Harry Potter and the Last Terrible Vision

It stood like a small memorial of what was once a white wooden fence. All that remained of the house, where Godric's Hollow's famous family resided, was a burned-out frame. A large, bare wooden barrier enclosed most of what was left. A crude path from the small gate led to what was once the front door. Stumps of dark brown and charcoal black wood boards stood around the perimeter. Any evidence of the contents of the home had either been burned beyond recognition or removed. Had someone, unaware of the infamous story, gazed upon the wreckage, they would still know the obvious: This home fell victim to a terrible fate.

Standing just beyond the gate was the tall, lean figure of seventeen-year-old Harry Potter. His dark, unkempt hair lay at the nape of his neck and hung limp over his brow. His round-rimmed glasses framed anger-filled green eyes that resembled his mother's. An over-sized, black sweatshirt draped his frame and hung low over his blue jeans. His wand was brandished in his right hand; he stood motionless. The quiet stillness was suddenly broken by the sound of cracking wood.

"Hello! Is anyone there?" Harry called out into the burned wreckage.

Suddenly, a small figure, slightly misshapen, appeared from the morning fog. Her wrinkled face was framed with fluffy white hair. Her long gold and burgundy cloak dragged along the floorboards as she continued to walk toward the front part of the house. Holding tightly to a cane in her left hand, she walked slowly toward Harry.

Harry squinted at her to get a better look at her face. He did not recognize her. Not taking any chances, Harry raised his wand.

"Stop! Don't come any closer," Harry warned the old woman.

The woman stopped only briefly, perhaps to size Harry up, then proceeded forward.

"I ... I mean it!" Harry threatened, brandishing his wand. Why, he wondered, was she still walking toward him? She had no wand of her own that he could see. She seemed rather defenseless.

"Look," Harry began, "whoever you are, I'd appreciate it if you didn't wander here. This was once my home, and I think it's a bit disrespectful of you to be trespassing."

Acting as if she had not heard anything Harry said, the old woman replied, "Someone said I might find you here."

Harry was caught off guard by this remark. He could think of no other reply, but the one he gave. "Are you looking for me?"

"Yes," she replied, now stopping only a couple of meters away.

"Well, do you know who I am?" Harry asked.

"Why, yes, Harry dear. You're Harry James Potter, son of James Potter and Lily Evans."

"Who are you and ... what is your business here?"

"Well, to start, my name is Rose Malfoy Albright, Hogwarts alumna 1922, house of Slytherin. Yes, go on, Harry, take your best shot. I'm a Malfoy and a Slytherin," the old woman replied with a cackle.

"Don't tempt me," Harry warned, holding his wand firmly in front of him. "So, what are you doing here?"

"I'm here Harry because Professor McGonagall sent me here to find you."

"Why would she do that? I already told her I wasn't coming back to Hogwarts."

"I am aware of this. Apparently the professor feels you are doing a disservice to yourself, your friends and the wizarding world. I would explain more, but your wand is distracting me," Rose complained.

"Oh, no. The wand stays where it is. How do I know you're not a Death Eater who drank Polyjuice potion and turned yourself into this?" Harry argued.

"Search your soul, Harry. Be logical. What benefit would it serve me to come in the form of an old woman, defenseless and limited in mobility? However, if I did drink Polyjuice, you certainly would be one who would know. After all, it takes one to know one, doesn't it?" Rose teased.

Harry subconsciously began lowering his wand as he continued to listen to the woman. He watched her carefully. It was true what she said. It would be foolish to take the form of a helpless, old woman then try to do any harm to Harry now. Then again, thought Harry, it would be quite an ingenious decoy. She had proven herself to be quite a distraction if anyone else was planning to ambush him. With this thought in mind, Harry's heart began to beat rapidly. He started to frantically look around him, trying to catch sight of anyone else who might be hiding in the midst.

"Hold it. How do I know you're alone?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"Dear child," the old woman sighed, "your imagination is strikingly familiar. You know, your mother had a gift for imagining the worst," chuckled Rose.

"Well, you can't expect me to trust you. I don't know who you are. You appear out of nowhere, rummaging through what's left of my dead parents' house. You say Professor McGonagall sent you here, and your name is..." At that moment, Harry had another thought. The old woman smiled at him and finished his sentence.

"Malfoy and I hail from the house of Slytherin. Yessss, Harry. Now, if I were going to trick someone into believing I was benevolent, when really I was not, wouldn't it benefit me to pick a friendlier surname and more acceptable house? Wouldn't that be more logical?"

"I guess you have a point," admitted Harry.

"I'll make a deal with you. Let's get out of here. I know you wish to visit your parents' graves. I'll walk a safe distance in front of you. You can keep an eye on me. In the meantime, perhaps we'll get to know each other a little better. I'm certain you have many more questions to ask me, if I'm not mistaken," Rose suggested.

"Yeah, I have questions," Harry grunted. His wand was down by his side. The old woman nodded to him to confirm that they had an agreement. Harry gestured to her to let her know he accepted her proposal. As she passed him, he backed away a step, keeping himself a safe distance from her. Harry began to follow behind her, and once they reached the road, the old woman began to speak.

"So, Harry, once we get to your parents' graves, what do you expect to accomplish?"

"I ... I dunno. I guess I just think I'll be closer to them."

"And you think going to where their bodies are buried will achieve this closeness?"

"Well, yeah. Well, I dunno," Harry replied, growing frustrated with the conversation.

"You think their spirit is there?" The old woman paused and turned around to face Harry. Harry quickly stopped. "Harry, their spirits aren't buried with their bodies. They're buried, or should I say, hidden in your heart. Only you can reveal them. As painful as it might be for a moment, you must realize that they are with you. They always have been. They always will be."

Harry had no reply to this. He stood and stared at the old woman. He realized she was probably right, but he wanted to go to the graves anyway.

"Harry," the old woman continued, "we'll go to their graves, but I must warn you, it will be a bit anticlimactic. However, if it gives you the closure you so desperately need, perhaps it's not such a bad idea." The old woman turned around and proceeded forward. "Come along, Harry."

Harry followed behind for a moment then he quickly sped up to walk beside her. The old woman glanced up at him, chuckled then continued her painfully slow gait. They walked the remaining distance to the graveyard without another word.

Eventually they reached James and Lily Potter's graves. The old woman stopped a couple of meters short of the graves. Harry walked a bit farther so he could read their headstones. He stared at the date that marked their deaths. Harry quickly glanced at the old woman. She appeared to be mournful. She looked hollow and fragile, leaning on her cane. She looked up to meet Harry's eyes. In an instant, Harry realized that she had been telling him the truth. For, as he looked into her eyes, which were now brimming with tears, he saw how sincere they were. Then it struck him. The old woman was grieving. She was grieving over James and Lily.

Harry turned back to face the headstone. Another emotion emerged, and, for the first time, Harry Potter felt a deep pain of grief, unlike the one he felt for Sirius or Professor Dumbledore. This was an unmitigating pain. It reached deeper and seemed as if it would remain with Harry forever. Harry swallowed hard, and his jaw began to hurt. From behind, he could hear the old woman weeping. His tears welled up in his eyes and rolled down his cheeks.

Harry wiped the tears that rested on his chin and nose with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. He reached in the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out the card he planned to leave at the graves. On the envelope it was written, 'To Mum and Dad.' The old woman watched Harry as he gave a second thought to the card.

"Why would I leave this here?" Harry wondered out loud, breaking the silence. "It's not like they're gonna read it." Harry held back the remaining tears, which were threatening to fall from his eyes.

The old woman, noticing that Harry was about to return the card to his back pocket, spoke up.

"Harry, leave the card."

"Why? You're right. They're not here. They're somewhere else. They were with me in the graveyard, three years ago, during the Triwizard Tournament. It's just a stupid card. I don't know what I was thinking when I bought it."

"Harry, leave the card here and let's go."

Harry stayed put, staring at the card in his hand.

"Harry, it's nice that we came, but now it's time to go back and join the living. While it's wonderful that we remember those loved ones who have died and gone on to the next world, it is important that we do not forget the ones who still love us in this world," Rose reasoned.

"So I guess we should be getting back," Harry said.

"It would be the sensible thing to do. Besides, Ron and Hermione must be worried about you. Why aren't they with you by the way?" Rose mentioned.

"First of all, how do you know about my friends and secondly, I told them I wanted to do this part alone," Harry replied, defensively.

"Well to answer your question, Professor McGonagall was instrumental in filling me in on your...hmmm, situation, should we say," Rose replied, now displaying an affectionate smile to Harry. Harry turned back and gingerly leaned the card against the headstone.

As Harry and Rose walked back toward the cemetery entrance, Harry's mind raced with questions. "So, what do I call you? Rose? Mrs. Malfoy?"

"Correction! Professor Albright. My maiden name was Malfoy," Rose was quick to correct.

"OK, Professor Albright."

As they continued to walk, Rose reached her hand out to Harry and asked, "You like chicken?"

Harry, thinking this question a bit odd, answered anyway. "Uh, yeah, why?"

"Grab a wing," Rose replied, with a smile. Harry took the elderly professor's arm and gently tucked it under his. They walked slowly out of Godric's Hollow into the mid-morning sun.

Harry and Professor Albright walked to the town limits of Godric's Hollow. Harry looked around then studied Professor Albright. He noticed how frail and elderly she was. She had no wand or broom. How did she travel? Harry launched more questions at her.

"Professor, how did you get here?"

"By wizard taxi," Professor Albright replied, watching Harry's expression.

"You don't have a broom?" Harry asked, looking concerned.

"No."

"Not even a Portkey," Harry asked suspiciously.

"Harry, I already told you, wizard taxi service," Professor Albright repeated.

"Why did you have to take a taxi?" asked Harry.

"Harry, where are we off to next?" inquired Professor Albright, in an annoyed tone of voice.

"Well, back to my house ... I mean Sirius' house ... well, Sirius left it to me in his will, so I guess it's mine..."

"Harry, Harry!" Professor Albright squawked, growing increasingly impatient with him. "Let's take the taxi back there, then you can continue to bombard me with all the questions you want. Besides, I have something important I need to reveal to you."

"Yeah? What?"

"When we get to number twelve, Grimmauld Place," Professor Albright insisted. Harry was surprised that Rose knew the address of his house.

"Hey, how did you..." Harry did not finish his question. He could tell by the Professor's expression, she knew many things about him, his family, Dumbledore, the Order, and, more importantly, the impending war.

Harry and Professor Albright reached the edge of Godric's Hollow's border. Suddenly, as if out of nowhere, a bright orange car with white and black checkerboard doors sped up, then stopped to a screeching halt. The driver was a man in his fifties. He wore a cap and spoke with a strong cockney accent.

"Where to?"

"Number twelve, Grimmauld Place," Harry replied, helping Professor Albright into the back seat.

"Twelve Grimmauld it is, then!"

The driver sped off with Harry barely seated. Before Harry could seat himself comfortably, the driver stopped abruptly. Both Harry and Professor Albright were flung against the back of the front seats.

" 'Ere we 're", announced the driver.

It had only seemed like seconds that the taxi had been moving. Harry lifted his throbbing head. He adjusted his glasses and looked around. There it was: Sirius' house.

"That'll be three Galleons," the driver said.

Harry paid the fare without a word then helped Professor Albright out of the taxi. Professor Albright had just stepped onto the curb when the taxi sped off. It disappeared in seconds. Harry held onto the professor as he led her up to the house. She walked with the same painfully slow gait. Once inside, Harry led the professor to the kitchen.

"Here, be careful on the stairs," Harry cautioned, leading her down to the kitchen in the basement and over to the table. Professor Albright sat down. "Can I get you anything?" Harry offered.

"A nice cup of tea would be lovely, dear." Harry smiled and volleyed back and forth from the pantry to the stove, setting up for tea.

"So," Harry began as he put a kettle of water on the stove, "what is it you wanted to tell me?"

"Harry, one reason why I came was to tell you something important," Professor Albright said, articulating clearly enough so that Harry would be able to hear her.

"Yeah, I know. What is it?"

"You must return to Hogwarts and finish your studies!" Harry was setting up the teacups on the counter near the stove when he heard these words. He stopped immediately, thought for a moment then stepped away from the counter and walked over to the table. He stared at Professor Albright for a moment. She returned his stare. She attempted to break the silence.

"Did you hear me, Harry?"

"Yeah," a resigned Harry replied, thinking it was strange that she repeated herself. He already knew that was why she was here. "You said Professor McGonagall sent you so that you could talk me into coming back."

"This is true. Professor McGonagall is concerned for you, Harry. She is concerned that you are on some mission of your own. She senses that it is one that holds a great deal of danger in store, and you are not as prepared as you think to handle it."

"Oh really?" Harry replied indignantly.

"Harry, I did not mean to offend you. As much as you have grown, there is still much you need to learn. I would stay here longer to tell you more, but I need to get back and work on the plan," Professor Albright explained.

"Plan? What plan?"

"Harry, I find it odd that you haven't asked me the one question that would force me to tell you many other things about myself," Professor Albright observed.

"And what question might that be?" Harry asked, feeling a bit nervous again.

Professor Albright was about to reply when suddenly, the kettle of water on the stove shrilled its whistle. Harry jumped. He immediately ran over to the stove to stop the high-pitched squeal then returned to the table and sat down across from Professor Albright. He continued to maintain his safe distance from her.

"So, what's this question I should be asking you?"

"The question is, 'where have I been all these years?' After all, I am a Hogwarts professor. "

"Well," Harry asked, "where have you been?"

"I've been in hiding, as Dumbledore sentenced me."

"Sentenced you!" Harry gasped. "Wait, I'm confused. Why would Professor Dumbledore sentence you? What did you do, and how could he sentence you?"

"Harry, are you forgetting? Professor Dumbledore was Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. He was Chief Warlock during my trial," Professor Albright explained.

"Trial! What trial? OK, now I'm really confused."

"The trial that was held when I fought and killed seven Death Eaters." Professor Albright replied in a matter-of-fact tone.

"You killed seven Death Eaters?" Harry asked, with excitement in his voice.

"I guess it is time I told you a little more about myself. I am a member of the Order. I knew and was very close to your parents. Your parents were a target for the Dark Lord on more than one occasion -- one in particular stands out in my memory, like a living nightmare with no end," Professor Albright said, beginning her story. "The first two times, were relatively uneventful. It was the third confrontation. It was a couple years after your parents were married. Your mother had just found out she was pregnant with you. She wanted to celebrate the occasion. So some of the Order decided to meet at the Leaky Cauldron for dinner. I was there, along with my husband, David, who was a good friend of Professor Dumbledore, your grandparents, Remus Lupin, and Sirius and his girlfriend, Doris Purkiss. All was well when suddenly, they burst through the doors!"

"Who?" Harry blurted anxiously, listening intently to the professor's tale.

"Him! He Who Must Not Be Named and his Death Eaters." Harry listened intently as Professor Albright continued her story. "They burst through the doors of the Leaky Cauldron and began firing their wands, indiscriminately at first. The place was full that night, but it was obvious who they were after. People began to panic and attempted to run. Remus, Sirius and Doris narrowly escaped with their lives, as well as your parents, but your mother's parents, and my husband were not so fortunate. I don't remember much after that. The rest of this story comes from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Supposedly, I lost control of my logic. I let my emotions take over, and before I could collect myself again, seven Death Eaters lay dead. Unfortunately, He was not included. Before I knew it, I was in a holding cell in the Ministry. At the trial, it was declared that I acted in self-defense and, therefore, could not be held accountable for my actions. However, the rules of the Healer's Oath are clear. It was decided that I not be executed for breaking the Oath, but my wand and magic be repossessed, and my title relinquished." Professor Albright took a deep breath after saying all of this.

"Your title," blurted Harry, his eyes wide with curiosity. "What title?"

"The title of Alchemist, Order of Paracelsus, Second Class."

"Order of ...who?"

"Paracelsus," Professor Albright repeated more clearly. "Master Alchemist of the Healing arts."

"Healing arts? You mean you're a ..."

"Healer, Harry? Well, yes, I was," Professor Albright sighed, looking down at the table pensively. Breaking the tense moment, she asked, "So, where's that tea?"

"Oh," remembered Harry, "sorry 'bout that." He quickly jumped up from the table and ran back to the stove to prepare the tea. He returned to the table carrying two teacups and saucers. He was eager to hear the rest of the professor's story.

"So, you said, at one time you were a Healer," Harry asked, pouring the tea while prodding Professor Albright to divulge the rest of her story.

"Yes."

"And you were an Alchemist, Second Class?"

"Yes, Harry," Professor Albright replied, sensing Harry's confusion. "Hasn't anyone taught you about the hierarchy of the wizarding world?" asked the professor with a tone of rhetoric in her voice. Harry shook his head without his eyes leaving Professor Albright's.

"Oh, my word, what are they teaching you in that school? Very well, I'll give a crash course in wizarding hierarchy." So began the professor's class lecture.

"Let's start from the beginning. When you leave Hogwarts ... and you will leave Hogwarts as intended, Harry," the professor remarked sternly, looking down at Harry over her bifocals. "You will be a Junior Apprentice in whatever field of work you are suited to do. Depending on how well you do, you will move up to Senior Apprentice, then wizard Third, Second and maybe First class. If you choose a complex and involved field of work, say, medicine, law, accounting, engineering, you can move up the ranks to the level of Alchemist. In medicine, once you acquire the title of Alchemist, Third class, you are required to take the Oral Healer's Oath. It is a binding legal contract that states, 'Under no circumstances can an Alchemist in the Healing arts, knowingly and willfully inflict harm on another living creature. Even in self-defense, he or she must only use enough force, and even then, a mere distraction, to escape danger.' Paracelsus, the name of the order in which all Alchemists in the Healing arts are placed, was a Master Alchemist. He ranked higher than Alchemist, First Class."

"So wait a minute ... Professor Dumbledore was Order of Merlin, Wizard First Class," Harry recalled.

"That's right."

"So," Harry replied excitedly, "you ranked higher than Professor Dumbledore?"

"Oh, yes, Harry. That's not to take away the fact that he was the greatest wizard of his time!"

Harry turned away from Professor Albright for a moment. The look of amazement was still on his face. A moment of silence filled the kitchen. Professor Albright lifted her cup to take another sip. She wanted to give Harry time to digest all that she revealed to him.

Harry was ready to break the silence and continue asking Professor Albright questions. Professor Albright fixed her eyes on Harry. She prepared herself for the next round of questions. She waited patiently as Harry gathered his thoughts.

"As a Healer, did you have a specialty? I mean, did you practice general healing or did you just heal kids, or something?"

"I specialized in genetics and genetic engineering. My sub specialty was Squib genetics. I studied how magical parents could have a Squib."

"Whoa," Harry was amazed at this news. "How are Squibs born, I mean, if they have parents who are wizards?"

"Well, Harry, it's a bit complex. I published several papers on the subject. They are available in the library, but to read them, you must be enrolled in Hogwarts!" insisted Professor Albright. Harry realized where the conversation was leading and surrendered to the professor.

"Alright, Professor. I'll go back, but I'm still going to look..." Harry caught himself. He did not want to reveal his and Dumbledore's secret about the Horcruxes. "... for Snape!"

"You do that, dear," Professor Albright replied sarcastically, feeling victorious.

"So, what's this plan you mentioned before?" Harry continued with his questions.

"Not now, Harry. That's for another time. This has been a trying day for me as well as you. I'm sure all that I've told you has come as a bit of a shock. To be honest, I need to rest awhile." Professor Albright picked up the cup and saucer and continued to drink the rest of her tea, which had now cooled. Harry took the last few sips of his tea then spoke again.

"Professor, there's a bedroom on the first landing. You can rest in there, if you like."

"Why, that's very thoughtful of you, dear, but I really must be going."

Professor Albright placed the empty cup and saucer back on the table then slowly rose from her chair, leaning on her cane for assistance. Harry quickly got up and began helping her. Professor Albright looked up at him with a smile. They proceeded slowly to the foyer and Harry opened the front door for her.

"Will I see you at Hogwarts, Professor?" Harry asked.

"Of course. Who do you think Professor McGonagall tricked into teaching her Transfiguration classes?" Professor Albright replied with cheek.

Professor Albright turned around, carefully walked down the front porch stairs and walked to the curb. Magically, a taxi showed up. Harry watched as the elderly professor got into the taxi. He watched the taxi speed away. Harry knew what he needed to do next. He needed to contact Ron and Hermione, but how? The Weasleys were vacationing in Romania and Hermione was Ginny's guest, much to Ron's chagrin.