The Traitor's Blood

Chapter Twelve

It was not long before the three of them were standing outside McGonagall's office, eager to tell her what had happened. Hermione lifted a hand to knock on the large wooden door but stopped herself. She looked as though she was listening to something. Ron began to speak but Hermione shushed him with her hand.

Harry listened hard. He could hear voices coming from the other side of the door but he could not make out what they were saying.

Hermione lifted her hand again and knocked loudly on the door. The sound echoed throughout the empty corridor and the voices inside the office ceased immediately. The door creaked open and McGonagall's stern face peered out at them.

"Professor, Harry's had another vision. His scar hurt and he saw three people being killed," Hermione blurted in one long outtake of breath.

"I know," said McGonagall grimly.

They all stared at her. Hermione opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again. McGonagall stepped back and opened the door wide to let them in to her office.

As they entered the room they were almost knocked to the ground as Mrs Weasley flung her arms around all three of them at once.

"Mum!" Ron's muffled voice came from Harry's side.

Mrs Weasley pulled away. She then grabbed Ron by the shoulders and kissed him on the forehead, causing his face to flush bright red.

"I ... I thought you were dead," Ron stammered.

Mr Weasley appeared from behind his wife and pulled Ron into a tight hug. "It's OK. We're alright."

Harry looked around the room and saw a young witch with vibrant green hair standing quietly near the window. Nymphadora Tonks, a member of the Order and an Auror for the Ministry, smiled sweetly back at him. It was only then that Harry realised what this meant. Three people were still missing: Kingsley Shacklebolt, Sturgis Podmore and Mundungus Fletcher.

"What happened?" asked Ron. "Where have you been?"

"We can't tell you," Mr Weasley replied simply.

Ron looked at his father as if waiting for him to laugh and tell him he was joking. But it appeared that he was serious.

"We're sorry, Ron," said Mrs Weasley soothingly, "but it's best that you don't know. Not yet, anyway."

"You never tell me anything," Ron sulked. "I've been worried sick for two weeks and you don't even have the decency to tell me where you've been!"

Mrs Weasley frowned sympathetically at her son but said nothing.

"Sorry, Professor." Hermione turned to McGonagall. "But you said you knew..."

"Ah," McGonagall cut her off. "I'm afraid we already know about the ... unfortunate events which Potter saw."

"But how can you know?" Harry spoke up for the first time. "It only just happened."

The adults exchanged significant looks and Tonks shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

"I'm sorry, Potter, but we cannot discuss this at the moment," McGonagall replied firmly, causing Ron to groan and roll his eyes.

"Where's Ginny?" asked Mrs Weasley. "I'm dying to see my little girl."

They all proceeded back to the Gryffindor common room, where a tearful Ginny was reunited with her parents. Mr and Mrs Weasley and Tonks stayed until late into the evening, chatting about everything except for the events of the last two weeks, and eating sandwiches, which were sent up by the House Elves in the kitchens below them.

It was almost midnight when they finally said goodbye and Harry and Ron climbed the staircase to their dormitory. Harry had almost forgotten that tomorrow was the first day of school, but was soon brought back to reality when he saw his freshly laundered school robes lying neatly on his bed. He picked them up and threw them carelessly onto a nearby chair.

Ron got silently into his bed and pulled the hangings closed around him. Harry was about to follow suit when he stopped himself, crossed the room and turned out the lamp. He felt his way back to his bed and was about to pull his own hangings shut when Ron's voice carried across the dark dormitory:

"I'm getting really fed up with people treating us like we're kids. My own parents disappear for two weeks and won't even tell me where they've been."

"I guess they think it's best if we don't know. Maybe they're trying to protect us," Harry suggested.

"Well, I don't need protecting. You'd think they'd learn. Look at what happened when Dumbledore didn't tell you why you had to learn Occlumency..." Ron trailed off.

Harry sighed. He knew exactly what had happened. Sirius was gone because Harry had given up on his Occlumency training. Well, Snape had refused to continue teaching him, but Harry had never put much effort into it anyway.

"What I mean," Ron continued, "is that hiding things from us usually does more harm than good."

"You sound like Hermione."

Ron went silent for a long time.

"Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"I don't hate you, you know."

"I know."

Harry smiled to himself as he lay down and closed his eyes. Whatever was going on outside Hogwarts, right now Harry felt the happiest he had been in a long time. Mr and Mrs Weasley were alive and safe, and he and Ron were speaking again. This was enough to drive all thoughts of the three deaths he had 'witnessed' today temporarily from his mind and send him into the most peaceful sleep he had had all summer.

*****

The following evening came just as quickly as Harry had feared it would. He soon found himself sitting in the common room with Ron, Hermione and Ginny, all four of them dressed in their school robes, as the sun set rapidly outside the castle. It would not be long before the grounds filled with the bustle of approaching carriages and the excited chatter of students arriving for a fresh year of school.

"I wonder who the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher will be," said Ginny, who was sitting cross-legged on the hearthrug with Crookshanks curled peacefully in her lap.

"Maybe Dumbledore will give the position to Snape," said Ron, who was fiddling unnecessarily with the Prefect badge pinned to the front of his robes.

"I hope not." Defence Against the Dark Arts was Harry's best subject but he doubted whether this would be the case if Snape was teaching it. Besides, Snape had been after the job for years and every year Dumbledore had turned him down.

"Well, I can't see how Dumbledore could've hired anyone," interjected Hermione. "Unless he appointed someone before that day at the Leaky Cauldron. And even then he was so busy I doubt it was a priority for him."

"You don't think the Ministry will force another one of their trolls on us, do you?" said Ron worriedly. "I don't think I can put up with another Umbridge."

Hermione wrinkled her nose. "I guess we'll have to wait and see."

They fell into silence again. Harry sat and watched the sky outside fill with hundreds of twinkling stars, while he picked nervously at a loose thread on the arm of his chair. As the start-of-term feast drew closer he found the knot of anxiety in his chest grow tighter and tighter, until he began to feel suffocated by it.

"I need some air," he blurted as he got quickly to his feet and hurried out of the common room, ignoring the concerned voices of his friends as he disappeared through the portrait hole.

He did not stop walking until he had reached the edge of the lake, which was as far away from the castle as he could get. He dropped himself onto the damp grass and breathed in the cool evening air.

The weight of everything that had happened recently came crashing down on him so suddenly that he felt overwhelmed with fear. Things in the Wizarding World were falling apart before his eyes. When he had first discovered he was a wizard and been shown the world to which he truly belonged, he had felt safe for the first time in his life. But now he did not feel safe at all. Now he did not know who he could trust. And people were being killed. People who were working to protect him.

"Er, Hermione told me to come and find you." Ron sat down sheepishly next to Harry.

"Do you do everything Hermione tells you?"

"If it shuts her up, yes."

Harry could not help grinning.

"Are you worried about what people will say?" asked Ron. "Do you think they all believe you're a murderer?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I just don't want people thinking I'm capable of killing someone."

"Well, even if I have to shout it from the roof, I'll make sure they all know you didn't do it," said Ron reassuringly.

Harry heard the sound of hooves and span around to see about a hundred carriages rattling up to the main entrance. Each carriage was being pulled by two Thestrals - large horse-like creatures with horribly transparent coats and vast, black, leathery wings.

"What in Merlin's name are those things?" Ron stood up, his eyes wide with either shock or repulsion, or both.

"Thestrals," Harry replied, realising that Ron had never seen them before. Thestrals were only visible to people who had witnessed death. Harry had completely forgotten that Ron had seen the muggle being killed a few weeks ago.

"They're horrible!" said Ron, gawping at the creatures, which appeared even worse than usual in the shadowy lights of the castle. "I think I liked them better when I couldn't see them. But how...?" A look of comprehension dawned on Ron's freckled face and he fell silent, sinking back down to sit on the grass.

Harry tore his eyes away from the hundreds of students who were now filing excitedly into the Entrance Hall, and stared out across the dark lake in front of him. In the distance he could see the glittering torches of the boats which always carried first years across the water to the castle. It seemed like an eternity since he, Harry, had arrived in just the same way on his very first day at Hogwarts. So much had happened in the five years since that day.

"We'd better get going or we'll be late for the feast." Ron got to his feet again.

"Um ... you go ahead," Harry mumbled. "I'll catch up in a minute."

"Are you sure?" Ron looked down at him worriedly. "Do you want me to wait for you?"

"No, honestly, go ahead," Harry urged him. "I won't be long."

Ron hesitated, then turned and trudged away towards the castle.

But Harry did not follow him. He stayed where he was, sitting on the cold, damp grass at the edge of the lake, for a long time. He saw the first years arrive further down the bank, some looking excited, others looking so nervous Harry thought they might jump back into the boats and row away as fast as they could. He watched Hagrid lead them up to the castle and saw McGonagall meet them in the doorway and usher them inside, where they would be sorted into either Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw or Slytherin, by the Sorting Hat.

Harry continued to sit in the dark at the edge of the lake as the cold night air began to bite into his skin. He continued thinking about everything that had happened recently until it consumed his mind completely.

He could not understand why everyone was being so secretive. Harry thought back to what had happened in the Department of Mysteries all those weeks ago. He had only gone there because he felt he had to - he had thought that Sirius was in danger. If Dumbledore and the other members of the Order had been more open with Harry about the Prophecy and about Voldemort's control over Harry's mind, then Harry was almost certain he would not have gone. Then Sirius would still be here today.

Harry felt a numbing chill spread through his body. He shivered and turned to look back at the castle. The lights in the Great Hall appeared to have gone out; the feast must be over. Harry got to his feet and began walking slowly towards the castle, hoping that the common room would be empty enough that he could sneak straight up to bed without anyone trying to talk to him.