Harry Potter and the Triangle Prophecy

Harry Potter and the Triangle Prophecy

Chapter Twenty-One

Chamber

...the idea of a room dedicated exclusively to bathing would have puzzled seventeenth-century
Parisians. Not because space was insufficient in these large homes, but because the idea
of associating any specilized functions with individual rooms had not yet occurred to
them. There were no dining rooms, for instance. Tables were demountable, and
people ate in different parts of the house--in the salle, in the antichambre
or in the chambre--depending on their mood, or on the number of
guests. The chambre, which contained a bed (but only one),
continued to be the place where people met socially.

--Witold Rybczynski, Home: A Short History of an Idea

Dumbledore looked up at them from his bed. Harry drew in his breath; the blue eyes were flat, without a twinkle to be seen, and he wasn't wearing his half-moon spectacles. Harry wondered why for only a second; one look at Aberforth's face and he had found the familiar eyeglasses. Evidently Dumbledore didn't have an extra pair. His skin looked sallow and loose, as though he'd lost weight, and his wrinkles seemed more pronounced, as a result. His long hair and beard were like old twine that had been thrown in a dustbin and each breath was a painful rasp that echoed around the chamber and made Harry's stomach clench. He swallowed, wondering what they would all do if they lost Dumbledore, then shook himself and tried not to think about that. Which just meant that it kept creeping into his mind.

"What do you think you are doing?" McGonagall demanded, when she had recovered from her shock and found her voice.

Harry looked at her levelly. "I saw Winky this morning."

That's all he had to say; McGonagall drew her lips into a line and glared, not at Harry, but at Aberforth. The glaring made sense to him now; when he'd previously seen her and Snape looking askance at Dumbledore, he'd found it rather odd. Harry remembered that Professor McGonagall, along with other teachers, had been rather unwelcoming to Aberforth when he'd come to the castle to teach Charms in Professor Flitwick's place.

"Harry! Hermione!" Dumbledore rasped, a smile creasing his worn features. "Ah, and we get some Weasleys into the bargain. How nice! Come in, come in. I have been feeling under the weather, as you have surmised, but despite my dreadful appearance, I am on the mend. I've quite missed seeing students. You keep me feeling young, you know. Not that your company is anything to sneeze at, Minerva, and you too, Aberforth--"

Professor McGonagall appeared to be having a difficult time not exploding. "Albus, I must protest!" she said, her voice shaking. "No one is to know--"

"--but clearly they do know, Minerva," he answered quietly but firmly. "Cat's out of the bag, it seems," he added with a small smile, making Professor McGonagall purse her lips in annoyance at the joking reference to her Animagus form.

Aberforth nodded at Ron. "I told Albus that you knew right away. I could tell from the look on your face. But why is Harry just finding out? Why didn't you tell him?"

Ron looked embarrassed. "I was going to. I just happened to tell Hermione first, and she told me--told me that she and Harry had been in the headmaster's office and heard Professor McGonagall and Professor Dumbledore talking while he was sick in bed--"

"Well!" McGonagall countered indignantly. "Is there no such thing anymore as a Head Boy and Girl who know the meaning of propriety?"

"Minerva," Dumbledore said slowly, "clearly there is. Harry and Hermione did not tell anyone about that, except for Hermione telling Ron after he'd detected Aberforth."

Aberforth turned to Harry. "Albus was absent from the Great Hall so much that he finally convinced Minerva to contact me and ask for a small favor. I was only needed to impersonate him at meals and in the corridors. The staff have all known about me, of course. With only two exceptions, they don't know why Albus has been indisposed. The speculations have ranged from his being dead to his having infiltrated the Death Eaters from within. In some ways, both are somewhat close to the truth," he said somberly (especially for Aberforth), looking at his brother's pale, drawn face. "At any rate, that meant I didn't need to do any performing at staff meetings, which Minerva very ably presided over. We didn't want the students to panic about their headmaster being incapacitated. And we also didn't word to get to Voldemort, although he obviously was aware of what Albus was doing once he began in earnest."

Dumbledore looked at Professor McGonagall now. "Speaking of not panicking the students, Minerva," he said, his voice only shaking a little now, "you'd best be moving along. Soon the early-risers will be in the Great Hall for their breakfasts. I am feeling well enough to entertain some visitors. It will make for a refreshing change, and I know I can trust to their discretion," he added, giving each of the four of them a meaningful look.

Professor McGonagall's mouth twisted unpleasantly as she looked at Aberforth; she did not argue, however. "Of course, Albus." She nodded at Harry and the others and said, "Good morning," to them, ice in her voice.

After she'd gone, Dumbledore suddenly looked quite tired from the strain of the speaking he'd done so far, as though he'd put on a good show for McGonagall's sake. He closed his eyes, licking dry, cracked lips and letting out a raspy breath again. It didn't seem to Harry that he was getting stronger. Aberforth, looking so like the headmaster (in better days), took a small metal bowl with a damp cloth and began gently to bathe his older brother's brow. Dumbledore waved him away with a feeble gesture; Aberforth didn't fight him. Dumbledore looked so different from when he first met him, when he was eleven. Harry leaned forward, whispering, "What have you been doing?"

"Inconveniencing Voldemort. Best word for it. For a time, it seemed to be working. However, when we received the news from Sweden about the reservation, I decided that it wasn't enough, and I stopped. The strain was incredible, day after day, all my waking hours...."

"What? Harry breathed, still mystified.

The old man looked listlessly at him for a moment; with his left hand he tapped the skin covering the artery that ran down behind his ear and thence his neck. "Right here," he rasped, "is where I gave a scar to Tom Riddle when he was eighteen. Accident. But it's there, and I did it, and it links us." He stopped abruptly. Harry nodded, waiting for further explanation. Dumbledore had given Riddle a scar. He pointed to Harry's forehead. "Minerva wanted me to repair your scar, when we left you in Surrey. I told her that scars can have their uses, and I've been right, haven't I? Apart from any pain you've felt, of course--"

"I've been able to see him, see what he's up to, or where," Harry agreed. "You're right; that sometimes has been convenient," he said quietly.

"Wait--" Hermione cut in. "What happened when Riddle was eighteen? How did you accidentally scar him? Was it at school, during a dueling demonstration or something?"

Dumbledore's blue eyes lit on Harry. "Harry knows."

Harry frowned, dumbfounded. "I do?"

Dumbledore nodded. "You told me once that you read my chocolate frog card your first time on the Hogwarts Express, and later recalled Nicolas Flamel's name from that...."

Harry thought and thought. "Well, it said you like bowling and chamber music, and had discovered the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and the part about Flamel and alchemy...oh, and that you'd defeated the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945...." He stopped and looked at his headmaster, starting to understand.

The old man looked levelly at him and nodded. "Tom Riddle was a follower of his, briefly, after he finished school. He was there when I defeated Grindelwald. I had gone to the Black Forest with my brother and the MacDermids. Unfortunately, Aberforth and I returned without the MacDermids..."

"Snape's grandparents," Harry whispered. Aberforth was the one nodding now.

"Stuart MacDermid was a good man," Aberforth said, "and Simone was a fine woman. Outstanding Aurors and human beings. Should have been able to see their kids grow up."

Harry was shocked. Ginny whispered, "Stuart? Simone?" and then looked meaningfully at Harry. His twin brothers had been named after Snape's grandparents! If he'd been told this in his other life, he'd forgotten. He didn't think he'd been told.

"Right," Aberforth explained. "Simone Prud'homme had gone to Beauxbatons. Her family came here fleeing the chaos on the continent caused by Grindelwald, after she finished school."

"But--" Ron couldn't contain himself; "how did you defeat Grindelwald? How'd you kill him? That's why Voldemort fears you, I'll bet. He saw you kill another Dark Lord. "

Dumbledore looked at Ron kindly, but with a touch of pity in his eyes as well. "I didn't."

Harry frowned, confused. "You didn't? But the card says you did. Not to mention every book Hermione owns."

"No, Harry," Hermione said quickly, her eyes alight with an epiphany. "It says he defeated Grindelwald. Not killed--defeated. It's different, isn't it, Professor?"

Dumbledore smiled at her, looking more like his old self. "Ten points for Gryffindor, Miss Granger," he said weakly. She colored. "It is indeed different. You could say I--sent him away. To a place where magic does not work, a place of both despair and hope." He paused, then looked at each of them one at a time. "I sent him into limbo."

The four of them frowned in confusion. Aberforth did not look surprised. Finally, Ron dared to say, "Into what?"

Harry was worried; Dumbledore looked very weak; his brother handed him a glass of water, helping him sit up straighter so the glass could be tilted enough to let him sip. "Limbo," Aberforth said, while helping him. "Where some souls wait after death."

"Wait for what?" Ron said, frowning.

Hermione was looking rather impatient, her hands on her hips. "Speaking of waiting--wait a minute. You're telling me that heaven, hell and limbo are real places? They exist in a solid way, so that if you just had the proper directions, you could take a trip there?"

Ron guffawed. "Well, that puts a new spin on the expression, 'The road to hell...'"

Aberforth looked at them all quite calmly. "For some people it is very real. For others it is not. It's as real as you think it is." The four of them exchanged confused looks again.

"I'm not sure I fully understand it myself," Dumbledore said slowly. "In addition to Limbo, Valhalla exists, and Mount Olympus, and other worlds beyond this one populated by gods and demons with whom humans have had business over the millenia that we have been sentient, from the time when human-like beings first expected there to be something else after death. Which not everyone expects today, but a large number of people do. And that has only been for roughly ten to thirty thousand years or so, depending upon which archeologists and paleontologists you believe. A hobby that did not get onto my chocolate frog card is that I love to read about the latest archeological news. Fascinating. I found quite a lot of useful information for Nicolas that way, when we were doing our research, translating ancient runes found by archeologists who didn't know what to make of them. Oh, how I itched to tell them what those runes said! I dared not, of course." He sighed. "Nonetheless, I still harbor my little fantasy of presenting a paper to the Royal Archeology Society.....In my youth, I went on not a few digs myself...."

He paused to cough, then took another sip of water before continuing. "You see," Dumbledore rasped, "the human consciousness does not cease with death. That is why I have always thought of death as the next 'great adventure.' You should also know, if you do not already, that every human being has the capacity to do magic--witches and wizards more so than Muggles, obviously, but in large numbers, Muggles can pool their power and do amazing things, for good or evil. The collective human imagination has thus created a plethora of worlds beyond this one where our minds can go after death.

"Normally one can only go to those worlds after dying, and by holding a true belief in them. And much as we think we control this, we do not truly have a say over what we believe and what we don't believe. A small child may tell himself that he doesn't believe there are monsters under his bed or in the wardrobe, but when he becomes old enough to sleep without a nightlight, those beliefs may creep back into his brain against his will. And it is not just small children who find themselves believing things that their so-called 'rational' minds say they should not. Belief is a very tricky thing that way. You can neither force yourself to believe nor disbelieve something. It is like falling in love--you cannot force yourself to love someone else, nor to cease loving. Now, having solid, hard evidence of something is an entirely different matter--that is knowledge, and quite a different animal from belief. Once we have knowledge of something, such as, oh, the world being round, we cease being able to speak about whether we believe the earth is round or flat. It becomes a matter of empirical evidence, not belief." He looked shrewdly at Harry, his eyes looking more focused, and Harry remembered Dumbledore telling him that he was highly suggestible and therein lay much of his power, his magical ability. It was his capacity to believe. Harry hung on the headmaster's every word.

"There are also some spells that have been created--largely by shamans who have undergone journeys to the realm of the dead--that invoke specific realms. Which is to say, there is a spell that can invoke Valhalla and allow a wizard to visit the Norse gods. Another spell allows one to invoke Mt. Olympus and visit Zeus himself, if you dare. It is not necessarily safe to invoke these worlds and confront these deities, and it is not a prerequisite to believe in their existence if you cast the spell. It is not necessary, for instance, to subscribe to a belief in limbo to invoke it." He stopped and began coughing violently; his voice had been dwindling as he was speaking, and Harry went down on his knees by his bedside now, his heart in his throat, his mind saying one thing over and over: Please don't leave us, please don't leave us...

Ginny put her hand on Harry's shoulder and he put his hand over hers. When Dumbledore's cough had subsided again, Ginny said, "Do you know why Tom decided to follow Grindelwald?" Her voice seemed very small in the quiet room, and Harry remembered her talking about Riddle, including telling him about going into the diary. He'd done that too, but he hadn't written in the diary for months and months, letting Riddle into his head. Even in his other life, Draco had largely carried that burden, leaving Harry to merely dabble at the diary writing. He remembered that in the Chamber, Tom had spoken of having to listen to Ginny ramble on about him, the Great Harry Potter. He'd been bored by listening to Ginny's 'silly little troubles.' He'd pretended to be sympathetic, understanding. That was clearly before she was so thoroughly in his thrall that he didn't worry anymore about offending her or scaring her. Of all of them, he thought, Tom Riddle as a young man was probably most real to Ginny and Dumbledore, even though Harry had encountered Riddle briefly in the Chamber and in the trees at Godric's Hollow.

"Grindelwald was virulently anti-Muggle. Tom responded to that message more than most here at Hogwarts, though he was hardly the only one," Dumbledore said, looking at Ginny. Then Harry realized that Dumbledore and Ginny were also the only people he knew who habitually called him plain old 'Tom.' "Soon after he finished his seventh year, Tom disappeared. The Muggle war was winding down; before the end of the term, we'd had VE-Day. The camps in Germany and Poland, among other places, were being liberated by Allied Forces. The history books have it wrong--I didn't confront him before the end of the war, but just after VJ-Day...."

"VE-Day? VJ-Day? What?" Ron said, frowning.

Aberforth smiled at him. "Victory over Europe and Victory over Japan. Middle of August. A little over a week had passed since the bombs were dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Terrible, just terrible. And yet--the atrocities to which those bombs were responding...." He sighed. "Grindelwald gloated over that, you know. Thought it was wonderful, he did. The bombings. He thought maybe the Muggles would all kill each other off. Grindelwald still held onto his power, even though he'd taken great pleasure in fomenting discord during the war, and it was technically over," Aberforth said grimly. "He took advantage of the chaos, people pointing fingers at each other as Allied troops rolled across Germany and France and Poland, among other places. Accusations of being spies and resistance fighters turned around and became accusations of collaboration."

"But you obviously didn't care about that when you decided to go fight him, Professor!" Hermione said, tears in her voice as she gazed proudly at Dumbledore. He shook his head slowly.

"I never 'decided to go fight Grindelwald,'" Dumbledore said gently. "I wasn't planning to go to Germany at all, let alone fight Grindelwald. Yes, he had been attacking wizarding Britain in much the same way the Germans had been attacking Muggle Britain...."

"They had their Blitz, we had our Battle of Diagon Alley," Aberforth said, his mouth drawn very thin. "We also sent the children up north, as Muggles had sent their children away from London and the focus of the bombings."

His brother nodded. "But I was merely a teacher at Hogwarts, not an Auror, not a dark wizard catcher. That was Aberforth's job."

They looked at Aberforth, dumbstruck. Finally, Ron said, "You were an Auror?"

Aberforth chuckled. "Hard to believe, isn't it? Yes, in those days I was an Auror. It's not too hard to believe, is it? I was a sprightly ninety years old, after all. Still had hair your color," he said, nodding at Ron. Ron smiled back at him, looking a little abashed.

"I only meant--"

"--that you thought the great Albus Dumbledore was the dark wizard catcher. Well, he definitely became more famous. If there's something you should have learned from that chocolate frog card, it's that Albus likes a quiet life. Bowling. Chamber music. He spent years researching alchemy with Nicolas. I can't stand things like that. I like being outdoors, really doing things. I like action. Well, I liked it more at that age. I'm feeling a bit more settled now. But I still prefer the outdoors to being cooped-up inside."

Dumbledore looked at them all one by one. "I did not go to Germany to fight Grindelwald. I went to save a young man from himself." He motioned to Aberforth; the glass of water was produced again; after a good long drink, he continued. "I was worried about Tom for seven years. I feared what he might do if he found out about his heritage, how he might respond. He'd already learned of his mother's family. I knew this because he opened the Chamber of Secrets in his fifth year, and the legend about the Chamber said that only Slytherin's heir could accomplish this. The Marvolo family constantly reminded everyone that they were descended from Slytherin, and Cathy Marvolo was no different. She was also a Parseltongue, as her son eventually would be. I had taught her myself, thirty years earlier.

"But there was no way to prove that he'd opened the Chamber; the evidence he presented before the board of governors and Professor Dippet, our headmaster, made it seem very plausible that Hagrid's pet had killed the girl, and Hagrid was the least sympathetic person you could imagine when he appeared before the board," Dumbledore continued. "Even at thirteen he was already quite--substantial. Not to mention nervous. His nerves were misinterpreted as a guilty conscience. I did not believe he was guilty for a minute, but I also had no evidence to the contrary that could be presented, only a very strong suspicion about Tom Riddle. I even tried something very dangerous and, well frankly, illegal, to get some evidence of what Tom had done, but it didn't work...."

Harry's brain lit up with the answer. "That's when you used the Time-Turner to go back two hours! You said it was all for nought!"

Dumbledore frowned. "What? When did I tell you--" he rasped. Then he raised his eyebrows and gazed shrewdly at him. "Ah, yes. I think I can guess how you know that--" He gave Harry a small wink, then sighed. "All I could do for Hagrid was arrange for him to be apprenticed to Ogg, the old gamekeeper, so that he could take over when Ogg was ready to retire. It wasn't easy to convince Dippet to let Hagrid remain within a stone's throw of Hogwarts, even though his wand was broken upon his expulsion, but since Hagrid was essentially an orphan--missing mother and dead father--he finally agreed. He was considered to be my responsibility. Not once have I regretted that in over fifty years.

"But it was not his heritage as the last heir of Slytherin that I feared Tom would learn; I feared his reaction to learning of his Muggle heritage. When a student is Muggle-born and receives a Hogwarts letter, we don't just let them figure out what to do. You know that, Hermione. We send a school representative to speak to the family. However, we had no way of knowing that Tom hadn't grown up with his mother, a witch who would have told Tom that he was a wizard. Just as we did not know the extent to which your aunt and uncle hid your heritage from you, Harry. So, when we did not receive an owl from Tom or his mother, I was sent to visit him, just as we sent Hagrid to you."

"Is that why I kept receiving so many letters?" Harry asked, frowning.

"The letters are another story; they are charmed so that they will continue to come until you open and read one, beginning to end, including the list of supplies. They will come to you wherever you are, addressed appropriately, of course."

Harry nodded. "Uncle Vernon thought someone was watching the house because the address kept changing." Dumbledore gave a small chuckle at that. "I did manage to open one, but I didn't read the whole thing. He snatched it away."

"Yes, we were starting to think that there was a problem. Arabella said that the village had become quite overrun with owls. The milkman was rather perplexed about 'that crazy old Dursley,' as he'd had to deliver your milk and eggs through a bathroom window, if I recall correctly. Is that right? She asked that it be taken care of before anything was written up in the papers, especially as there might be some mention of your home, Harry."

"Why couldn't she have given me my letter and explained about Hogwarts? She certainly knew how my aunt and uncle felt about magic."

"You weren't to know that she was a witch, and neither were your aunt and uncle. And she certainly did not know how they felt about magic. As far as she could tell, they were just very discreet about your being a wizard. They thought she was a Muggle. They weren't going to discuss this with her, were they?" Harry nodded. "So. Back to Tom. I fetched him from the orphanage myself, explaining to him that he was a wizard and that his mother had been a witch. I told the director of the orphanage that Tom's mother had left him a legacy--a scholarship to her old school. We didn't discuss Tom's father.

"Later, I became aware that he was spending long hours in the school library researching the Hogwarts founders, especially Slytherin. I heard him say that Muggle-born students were unworthy to attend Hogwarts. He seemed to be parroting what he'd read in books about Slytherin--at first. As he grew older, his diatribes became more original. I feared his learning about his father more than ever, the Muggle who had repudiated his mother, leaving Tom to grow up in an orphanage. What I didn't know was that Tom knew about his father even before he opened the chamber. He had evidently done research elsewhere, in the Muggle world."

"When Albus learned, quite by chance, that a family of Muggles named Riddle had been mysteriously murdered, and that they were in the pink of health, with no marks on them anywhere, he knew what Tom had done," Aberforth said quietly. "He didn't want to believe it, but all of the evidence pointed in that direction--if you knew where to look, as the Muggle authorities did not, of course."

"I also knew that he had to be brought to justice," Dumbledore said. "But not a cruel, impersonal justice; a justice tempered by a knowledge of what he had endured as an abandoned child, a son bearing the name of a father who did not want him. I felt Tom needed someone to come to him who knew him when he was a frightened eleven-year-old boy who had just learned that he was a wizard and who had been plucked out of a Muggle orphanage and brought to a world whose existence he had never even suspected."

He stopped for more water. Harry thought his cheeks started to show some spots of color, as though he were being nourished by telling the story. Harry didn't take his eyes off him. Ginny now knelt beside Harry, her head resting on his shoulder, and Hermione and Ron stood side by side at the foot of the bed, where McGonagall had been.

"So, I told Aberforth that I was convinced Tom had killed his father and grandparents--"

"--and I knew that I wouldn't be able to take him in peacefully without having Albus with me. I needed there to be someone he knew, someone he would listen to--hopefully. The first step was to find him, so Albus did a very simple thing: he wrote to him."

Dumbledore nodded. "I used a tracking spell of my own devising to follow Aberforth's owl to the Black Forest. We took two other Aurors--the MacDermids. When we first arrived, Stuart, Simone and Aberforth hid. Tom was a bit shocked to see me, but I convinced him to spend a few minutes listening to me." The headmaster heaved a great sigh. "He pretended to, that was all. I knew it wasn't going well. I wasn't reaching him. Finally, he said that he didn't need to listen to me because I was Muggle-born. Evidently, he'd researched every teacher at Hogwarts."

Ron gasped. "You're Muggle-born?"

Hermione separated from him, her face a dark scowl. "Ron! I'm surprised at you!" She turned to Dumbledore. "But--I'm surprised about you, too, Professor," she said, her voice shaking. "I think I just assumed that you came from an old magical family."

"So," Harry mused, "the one wizard Voldemort most fears is Muggle-born. And I knew you were Riddle's Transfiguration teacher, but it didn't occur to me that that made it unlikely that you were an Auror. I should have realized you'd usually be at Hogwarts. And I didn't know you were Muggle-born...."

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, I am. I received my Hogwarts when my brother was only a year old, so unfortunately, I wasn't able to see him grow up. I was out of school myself when he received his letter. I didn't even know he was a wizard until after he'd gone to school. I no longer lived in Britain; even long-distance owls need some time to cover six-thousand miles....

"At any rate, I tried to reason with Tom. I told him that I understood that he was upset about his father abandoning his mother for being a witch. I assumed, of course, that he had just found out. I did not know that he'd harbored this resentment for years. I also told him that when a wizard uses magic to kill willingly, something changes in him; he would never be happy until he came back home with me, to pay his debt to society....He argued, that even if that were to make him happy, the dementors in Azkaban would suck the happiness out of him. I couldn't argue with that, of course.

"He did not wish to talk any longer but said that his Master would be meeting him there soon; if I were still there, Grindelwald might think him a traitor, that it was a trap. Tom aimed his wand at me; I dodged the curse. I attempted to stun him, but he disappeared, Apparating to a point about ten yards behind me. Unfortunately, this allowed him to discover Aberforth and the MacDermids in their hiding places. He let out such a cry of betrayal--he said he knew I didn't want to just talk, that it was a trap--for him.

"They dueled with him; he dodged their curses expertly. A part of me felt rather proud of him, in a way; he was executing some impressive Transfiguration of the rocks and trees around them. I could see that it would be no easy feat, even with three Aurors, to capture the brightest student that Hogwarts had ever seen, and someone who had been learning dark magic at the knee of Grindelwald, even for a short time.

"The three of them kept on. He continued to hold them off. I tried to sever a tree limb near Tom, to distract him, but a spell from one of the MacDermids' wands hit my spell in mid-air and it ricocheted, hitting Tom on the neck, scarring him...."

Dumbledore stopped, looking into space, as though seeing the young Tom Riddle, holding off three Aurors and his old teacher single-handedly. "He sank to his knees suddenly, holding his neck, and asked us to stop. He said he was turning himself in, he couldn't go on fighting. We believed him. I was somewhat disappointed; I had hoped Tom would turn himself willingly, rather than being coerced. He wanted to know what would happen to him. Albus explained some of it, but somehow it felt odd to me, like he was stalling, waiting, and I remembered that he'd said that Grindelwald was expected presently...."

Aberforth ran his hand over his face. "I should have turned in my Auror license then and there. I should have realized what we would be up against once Grindelwald arrived...."

"To say that Grindelwald was not happy was putting it lightly," Dumbledore said, his mouth twisting. "Now, at first, when he appeared, his back was to us. He could see only Tom, and he started speaking to him in German. I could understand, as I have an affinity for languages. Rather useful for research. It was something like, 'I hope you haven't botched things up again.' That was the gist. Tom had also been rather good at languages in school. Well, he'd been good at everything. That's why he'd been Head Boy." Harry swallowed and his fingers itched to tear off his Head Boy badge.

"Tom took Grindelwald's verbal abuse, surprising me, but then he said, 'My Lord--' In German. 'Mein Herr.' He nodded at me. I had my chance to flee, but I did not. I stood my ground; Grindelwald turned to find me, Aberforth and the MacDermids. To this day, I don't know why none of us attacked him when his back was turned." Suddenly, he set his jaw, a steely look in his eye that made him truly seem like the old Dumbledore; not the joking, cheerful Dumbledore, but the formidable wizard who had stormed the Defense Against the Dark Arts office with Snape and McGonagall after the Triwizard Tournament.

"No. I do know. I think it was a combination of feeling that it was inherently wrong to attack from behind--not sporting, or good form, or whatever you like; and--well, he was quite impressive. When he arrived and started to speak, he was--mesmerizing, even though we couldn't see his face. Dark wizards don't acquire followers for no reason. They must have a certain chemistry, a charisma. Grindelwald had it. Tom wanted it."

Aberforth nodded, looking sadder than Harry had ever seen him. "How I wished afterward that I had just stunned them both..."

His brother patted his hand. "Now, Aberforth. Water under the bridge." He sat up a little straighter. "He seemed glad to see us for a moment. I think he thought we were new supporters. But Tom told him we were Aurors. I reckon he didn't think it worthwhile to split hairs and identify me as his old Transfiguration teacher. Grindelwald was angry with him, assuming that he'd brought us there, that he was guilty of treachery. Tom denied it. He was rather obsequious and told Grindelwald that he had pretended to surrender, which we'd stupidly believed. I doubt that he knew I understood every word."

Dumbledore snorted a little, but it turned into a cough. He leaned forward slightly and his brother patted his back gently. When he was leaning against the pillows again, he said softly, "Grindelwald laughed and laughed. Then he said, 'What do they matter when I can do this!' He put an engorgement charm on his wand, so that it was the size of a walking stick, like an old-fashioned wizard's staff. He struck the ground with it three times and cried out an incantation. He opened limbo."

His mouth was very thin. Aberforth closed his eyes for a moment, as though in pain. "It was--I can't describe it," Aberforth said slowly. "Like the earth being ripped in two. A fissure opened up in the ground with us on one side, Grindelwald and Tom Riddle on the other. We could feel something drawing us toward it, like a vortex, and Albus and I hung onto the nearest trees for dear life, to keep from being sucked into the chasm. It felt like--like it was alive, like it wanted us to go in. And I still remember how tempting it felt to just let go and allow it to happen....It required all of our strength of mind and body to avoid succumbing. Unfortunately, Stuart and Simone didn't manage to do the same. We watched in horror as they were pulled into the fissure. We had been too concerned about ourselves to notice whether they needed assistance. Tom Riddle clutched a tree for dear life, on the other side of the fissure, but Grindelwald was just standing before us, laughing, raising his staff in the air in triumph. Evidently he didn't need to hold onto anything, as we did, although whether it was because he had cast the spell or was just the most powerful among us I don't know...."

Dumbledore nodded. "I had just watched the MacDermids disappear, and I felt a rage as I never had before." Harry could hear that thread of rage in his voice now, making it taut and precise. "I thought very quickly about what to do. It was quite simple, really. A summoning charm. I pointed my wand at him and cried, 'Accio, Grindelwald!' He laughed at me. He obviously thought it was the stupidest thing he'd ever seen. But it worked, and soon he was flying toward me, still laughing. Perhaps he thought it was daft because he knew what he would do to me when he reached me.

"Then, when he was over the chasm, I raised my wand, pointing it straight up, aborting the spell. Although I know he couldn't have done, he seemed to float in space for some time before the vortex took him.... As he fell he screamed horrible things in German...."

Harry, Hermione and Ginny all gasped. Ron punched the air and cried, "Yes! Take that, Grindelwald!" Then he looked around, reddening. Aberforth gave him a small smile, and Harry thought he saw just a slight twinkle appear in Dumbledore's blue eyes.

"That is how many people felt when they heard about Grindelwald being defeated. Tom, however, released the tree to which he was clinging, crying, 'No!' and reaching out for his Master. He was immediately drawn toward the chasm and I quickly engorged my own wand and struck the ground with it, hoping that the incantation I'd chosen would close the fissure. I had not come to the Black Forest so that a young man would be lost--quite the opposite. A great wind swept down through the trees and seemed to knit the sundered earth together, and then the ground was whole once more, as if it always had been."

Harry gawped at the headmaster, and Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, Harry. I know. Think of all the lives that have been lost because I did not allow Tom Riddle to be drawn into limbo with Grindelwald, where he would never have troubled the world again. Do you think a day has passed, in the last fifty-odd years, when I haven't thought of that?"

Harry bit his lip, and clenched his fists, the nails digging into his palms. "It's--it's not that, sir. When I think of what's happened since Voldemort came back--which he did with Wormtail's help--I think of how I made it possible for Wormtail to get away, to return to Voldemort--"

"Now, Harry, you could no more have killed Peter Pettigrew in cold blood at the age of thirteen than I could have watched that poor, misguided boy--as I thought he was--plunge into the chasm. Although I told myself that I hadn't killed Grindelwald--technically, I hadn't--and I wasn't a murderer, I felt very much like one. Perhaps I wanted to convince myself that I wasn't a murderer by saving young Tom from the same fate...."

He sighed and drank more water. Aberforth said, "Riddle was enraged. He screamed, 'You ruined everything!' He clawed at the earth, trying to open it up again. 'I was going to kill him myself, eventually!' he said. We were shocked. Were we mistaken? Was Riddle really with Grindelwald to bring him down? But he hadn't finished. He said that he'd been planning to learn everything he could from Grindelwald, and then get rid of him. Albus and I laughed. We couldn't help it. This young whelp thought he could bring down Grindelwald!"

Albus shook his head. "It's possible that Grindelwald would still be wreaking havoc if he hadn't opened up limbo himself, and if I hadn't surprised him with the utter simplicity of my summoning charm. It would never have occurred to me to open limbo. My rage over Stuart and Simone probably helped focus my power. It is also possible that Grindelwald couldn't have been killed. There were rumors that Grindelwald had somehow made himself immortal--or nearly so. Many stories were floating about, telling of wizards who had attacked him in ways that should have killed him but did not."

Harry nodded. "That's what Riddle wanted...."

"Yes, Harry. Tom wanted the ultimate power: immortality. But I knew how overrated it was. I was the one, after all, who had done numerous experiments to find an Elixir that did not make Nicolas and his wife ill after drinking it. We even tried making a new stone. We thought--if we created a new stone, altering the process slightly, the resulting potion might not be so debilitating. Yes, they had already lived for hundreds of years when I came along. But it wasn't a peaceful life. However, he tempted me with it. I thought long and hard over whether I wanted to partake, finally refusing. I left it to him and his wife. I was quite young at the time and rather thought I was immortal without the benefit of any potion. That is the gift of youth," he said, smiling at the four students hanging on his every word.

"I shook my head at Tom and said to him, 'You wouldn't be able to do that, Tom. I know you let that creature of Slytherin's--whatever it was--kill Myrtle, and that you killed your father and grandparents, but I still believe that, deep down, you want to atone for those deaths. You're a good boy, Tom.' I repeated that, walking toward him; he looked like I had stabbed him. His eyes were wide with pain; he clutched his neck and began rolling on the ground. I was shocked and I stopped speaking. Tom was just getting his breath back when I experimented; I said again, 'You're a good boy, Tom,' and I made sure that I really was thinking that, that I wasn't just mouthing the words. 'You're a good boy and we want to help you. We care what happens to you. You're a good boy, Tom.'"

"'Stop saying that, old man!' Riddle screamed," Aberforth told them, his voice shrill when imitating Tom Riddle. "Oh, he looked mad with pain. Albus' good thoughts were doing that. He was enraged, down on his knees with a hand pressed to the scar."

Dumbledore looked into space. "I remember everything he said after that. It haunted me, after he rose to power almost thirty years ago, and after you and Ginny emerged from the Chamber alive, with Riddle's destroyed diary," he said, turning his head to Ginny and Harry. "'He said, 'No. I am not good. I am everything that good abhors. And more. Much more. You will find out some day, old man. You think you know so much, that I killed that Mudblood, Myrtle? Yes, I did. With help from the great Salazar Slytherin.' He gave us a quite evil-looking smile and said, 'Myrtle won't be the last to die at Hogwarts. I left a bit of myself at the school, just waiting for the right accomplice. The Chamber of Secrets shall be opened again, and the school Slytherin helped create will be purged of Muggle-born scum like you once and for all!'"

"The diary," Hermione breathed, clutching at Ron. Harry looked at Ginny's face, which was very white, under her freckles. He put his arm around her shaking shoulders.

"Not you," he whispered to her. "Lucius Malfoy. He must have found the diary in Slytherin House, wrote in it, found out what it was, then saved it for a rainy day."

Dumbledore nodded. "You're probably right, Harry. Lucius Malfoy was Head Boy in his time, as Tom Riddle had been. He finished school not long after Voldemort first rose to power; I often heard him speak admiringly of Voldemort. He didn't know I was about, of course, when he said these things."

Harry looked at him shrewdly. "Were you perhaps--invisible? In my other life, I saw you suddenly become visible once....How do you do that?" he asked softly.

The edge of Dumbledore's mouth curled up as he said, "Now that would be telling."

Ron looked impatient. "Oh, come on! How did Riddle get away? Why couldn't you have just sent another owl, to track him down again?"

Dumbledore sighed. "Tom wasn't done. He said, 'You found me once because of my name, my filthy Muggle father's name. That is no longer my name; I shall have a new name, a new identity, and although every witch and wizard shall know it well someday and tremble to say it, until that time, you shall not be able to find me! Then shall all the wizarding world long for the halcyon days of Lord Grindelwald!' Well, after this rather grandiose speech, he Disapparated. He might have tried to kill us again, I reckon, but then we would not be able tell the world of the next great dark wizard...."

"I was the one who told the Ministry about Grindelwald," Aberforth said. "Albus didn't want credit. 'I didn't go to the Black Forest alone, Aberforth,' he kept saying to me." Aberforth grinned. "I wouldn't hear it. My brother had defeated Grindelwald and I wanted the world to know," he said, looking at Dumbledore with affection and pride. "He received the Order of Merlin, first class, of course, and was immediately invited to join the International Confederation of Wizards with the rank of Grand Sorcerer. In the end, we didn't say anything about Riddle. It seemed--out of place." He nodded sadly at his brother. "It was what he wanted, and I understood. People were celebrating the end of Grindelwald. It wasn't the time to induce panic about a new dark lord, when Riddle might never acquire the sort of power Grindelwald had."

Harry looked at Dumbledore. "So how have you been fighting him? I don't understand."

"Your scar," Dumbledore said, "hurts you when Voldemort is feeling particularly evil. I think that is in part because such things are anathema to you--foreign. When I was thinking good thoughts at Tom, he felt pain in the scar I gave him. Those thoughts were alien to him. He had been instrumental in a young girl being killed when he was only sixteen. He'd killed his father and grandparents. He'd done whatever Grindelwald had asked since he'd started trailing around after him. He was the heir of Slytherin. Tom didn't think he was good and no one else was supposed to, either.

"We tried sending another owl, but he kept his promise of our not being able to find him. The owl came back. I suspect that he made himself owl-proof as 'Tom Riddle,' so that he could not receive post under that name, and we didn't know yet what new name he had adopted, so we could no longer rely on that method to locate him."

"So," Hermione said softly, "you've been causing Voldemort pain by--what? Thinking nice things at him? God. What good opinions could anyone have about him by now? Trying to do that would be enough to send me to my sickbed, too."

They all laughed, but Harry, Ginny and Ron quickly attempted to stifle their laughter, looking guilty. Dumbledore shooed their guilt away with his hand. "Laugh! If we've reached the point where we're afraid of the impropriety of laughing, then he has won." He looked at Harry. "Just as a boggart can't stand laughter, so Voldemort cannot stand someone thinking well of him, having good opinions about him. Fearing him, yes. Admiring him, again, yes. But not thinking he is good."

Ron frowned. "Yeah, but I think Hermione had a point. How do you think good things about Voldemort? Wouldn't you need some kind of--I don't know--" Ron said, waving his arms helplessly, "--memory charm to forget all of the terrible things he's done?"

Dumbledore smiled at him. "Ah, there's that incisive ability to stumble on the solution when being flippant. That is precisely what we did. I had Professor McGonagall put memory charms on me. They were actually more like recall charms. I was sent back in my thinking to a time when Tom was a new Hogwarts student. I was able to vividly recall the wonder in his face during his first Transfiguration lesson... It was a time Tom truly was a good boy, an innocent lad. So, I was able to concentrate on sending truly good thoughts about him to him and, as a result, disrupt his other thought processes. Between the memory charms and making a concerted effort to think good thoughts at Voldemort--or rather, Tom--much of the day, I was under quite a strain and quickly took to my bed. It's not as easy as it sounds; it took quite a lot out of me."

Ginny gave him a small smile. "You were killing him with kindness," she said quietly.

Dumbledore smiled back at her; Harry saw another small twinkle. "Not really killing. Unless you consider that I called him Tom in my thoughts. In a way, I was trying to kill Voldemort, but I also wanted to resurrect the boy, Tom Riddle. Because of Minerva's charms, I was able to forget the man and consistently see in my mind's eye the boy." Then he looked rather sad. "I decided to stop what I was doing after the news from Sweden," he said quietly. "I decided that I needed to get my strength back."

"But the Death Eaters at Gringotts surrendered!" Ron said brightly.

Dumbledore nodded somberly. "Yes, good news. I sent Remus a note of congratulations and said we must have a tea party, recipients of the Order of Merlin only...."

Aberforth brightened. "Good! I can come."

Ron looked unflatteringly surprised. "You!"

Aberforth bristled slightly. "Yes. When we returned from Germany, Albus refused to accept the Order of Merlin unless I received it as well. I only received third class, but I still have my O.M. badge at home somewhere."

"And it's been about two months since the broom race, Professor," Harry said excitedly. "Voldemort hasn't done anything since then, so it doesn't seem too dreadful that you're not doing it anymore. There haven't been any attacks, only the Gringotts surrender. I haven't felt so much as a twinge from my scar."

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes. That is what concerns me...." He began coughing again and accepted the glass of water from Aberforth once more.

"I think that's enough for your headmaster for the time being. He is still recovering. You should go down to breakfast," Aberforth told them.

Harry put his hand out to Dumbledore, who took it. "Thank you for what you've done. I can tell it hasn't been easy, and I'm glad you're going to be all right," he said earnestly.

"Eventually, " Dumbledore said, waving away Harry's concern. "If only I had been able to do more...."

They returned to Gryffindor Tower so they could shower and change their clothes; Harry finished first, and as he waited for the others to return to the common room, he fingered his scar tentatively. Voldemort knew he could get to me through the curse scar because he has one, he thought. He traced the lightning bolt, thinking about poor Dumbledore having to think nice things about Voldemort and about his defeating Grindelwald. It's even possible that Grindelwald couldn't have been killed. There were rumors that he'd somehow made himself immortal--or very nearly so. Had Voldemort strengthened himself again, so that he couldn't actually be killed? Harry wondered. If not--how far along the path to immortality was he?

Harry was glad when the others returned and they left. He could think about that afternoon's Dueling Club meeting, and Quidditch and what he wanted for breakfast.

However, he had to think about something else entirely when Ruth and Tony looked up at the four of them in surprise. "Oh, there you all are," Ruth said, raising her eyebrows. "We waited and waited, but we finally decided to go running without you." Ginny was next to Harry and Ruth was on her other side; Harry heard her say, leaning close to Ginny, "And you'll have to tell me later why you weren't in your bed this morning."

Harry saw that Ron, across the table, had heard this comment; his nostrils were flaring and he was glaring at Harry, his jaw clenched. "Could I speak to you for a minute, Harry?"

Harry put down the kipper he'd been about to bite. "Erm, sure," he said, trying not to sound panicked. He followed Ron to the entrance hall; Ron opened the castle's front door and they stepped outside. Harry shivered in the cold. "Before you say anything Ron--"

"No, I don't think you shagged my sister, because I didn't smell that on either one of you, but I'll just bet you were thinking about it--"

Harry threw up his hands. "Well, of course I was thinking about it. For pete's sake, Ron. I'm a human being. But Ginny hasn't taken the potion yet. Do you think I want to go through worrying about that all over again?" As soon as he said it, he wanted to bite his tongue. Ron's eyes looked like they were going to leap out of his head.

"What did you say?"

Harry cleared his throat. "I mean--what I meant to say was--oh, bollocks. Just listen to what I have to say and promise you won't lose your temper. At least until I'm done."

Ron, arms crossed, leaned against the closed door, as though cutting off Harry's escape. He didn't appear to feel cold at all. Harry hugged his arms to his chest and spoke quickly, explaining about the night in the Quidditch changing rooms. "That's why you came out of hiding--you thought Ginny was pregnant. That led to Binns finding out you were alive--"

Ron seemed to be having a hard time restraining himself. "Why didn't you tell me this?"

"Why? I was showing you and Hermione my Pensieve. Hermione was still my girlfriend when I was with Ginny. Technically. And you're Ginny's brother. I was supposed to tell the pair of you I'd slept with her, even in another life? And I thought Ginny was upset--"

Ron's eyebrows flew up. "Ginny knows? And to get back to our original topic, would you happen to know why she wasn't in her bed this morning?"

"She was downstairs with me. We fell asleep in front of the fire. It was perfectly innocent." It almost wasn't, he thought, but technically, he was telling the truth.

Ron looked shrewdly at him. "And Ginny wasn't upset when she found out about this?"

"Well, of course she was upset. Why do you think we spent a couple of weeks apart? You think that was just for the sake of appearances? I was waiting for her to forgive me."

"For shagging her? Or for not telling her?" Ron ground out, his jaw clenched again.

Harry grimaced. "For telling Draco Malfoy about it."

Ron grabbed Harry by the shoulders and put him up against the castle door. "What?"

"Please put me down," Harry squeaked; his feet were a good six inches off the ground. Ron relented and Harry slumped against the door. He cleared his throat. "Malfoy let it 'accidentally' slip to her after he saw us in Hagrid's cabin, that time we were supposed to be having tea with him and you and Hermione left to duel with Tony and Ruth."

Ron's mouth hung open. "And where was Hagrid?" he finally managed to say.

"He had to take some newts to the castle, for Snape. Evidently, Hermione's part was getting you out of there, and Maggie took care of Hagrid."

Ron paced, running his fingers through his hair. "Oh, lovely. Hermione and Maggie. My girlfriend and my sister are trying to help my other sister lose her virginity. Smashing."

"No, Ron!" Harry said quickly. "It was just to let us have some time alone. That's all--"

Ron shook his head, evidently thinking of something else now. "How could you tell Malfoy, Harry?" he said softly. Harry looked about for a hole to fall into.

"I know. It was stupid. But I have to ask, Ron--how are you going to respond when--"

Ron ran his hand through his hair. "I'll try to restrain myself, Harry. Being overprotective is a tough habit to break. You know what it's like--you had a sister. If Ginny's happy, I reckon it'll be easier. But I can't vouch for our other brothers. A fair warning. And you'd bloody well better not hurt her."

Harry gave his best friend a lop-sided smile. "That's the last thing in the world I want, Ron, believe me. I also have to admit--I'm a little superstitious about this. In my other life, we had no sooner spent the night together when she had to go into hiding. I don't know--maybe I'm afraid that if we do the same thing in this life, we're just asking for trouble. Maybe we're jinxed. I'm probably being stupid, but--when I think about that, it actually hasn't been that hard to control myself. I don't want anything to happen to Ginny."

Ron put his hand on Harry's shoulder now. "If you want to think you shouldn't sleep with my sister because you're jinxed, that's fine with me, Harry," he said solemnly.

Harry batted his hand away, laughing. "Oh, yeah, as though you'd have a problem with my thinking that. I'm not saying that I really believe that. I just--I think about it sometimes in a sort of 'what-if' way. I know it's stupid--"

"No, no, you should absolutely consider that it might be true, Harry," Ron said, putting his arm around Harry's shoulders and opening the heavy front door like it weighed nothing.

Harry laughed again. "Are we all right?"

He was relieved to see Ron smiling at him now. "Yes, Harry. We're fine."

Hermione and Ginny emerged from the Great Hall; Ginny was carrying some toast in a napkin, which she handed to Harry. "Fine about what?" she asked, looking back and forth between Harry and Ron. Harry put his arm around her and kissed her on the cheek.

"Ron's decided to try to turn over a new leaf when it comes to his attitude about us."

"He has, has he?" she said, looking amused. "I'll believe it when I see it."

Ron huffed at her and made it very easy for Harry to picture him at about the age of five. "I can be as mature about this as anyone," he said, his expression verging on a pout.

Hermione was trying not to laugh. "Come on, Mr. Maturity. We were going to write those History of Magic essays before lunch." She pulled him up the marble stairs.

He followed her, saying, "Oh, and I have a bone to pick with you, Miss Granger--"

Harry took a bite of toast and followed while Ron give Hermione a piece of his mind about conspiring to get him out of Hagrid's cabin. Harry's arm was still around Ginny, who smiled sunnily at him, making him feel warm inside. However, when they reached the landing, his senses were all on alert, as though someone was watching. He looked down; glaring up at him from the foot of the stairs were the blazing grey eyes of Draco Malfoy.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Ron was holding his middle and panting for breath, sitting on the cold stone floor in the Great Hall. "How did you dodge that Passus Curse?" he asked Harry. "I was certain I was going to hit you."

"Oh, right. That reminds me." He directed his words to his left upper arm now. "Thanks for the warning about Ron's curse, Sandy."

"You know that I do not--"

"--have any control over what you See. I know, I know. Thanks anyway."

Ron looked particularly disgruntled while the hissing conversation was occuring. "Cheat," he said softly.

"It's no more cheating to be a Parselmouth than to be a werewolf," Harry asserted.

"Took your time removing that tickling charm, though, didn't you Harry?" Harry grimaced and put out his hand to help Ron rise; the hand was ignored and he stood unassisted.

"Yeah, well, you were being pretty hard on Hermione when you were dueling her. She already apologized for not telling you about Hagrid's hut. Keeping the Inverso Charm on her as long as you did wasn't very nice. She nearly spewed her lunch."

"Well, what's she doing trying to give the two of you opportunities to be alone, anyway? You're her ex-boyfriend. Surely that's not normal..." he started to say, when his face suddenly lit up, as though she'd had a revelation. "I know why," he breathed, looking at her with narrowed eyes. "Guilt," he informed Harry.

"Guilt," Harry said with almost no inflection; he was not convinced.

"Yeah. Even though she was under the influence of that potion for months, she knew how Ginny felt about you. She went after the bloke her friend fancied. Guilt. Oh, come on, Harry. You've said as much to me about what you did. You knew how I felt about Hermione, and--"

"--and after I tried to get you to do something about it and you stubbornly refused--"

"Oh, we are not having that conversation again," Ron said, rolling his eyes, even though he'd started it. He brushed himself off, looking at Hermione, who was very pointedly not looking at him but conversing with Ginny and Maggie. Ron and Ginny's sister had come to watch the dueling. Harry noticed Draco Malfoy on the other side of the room, where he'd been dueling with Tony Perugia. Harry didn't know whether he was ignoring him, Ron and Hermione (and Ginny) or just pretending to. The other Dueling Club members were starting to disperse.

"I couldn't believe what you were all doing to each other!" Harry heard Maggie saying to the girls. "I've chewed my nails down to the quick just watching!"

Ginny and Hermione smiled at her, and it seemed to Harry that Hermione gave Ron a very cold glance out of the corner of her eye.

"Well," Hermione said, never looking directly at Ron, "we're supposed to be pulling our punches, of course. But some people can get carried away...."

As the captain, Harry used his wand to help Snape move the tables back into position in the Great Hall, remaining behind when the others left. He noticed that Ron and Hermione were not touching, although they walked next to each other up the marble stairs. Ginny walked up the stairs behind them, talking animatedly with her sister. She gave Harry a smile before disappearing from sight. Draco Malfoy had already removed himself from the Great Hall and was nowhere to be seen.

Before Snape strode out of the hall, Harry stopped him. "Sir; can I ask you something?"

Snape turned to look at Harry with one brow raised inquisitively. "Yes, Harry?"

He'd almost expected Snape to call him 'Potter' again, just as Draco Malfoy had returned to calling him that. "Well, I was wondering--you're not cross with Maggie, are you? Because of Hagrid and the newts?"

Snape turned to fully face him now, his arms crossed on his chest. "Would you care to begin making sense at some point, Mr. Potter?"

There went the 'Harry.' "I meant--when Hagrid brought the newts for the potion--"

Snape nodded now, understanding. "Yes; I wondered when Miss Dougherty developed an interest in baking. She was speaking to Hagrid about it for quite some time. Why should I be cross with her for that?"

"Erm, no reason," Harry mumbled, starting to climb the marble stairs himself.

"Would this have anything to do with the fact that Draco Malfoy discovered you and Miss Weasley in Hagrid's otherwise empty hut that afternoon?" Snape said slowly and evenly, his face an impassive mask.

Harry froze. He looked down where Snape stood in the curve of the stairs, so that he didn't need to turn to see him. "I didn't know that was general knowledge among the staff. Or anyone else." His voice shook.

"It is not. Professor Black told me. He evidently had no one else to speak to about this and decided to waste almost an hour of my time which could have been spent marking tedious essays by the third year Hufflepuffs."

It wasn't easy to see, but Harry could detect the corner of his mouth starting to curve upward. He's enjoying this, Harry realized. "I'm sorry he took up so much of your time," he responded very formally.

"I am not a bit sorry that you were caught, however. It is all out in the open now. That was going to happen in the long run." He took in the look of surprise on Harry's face; then Harry realized that Maggie had probably told Snape about him and Ginny. "I have been telling Professor Black that you should tell Mr. Malfoy about--"

"Me too!" Harry interrupted, grinning. Snape looked at him, tight-lipped, but said nothing. "I mean, I tried to tell Sirius that it should come from me. I know he thought it was putting too many people at risk, including Draco, but now Draco hates me again...."

Snape sniffed. "Are you surprised? He and Miss Weasley were together for some time, and he glances in Hagrid's window and sees the pair of you--well, I can imagine what he saw."

"No, you can't!" Harry burst out defensively. "I mean--we were just sitting and talking!"

"Just--?" There went those eyebrows again.

"And, erm, well, while we were talking, she was sitting on my lap," he said softly. Okay, he thought; we weren't just talking....

The corner of Snape's mouth was curling up slightly again. "Which doesn't look the least bit incriminating," he said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Harry grimaced and sat on the steps. To his surprise, Snape climbed the steps and sat next to him, looking straight ahead, his forearms propped on his bony knees. "I was only in Slytherin House with Lucius Malfoy for a year," he said suddenly, "as he was Head Boy when I started school. But you are aware that he recruited me for the Dark Lord. I believe I can shed some light for you on the Malfoy psyche. If you are willing to listen to the voice of experience."

Harry looked down at his hands, then up at the man he'd known for so long as his stepfather. "Erm, yeah, I'd like that."

"First--if there is something you don't want a Malfoy to learn about but think it likely or at least possible he will eventually, tell him yourself first. That way you can be in complete control of the situation." Harry nodded. That made sense. "Second, if that approach fails, either because he learns about it from another source or does not take the news well, do not get defensive. Apologize profusely. Make him think that you knew he knew and wanted to avoid forcing him to dwell on it. If you can, make it sound like you were under the impression that it was his idea to do this. Even better is to find a way to convince him that it was his idea."

Harry frowned. "I'm not sure how I would have done that..."

"How did Mr. Malfoy react when he learned about you and Miss Weasley?"

"Well, at first he stalked off. I went after him. Then he hit me. I probably should have taken house points--" he started to say, but remembered that those points would come from Slytherin.

To his surprise, Snape was all-out grinning now. Harry started to laugh in spite of himself; it was so nice to see Snape smile again, even if it was at his expense. "What's so funny?"

"That's just what Lucius Malfoy did to me."

Harry's jaw dropped. "What? You mean you--and Mrs. Malfoy--"

"Oh, she wasn't Mrs. Malfoy yet. What do you take me for? They were engaged, however..."

"Engaged?" Harry choked. Snape nodded.

"I didn't say I never made a mistake when it came to a Malfoy. I learned what not to do the hard way. I suspected when he recruited me that he knew all along, even though he never said a word about her. Later, when he actually retaliated, I learned that she thought it was all rather funny and had told him herself. I think he also knew she instigated everything, including taking advantage of the fact that I'd had too much to drink. Which still didn't prevent him retaliating against me. But he waited--he saved it up. A Malfoy can do one of the longest slow burns I know of. Remember that."

"Malfoys; specializing in grudges since always," Harry said, his mouth twisting.

Snape shook his head, ignoring this. "Why do you think there is so much bad blood between the Malfoys and Weasleys? They're still not over it..."

"Over what?"

"Your best friend never told you? Nor Miss Weasley?" Harry shook his head. Snape breathed deeply through his large nose before saying, "Arthur Weasley killed Lucius Malfoy's father."

Harry's eyes went wide. "That can't be true! Mr. Weasley would never--"

"Oh, it was all in the performance of his job duties. A raid. And in self-defense, on top of that. Ministry employees have seldom ever been charged with murder or assault, on or off the job. There have been abuses of that, of course, but no one was going to charge Arthur Weasley with murder."

"What about Sam Bell? Katie Bell's dad? Do you remember? He went to prison for killing his wife to protect Katie. He was a Ministry employee. An Auror."

Snape nodded. "I remember. He probably could have gone free, if he really wanted. He chose to go to prison. He confessed. Gave up ten years of his life, and his daughter's life, for nothing," he spat, as though angry about this. Harry remembered his face when he'd been in his Pensieve, seeing the family he might have had.

Harry also remembered Sam's face when he'd first told Harry about why he'd gone to prison. "It wasn't for nothing," Harry said softly. "He felt he had to do it."

They sat in silence then, but Harry didn't mind; it felt right to be beside the Potions Master, each staring ahead into space, neither one of them making any comment. He and his dad hadn't felt the need to talk constantly; companionable silence was a good thing, too.

Suddenly, the Sunday afternoon silence of the entrance hall was broken by the sound of footsteps pattering down the upper flights of stairs. Harry looked up, seeing Sirius drawing closer, and he remembered that they were going to the Hogsmeade station to meet Mr. Spinnet's lawyer, who was coming to the castle to speak to Alicia before the trial.

When he'd reached the top of the flight on which they were sitting, Harry stood, and Snape somewhat reluctantly followed suit. Sirius looked out of breath. "So, ready Harry? The carriage should be in front by now. Cecilia's train arrives in about a half hour."

Snape nodded at him. "Professor Black," he said very formally.

Sirius nodded back. "Professor Snape. I didn't expect to see you here. Isn't the Dueling Club meeting over?"

"Yes. However, Harry and I were discussing what an insufferable idiot you were to forbid him to tell Mr. Malfoy about him and Miss Weasley."

"No!" Harry said hastily. "I mean--yeah we were discussing that. No one said the word 'idiot!'" he added quickly.

Sirius drew his lips into a line. "It's rather a moot point now, isn't it? He knows. The damage is done."

"But it is worse than it had to be," Snape said quietly, in that dangerous voice Harry had feared since his first year. "Some brutal honesty would have been painful for Mr. Malfoy, but better in the long run for his now-defunct friendship with Harry. I have been charged with protecting him since he was a first year--no mean feat, when he finds new and ever-more disturbing ways to risk his life every year--and now you come sweeping in here, every bit as arrogant as his father, convinced you know best! James Potter got himself and Lily killed and almost got his son killed when he was a baby. Are you trying to finish the job now?"

"Hey!" Harry cried. He looked with dismay at Snape. "No one talks about my father like that! And--and I know that Sirius meant well..." he said softly, looking at his godfather sheepishly. "And--I appreciate that you've protected me more than once. I wouldn't have survived my first Quidditch match if it weren't for you. Well, and Her--" He stopped himself in time, before he revealed that Hermione had set Snape's robes on fire. "Anyway, thank you both for--everything. But we should probably get to the station now," he finished lamely, not sure how to get out of the conversation without alienating one or the other of them--or both.

As he and Sirius were leaving the entrance hall, he looked beind him to see Severus Snape sweeping toward the stairs to the dungeons without looking back. It had been nice to talk to him again, and surprising that he had been in agreement with Harry about telling Draco. Perhaps that was why, he reflected on the way to the station, Sirius had sounded so impatient and unbending every time Harry had brought it up; Snape had been arguing the same thing at him repeatedly, and he was sick of hearing it. Or perhaps he thought Harry and Snape had conspired to wear him down.

While they moved closer to the village, he watched Sirius and thought of Snape, and hoped that someday he'd be able to really be friends with them both without having to worry about that being a problem for either one of them.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"Now, dear, do you think you're ready for the trial?"

Alicia looked wide-eyed at the barrister Sirius had hired to represent her father. "Hardly."

Cecilia Oberholtzer sighed and put down her tea. "I know, it's difficult to see your father in a situation like this, especially when you know he's innocent--"

"I just--I still don't know what I'm going to say when I testify."

Harry sat back, sipping his tea, watching them, sitting next to each other on the couch, with great interest. After meeting Cecilia Oberholtzer at the station (she felt out of practice when it came to Apparition), they brought her to Sirius' rooms at the castle. Harry was going to leave again, but Cecilia insisted he stay. Oddly, she looked like Alicia probably would in twenty years. She was very smooth and elegant, her blonde hair cut short, her makeup understated and unobtrusive. She looked more than a little odd at Hogwarts, in her smart suit and her loud, clicking heels on the stone floors. Several students had done double-takes upon seeing her striding through the corridors. But Harry knew she'd gone to Hogwarts like any British witch, that she'd been in Gryffindor with his mother and father. She'd smiled upon entering the castle, looking around fondly before Sirius steered her up the stairs, a hand on her elbow. Sirius sat opposite Harry now, in an identical chair, also watching Cecilia and Alicia with interest.

"I understand, Alicia. I am very concerned that nothing you say is perjury. It's a fine line to walk. You need to be as truthful as possible about everything that occurred--but you also cannot, at any time, mention magic, witches, wizards, potions--in other words, anything that would violate the International Code of Wizarding Secrecy."

Alicia snorted and picked up a biscuit, biting it viciously. "Good luck to me," she said bitterly. "I'll either end up in Muggle prison for lying under oath or I'll be called before a wizarding tribunal because of the sacred ICWS. Damned if I do, damned if I don't."

Cecilia shook her head. "Plus, if you mention magic at all, you also run the risk of completely ruining your credibility. Which will appear in the papers. And which won't help your father's case."

Sirius sighed and leaned forward, pouring himself another cup of tea. "What's your strategy?" he asked.

Cecilia ticked points off on her fingers. "First--as Mr. Spinnet was sleeping in his office during the shootings, anyone could have pressed the gun into his hand afterward. I'm fairly certain that's not what happened--the gunman probably used a potion to impersonate Mr. Spinnet, and that's why his fingerprints were on the gun--but it's how it could have happened, and doesn't involve mentioning magic or potions. They didn't want the man who tested Mr. Spinnet's hand for gunpowder residue to testify. No surprise there, as he found none. We, however, have compelled him to testify; he has no choice. This is good!" she said to Alicia, seeing her stricken, uncertain look. "A hostile witness giving evidence that damages the crown's case is very good. If he seemed anxious to get your dad off, he wouldn't be as believable. He'll be admitting this very reluctantly."

She turned back to Sirius. "So--his fingerprints on the weapon, but no gunpowder residue on the hand. No soap residue, either, indicating he'd done a quick wash. In fact, when he was tested, his hand was quite dirty. It will bolster our contention that he didn't fire the weapon, that it was pressed into his hand after the fact, to frame him."

Harry tried to smile reassuringly at Alicia; she smiled feebly back. "Second," Cecilia went on, "the security film is blurry and could be showing any middle-aged man of Mr. Spinnet's age and coloring, or someone trying to disguise himself as Mr. Spinnet. I will question Clive Metford--the wounded MP--about how much contact he'd had with Mr. Spinnet before the shooting. Was he a close personal friend, or had he only ever seen Mr. Spinnet once or twice in his life, and not at close quarters? Didn't he lose a lot of blood after he was shot, which could affect his recall? Is he completely certain about the gunman's identity? Was he in a position to tell Mr. Spinnet from any other man who bore a passing resemblance to him?

"By the way," she said suddenly, "we're not calling him as a witness, because he's not, but a Mr.--" she rifled through some papers on her lap; "--Rudy Afton will be watching the trial. We plan to make good use of him. Wasn't easy, but my assistant put a blurry photo of Mr. Spinnet in an advert in several tabloids, asking whether anyone knew who it was, because of a possible legacy, and the response was overwhelming. You'll see when you meet him, Alicia; our Mr. Afton is a dead ringer for your dad. And many of the other men we found are close enough. We've invited five of them to the trial, in addition to Mr. Afton. When Metford testifies, I will ask him about each and every one of those other men who will be in the room--I admit, I'm tempted to use magic to put Mr. Afton in Mr. Spinnet's place and vice versa, but I daren't. It would look like I was trying to help my client escape."

She smiled at Sirius; he looked startled. "Oh, of course." Harry wondered whether he'd been paying attention. He appeared to have been gazing at Alicia, who was oblivious.

"So!" Cecilia said, smiling with satisfaction. "We're set. The hostile witness will probably be our best bet, with the Mr. Spinnet-ringers our backup plan. The crown will, of course, behave as if nothing were simpler than to see that he's guilty. Mr. Spinnet is seen in the film, they'll say. Fingerprints on the gun, they'll say. And we'll knock down each argument. Plus--when all is said and done, the weakest part of their case is this: no motive. Scotland Yard cannot, absolutely cannot, produce a motive. Your father," she said, nodding at Alicia, "will say in his testimony that he had no reason to wish for the whip to be dead, nor Mr. Metford. He was asleep until he was rudely awakened by the police who arrested him. That's another thing that helps us--he didn't behave like a guilty man. He was asleep in his office after shooting two people in cold blood, knowing that it would be filmed by the security camera? He'll be testifying to his knowledge of the cameras, as well. He knew--so why would he commit a crime he knew would be recorded in that manner? And then go quietly to have a lie down, where he'd be easy to catch? It's ludicrous."

Alicia smiled gratefully at her and put her hand over Cecilia's. "Thank you for everything. I can see Sirius was right--you're very capable. I must go now, however. Time to feed the baby. Thank you so much." She squeezed Cecilia's hand briefly before rising to leave.

"I'll walk you out," Sirius said suddenly. "Be right back," he said to Harry and Cecilia.

After Alicia and Sirius were gone, Cecilia put down her teacup and settled back comfortably on the couch. "How funny to be back at Hogwarts, after all these years! I never thought I'd see this place again. I swore that I wouldn't ever come back, in fact."

"Why?" Harry wanted to know. Cecilia snorted.

"Well, I have to admit, it was largely because of Sirius. He and I dated for a little while, after your mum and dad's wedding. I was a bridesmaid in the wedding."

Harry hit his forehead. "That's why you look familiar! You're in the wedding photos!" And then he realized where else he'd seen her--she was the pretty blonde girl sitting with his mother at the Gryffindor table, when he and Hermione had gone into Snape's Pensieve.

Cecilia laughed, shaking her head. "You look so like your father," she said softly. "Although I can see Lily there, too. I was a good friend of your mother's. Well, I could have been a better friend. I was dreadful after she became a prefect--catty and jealous about it. Are fifteen-year-old girls still like that? I was one of the most dreadful specimens imaginable. That will haunt me someday, I'm certain. My Becky is only six, but I'm already bracing myself for those horrid teenage years," Cecilia said, smiling ruefully.

Harry grinned at her. "I'm sure it won't be that bad. So--you can tell me the truth about Sirius and girls," he said, waggling his eyebrows.

Cecilia frowned. "I'm not sure I can. Yes, he had loads of girlfriends in school. I was nervous about dating him after the wedding, although he claimed to have changed--"

Harry put his hand on his chest in mock-shock. "Are you implying that he was just --"

"--saying that to get me into bed? Oh, please. He'd have said anything in those days, if he thought--," she stopped herself, but Harry reddened anyway. "But I wanted to believe he'd changed. I did. When your mum first came to Hogwarts, she had a crush on Sirius, you know. When she talked about him I had to bite my tongue because--well, I felt the same way. I never admitted that to her--she was my friend, and she'd--well, claimed him. But he wasn't interested in her, even mocked her. He was a real prat about it. Then, just when she decided to give up on him, he made a pass at her--"

"Yeah. I heard about that."

She laughed, shaking her head. "I was furious with her. Who did she think she was to reject Sirius Black? I wasn't entirely rational. I had some other girlfriends in Hufflepuff who had the privilege of listening to me rant about it. Poor girls!"

"Well, didn't that work out well for you, then?" Harry said, trying to be conciliatory.

"You'd think so, but I could tell, even after she was with James, that he still fancied her. Which made me cross with your mum quite a lot. And she didn't know why, of course. Teenage girls can be just horrid, horrid creatures...."

Harry smiled at her. "You seem to be all right now."

She laughed. "After twenty years, I should hope so. And after I decided it was a bunch of rot to worry about her having fancied him and went out with him anyway, I discovered that he was still carrying a torch for her. He'd been best man at the wedding! I found it rather hard, being in her shadow again like that. We were on-again, off-again for a couple of years after their wedding, until the night--" Her breath caught; she went on with some difficulty. "Until the night your parents were killed," she said softly.

Harry sat forward. "Were you the date in Hertfordshire?"

She nodded. "He told you about that, did he?"

"Only that that was where he was before he went to see what had happened. He knew something was up because of a memory charm my mum had put on him. Long story."

Cecilia nodded. "He left very abruptly. And then, the next thing I know, I'm hearing about Lily and James being killed, you surviving the attack, You-Know-Who being gone....It was baffling. And in the midst of it all, not a word from Sirius. Then I find out that he's killed Peter Pettigrew and a load of Muggles and that he's been apprehended by the Ministry, suspected of having betrayed your parents. I recalled how he'd left the restaurant so suddenly....I 'realized' it was because he'd gone to tell You-Know-Who how to find James and Lily. I just assumed he was guilty. But then--"

"What?" Harry said, frowning.

"Well, it didn't add up for me. He adored your mother. Always said he'd do anything for her, or for your dad. And you could tell he really meant it." She shook her head. "But even though I had doubts, I didn't say anything, and Sirius was sent to prison with no trial. The wizarding world was celebrating the disappearance of You-Know-Who, and I was nursing a broken heart. I didn't want anything else to do with wizards or magic. I felt completely disillusioned--not least with myself, for not having said anything. To put it succinctly, I ran away. After acquiring the necessary documents, I enrolled in a Muggle university and eventually became a lawyer. Somehow--I thought that if Sirius had had a good lawyer to draw out the details of what had really happened, he never would have gone to prison. I was very, very angry about so-called wizarding 'justice.' It was a travesty. I decided to champion people unjustly accused of crimes. Or even justly accused, to see that they received a fair trial, so the crown had to work to convict, instead of making it easy for them. It shouldn't be easy to put anyone in prison. If you're going to take away someone's freedom, you'd damn well better work hard to prove that it should be taken away. I don't care what they're supposed to have done."

"Amen!" Sirius said with fervor, returning from taking Alicia to her rooms.

Harry saw Cecilia color a little. "Were your ears burning? We were talking about you."

"Sounded more like a soapbox speech to me. Shouldn't you be doing that in Hyde Park?"

"Oh, you." He grinned at her. "You always did like to puncture me whenever there was a risk of my being too puffed up. Derek does that now."

"Derek?" Harry asked, trying to stifle his laughter; the words 'puffed up' and 'puncture,' caused him involuntarily to think of Aunt Marge.

"My husband. Muggle. Rather shocked when I told him I'm a witch. We met at uni."

"I like Derek, really I do," Sirius said, with his eyebrows raised. "But couldn't you have married someone named, I don't know--'Smith?'"

Cecilia rolled her eyes. "Just be glad I didn't hyphenate my name after I married. 'Cecilia Ratkowski-Oberholtzer' would be just too much." Sirius laughed.

Harry excused himself and let them continue to catch up. He returned to the common room and found Ron, Hermione and Ginny at a table near the windows. He told them that it sounded possible that Alicia's dad could be acquitted and they were all very glad to hear it. Harry gazed at Ginny, smiling back at him, and discreetly passed a note to her asking her to meet him at the top of the Astronomy Tower. It wasn't easy to find time to be alone, but it was one of the only things helping him to keep his sanity. And he didn't want to rely on other people anymore, if at all possible. Ron and Hermione seemed to have made up, but he still shuddered when remembering the Dueling Club meeting.

When he arrived at the top of the tower, there were snow drifts at the edges of the observation deck and Ginny was shivering, waiting for him. He kissed her lightly and said, "You know what I miss? Flying with you."

She gazed up at him, smiling broadly. "Oh, I do too! Do you think we should?"

"Well--just a little." He closed his eyes, executing the change. His paws touched down on the stone flags; he looked up at her, letting out a loud, rumbling purr when she started stroking his velvety coat. He'd hoped it would be easier to keep his desires in check if he wasn't in his human form, but now he wasn't so sure. She threw one leg over his back and he spread his wings and leapt into the air, feeling her knees gripping him, her fingers in his mane. Then all of their cares and worries dropped away as he banked and soared. He was with Ginny and they were flying together again; very little else seemed to matter.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Late afternoon sun streamed into Sirius' bedroom the next day as he finished packing and picked up his bag. After the cloudy Sunday, Monday's sky had been clear blue above the frosted landscape, lifting everyone's spirits. Everyone, that is, except for Harry, who was arguing with Sirius again. Sirius turned to Harry now; he'd opened his mouth to speak. "No, Harry. For the last time, you cannot come. You will miss too much school."

Harry closed his mouth again; Sirius was getting far too good at the parental 'no.' Harry felt a little sulky. He used to think it would be hard to argue with Sirius, but was finding it easier and easier. Perhaps that means we're relating more like a seventeen-year-old boy and his dad, he thought.

"You're missing school. All of your lessons are canceled until you're back."

"He's right, Harry," Hermione said, hefting Arne onto her hip more securely, putting her cheek on his downy head. Ron was leaning against the wall with crossed arms, frowning. He seemed alarmed that Hermione enjoyed helping to take care of the baby as much as she did. She was tending to him now so Alicia could pack for the London trip. Cecilia was with her; she'd spent the night in Alicia's rooms in the staff wing.

"So," Harry said, trying to sound casual, as he took a different tack; "how do you think this trip will affect your relationship with Alicia?"

Sirius turned with a start. "My what? There's--there's no relationship, Harry. I don't know what you think you saw--"

"What I saw was you in bed with Alicia in your dog form, you staying in the room with her when she was dressing, and you not bothering to avert your eyes when she was nursing. You looked like you wanted to--"

"Harry!" Hermione sounded shocked; Harry was slightly shocked himself by how daring he was being. His stomach was flipping and flopping a bit; it hadn't been easy to get up his nerve to do this. He had thought a great deal about Sirius and his mother in his other life, to prepare. At the end, he and Sirius hadn't been very friendly. And he'd had more than one screaming match with his mother. His godfather stared at him in disbelief. Ron looked like he was straining some internal organs from the effort needed not to laugh.

"Plus, she looks rather like a younger version of Cecilia, whom you used to date."

"I am keeping an eye on her. Cecilia did that last night. Alicia likes having 'Snuffles' around for company. People are less guarded around animals. I won't be able to do that in London. There's no plausible way to explain how the dog got there."

Harry looked grim. "You're certain? You don't fancy her? No objectivity problems?"

"Harry! She's eighteen years younger than me!"

Harry shrugged. "So? How old were you when you went to prison?"

Sirius frowned, sitting on the bed. "What does that matter? I was twenty-one."

Hermione looked like she understood now. "I think I see where Harry's going with this. He seems to think you're arrested at the age of twenty-one--no pun intended--so that it's perfectly plausible for you to fancy a twenty-year old girl."

Harry grimaced. "Yeah. Basically. I wouldn't use the same words, but the meaning's the same. And you used to have so many girlfriends, but as far as I know, there hasn't been anyone since you escaped from prison. Now you're spending almost all of your non-teaching time with Alicia, and when you're in your dog form, she hugs and cuddles you and talks sweetly to you. You're telling me that's having no affect on you?"

Sirius stood and picked his bag up again. "I'm not listening to any more of this--"

"Hermione, Ron, can you go to the other room for a minute?" Harry said abruptly. Ron raised an eyebrow, and Harry knew he probably would have no trouble hearing them still, but he steered Hermione out of the room and Harry and Sirius were alone. Harry walked to his godfather so they were toe-to-toe. He gazed into Sirius' dark eyes and said, "I'm sorry I was rude, especially in front of Hermione and Ron, but I'm only asking because I'm worried. About her hurting you. She was being manipulated before and was pursuing me while under Imperius. Roger also had her under Imperius. I think she'd still do whatever he said if he showed up. Don't forget: it's possible that she can't be trusted."

Sirius suddenly pulled Harry to him in a bear hug, patting his back firmly before releasing him. Harry frowned at him. Sirius laughed a little and looked like he was wiping tears from his eyes briefly. "You know, sometimes, it's like your dad is here again, trying to talk sense to me and looking like he feels he's banging his head on a brick wall...."

Harry smiled at him. "Was my dad that rude? I had no idea." Sirius laughed.

"Yeah, sometimes tact really escaped James. And your mum always spoke her mind. I'd wondered how you turned out to be so well-mannered. Usually," he added, smirking.

Harry's smile grew and he hugged Sirius now, feeling quite suddenly as though he really were seeing a father off on a trip. "Just be careful, all right? And by the way, who's going to be visiting Jeffries to keep an eye on him while you're gone?"

Sirius shrugged. "No one. Honestly, Harry. Jeffries seems to be no threat. I mean, everyone who comes in contact with him is so happy! Your aunt is certainly in her element. I've even spotted witches and wizards attending. Oh, a lot of what they do isn't noticed by Muggles, but I can spot the little things that distinguish them, of course."

Harry grimaced. "And now we also know that Neville's Great Uncle Algie was healed by Jeffries." He hesitated for a moment, then said, "And me, too."

"You too what?" Sirius said, striding toward the door.

"He--he healed me, too."

Sirius stopped dead and dropped his bag again. "What? You never said anything!"

"I--I never told anyone. At all. He somehow got through security at St. Mungo's. He came to my room and healed my burns. He left me a letter. I still don't know why he did it--"

Sirius looked at him, baffled. "Then why are you still suspicious of him, Harry? I don't know why you have to be so paranoid. Save it for the important things. I don't think we should expend any more energy on Rodney Jeffries. We need to find the missing dragons or work out what's to be done with them, we need to constantly reassess our estimation of who's a Death Eater and who isn't. We have to try to find out what Voldemort will be up to next. We have to work out who framed Alicia's dad and preferably prevent him from going to prison. That's quite enough without expending energy on a harmless faith healer whom everyone likes--wizard and Muggle. I admit, I was suspicious of him at first. But I haven't seen anything to really warrant that--even his getting past hospital security, which he could have done with assistance from a well-meaning witch or wizard. He did heal you. As far as his knowing about the magical world--he saw Voldemort attack him, after all, and remembers it vividly. I've heard the story so often now I could probably tell it myself. I don't think any of the Muggles who hear it really understand what he's describing, but that's probably why Fudge is still a bit worried about him--he might draw Muggle attention to the wizarding world. However, I'm having a difficult time finding someone Fudge doesn't like to be all bad." He grinned; Harry knew what Sirius thought of Fudge.

"I reckon you're right," Harry said reluctantly, not really believing his own words, and not very pleased to realize that the one person in the wizarding world who seemed to agree with him on Rodney Jeffries was Cornelius Fudge, even if it was for very different reasons.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The trial began and they were able to read stories about it when Hermione's parents sent her copies of the Times. The verdict was expected on Thursday. On Friday morning, Ron looked startled when they entered the Great Hall; he stared at the place next to McGonagall, occupied as usual by a man who was the spitting image of their headmaster, with a long white beard and hair, half-moon spectacles flashing in the candlelight.

"He's back," Ron whispered to Harry, grinning. "It's Professor Dumbledore."

Harry smiled at the headmaster, who raised his goblet of pumpkin juice in a silent toast. But what started off as a cheerful breakfast soon spiraled downward after the post owls soared in through the clerestory windows. Hermione sat looking grimly at her copy of the Times after she'd removed it from the owl's leg, then held it up for Harry to see. Alicia's father was going to prison. He'd been convicted. Harry grimaced.

"Sod that. Cecilia seemed to have such a good case, too." Then something else on the front page caught his eye. "What's that other story there, Hermione? Near the bottom."

Hermione turned the paper over and looked at the article. "Oh, god. That awful woman who took Mr. Spinnet's place has had another dreadful idea that will only benefit the rich and make life abysmal for everyone else...."

"I was wondering because in the picture--" He put out his hand and Hermione gave him the paper; "--it looks just like--" He trailed off, staring at the photograph, which showed the MP and her daughter getting into a car outside their rather large house, also familiar....

"What is it, Harry?" Ginny asked, sitting beside him.

He didn't answer her, but continued to gawp at the photograph of the member of Parliament representing Mole Valley, the woman who'd taken over from Mr. Spinnet after he'd been arrested. Or rather, he stared at the photograph of her daughter.

"Felice," he whispered.

"Who? What did you say?" Ginny frowned. She looked at Hermione, who shrugged.

He looked up and saw Sirius, Alicia and Cecilia in the entrance hall; they must have come from London on the overnight train to Hogsmeade, he reckoned. He strode toward them with the newspaper. He was vaguely aware of Ron, Hermione and Ginny following. The three travelers all looked quite grim. Harry nodded awkward at Alicia, carrying the baby in a sling again. "I'm--I'm sorry about your dad, Alicia," he said quietly. She nodded; her eyes looked red, as though she'd been crying.

"I need to get him into his cot," she said softly, looking down at the baby. "It's been a long trip." She turned and began to climb the marble stairs. Harry watched her go, then waved the newspaper in front of Sirius and whispered urgently.

"There's something you should know. About that woman who replaced Mr. Spinnet. I think that either she, her daughter--or both of them--are witches."

Sirius' jaw dropped. "What? How do you--"

"Not only that," Harry said, showing Sirius the photograph. "She," he said, stabbing Felice's picture with his finger, "was shagging Draco this last summer. They have an estate in New Stokington where we were doing landscaping work. Draco found those wizarding photos under her mother's bed. When Alicia first said who was taking over from her father, she called her Jane Hampton-something. But it's not. It's Joan Harrington-Smyth. The daughter is Felice Harrington-Smyth. They hired wizard gardeners to work at their house--which just happened to include me, Draco, and Aberforth--and then the daughter just happened to seduce Draco...."

Sirius looked around nervously, while Cecilia looked shocked. "I think we need to discuss this privately," he said quietly, looking into the Great Hall; Harry followed his gaze and found Draco Malfoy looking back from the Slytherin table. "Come on."

However, once they were in Sirius' sitting room, Cecilia started pacing nervously, running her hands through her short blonde hair. "Can someone tell me what's going on? Are you telling me my client was framed so a witch could take his place in Parliament?"

Sirius grimaced. "Well, magic would explain how the crown sabotaged the case."

Hermione's brow was furrowed. "Harry told us it looked rather good."

Cecilia started waving her arms around agitatedly. "I really need a fag, Sirius. Please?"

"Fine," he said, and she produced a cigarette out of thin air. She flicked it and it was magically lit; as she inhaled nervously, starting to look a little calmer.

"Haven't smoked for over a year; bad habit from uni, longs hours of revision. But losing this case just makes me feel--" She shook her head, holding the cigarette between the first two fingers of her right hand, which she was now waving in a circle. "How's a person supposed to put on a defense when all the crown's witnesses just lie through their teeth?"

Harry gawped at her. "They just--lied?"

Cecilia took another drag. "No other word for it. Metford claimed he'd known Mr. Spinnet for ages, that he'd recognize him anywhere, he was even at Alicia's wedding. He had a photo of himself with Alicia and her dad on her wedding day. Alicia refuted this, saying he'd clearly altered a real photo, but it all started to sound petty. 'Experts have verified that this photo has not been tampered with,' Cartwright said. 'Wouldn't you naturally deny that you'd invited Mr. Metford to your wedding?' Cartwright asked her. Stupid, insufferable prat! I hate Gardner Cartwright! Self-righteous, pompous--"

"Cecilia," Sirius said gently.

She sighed and took another drag. "Now you see what poor Derek has to put up with when I lose. I'm a raving lunatic for a week after. At any rate, there were other lies. Plus all of our ringers mysteriously didn't show. When I went back to the office, I found that every one of them had received a letter--on stationery from my office, mind you--telling them that their services were not needed after all. They were all rather surprised and had been ringing up my clerk, who didn't know anything about it. Bloody hell. You don't know what a panic I was in when I realized that Afton and the others weren't there. But even so--it looked like we might have swayed the jury. How wrong we were...."

Hermione said tentatively, "Is it possible that someone could have put the jurors under Imperius? Just in case the lying and so forth didn't work?"

Cecilia looked startled. "Yes. Of course. How silly of me not to think of that. Magic would explain the letters on my office stationery, as well. The real question, however, is this: who leaked our defense strategy? There's no other way anyone could have known about those six men who look like Mr. Spinnet. Not to mention their exact identities and their addresses."

"Someone probably also used magic to alter the wedding photo," Harry added.

"Yes, well that we knew. But we couldn't dwell on the details of the wedding because of the little 'incident' during the reception. The eerie thing was that when Metford was sitting there, calmly stating that he'd been to the wedding--he also had all of the details right, down to the food and the groomsmen wearing kilts--he looked very calm and not a bit like he was lying. I wish I'd had a way to challenge his assertion that he'd been there, but he had everything right, according to Alicia, and all we had was Alicia and her dad saying, 'He wasn't there,' while Metford was waving his photo about and talking about the delicious wedding cake. Well, not at the same time, of course."

Sirius looked like he'd had a brainstorm. "Third eyes," he said suddenly, making Cecilia frown. "We had a problem with third eyes at Ascog Castle last summer. Magical listening and watching devices. Someone may have planted third eyes in your office."

Cecilia waved her hand and suddenly it was holding a glass ashtray, into which she flicked some ash from her cigarette. It was odd for Harry to see someone dressed completely as a Muggle performing magic. "Can you help me root them out, Sirius? Not that we probably need to worry about them now--"

"Oh, aren't you going to appeal?" Hermione asked. Ron frowned.

"What's that?" he wanted to know. But rather than answering him, Cecilia stared.

"You're the werewolf, aren't you?" she said, motioning to him with her cigarette. "Bill and Charlie Weasley's brother, right?"

"Right," he said slowly, clearly not liking that she'd started with the 'werewolf' comment.

But Cecilia nodded. "Bill and Charlie were in--what was it, Sirius? Fourth and second year when we were in seventh?"

"Third and first, I think."

"Right. Charlie didn't play for Gryffindor until we were out of school. More's the pity. They were nice boys," she said, giving Ron a motherly smile. Then the smile disappeared. "It was so terrible when I heard about--about their little sisters--" Then Ginny caught her eye; her resemblance to Ron was unmistakable. She looked startled. "But who--"

"I'm another sister," Ginny said, smiling. "I'm Ginny Weasley. And we've actually found one of my missing sisters! She's--"

"Why don't we have some tea?" Hermione said loudly, popping up and 'inadvertently' treading on Ginny's toe, making her cry out. Ginny had evidently forgotten that no one was to know Maggie was their sister. She bit her lip in pain after her initial cry.

"God, yes. I could so use a good cuppa--" Cecilia said, finally throwing herself into a chair and slipping off her shoes, putting her feet onto an ottoman. "And then I really should get back to London. My daughter has a violin recital in the morning. Along with all of her teacher's other students. I can't miss two hours of ungodly screeching, now can I? I've already made an appointment with my doctor tomorrow afternoon; if I don't get a migraine, I'll just have to cancel--" she said with an ironic half-smile.

They settled down to tea after Sirius conjured what they needed, listening to Cecilia rehash some of the other lies that had made an acquittal impossible. When it was time for her to leave, they walked her and Sirius to the entrance hall and before walking out the large front door of the castle, she put her hands on Harry's shoulders.

"It's nice to see you again, Harry. The last time I saw you before your parents went into hiding, you weren't much bigger than little Arne. Please promise me you'll stay safe," she said softly.

"I'll do my best," he said, smiling at his mother's old friend, remembering again the girl in the Pensieve. She nodded and followed Sirius out the door.

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny walked into the Great Hall, which was deserted, and sat dejectedly at the Gryffindor table, where the rest of Hermione's newspapers were still sitting, just where she'd left them. They all seemed to be rather deflated after the news of Mr. Spinnet's conviction. Luckily, seventh-year Gryffindors didn't have a lesson until the middle of the morning on Friday, and while Ginny should have been in her first lesson, Hermione promised to get her out of it with a handy little note from the Head Girl. They all looked listlessly down at the newspapers; Harry idly pulled the Guardian toward him and began to peruse it. There was another story about Joan Harrington-Smyth. Ginny put her head on his shoulder, reading along; he turned his head for a moment and pressed his lips to her brow, and she gave him a small smile.

Ron and Hermione were sharing the Daily Prophet, and after turning a page, Hermione gasped, making Harry look up. Ron was staring at it, too, swearing softly.

"Bloody hell."

"What? What?" Harry and Ginny prompted them; Harry wondered whether there was something about Mrs. Harrington-Smyth. Then he realized that of course there wouldn't be anything about her in the Prophet, even though she might be a witch. Ron and Hermione didn't answer immediately; they were moving their eyes rapidly over the text.

"The Aurors," Ron finally said softly.

"Did you say the horror? Didn't know you watched Muggle films, Ron," Harry said.

"No, he said 'the Aurors,'" Hermione said more loudly. "A convoy of Aurors in twenty-five little boats took the Death Eaters who'd surrendered to Remus to Azkaban. The trials are over. There were three Aurors to every Death Eater. No boats have come back to Banff from Azkaban fortress. Owls to the prison aren't being answered."

The four of them stared at each other. Harry remembered that ride to Azkaban across the chilly waters of the North Sea. "Are you telling me seventy-five Aurors are missing? Does it say whether anyone knows what's happened? Who's to blame?"

Ron looked very grim as he tossed the paper to Harry so he could read it for himself. "Oh, the Ministry's fairly certain they know who's to blame, all right," he said, the angry edge in his voice impossible to miss. Harry goggled at him, hoping that Ron didn't seriously expect him to read the entire article when he could just tell him the answer.

"Well, who?" he said to his best friend, whose mouth was drawn into a thin, angry line; there was a slight reddish light in his eyes as he lifted them to Harry.

"Remus Lupin."

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