Harry Potter and the Forbidden Passage

Chapter 10: Shadows of the Past

He was walking down the corridor at the Department of Mysteries. The sound of his shoes hitting the stone floor resonated in the empty hall. The black door loomed directly in front of him. He reached out for the knob and turned it. Immediately the torches on the walls extinguished themselves and there was complete darkness. He reached in his robes for his wand to illuminate his surroundings, but gas lights started to flicker on as he turned around. The cold stone corridor was replaced with wood flooring and peeling wallpaper, but the black door remained.

There were voices beyond the door, many whispers calling his name just as they did behind the veil. He reached out his hand to open the door again. He turned the knob slowly and the door creaked open. But the doorway was blocked. It was stacked with boxes and crates from floor to ceiling. It was like a brick wall blocking any passage, but the voices still called him from the other side.

One of the boxes jutted out towards him. He pulled it out, setting it aside. The box above fell down and took its place. He removed another box and the same thing happened. The voices grew louder and more urgent. He removed another box and another and another until finally there was a space just large enough for him to crawl through. He stepped over a crate through the small space he had created and found himself faced with another wall of boxes and the voices had become still louder.

He needed to see what was behind the boxes. In his frustration, he pulled out his wand. Before even uttering a spell, a blast of light emitted from his wand, sending the boxes flying in every direction. They crashed open, revealing their horrible contents. He watched in horror as house-elf heads rolled around on the ground. A large glass jar shattered and a viscous red liquid oozed out and seeped in between the large cracks in the wood floor. On the opposite side, a crate broke in two, releasing hundreds if not thousands of tarantulas which were now creeping across the floor, up the walls, and even on the ceiling.

Amidst the chaos, he hardly even noticed that the voices had stopped and there was no trace of where they had come from. In the area beyond where the boxes once stood, the room appeared to be empty except for an object in the center covered in a white sheet. It was about three feet tall and awkwardly shaped.

He felt compelled to remove the sheet but afraid at the same time. He pinched the edge of the sheet and pulled quickly, jumping back as he did so. He gasped. The sheet had slipped away to reveal Kreacher's Petrified body. Kreacher looked as though he had turned to stone, and even his coloring had changed to a sickening shade of gray.

Harry reached out to touch the house-elf and felt something as cold and hard as a rock. But the surface beneath his fingertips changed immediately at the touch, becoming warmer and softer with every second. Harry watched in frozen silence as Kreacher's natural coloring returned. Kreacher's fingers started to move, he was coming back to life.

The elf started cackling, just as he had when he lied to Harry about Sirius's whereabouts. "Master is gone. Master is not coming back. Kreacher will be alone with his Mistress again." His cackling grew louder.

The elf started walking towards Harry aggressively with a mad look in his eyes. "Kreacher must not allow filthy half-bloods to befoul the house of his Mistress. Get out, Harry Potter!" He looked menacingly at Harry.

"How dare you!" a voice bellowed behind Harry. He knew that voice, he knew it by heart. He wanted to turn around, wanted to see the owner of that voice. But he was frozen in place, unable to move or to speak.

The voice continued yelling at Kreacher. "How dare you talk to my godson that way! You traitorous scum! This is his house now and you are no longer welcome."

Kreacher was now bowing so low that his long nose touched the floor. "Master! No, Master is dead! Kreacher is not understanding." Kreacher was whimpering to the floor, not daring to look up.

Harry couldn't understand either. How could this be? It couldn't be him, it was impossible.

"You will understand very quickly, Kreacher," the voice thundered. "Get out of my sight or I will finish you as I should have long ago!"

The prostrate form of Kreacher vanished right before his eyes.

"It can't be. It can't be," he whispered to himself. As feeling came back to his limbs, Harry turned around and saw him standing not more than three feet away. He was pearly white and translucent, but it was him.

"Sirius?" Harry whispered.

"Yes, Harry, it's me." He smiled fondly and laughed in that way he always did, sounding more like a bark. "I was starting to think you'd never find me. I've been waiting up here for months."

Before Harry could say anything in response, Sirius started to fade away, as if he was vanishing just as Kreacher had, but much more slowly. His pearly white form was becoming more and more transparent. He looked frightened and reach a hand out towards Harry.

"Sirius!" Harry screamed.

"Harry!" Sirius yelled back in a voice that remained crystal clear.

"NO, SIRIUS! NOOOOOO!!!"

But Sirius was gone and everything had faded to black. A voice still penetrated distantly calling his name.

"Harry! Come on, Harry!" It took him several moments to realize that this voice no longer belonged to Sirius, it was Ron.

"Harry! Get up, mate!" Ron said desperately. Suddenly, Harry felt a cold splash of water against his face.

"HEY! I'm up," he said angrily, wiping his face with his sleeve before opening his eyes.

"Sorry," Ron said apologetically. "You had me scared there for a moment. I've been trying to wake you up for ten minutes now. It wasn't You-Know-Who, was it?"

"No," Harry answered wearily. But even as he denied it, he put a hand to his scar and realized that it was prickling. It didn't seem like a dream that Voldemort would have influenced, but then why was his scar throbbing dully? "Well, at least I don't think it was him."

"What do you mean you don't think so? Does your scar hurt?"

"Well, yes...just a little."

"We should tell someone then. Come on, let's find Lupin," Ron said, pulling on Harry's arm.

"No!" Harry protested vehemently.

"Harry, it could be important!"

"No, it's not important," he said quickly. "It was just a dream, just a… dream."

"It's never just a dream when your scar is hurting. I'm getting help," Ron said with finality as he walked back to the hallway.

Harry got up out of bed and pulled him back in the room. "No, Ron, please don't."

"Well then tell me what the hell is going on!"

"It's just…I don't think it has anything to do with Voldemort. I mean they'll know why I dreamt what I did, and I don't want them to know about it. I just dreamt about the attic, don't worry about it. It was nothing. Really nothing."

"Harry, you were screaming like your life depended on it. That isn't nothing. And why were you dreaming about the attic?"

Harry sighed. "Because Remus is punishing me by making me clean it tomorrow…or today…What time is it anyway?"

"Four o'clock when you woke me up. And since when do you call him Remus?"

Harry shrugged. "Since he asked me to."

"So, are you going to tell me why he's punishing you?"

Harry swore. "Ron, do we really have to go through this again? I told you I went back to the Death Chamber."

"And…"

"AND WHAT?" Harry screamed angrily.

"Shh, you'll wake the girls if they're not already up." He looked anxiously towards the hallway through the open door. "Harry, you've been my best mate for five bloody years, I know when you're keeping something from me."

Harry groaned and leaned over, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes in frustration. "Fine," he sighed heavily, "I'll tell you." He stood up. "I might as well get it over with," he muttered. "Come on, let's go downstairs. You'll probably be the one screaming when I tell you and I could frankly use a cup of tea right about now."

Ron gave him a questioning look before following him down the dark staircase.

"Harry, there's someone down there," Ron whispered.

"I'm not blind, Ron. I can see that," he whispered back irritably. There was a shaft of light coming up from the staircase that led down to the kitchen. "It's probably just Dobby."

"Yeah…must be," Ron said uncertainly.

Without pausing, Harry pulled the door open wider and climbed down the stairs. Ron followed two steps behind. As he reached the foot of the staircase, he peered into the kitchen, fully expecting to see Dobby cleaning or preparing for breakfast. Or perhaps it would be Remus reading a book by the fire. But he never would have expected this . What he did see made him instantly turn and motion Ron to return upstairs, but it was already too late.

"Potter," sneered a cold, hard voice, "I might have expected to find you sneaking about in the middle of the night." Snape was sitting at the kitchen table and rolling up a large piece of parchment that had been spread in front of him. The curtains of greasy, black hair framing his face glistened in the glow of the fire.

Harry glared back at him. "I was just getting a cup of tea," he said between clenched teeth.

"Oh really," Snape said coldly, "and were you 'just getting a cup of tea' last night when you ran off and the headmaster found you mere inches from death?"

"What's he talking about, Harry?" Ron asked quietly, looking utterly confused and bewildered.

Harry put up a hand toward Ron to silence him as he continued to stare at Snape.

"And what exactly are you doing here in the middle of the night?" Harry responded heatedly.

"Manners, Potter. You didn't really think that the headmaster would leave you alone again here with these incompetents, did you? No, Potter, someone has been scheduled on duty here round the clock to be sure you don't attempt anything else quite so foolish as to take your own life."

Harry's hands clenched angrily into fists by his sides as he tried with great difficulty to suppress his anger. Ron, on the other hand, had immediately jumped at the words and was advancing furiously towards Snape.

"Harry would never do something like that!" Ron yelled at Snape in outrage.

"Ron, don't! Stay out of this," Harry urged.

Ron turned around and looked at him incredulously. "But, Harry, he just said that you…How can you let him-"

"Ron," Harry urged again quietly, unable to look directly at his best friend, "please don't."

"But," Ron said breathlessly, "Harry, tell me you didn't…?"

The corners of Snape's mouth curled in an evil grin. "Ah, I see poor Mr. Weasley has not been privileged with an account of the night's events yet. Well, let me rectify the situation."

Harry shook his head and flashed his eyes angrily at Snape, telling him without words to stop what he was doing. Snape just stared coolly back and his grin became even broader.

"Sit down, Weasley," Snape ordered.

Ron's eyes were wide with alarm as he sat down on the bench and looked fearfully back and forth between Harry and Snape.

"You see, Weasley," Snape said coldly, "Potter here decided it would be amusing to return to the Department of Mysteries last night. He persuaded an Auror to take him away from his bodyguards at the reception and then he deceived her and proceeded alone to visit the Death Chamber."

"I know Harry went to the Death Chamber, he told us," Ron said, not quite understanding what was going on.

"Do not interrupt me, Weasley," Snape responded sharply. "What Mr. Potter has not told you was that the headmaster found him when he was just about to walk through the veil. Apparently, your so-called friend was ready to join his reckless godfather in death."

Ron shook his head slightly. "You're lying," he said quietly in disbelief, his brow was furrowed.

"I assure you I am not," Snape replied icily. "And should you make any further insinuations upon my character, Weasley, I will be forced to speak with your parents, something that I would rather avoid as much as humanly possible."

Snape turned his attention to Harry. "You know, your father was quite foolish also, Potter. But I've underestimated you. You're far more idiotic than he ever was. Your father may have been arrogant, but he never would have been so stupid as to approach the veil."

Harry was seething with rage. If he could use magic, Harry had little doubt that he now had the will and the desire necessary to perform the Cruciatus curse properly. Without quite realizing what he was doing, Harry picked up a heavy iron flagon. He wanted to hurl it at Snape's head, he wanted to hurt Snape, just as Snape had hurt him. But he caught sight of Ron who was staring at him, begging with his eyes to tell him that it wasn't true. The iron flagon dropped out of his hands and crashed onto the stone floor with a loud clang. Harry sank to his knees as if all the energy had drained from his body.

His mind was swirling so terribly that he was hardly able to pay attention to the fact that someone was racing down the stairs two at a time.

"What's going on here?" Remus had now appeared at the foot of the staircase, looking in bewilderment between Harry, Ron, and Snape. "Harry, are you all right?"

"Oh, don't let him fool you, Potter's just fine. We were just having an honest discussion. It seems that Weasley here hadn't been informed yet of last night's little mishap," Snape said coolly.

"And you thought it your place to tell him, Severus? Before Harry even had the chance?" Lupin replied with dismay. Lupin shook his head in disgust and kneeled beside Harry, helping him to his feet. "Harry, why don't you go back to sleep?"

"Here, Potter," Snape said, holding out a clear flask full of a purple liquid, "you could probably use this. Your mind is far too open tonight. It's a potion for dreamless sleep. Only a few drops will do, the headmaster would be disappointed if you should become comatose. I daresay it would be easier to control you though."

"And what do you think Dumbledore would say if he heard this conversation?" Lupin answered icily, as he took the flask and handed it to Harry.

Harry walked slowly, wearily back to the stairs.

"Oh, Potter, haven't you forgotten something?" Harry stared back at him but didn't move. "Your…tea," Snape said as he conjured a cup in midair.

Harry shot him a look of the deepest loathing, turned his back and returned the way he came. The last thing he heard was Ron asking in a stunned voice, "So, it's…true?"

* * * * *

When Harry awoke the next morning, he found that he had slept in for several hours and that it was much closer to lunch than breakfast. When he opened his bedroom door, he was surprised to find Tonks stationed in a chair across from it. Her hair was now bright white, short and spiked and she glared at Harry over a pair of thin sunglasses.

"Long night?" she said coolly.

"Look, I'm sorry," Harry said immediately. "It was wrong to involve you. I just needed to see it again. Things got out of hand."

"I'm not here for apologies. It's my turn to watch you and you're not getting farther than a few meters away from me this time."

"I'm not going to try anything again. It was a stupid mistake. Can't anyone stop treating me like a child?" Harry said in frustration.

"Not until you stop acting like one," Tonks said with a smirk. Her tough, angry exterior had instantly vanished to be replaced by the fun, happy personality he was most familiar with. "Oh, come on, Harry," she said, looking much cheerier than she had a moment ago, "let's go down and get something to eat. You made me miss Molly's wonderful breakfast, waiting for you to get your lazy arse out of bed."

"It's quiet," Harry remarked as they headed down to the kitchen. "Where is everyone?"

"Oh, they're around. To tell you the truth, Harry, they were all pretty upset when I showed up this morning."

"They don't want to see me," Harry accidentally said aloud as he thought the words.

"No, I reckon they probably don't. You're not the most popular man this morning, Harry. Well, except in the papers. Here, this ought to amuse you." She passed him a copy of the morning's Daily Prophet.

"Ministry Gives Long Overdue Thanks to the Boy Who Lived" was splashed across the front cover. It was accompanied by a photograph of Harry shaking the Minister's hand, or rather Fudge shaking his hand. He was pleased to see that he looked sufficiently appalled in the photograph.

"Oh, Harry dear, you're up." Molly Weasley was standing next to the stove when they entered the kitchen. She had quickly wiped her eyes with her sleeves when they entered and Harry couldn't help but notice that her eyes were still red and swollen from crying. But she was smiling now and clearly trying her best to put on a brave face in front of him. Harry's guilt quadrupled instantly and his stomach lurched. He had to look away, he could not see her face again.

"Sorry," Harry said quietly, "I guess I must have slept in."

"Well, of course you did," she said kindly. "That was a strong sleeping potion Professor Snape gave you."

If she knew about the sleeping potion, than she probably knew about everything else. Had Ron told her? Or was it Remus?

"You must be starving," she said, "it's almost time for lunch, but there are a few scones leftover from breakfast. I've kept them warm in the oven for you." She pulled out a tray with a few raisin scones and placed them on a plate in front of Harry and Tonks.

"Thanks, Molly, these look fabulous" Tonks said appreciatively as she grabbed a scone and began spreading jam on it.

"Well, Dobby insisted on lending a hand, so half of the credit goes to him," Mrs. Weasley said warmly. "It's rather nice to have some help around the kitchen for once. You'd think with seven children that one of them would occasionally help with the cooking."

Tonks chuckled. "I'll help you anytime, Molly. Just say the word," she said seconds before she knocked over her glass of juice.

Mrs. Weasley looked behind at the mess. "Um…that's quite all right, dear, I think I have enough help at the moment with Dobby here."

Tonks waved her wand and vanished away the mess instantly and effortlessly as though she were used to this happening on a daily basis. "Oh, Harry, don't worry about that letter Remus told you to write to me," she said dismissively. "I know you're sorry, you don't need to tell me in writing. You know, he's just trying to be all responsible and parental. Becoming a right bore, if you ask me."

"That's not fair, Tonks," Mrs. Weasley said quietly. "Remus deserves credit. He's…he's a good parent for Harry," she admitted with seemingly great difficulty. "He's trying to give Harry some guidance. Sometimes parents have to be difficult with their children to protect them."

A few tears tumbled down her cheeks. She wiped them quickly. "Excuse me," she laughed slightly, "it's just these blasted raw onions," she muttered, trying but failing to sound cheerful. She turned back to face the stove, where there were no onions in sight. She began stirring the contents of the cauldron in front of her quite rapidly.

Harry felt nauseous. He looked at the half scone left in his hand with distaste and set it down.

"I don't think I'm hungry anymore," he said abruptly as he rose from the table. "I think I'll just…get to work on the attic."

He could not look at her. He could not sit there and pretend that nothing had happened and ignore her tears. He had to get away, anywhere that would take him away from anxious looks and worried faces.

"Wait, Harry, you've hardly had anything to eat since lunch yesterday," Mrs. Weasley called from below as he walked up the stairs. Harry waved his hand dismissively to indicate that he was all right, but continued up without looking back.

Solitude was not to be found though as he bumped into Mr. Weasley and Remus in the portrait hall. It looked like they were in the midst of a conversation when Harry interrupted them. Remus held an old suitcase in his left hand.

"Oh, Harry, you're up. Good," Remus said. "I was just on my way out and wanted to say goodbye before I left."

"You're leaving already?" Harry asked.

"Yes, I need to take care of some business while I'm up there. Listen, I'm sorry about the punishment. Maybe I was a little hasty. If you don't feel up to it, you don't have to. We'll figure out something else when I come back."

"No, it's all right. Really, I don't mind." What Harry didn't say and couldn't say in front of them was that he really welcomed the opportunity to seclude himself. Cleaning the attic right now sounded a hundred times better than being with Ron and Hermione, who would no doubt want to ask him loads of questions he wouldn't want to answer. He couldn't even stomach the thought of looking at them right now and felt very fortunate that he had been able to avoid them since he woke up.

"Well, all right, if you're sure," Remus said uncertainly. "I've had Moody take a look at the attic this morning. He didn't see anything there that you should have a problem with. It's mostly old clothes and furniture. You can find Doxycide, Magical Mess Remover, and other cleaning products in the linen closet on the third floor. If you do have a problem, give a shout out, one of the Order members will be stationed outside the attic door. "

"He'll be fine, Remus," Mr. Weasley emphasized. "Don't worry."

"Right, then," Remus said slowly, still looking at Harry with a worried expression. He made no motion to leave.

"I'll be fine, really," Harry added, rolling his eyes. "Nothing's going to happen, I promise."

"All right, well, see you in a couple of days. Bye, Harry," Remus said as he gave Harry a one-armed hug. "Good-bye, Arthur," he said as he shook Mr. Weasley's hand. Within seconds, he was gone.

Harry resumed his path up to the attic, walking as quietly as he could past Ron's and Hermione's doors and up to the next level. This floor was completely empty at the moment, as it only contained the bedrooms of Remus, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and Fred and George, who weren't staying there currently. One more flight up was the bedroom that had once belonged to Sirius's mother, which Tonks was now using occasionally. Even Buckbeak was gone now, having returned back to Hagrid's care after Sirius's passing.

At the end of the narrow dimly lit hallway was the door to the attic. It was indeed painted black just as it had been in his dream, but the paint was worn and peeling. Instead of an ordinary round door handle, the handle was pewter and shaped like a serpent. It was dusty and tarnished and left a streak of rust and grime on his palm when he touched it. The door creaked slowly open to reveal a very old, steep wooden staircase. Light did not penetrate further than a few steps.

Without the ability to illuminate his wand, Harry realized he would need some other light source to continue. Returning to the linen closet on the third floor, he gathered several candles and a bucket of supplies, making sure to bring plenty of dust rags. He lit one of the candles and proceeded up the narrow staircase. The stairs creaked beneath his feet, and planks seemed to be missing or rotted through in several places. What was more distressing was the odor that became stronger with every step he climbed. It was an odd and foulsome mix of mold and decay, with a stronger scent that reminded him of rotten meat. He coughed and held a clean rag over his nose after he dropped the bucket on the attic floor.

Harry raised the candle and surveyed the area around him. It was a fairly large space, about the size of two bedrooms and filled with objects piled high and scattered randomly. There were a lot of boxes, some trunks and plenty of furniture and other objects. Everything was covered with a thick layer of dust while much of the furniture was covered with sheets.

He directed the candle light toward the floor to find a clear path to walk through. He found the path and something else besides. There were small strange tracks in the dust. Harry followed the footprints that wound their way along a narrow path and ended in front of an old couch. On the couch there was on old tattered blanket and a few crumbs, along with a couple of framed photographs and a few odds and ends.

At first, Harry was confused. Had something been living up here? But the blanket and pictures reminded him of something. He looked back at the footsteps again. They belonged to a house-elf. Then he remembered how Sirius had found Kreacher in the attic before. It looked like he had certainly spent some time here. It was probably the only place in the house where he could completely avoid everyone.

It would be too dark to get any work done if he didn't find any other light source. After scanning the room, he found sconces along the walls with half-melted candles. He lit them each in turn until the room was bathed in soft yellow light.

As he looked around, the job seemed overwhelming. The room was full of objects and it was filthy. Space would need to be cleared before anything could be done about the dust and cobwebs and general cleaning. He could not fathom how this place could ever be habitable.

Separating the furniture from the junk was probably the first step. Finally he decided to start with a nearby trunk. Harry put his hand on the latch warily, briefly expecting something terrible to come out of it, a boggart per chance or maybe something worse. Memories of his nightmare from the previous night came flooding back. He opened the lid cautiously and looked in to find it completely empty.

The next two hours passed by fairly quickly as Harry opened boxes and sorted them, throwing away clothes, knick knacks, and possible dark arts objects into the empty trunk. On the whole, it hadn't been that bad so far. The worst thing he'd found so far was the skeleton of a dead rat, which hardly phased him. It could have been much, much worse. There were no house-elf heads, jars of blood, or objects that one could only find in Knockturn Alley.

When Tonks came up to check on him, she fortunately found the source of the smell- a Bundimun had been hiding beneath the floorboards near the top of the staircase. Fortunately, there was only one, so the damage wasn't that severe, but it explained why the staircase was in such bad condition. After Tonks destroyed it with a simple Scouring charm, the decay smell vanished, but the mold and must still made it difficult to breathe.

The few magical items he had found didn't seem to be all that dangerous. There was a mirror that called him a filthy half-blood, which he accidentally threw a little too hard into the trunk, shattering it into hundreds of pieces. One of the more troublesome objects was an old broomstick whose handle was broken. The broomstick bucked and rose towards the ceiling refusing to be placed in the trunk. The trunk itself seemed to be magical because it never seemed to get full no matter how much junk Harry threw into it.

He had just opened a new trunk with the initials R.B. on the top, when he heard footsteps on the stairs.

"I'm fine, Tonks," Harry called out loudly. She had come in every half hour to check on him and he was starting to get annoyed.

The footsteps continued up the stairs.

Harry rolled his eyes and looked back at the trunk. Lying on top of a pile of old robes was a green and silver tie and scarf, exactly like Draco Malfoy's.

"What's that?" someone said from right behind him, it was definitely not Tonks. Harry spun around. Ginny was standing there holding out a tray with a sandwich and a glass of pumpkin juice.

"Must be Regulus's trunk," Harry answered. "What are you doing here?"

"Mum sent me up to help you. She thought you might want this," Ginny said as she handed him the tray.

"Thanks." Harry set the tray on a table he had cleared off. "But I can handle this on my own. It's my punishment, I'll deal with it."

"You think I want to spend my afternoon up here cleaning out some dirty old attic?" Ginny asked incredulously. "Harry, I don't have a choice. Mum's punishing me too."

"Why?"

"Well…I kind of…um…put something in Professor Snape's food at breakfast," she said evasively. "Mum just found out."

"You what?" Harry asked dumbfounded.

"I…put one of Fred & George's hair shrinking potions into his porridge," she confessed quickly.

Harry laughed out loud. "What happened?"

"Well, he came back when we were all eating lunch and he was livid. He knew one of us had done it. I don't know why he was so mad, it didn't even make him bald like I had hoped. His hair just shrunk to about an inch." She paused and picked up the Slytherin tie. "Actually he doesn't look half bad with shorter hair," she mused.

"Ginny!"

"What?"

"You're worse than Fred and George. Even they wouldn't have dared to do that to Snape. Why'd you do it?" he asked jovially.

Ginny shrugged, she was no longer smiling. "Ron told me what he did last night."

"Oh," Harry said quietly.

"How are you organizing this?" she asked, switching subjects gratefully to the task at hand.

"Everything we're throwing away goes in that trunk and everything we keep goes on the sofa. I'll have someone look through it all later."

Harry got up to help her sort through Regulus's trunk but Ginny motioned him to sit. "Eat your sandwich, I'll go through this," she said.

After he started eating, he realized that he truly was hungry. All of the work must have made him famished. He had just swallowed the last bite of his sandwich when Ginny let out a small gasp.

"Oh my God!" she said as she looked with shock at something in the bottom of the trunk.

"What is it?" Harry asked anxiously.

She turned to him with a huge grin and lifted something out of the trunk. She held up a robe with lime green, brown, and turquoise stripes. "These must be the ugliest robes I've ever seen. I bet they're from the 70's. I can't believe anyone would ever even wear these."

Harry laughed. "I've never thought Slytherins had any taste."

She wrinkled up her nose with disgust as she threw the robes in the discard pile. "I hope my parents never wore anything like that. Bet Fred and George would wear them, just for laughs."

"Probably," Harry replied. "At least Ron's dress robes weren't quite that bad."

* * * * *

With two people, they had managed to do the job much more efficiently and had cleared half of the space by the end of the afternoon. The time passed quickly and even enjoyably with Ginny there. She never once asked him a single question about what had happened at the Ministry, for which Harry was very grateful. But it was starting to trouble him.

"Ginny?" he asked tentatively.

"Hmm?" she responded, distracted as she looked through some old papers.

"Why haven't you asked me about last night?"

She put down the papers and looked up at him with surprise. "You said you didn't want to talk about it."

"I don't… I just-"

"You do," she said quietly. "You want to talk about it, you just don't want people to be angry or disappointed in you."

Harry didn't know what to say. When had she become so perceptive? It was like she knew exactly what he was feeling before he even did.

"We've got all day tomorrow to talk," she offered. "I think we should break for the night shortly. Help me move this desk first, something's lodged behind it."

Harry pulled as Ginny pushed the very heavy mahogany desk away from the wall. Once Ginny was able to dislodge the object, Harry resumed the task he had left. He paused when he heard her gasp loudly.

"Not more striped robes?" Harry joked.

"Uh…Harry…" she was still staring at whatever the object was, "I think you should see this."

Harry walked around to her side of the desk and followed her gaze down to the flat object resting against the wall. He couldn't believe what he was seeing.

"James?" Sirius called, blinking sleepily as he looked up at Harry from the portrait of his 15-year-old self.