormitory. He wormed his way beneath the red velvet hangings of the nearest four-poster and coiled up in the corner by the bedside table to wait for daybreak.

It was quite cold under the bed, but there wasn't anywhere else in the room for him to hide. Harry couldn't afford to be discovered inside the castle that night, either as a serpent or as himself. Malfoy had to believe that his snake -- Harry gave a huge yawn -- that his snake had disappeared off the Hogwarts Express into thin air. Then tomorrow ... when Harry showed up ... no one would ... no one would ...

Harry was jogged awake by the reverberation of many feet pounding the floor. There seemed to be an enormously large number of Death Eaters about. Odd, that -- Voldemort had never previously summoned more than one at a time to attend him in his study. Harry's tongue flickered weakly. The Death Eaters didn't smell as scared as they usually did, and, strangest of all, they were all women.

'Hermione?' said Lavender Brown.

'I'm all right, Lavender,' said Hermione.

She didn't sound all right to Harry.

'We don't know he's dead, you heard Dumbledore,' said Parvati Patil, in what was clearly meant to be a bracing tone. 'He may still turn up.'

That was rather decent of her, thought Harry muzzily. Given how Parvati and Lavender hero-worshipped Madam Trelawney, who was constantly predicting Harry's death, there was no way the pair of them could truly believe he hadn't been killed.

The vibrations in the floor died away as the fifth-year girls settled quickly down to sleep. Harry was dimly aware of Hermione opening and closing her trunk, walking around a bit, then climbing into bed. A short while after the lamps went out, Harry heard a muffled sobbing from directly above him.

He should say something to Hermione, he should let her know he was still alive. Harry struggled to uncoil himself, but it felt as though his body had turned to lead ...

He must have drifted off again, because the next thing he registered was a paw on the back of his neck and the smell of cat on his tongue.

'Crrrr --' Harry tried to say the cat's name, but his voice was as frozen as the rest of him.

Crookshanks sniffed at Harry, then lay down beside him, purring worriedly. Slowly, the heat from the cat's body began to thaw Harry out. Once he was able to move a little, Harry heaved himself on top of Crookshanks to bask. Luckily Crookshanks made no objection to this.

Crookshanks was as warm as Harry's rock and considerably softer, and within minutes Harry was feeling more awake and alert than he had done all day. Everyone else appeared to be sleeping, though; the room was silent and utterly still. If Harry tried to wake Hermione, he'd run a serious risk of having the whole dormitory find out he was there. He had no reason to disturb her rest, anyway. She'd be seeing him as soon as she --

It abruptly dawned on Harry that the absolute last place he wanted to make his reappearance at Hogwarts was in a girls' dormitory under Hermione's bed. He'd have to sneak over to the boy's side, once he was certain that everyone in Gryffindor Tower had gone to sleep.

Harry poked his head beneath the curtains and looked up at the alarm clock on Hermione's bedside table. It was nearly midnight -- better to hold off a couple of hours before making his move. Harry crawled back to drape his coils over Crookshanks once more. This time Crookshanks raised his head and gave Harry a grumpy look.

'Just for a bit longer,' said Harry in his lowest voice.

He was afraid he might freeze up again if he strayed too far from the cat's warmth. It was much colder at Hogwarts than it had been in his tank. Being cold-blooded, Harry had always grown sleepier and slower of evening, but never to the point of not being able to wake up properly.

When it was two o'clock, Harry slithered out from under the bed, muttering gratefully to Crookshanks as he left, 'Next time we have kippers for breakfast, you can have all of mine.'

He transformed himself, quietly opened the door and crept down the girls' staircase, across the dark common room, up the boys' staircase and into the fifth-year dormitory at the very top. Harry had intended to spend the night under Ron's bed as a snake, perhaps taking a shirt from Ron's trunk with him so he wouldn't have to lie on the icy stone floor. When he stepped into the room, however, he saw that his own four-poster was still in its place.

It had been weeks since Harry had slept in a proper bed. Surely no one would be checking in it until morning? Harry kicked off his trainers, crawled beneath the blankets, drew the hangings and was asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.

*

Harry was woken next morning by the thumpings and murmurings of his fellow fifth-years getting dressed. He sat up, yawned and, without really thinking about it, twitched back the hangings of his four-poster. At the foot of the bed beside Harry's, Ron Weasley was bending over his trunk.

'Ron!' said Harry happily.

Ron straightened up slowly, with an almost comical expression of absolute astonishment. He stood rooted to the spot, goggling at Harry. His face had gone totally white, freckles standing out in stark relief. He looked as though he was about to faint.

'Ron?' said Harry, now a bit concerned.

Ron abruptly found his voice.

'I DON'T BELIEVE IT!' he yelled. 'WE THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD! WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?'

'Ron, it was Voldemort, he came to my house,' said Harry. 'I --'

He broke off. Seamus, Dean and Neville had gathered in the centre of the circular dormitory to gape at him, Dean and Seamus with great interest, Neville seeming quite terrified. Harry couldn't tell Ron he'd transformed into a serpent while they were listening on.

'We thought you were dead,' Ron repeated, staring at Harry like a Muggle seeing a ghost.

'I'm sorry,' said Harry, as he climbed out of bed. 'I would've let you know if I could, but I was -- I didn't -- I had to stay hidden.'

'But where were you?' demanded Ron. 'The Ministry looked everywhere ... Dumbledore looked everywhere ...'

Harry stepped close to Ron and muttered, 'I'll tell you later in private, I can't explain in front of them.' In a more normal tone he said, 'We need to go and see Hermione, she was crying last night.'

Ron eyed Harry rather strangely, but accompanied him towards the door. As they approached Neville Longbottom, Harry noticed a shiny silver badge with a 'P' on it, pinned to his robes slightly askew.

'All right, Neville, you're a Prefect,' said Harry brightly.

Neville jumped and gave a tiny squeak.

'What's the new password, then?'

Neville gazed at Harry in utter bewilderment.

'It's "constant vigilance",' said Ron, 'Harry, how --?'

He fell silent as Harry cast him a warning look. They continued out the room and down the spiral staircase, Seamus, Dean and Neville trailing behind them. Boys from other years, having heard Ron's shouting, were sticking their heads out of their dormitories, mouths falling open in shock when they spotted Harry.

A wave of whispers preceded him and Ron into the common room, which was nearly deserted: most people were either still upstairs or had already gone to breakfast. All those present, however, turned to stare at Harry. With a small scream, Gryffindor Chaser Katie Bell leapt to her feet and shot out the portrait hole.

'Katie?' Harry called after her, but was then distracted by a shrill voice just above him.

'Harry, Harry, Harry!' cried Colin Creevey, wriggling his way past a pair of seventh-years, both of whom were twice his size. 'I knew you were still alive!'

He joined Harry and Ron at the foot of the stairs, hopping up and down with excitement.

'That -- that's good, Colin,' said Harry weakly.

Harry and Ron headed for the girls' staircase. Before they could set off up it, Hermione came flying down in her dressing gown to meet them, Ginny Weasley hard on her heels. Hermione threw herself on Harry's neck and dissolved into sobs.

'Oh, Harry, I thought you were dead!'

Harry patted Hermione awkwardly on the back. He could hear that Ginny had also started to cry, and Ron saying uncomfortably, 'Oh, buck up, Ginny, he's all right.'

Hermione finally lifted her head from Harry's shoulder.

'What happened to you?' she said. 'We were so worried ...'

'It was V--' Harry began, but before he was able to finish, Ron had wheeled around and clamped his hand over Harry's mouth.

'It was You-Know-Who!' said Ron furiously. 'Showed up at his house! And no wonder, eh? How many times --' he shook Harry for emphasis, '-- have I warned you, don't -- say -- his name?'

Harry tried to wrench himself free, with no success whatsoever. Ron had always been bigger than him, and had got even more so over the summer. The top of Harry's head was inches below Ron's shoulder. With Hermione directly in front of him, he didn't have the space to put up a proper struggle.

'How on earth did you get away?' said Hermione. 'And where have you been all this time?'

Ron removed his hand from Harry's mouth. Harry now rather wished he hadn't. He had a sinking feeling that he was going to be asked this quite a lot, and it was the one question he didn't dare answer. The entire common room, which had been quickly filling up since Harry's arrival, was regarding him with intense curiosity.

'I can't tell you, not with all these people about,' Harry said in a barely audible voice. 'After classes ... we can meet behind the mirror on the fourth floor ...'

Hermione nodded slowly, looking very serious.

'Is Hedwig OK?' said Harry to Ron. 'She did go back to The Burrow, didn't she, when she couldn't find me in Privet Drive?'

'Yeah, Dumbledore's got her,' said Ron. 'He wanted to use her to search for you, but it didn't work.'

'Harry!' came a squeal from the portrait hole. It was Angelina Johnson, the other Gryffindor Chaser. (The third Chaser, Alicia Spinnet, was to be gone for two terms on an exchange trip to Uzbekistan.) Angelina scrambled into the room and swooped down upon Harry. Before she could say anything (such as 'I thought you were dead' or 'Where have you been?'), Katie Bell clambered in behind her -- immediately followed by Professor McGonagall.

Professor McGonagall was completely out of breath. Strands of hair were escaping her bun and there was the most extraordinary expression of mingled outrage and relief on her face. Harry was suddenly very conscious of having turned up at Hogwarts with no robes, no books, no supplies and no homework, his Muggle clothing filthy and grass-stained from trying to crawl across the Dursleys' lawn so many weeks ago. Professor McGonagall leant against the wall, gasping for air, her eyes fixed on Harry. Then --

'HARRY POTTER, WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?' she shrieked.

Harry's heart plummeted. 'I -- I've been hiding. From -- from Vol--'

Once again, Ron seized hold of Harry and pressed a hand to his mouth.

'Professor, make him stop saying the name!' he hissed at Professor McGonagall.

Professor McGonagall took several more deep breaths, then said, 'Weasley, let him go. Potter, come with me, we must speak with the Headmaster.'

She spun on her heel.

'Er -- Professor?' said Harry. 'My shoes are up in the dormitory ...'

Professor McGonagall pulled out her wand, conjured Harry's trainers directly onto his feet and vanished through the portrait hole without another word. Harry, with one last look back at Ron and Hermione, went after her. They proceeded down the corridor, Professor McGonagall striding along so rapidly that she barely managed to avoid ploughing into Fred and George Weasley as they jogged up.

'Harry!' the twins shouted in delight.

'Where have you been?' demanded Fred. 'Mum's been worried sick!'

'We didn't know if you were dead or alive!' said George indignantly. 'Why didn't you contact us?'

'I --' said Harry.

'Back to the common room, you two,' Professor McGonagall said sternly. 'Harry can talk to you once he's seen the Headmaster. Harry, come along.'

She and Harry continued on their way to Dumbledore's office. They passed other students in the corridors, all of whom stopped to gawp at Harry, but -- warned off by Professor McGonagall's fierce glower -- didn't attempt to speak with him.

Harry's apprehension rose another notch with each step he took. There was nothing else for it: he'd have to admit to Dumbledore that he could turn into a snake. Would Dumbledore believe that Harry hadn't set out to become an illegal Animagus? Particularly as Harry's father had done exactly that ... More importantly, would Dumbledore believe Harry about Snape? Harry didn't think he could bear sitting in Potions lessons week after week, knowing that Snape was responsible for his parents' murders ...

Harry and Professor McGonagall reached the stone gargoyle, which sprang nimbly aside when McGonagall barked out the password ('Canary Creams!'). She led Harry up the moving stairs and through the oak door at the top. Dumbledore was at his desk.

'Minerva,' he said, beaming, 'you've found him.'

Dumbledore's eyes had lit up when he caught sight of Harry, but he still looked older and more tired than Harry had ever seen him. His face was thinner and more deeply lined; even his silvery hair seemed noticeably less bright. Harry was shocked by the changes in his appearance. Had Dumbledore been that upset by Harry's having gone missing? No wonder Professor McGonagall was so angry with him. Or -- had something else happened? Harry never had worked out what Voldemort and the Death Eaters had been up to that summer ...

'Katie Bell found him,' said Professor McGonagall grimly. 'She came tearing into the Great Hall in the middle of breakfast, screaming at the top of her lungs to Miss Johnson that Harry Potter was in the common room.'

Professor McGonagall gave Harry a sharp sideways glance.

'He says he was hiding from -- from You-Know-Who. It'll be all over the school by the time classes start, or some mad story will be.' Professor McGonagall was sounding more agitated with every word. 'Dumbledore, there's no way the Minister will believe you had nothing to do with this now!'

Dumbledore sighed. 'You'll have to try and control the rumours as best you can. An official announcement should be made as soon as possible. Most of the students will not yet have finished breakfast ...'

Professor McGonagall nodded and left. Harry looked after her in deep dismay. In spite of all the talk on the Hogwarts Express, he had never seriously thought that the Ministry of Magic might actually blame Dumbledore for his disappearance.

'Harry, sit down,' said Dumbledore in a concerned tone. 'What happened to you?'

Harry seated himself nervously in one of the chairs in front of Dumbledore's desk.

'Voldemort -- he was at the Dursleys' house. I'm sorry, I -- I couldn't get away from him any sooner ...'

Harry trailed off. He could only too well imagine how Cornelius Fudge was going to react to his story. If Fudge had mistrusted Harry simply because he could talk to snakes, how much more suspicious would he become when he learnt Harry could change into one? Never mind being thrown out of Hogwarts, Harry'd be lucky not to be packed off to Azkaban. Yet keeping quiet wasn't an option. He couldn't let Fudge go on thinking that Dumbledore --

'What did he do to you?' said Dumbledore, cold fury in his voice.

Harry blinked. It took him a second to realise that Dumbledore was talking about Voldemort.

'Nothing, he didn't know it was me,' Harry said. He drew a steadying breath. 'D'you remember last year, when Malfoy turned me into a snake?'

'And you found that from then on you were able to transform yourself at will?' said Dumbledore. 'Yes, Miss Granger told me. Is that how you hid from Voldemort?'

Harry nodded.

'But why did you not return to Mrs Figg's once Voldemort was gone?'

'Because Voldemort had taken me with him,' said Harry. 'He thought I was a real snake. I couldn't escape, Voldemort was always around -- well, nearly always, and whenever he went off, Nagini'd come and watch me. It was only after he gave me to Mr Malfoy --'

Harry abruptly remembered what he'd overheard in Voldemort's study.

'Voldemort said he killed my father because he was the heir of Gryffindor! Only he wasn't, but Wormtail told Voldemort that he was -- Wormtail and Snape!' Harry positively spat the Potions master's name.

A grave expression passed over Dumbledore's face. 'Yes,' he said sombrely, 'Professor Snape told Voldemort that your father was heir of Gryffindor. But he did so at your father's insistence, and very much against his own wishes in the matter.'

'He -- my father -- what?' said Harry.

'Your father had helped me perform a certain spell,' Dumbledore went on. 'Voldemort received a somewhat distorted account of this -- from Wormtail I now realise -- and came to believe that it meant James was the heir of Gryffindor. He confronted Professor Snape, who had also assisted in the casting, with his knowledge. Professor Snape did his best to put Voldemort off and then came straight to me. He wanted to inform Voldemort of the true nature of the spell. As it hadn't worked properly, this would not have hurt our side, and Professor Snape thought it would serve to convince the Dark Lord of his full loyalty, as well as raise doubts about the source of Voldemort's information.

'Your father, however, was afraid that Voldemort might be -- growing impatient. The Dark Lord had been searching for the heir of Gryffindor for some time; a number of witches and wizards had been murdered on mere suspicion. James feared that if Voldemort didn't uncover a definite heir soon, he'd begin mass killings of all remotely likely candidates -- relatives of his previous victims, members of old Gryffindor families, ultimately anyone who had ever been sorted into the house. If Voldemort could be persuaded that James was the heir, it might prevent a great many other deaths.'

'So he let Voldemort kill him instead,' whispered Harry.

'It should never have come to that,' said Dumbledore heavily. 'Harry ...' he said in a more gentle tone, 'if you're thinking that your father put himself and his family unnecessarily into danger, let me assure you that that was not the case. Even had Voldemort been told the truth, he still would have suspected James, and he had other reasons for wanting him dead. Identifying James as heir of Gryffindor just made his murder a much higher priority. Your father acted as he did to save innocent lives ... and the Fidelis Charm had never been known to fail ...'

Harry's eyes were wet with tears. He dried them on his sleeve and -- mainly to have something to say whilst he composed himself -- asked, 'Did you ever find out who the real heir of Gryffindor was?'

'I have not found the real heir of Gryffindor,' said Dumbledore, 'because there is no real heir of Gryffindor for me to find. As Headmaster of Hogwarts, I have greater access to the records of Godric Gryffindor than any living wizard, and he made no provision for a specific heir. Indeed, he was rather violently opposed to the very concept. I'm not sure why Voldemort thought Gryffindor had an heir. Perhaps it was simply that as Slytherin had one, he assumed Gryffindor must too.'

Dumbledore gazed past Harry, an odd look on his face.

'Ironically enough, Voldemort was on the right track when he was killing the wrong people. Yet he could have wiped out the whole of Gryffindor house and it would not have been enough. The legacy of Gryffindor can be claimed by any person of courage: your father, yourself --' a small smile played around Dumbledore's lips, '-- even Professor Snape.'