Harry Potter and the Time of Shadows

- Chapter Nineteen-

The Traitor

Harry got back to Gryffindor Tower half an hour later, feeling quite pleased with himself for beating Gavin to the Snitch. He felt that he had proved to himself that he could have won the match, if he had not felt the horrible guilt over Cedric.

"Harry!" said Ron when he saw him. "Are you all right mate?"

"I'm fine," Harry replied, smiling.

"Really? You seem kinda happy considering we just lost the match," Ron said.

"Maybe I don't think of it as a loss," Harry said simply. He knew he would have won, so it was a victory in his own head.

"Um, OK," said Ron.

Harry thought it was best if he did not tell anyone about throwing the game. Everyone cared so much about Quidditch that they would probably hold it against him.

"We're not out of the Cup, are we?" he asked.

"No way! Hufflepuff beat us by thirty points right? Well we were beating them by thirty points overall, so we're even. And, we both got more than seventy points, so we overtook Ravenclaw. That means we're in joint first!"

"Wow!" said Harry. They had lost, but they were in the lead. So Harry's sacrifice made hardly any difference. Of course had he caught the Snitch, they would be in the lead by about three hundred points, but he tried not to think about that.

"How much are we beating Ravenclaw by?" Harry asked.

"Ninety points," Ron replied. "At least that's what Angelina said. She's the one who worked all this out."

"Hmm," said Harry. "I didn't think you'd be able to work it out on your own."

"What's that supposed to mean?" said Ron indignantly. "You don't think I'm smart enough to add up?"

"Relax, I was just joking," Harry defended.

"Even though you're not smart enough to add up," said Fred, who had come with George to talk to them.

"How ya doing Harry?" George asked. "Not too upset?"

"Of course not," Harry said. "I'm fine. It's not the end of the world."

"That's the spirit," said Fred, patting him on the back. "But seriously, if you lose against Ravenclaw, we will have to kill you."

Harry laughed, fairly sure that he was joking.

*

Most of Gryffindor house were not extremely pleased at Harry's loss, but they were not too terrible, and two weeks later, hardly anyone even talked about it.

The Hufflepuffs were acting quite big-headed, but it didn't bother Harry too much. If they were all so desperate that they clung to one single victory, then it was their problem.

He still suspected that some of them blamed him for Cedric's death, remembering what Rita Skeeter had written about how dangerous he was on the day Cedric was killed.

Lessons were becoming even more difficult, the O.W.Ls were less than two months away. Homework was piling in more than ever, and the fifth-years were all starting to feel the pressure.

"AHHHHHHHH!" yelled Ron in the common room suddenly while doing his Potions homework, breaking the tension that had surrounded the room.

"Be quiet Ron!" Hermione ordered, bent over a huge Ancient Runes passage.

"But it's too hard!" Ron protested. "I can't take it anymore!"

"Weasley!" Harry shouted, taking the top off of a fresh bottle of ink for his Transfiguration essay. "If you don't shut up soon, I'm going to take this quill, and ram it right up your--"

"Harry!" Hermione cried.

"Will you three shut up!" a voice from by the fire screamed. It was Fred, and he seemed to be reading a Muggle Studies textbook. "Me and George are studying for our NEWTs!"

"Yeah," George agreed. "These Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests are terrible. We wanted to take the WARTs!"

"The WARTs?" Harry repeated.

"Wizarding Alternate Retard Tests," Hermione explained. "They're tests for absolute idiots."

"Exactly," said Fred. "Marcus Flint took 'em. But McGonagall said we weren't dumb enough."

"Could've fooled me," Ron joked.

"Yeah, well you're just the boffin, ain't ya?" Fred retorted.

"You'll probably get twelve OWLs, just like our dear brother Percy," George added.

"No I won't!" Ron said hotly.

"Hey!" Hermione said, obviously objecting to them making fun of smart people.

Harry felt that everyone was getting much too tense, especially considering the exams were still quite a long way away. He got up from his armchair, and went off to see some people who were not cramming for tests.

Sadly, he found no one. Even the students who were not preparing to take their O.W.Ls, or their N.E.W.Ts, were still taking end of year exams. A group of fourth-year girls were huddled far away from the fire. Harry quickly spotted Ginny's red hair in the crowd. He smiled, and she looked up and smiled back.

She detached herself from the group, and walked towards him.

"Hi Harry," she said, smiling. "What are you doing?"

"Er, trying to avoid studying," he replied. "Everyone's acting to weird about the O.W.Ls and everything."

"I'm dreading doing those next year," Ginny said. "They sound terrible from what Bill, Charlie and the twins said about them."

"What about Percy?"

"Percy?" Ginny repeated. "Are you kidding? He loves tests, he got twelve O.W.Ls!"

"Yeah, I can imagine that," Harry commented, looking around the room again at all the people studying.

When he turned back, he saw Ginny had been staring at him. He felt very uneasy all of a sudden. She did not look away, and Harry could see himself reflected in her blue eyes.

"Er, Ginny," Harry said after they had been staring at each other for a while.

"Sorry," she said, breaking the eye contact.

Harry quickly looked in another direction as well. He saw out of the window that it was still light, so he decided to take a walk alone. Nobody seemed to notice him leaving the room (with the possible exception of Ginny).

Harry was not sure where his legs were taking him. He distinctly remembered going past the kitchens, Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, the door to the Great Hall, and Snape's dungeon. He must have been on the lower floors of the school, that meant.

Suddenly, a bare wall to the side of him slid away, and three people came from the gap formed. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were all walking together. Malfoy spotted Harry.

"Hey Potter!" he yelled. "What are you doing here all by yourself?"

"None of your business Malfoy," Harry replied. "Where are you going then?"

"Wouldn't you like to know."

"Well," said Harry, struck by a sudden inspiration. "I was just going to go and see Professor Weasley. He says he has something he wants to tell me. Something about you."

Malfoy's face contorted. He suddenly went quite pale, and Crabbe and Goyle looked at him. Harry smiled, that was exactly that reaction he was hoping for.

"It's -- it's not true," Malfoy stammered. "That Weasley -- he's lying."

"You seem nervous," said Harry evenly. "You don't have anything to hide, do you?"

"Of -- of course not. Now, go away -- get out of here."

Harry walked away, grinning. He had to find out what this thing was, but he knew he could not ask. Charlie would not tell them, unless he really had to. If Malfoy was rude enough to him, he was sure Charlie would let the secret out.

He continued his walk around the castle. He was not sure what he was looking for, if he was looking for anything at all. Perhaps he just wanted a break from work.

Harry climbed stairs, and went through passages. He somehow found himself in front of a giant, silver suit of armour. He instantly recognised it as the entrance to the Ravenclaw common room.

"Password?" it boomed at him.

"Not a damn clue," Harry said, remembering how it would always respond with --

"Password incorrect," it said.

"OK," Harry said, thinking he would spend a little time toying with it. "Er -- PlayStation."

"Password incorrect."

"Bacon bits -- giant arse -- Snape is an ugly git -- Malfoy's mum smells like monkey turd."

The suit of armour moved to one side.

"That wasn't the password, was it?" Harry said, amazed.

But then, someone stepped out from behind the armour, and Harry realised he had opened it, not himself.

"Harry?" said Roger Davies. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm not sure really," Harry replied. "I guess I'm just trying to get away from work."

"I know how that is," Roger said. "Everyone in there's studying hard for exams." He pointed to the common room.

"Same over at Gryffindor Tower," said Harry. "Everyone's so stressed out, I just wish they would take a break, and calm down."

"Yeah, well you need a break once in a while. Do you wanna do something now?" he asked.

"Like what?" Harry asked, wondering what he had in mind.

"Um, we could grab our brooms and have a quick fly around the Quidditch pitch," Roger suggested.

"Sure!" said Harry. "You'll have to practise hard if you wanna beat Gryffindor in the next game!"

"You mean you'll have to work your team to beat us?" Roger laughed. "You'll have to shape up when you're against Cho. From what I saw in the Hufflepuff game, you could really do with some improvements."

Harry smiled, he could stand the jokes about it, because he knew the truth.

"Let's go," he said.

They both went down to the Quidditch pitch with their broomsticks. Harry looked closely at Roger's broom, it had the words Comet Four-Eighty written on it.

They took off, and flew around the pitch. They didn't take out any balls. Roger started a chase through the air, and Harry followed him. He caught up with him very soon, and it was Harry's turn to be chased. His Firebolt was a lot faster than Roger's Comet, so Roger had his work cut out for him.

Harry slowed down, waiting for him to catch up, but when he got near, Harry flew away.

"No fair Harry!" he shouted.

Harry flew straight upwards, until he was level with the top row of stands. Roger pulled his broom up, coming towards him.

Suddenly, Harry heard a voice. It was coming from inside his own head. It was cold and sharp. The voice echoed throughout his mind.

"At last, we have him."

Harry felt a pain sear across his forehead. He took both hands off his Firebolt and raised them to his scar. The voice had turned to mocking laughter, and the pain increased.

He fell from his broomstick, falling at least eighty feet down before he would hit the hard ground. There was no way he would survive the impact. Harry closed his eyes, not wanting to watch the ground hurtling ever closer.

The laughter was still ringing in his ears. It was only fitting that it would be the last thing he ever heard.

All of a sudden, he was no longer falling. He had definitely not hit the ground though. He opened his eyes, and saw that Roger Davies had caught him.

"Thanks," Harry said weakly.

"Don't mention it," Roger said. "You're really light, you know that?"

Harry listened hard. The laughter had stopped.

"That's probably because I never had a decent meal inside me before I was eleven."

"What happened?" Roger asked.

"Er, nothing," he lied. "I just need to go and lie down."

Roger flew down the few feet more to the ground, and Harry picked up his Firebolt, and walked off the pitch, before Roger had the chance to ask him anything else.

He put the broom safely in the store cupboard, and walked in the direction of Dumbledore's office.

When he got there, he gave the password to the stone gargoyle, and boarded the staircase that led upwards. He knocked on the office door, and Dumbledore called him in.

"Harry?" he said. "What is it?"

"Er, I was just on the Quidditch pitch, and I felt a pain in my scar. You don't think Voldemort's close by, do you?" Harry asked.

"That depends Harry," Dumbledore said calmly. "Did you see anything while you felt this pain?"

"Um, no. But I did hear him say something," Harry explained.

"What was it?" Dumbledore asked.

"It was 'We have him', I think. It was definitely Voldemort talking."

Dumbledore paused for a moment. "Hmm, do you have any idea who it was that he has?"

"No," said Harry. "Should I?"

"Well it is my observation, that you seem to have a deep understanding for the way Lord Voldemort's mind works," Dumbledore said.

"Yeah, I do sometimes," said Harry. "But it's not something I can control, there are just some things I know, without thinking about them."

Dumbledore nodded. "Much like True Seers," he said. "They can never decide when they have a vision, they just happen."

"Like that vision Trelawney had in my third year. When she said Voldemort would come back. She was right, so she's a True Seer?"

"Hmm, not exactly. A True Seer would have an awful lot of visions in their lifetime. I have known Professor Trelawney for fifty-nine years, and I have ever only twice heard for her making a real prediction."

"Twice? When was the first?" Harry asked, vaguely remembering him saying that she had made another prediction before.

"That is of no importance," Dumbledore said quickly. "The more pressing matter is undoubtedly your scar."

"Of course," said Harry.

"If you feel so much as a tingle in it, you should come straight here and tell me. I have a feeling it will bother you again shortly, when Lord Voldemort decides what to do with this person he has found."

"Yes Professor," Harry said. He got up, and left the office.

*

For the next month, Harry lived his normal life, all the time worrying that any second now he would feel the terrible pain, and see Voldemort carry out his revenge on one of his enemies.

The Easter holidays were, of course, a nightmare. They had more work piled on them than ever before, and Harry found it very hard to concentrate on his homework when his thoughts never strayed from that cold laughter.

Hermione was really showing the strain. She ordered quiet in the common room in the evenings, and threatened to take points from Gryffindor for loud people, as a Prefect. That was, until Ron started making jokes that she was turning into another Percy, which did not go down well at all.

There was to be another Hogsmeade visit just after the holiday. Harry was not sure if he should go. He felt that suddenly collapsing in pain and clutching his forehead in the middle of a crowded village would not be a very good thing to do, especially when a portion of the wizarding world was convinced he was crazy.

"NO!" Ron yelled when Harry told him he would not be going.

"What's the matter?" Harry asked.

"You can't not go! You'll be leaving me alone with Hermione! You remember what happened last time?"

"Er, you mean her acting all distant because I told her you loved her, and then she hit you?" Harry said slowly.

"Exactly!" Ron screamed. "She just hit me! She didn't even say why! It bloody hurt as well!"

"Don't you think she's over that?" Harry asked. He had not noticed any awkwardness between the two of them lately.

"No, I can tell. Whenever she talks to me, she just seems different. I can't really describe it. It's like -- there's a part of her that's gone when she's around me. And that's the -- the part I love about her."

They both sighed. Harry really wished there was something he could do for his best friend. And there was --

"OK," he said. "I'll go with you."

"Great," said Ron, grinning.

The next weekend, the three of them got into a carriage at the school gates, and went to Hogsmeade. The Dementors guarding the grounds made Harry feel as terrible as ever.

They went around the village as usual. Ron restocked on Dungbombs from Zonko's. They all bought plenty of sweets from Honeydukes. Finally, they decided to go to the Three Broomsticks for a Butterbeer.

After they had ordered their drinks from Madam Rosmerta, they found a table to sit at. They talked for a while, but then, Hermione let out a loud gasp.

"What it is?" Ron asked quickly.

Hermione opened her mouth, but no words came out. She pointed to the door, where two people had just come in, one of which was the last person they wanted with them at the present time.

Viktor Krum had come in, with a pretty blonde girl that Harry had never seen before on his arm.

"Herm-own-ninny!" he said, spotting them. "Vot are you doing here?"

She did not say anything. She just sat there, staring unblinkingly at her ex-boyfriend.

"Harry, Ron," Krum said, nodding at them.

"Viktor," Ron said coldly.

"Harry," said Krum, very seriously. "How are you doing? Is everything all right at Hogwarts?"

"Er, -- it's OK I suppose," Harry replied. "Voldemort hasn't done anything lately." He did not feel like talking about Voldemort's plans with an almost stranger.

Krum shuddered. It seemed that even people in other countries were afraid to say his name.

"Er, this is Melissa," he said, and the girl on his arm smiled at them. "She is the reserve Chaser for the Magpies."

"Mmm," Hermione said finally. She seemed to be biting her lips together, and Harry was seriously worried about her.

"Hi Melissa," Ron said, starting to go a little red. "I love the Magpies. They're my favourite team."

Harry and Hermione both tutted. It was amazing how weak-willed Ron was. After seeing a pretty girl for ten seconds, he was willing to renounce the Cannons.

"Thanks," said Melissa. She had a quite nasal voice that Harry felt would get on his nerves very quickly. "I just moved here from America and I didn't know anyone. But everyone's been, like, really nice to me."

"I wonder why," Hermione whispered to Harry.

"Melissa flies very vell," said Krum.

"Thanks honey," said Melissa, kissing him on the cheek, causing Hermione to nearly choke on her Butterbeer.

"I'm the Seeker for my house at school," Harry told her.

"And I'm the Keeper," Ron added quickly.

"Wow, I bet you guys are, like, really good," Melissa said. "I wanted to be a Seeker, but it was totally hard to find that little gold ball."

"That's kind of the point," said Harry.

"Vell ve should be going," said Krum, after an awkward silence.

"Bye Melissa," said Ron, waving.

They left, and Hermione's lips instantly sprang open.

"My God!" she said. "She was a total idiot!"

"She was hot!" Ron whispered to Harry. Harry had to admit, she was very, very attractive. He followed her with his eyes, watching her walk away.

"I never thought Viktor would go out with a bimbo like her!" Hermione said indignantly.

"Smokin' hot," Ron added.

"What?" Hermione shouted at Ron. "You liked her? Of course, you're Ron Weasley! Doesn't matter if she's got the brains of a pumpkin, as long as she's got a pretty face!"

"I -- I'm sorry I just --" Ron stammered. Harry did not expect this from the boy who was describing what he loved about her less than a week ago.

"I really can't believe you sometimes!" Hermione continued. "I mean, first that Fleur girl, now her! Typical teenage boy!"

It seemed that Ron could think of no response to that. He just sat in his seat, his mouth half-open.

Harry got up, mumbling something about needing the toilet. He walked around the inn, looking for anybody else he knew. He saw quite a few Hogwarts students, but no one he knew personally.

He went up to the bar, thinking of ordering some more Butterbeer, when something caught his eye. The mirror that covered the wall behind the bar, had a few people sitting in a booth in the corner of the pub reflected in it. Harry looked around to see them, but there were people blocking his view. He could only see them through the mirror.

Each person was wearing a dark, worn cloak with their hoods down. There were four of them, two of which he could see, but the others were facing the wrong way. He did not recognise the first man, he was middle-aged with grey, untidy hair and an unshaven face, but one of them however, he knew very well.

Remus Lupin was talking in mutters to two women who had their backs to the mirror, one of which had quite long, grey hair, and other had shoulder-length black hair. There was something not quite right about the way he was acting, or how any of them were acting. He seemed very nervous, and his eyes were continually darting around, as though worried someone was there who should not have been.

Harry wanted to know what they were talking about. He left his place at the bar, and walked to the corner of the room where the four people were. He sat in the booth next to theirs, careful to be very quiet. He could not hear a thing, so he slowly turned around to face them. He gasped. The people were gone.

*

Harry got back to Hogwarts, his head full of curiosity. He hoped very much that Lupin was not doing something wrong. He did not tell Ron and Hermione what he had seen.

It suddenly occurred to him how many secrets he was actually keeping from his two best friends. He had not told them about the Hufflepuff game, or about the Order of the Phoenix either.

He did about two hours of homework that night, unable to concentrate from all the things he had to think about. His mind buzzed with disturbing thoughts: Lupin, Voldemort, Ron and Hermione, even that blonde bimbo Melissa.

Eventually, in his armchair in the common room, he drifted into a very uncomfortable sleep...

The moon was full, and the stars shone brightly. The wide, open field was interrupted only by the wind.

But there was something disturbing the perfect scene. Something terrible, something evil.

Thirty figures were standing in a loose circle, each one wearing a black cloak and a mask. In the centre, there were a number of things, each could make a brave man's blood run cold.

A gigantic snake was slithering on the ground, it hissed quietly, its sound blending in with the howl of the wind.

A man stood by the snake, a man with a terrible face. His red eyes shone as bright as the stars, and his lipless mouth curled up in a cruel smile.

There was another man standing in that circle, beside a tall spindly tree. This man however, did not seem anywhere as terrible, or satisfied as the other. He was shaking terribly, and his teeth were clenched tightly together. He gave the impression that he wanted nothing more than to run from that circle, but was paralysed in place.

The others that made up the wall around them stirred. The wind swept around them again, and every one of them shivered. Every one except the man with the red eyes.

He did not move a muscle, until he took one very deep breath, and closed his eyes for a moment, absorbing the darkness around him. He walked slowly towards the shaking one. He raised his hand, and placed one of his strangely long fingers on the man's cheek. He ran it down his face, and rested it on the grey goatee on his chin.

Each man in the circle took a step forward, each eager to see what their master would do to this man. The leader took his finger away from his chin, and put it on top of his head.

Instantly, the bearded man sank to his knees. The master laughed, it was a horrible laugh, very familiar...

The man on his knees bent even lower. He was almost curled in a tight ball. The master raised his hand again, and the man's back straightened, he could not move it. He was very thin, and seemed very weak, as if he had been a long time without food.

"Karkaroff," the master hissed. The man on the ground began to sob, tears ran down his face. His weeping drowned out the noise of the wind, or the snake.

"SILENCE!" the master yelled. The other man clamped his jaws together again.

The snake moved closer to the man, circling him. He tried to move his neck away from the snake, but could not.

"Foolish Karkaroff," the leader continued. "Why did you not return to me when you felt the Dark Mark burn?"

"I -- I --" he stammered.

"Because you feared me?" the tall man said. "You were afraid I would punish you for your lack of loyalty to me?"

The one named Karkaroff was silent.

"Well if that were the case, you were right. You will most definitely be punished! After all, it is because of you that my most loyal supporters are imprisoned in Azkaban."

"I am so sorry -- my Lord," Karkaroff managed to say.

"Sorry? You think that makes up for your treachery? No sorry can repay for all of my followers that you took from me!"

"I was forced to --"

"Do not lie to Lord Voldemort!" he shrieked. "You gave up the information by your own free will!"

"I -- had -- no choice," Karkaroff justified.

"No choice?" the lord said, calming himself down. "I think you did have another choice. You could have proved your loyalty to me, by remaining in Azkaban as many loyal Death Eaters have."

"I would not have -- lasted in that place."

"You would not have stayed there forever," the leader said coolly. "I would have come for you, as I will come for those who braved it for me, as an act of faith."

"Please, my Lord," the prisoner begged. "Spare me. I can still be of use to you."

"No," the master said. "You proved exactly how much use you were years ago."

"I will be loyal to you, my Lord."

"You have already shown me your true colours," said the leader. "And you are a traitor!"

"I have been teaching others the Dark Ways," the traitor whispered. "I have educated children at Durmstrang."

"Should I be impressed? Do you think these children will be more powerful than the servants I have lost?"

"I -- they --," Karkaroff began to stutter again.

"Oh do be quiet," the master hissed. "It shall all be over before long."

"No master -- please -- I beg you."

"Begging will do little good for you now," said the lord. "I see no reason for me to show mercy."

The master raised his wand, and Karkaroff's left arm was lifted, still shaking madly. The sleeve of the tattered robe snaked up to the shoulder. The leader held his finger barely an inch away from the arm.

"This Mark," he hissed, indicating the red tattoo there. "It tells you that I am your master. It is a mark of ownership."

"I -- I am yours, master."

"Yes, you are," the lord said coldly. "And as you are my property, I have the right to dispose of you."

"No -- please --"

"CRUCIO!" the master shrieked, and the prisoner cried out in pain. His spine broke free from its locked position, and he bent low to the ground once more.

The master's snake-like face contorted, and his scarlet eyes blazed maliciously. When he lifted his wand, the traitor rolled over on the ground, facing upwards.

"Master please," he begged again.

"You have been held prisoner by me for many weeks. You have been starved, tortured. Each of the Death Eaters here has had the chance to execute their revenge on this piece of vermin. Now, I shall have the last pleasure of ending it."

He raised his long, bony hand, and the prisoner slowly was lifted to his feet. Then, with a wave of the master's wand, he was thrown against the slender tree next to him.

The master slid his pale hand deep inside his robes, and drew out a small, dull dagger. With his other hand, he grabbed the prisoner by his front, and tore part of his robes away. Underneath it was colourless, bare skin.

The master plunged the dagger deep into the middle of Kararoff's chest. He grunted, trying to not cry out from the pain. The master pulled the blade across the man's chest, and his jaws came open, making an agonised shriek that made everyone else present flinch.

The lord withdrew his hand from the dagger, still deep within the man's body. When he raised his wand once again, a thin jet of green light hit the tree behind him, and instantly a thick vine snaked its way across the man's neck, pinning him in place.

After the vine choked him for several minutes, it retracted towards the high branches, taking him up with it. He held his hands to his throat, desperately trying to free himself from the noose.

The blood from his chest started to seep down his body, dripping from his tattered shoes onto the shadowy grass below.

The traitor's eyes began to fill with blood. His efforts to resist the hanging became steadily weaker, and he started to make muffled, agonised groans.

Eventually, the master used his wand to cut him down, where he landed crumpled in the pool of blood left by his chest wound. The lord hissed loudly at the snake patrolling the circle. The snake approached the prisoner, where a large pool of blood was staining the grass, and opened its mouth wide. The venomous fangs sank into the man's neck. He cried out again, and the master swooped down on him.

"Goodbye, Igor Karkaroff, traitor," he whispered. "AVADA KEDAVRA!"

Blinding green light illuminated the scene. A rushing sound drowned out the cries, before all of the noises stopped. Karkaroff lay still, dead. The snake began to slowly devour him, and the master stood up straight again, and spoke in a whisper that could be heard by every one in the circle.

"Let this be a lesson to you. Never defy Lord Voldemort."

Everything was silent, until he raised his wand to the sky.

"MORSMORDRE!"

Harry woke up, before the green skull was visible. He looked around, he was still in a chair by the fire in the common room. It was almost empty, and very dark outside.

He cried out, the pain in his scar almost blinding him.

"Harry!" he heard Ron say. "Are you all right?"

"Did you have another dream about You-Know-Who?" Hermione's voice said.

Slowly, the pain diminished, and Harry looked around the fire-lit room, there was no one else there.

"Yeah," Harry said. "Someone's dead. Karkaroff."

"Karkaroff?" Ron repeated. "You'd better go see Dumbledore."

"Right," said Harry, and he sprinted out of the portrait hole, heading for Dumbledore's office.

He yelled the password up to the stone gargoyle, and went up the staircase. Fawkes started to screech, giving away the fact that he was there. He knocked on the door.

"Come in Harry," Dumbledore said, in a very grave voice.

Harry walked in, and had not even sat down when Dumbledore said "Karkaroff is dead, isn't he?"

Harry nodded, wondering how he knew.

"You know?" he asked, getting into his seat.

"I guessed," Dumbledore said. "It seemed that he was the most likely person that Voldemort would have. Now that you have come to me, I felt that you had had another vision. You watched Karkaroff die?"

Harry nodded again, remembering the sickening sight of the snake slowly eating his body.

"So, now that he's dead," said Harry. "D'you think he'll be coming after Snape next?"

Dumbledore sighed. "Yes, I do think that is his plan. But, Professor Snape is under my watch, and I will not let anything happen to him. I would have done the same for Karkaroff, but he fled last year when he first felt the Dark Mark burn."

"They had him for almost a month, torturing him," said Harry, thinking of how weak he looked.

"Lord Voldemort shows little mercy," Dumbledore commented. "He will go to extreme lengths to prove his point, in this case, his point is to never betray him."

Harry was about to say something, when there was a knock on the door. Harry turned in his chair, and Dumbledore said "Come in," politely.

The door opened, and four people walked in; each with their faces hidden by a hood on their dark, travelling cloak. They were here; the cloaked people from the Three Broomsticks.

"Good evening," Dumbledore said calmly to them.

They all nodded, and stood behind Harry, facing Dumbledore's desk. Harry felt very exposed with the mysterious people behind him.

Dumbledore stood up, and waved his wand in the air. Four other chairs fell to the ground around the desk, and each was sat in by one of the travellers.

"Dumbledore," said one of them. Harry recognised the voice immediately; it was Lupin.

"We came as soon as we heard," said another. Harry recognised that female voice as well, but where from, he could not remember.

"I have informed them of what you told me Albus," said a man, who again, Harry recognised.

"Excellent," said Dumbledore impassively. "Could you please lower your hoods, I think you may be worrying Harry here."

Harry smiled, and looked at each one as their face was revealed. The first was the man with grey hair he had seen. The second to lower their hood was Lupin, who smiled at Harry. Thirdly, and at great shock to Harry, was Snape. (Harry remembered seeing Lupin talking to someone with shoulder length black hair, he had assumed it was a woman) The last person to show their face came as an even greater shock than seeing Snape.

"You!" Harry said to her, wondering if he was dreaming.

"Harry, I am sorry if I startled you," she said, holding up her hand reassuringly.

"But you! Why are you at Hogwarts?" Harry asked.

"I am here because Albus asked me to come."

Harry looked between the woman and Dumbledore, hoping for some kind of explanation. Dumbledore stood up, and moved between her and Harry.

"Arabella here is a witch Harry," he said. "I am sorry you found out like this, but I thought it was time that you knew."

"But you can't be a witch -- you just can't be!" Harry said, feeling very uneasy.

"Why not?" said Mrs Figg. "Just because I have never shown myself whilst you have been at my home?"

"Well, if you are a witch, why haven't you ever told me?"

"If you recall Harry," she said calmly. "I have not seen you since Hagrid took you from the Dursleys when you were eleven."

That was true, he thought. The last time was when Dudley had gone to get his Smeltings uniform. He would have been with her on Dudley's birthday, except --

"Wait," Harry said suddenly. "You broke your leg! Just before I started Hogwarts you broke your leg! You were on crutches for about a month! If you were a witch, you could've fixed your bones straight away!"

Mrs Figg sighed. "Yes, I would have liked to have just mended it right away, instead of hobbling about on those damn Muggle things for weeks. Only I had a guest over when it happened, a Muggle. She was there when I tripped over one of my cats, and she insisted on taking me to hospital, where they put that cast on. Then I couldn't fix it, because people would notice if a broken bone healed in a few days."

Harry nodded. "But why pretend in the first place?" he asked.

"That was my wish," Dumbledore said, walking back to his place behind the desk. "I did not want you to know that truth about any of it when you were that young. Growing up as the famous Harry Potter would have been very hard for you, I am sure. I wanted you to grow up away from it all, until you were ready."

Harry thought that growing up with the Dursleys was far worse, but said nothing.

"You needed a witch there to keep an eye on you though," Dumbledore continued. "You could not have lived with her, as the protections on you call for you to be with blood relatives when you are away from Hogwarts."

"I wanted to tell you Harry," Mrs Figg said quietly. "But I knew it was for the best. It wasn't easy for me, having the Boy Who Lived under my watch and not being able to tell you who you were. Fortunately since I was Muggle born, I was able to blend in with the rest of the town, playing the part of the mad old woman!" she added with a twisted smile.

"If we could get down to business Albus," Snape said in an oily voice.

"Of course Severus," Dumbledore said. "Harry, earlier today, Professor Snape came to me, and told me that his Dark Mark was getting much clearer. And later this afternoon, it had burned black, meaning the Death Eaters were being summoned.

"So, I asked him to assemble the old crowd, and come here to see me. I knew something was going to happen, reading the signs. That should have been a job for Sirius, if he were not in Azkaban."

Harry bowed his head, but still listened.

"Albus," said the other man. "We should get to work."

"Of course," said Dumbledore. "Oh Harry, this is Mundungus Fletcher, I don't believe you have met."

Harry shook Fletcher's hand and he smiled. He had very yellow teeth, and his face was quite dirty. When they let go, Harry wiped his hand on his robes under the desk.

"Would you please excuse us Harry," Dumbledore said, getting up. "Unless you have anything else you would like to add?"

"No Professor," Harry said, and got up himself, and walked out of the door.

He went down the moving stairs, left to some very confusing thoughts.