Living in the Past

*******

Chapter 4: Return to Painful Memories

"Don't let your life pass you by.

Weep not for the memories." -- Sarah McLachlan, "I Will Remember You"

*****

"Will do, see you later," Harry said. He threw a pinch of the powder into the fire and yelled, "Diagon Alley" as he stepped into the green flames. He remembered to keep his elbows in this time as the world started spinning around him.

*****

Harry popped out of the Diagon Alley Floo grate, which, since it was a frequently used public grate, was kept relatively soot-free. However, his already untidy black hair was now even more disheveled than usual. He unsuccessfully tried to smooth it down as Professor McGonagall approached him.

"Took you long enough, Mr. Potter," she said sternly. "I thought for a second you had gotten lost."

"Wouldn't've been the first time," he said. "Er, I need to go to Gringotts before Ollivanders, and then I'd like to go to Eeylops Owl Emporium." He fingered the Hedwig figurine in his pocket.

"Very well," she said. They walked to Gringotts, and Harry withdrew some gold from his vault and found the insurance form for his Firebolt. Harry noticed with interest that Professor McGonagall didn't seem to mind riding in the Gringotts carts. In fact, she almost seemed to enjoy the breakneck speed and sudden turns they took.

They emerged from Gringotts and walked down the street to Ollivanders. As they entered the shop, a bell tinkled to signal their arrival. Harry thought it was the most unique-sounding bell in the world; even though he had only heard it once before, four years ago, he remembered the sound exactly as if that one time had been yesterday instead.

He didn't have to wait as long this time as last time. Mr. Ollivander appeared almost immediately from the back of the shop. "Welcome, Mr. Potter. I hadn't expected to see you back here so soon. A shame, a shame, my boy, but these things happen. And we see the consequences Fate gave to the culprit."

"Er, yes, I suppose so," said Harry, uncertain as to how much Mr. Ollivander knew.

"Yes, yes," Mr. Ollivander nodded. "Ah, and Minerva M--" Mr. Ollivander broke off for a second. "No, it's McGonagall now?"

"Yes, yes it is," she said nervously.

Why is Professor McGonagall so nervous? Harry wondered.

"Ah, of course," Mr. Ollivander replied, "but it is ten and three-quarter inches, yew and dragon heartstring, quite firm, correct?"

"Precisely," she said, in a much calmer voice. She withdrew a slender box from her robes. "Dumbledore told me to give this to you," she said.

Mr. Ollivander opened the box to reveal one of Fawkes's brilliant scarlet feathers lying within. He waved his own wand over the feather. As he did so, the feather turned blue for an instant, but then faded to a pale yellow. Mr. Ollivander shook his head. "No," he simply said.

"No?" asked Professor McGonagall with a sigh.

"No? What do you mean, no?" asked Harry incredulously.

"No," repeated Mr. Ollivander. "Albus suspected that this might be the case. Fawkes is recovering from a parasitic infection that was draining his magic. This feather is not magically powerful enough to create an effective wand. We'll have to wait until Fawkes fully recovers and then take a feather from him." Mr. Ollivander returned the box and feather to Professor McGonagall.

"How long will that take?" asked Harry.

"Anywhere from a week to a month," Mr. Ollivander replied. "You should still have your wand by the end of the school year, just later than expected."

Harry sighed. "Well, I suppose there's nothing I can do about it."

"Quite true, Mr. Potter," said Mr. Ollivander. "Now, let's see about a temporary wand for you. Let's try the phoenix feathers first . . ."

About half an hour later, the chair in Ollivanders was almost collapsing under the weight of the unsuccessful wands stacked on it. First, Mr. Ollivander had tried what seemed like every wand with a phoenix feather core with Harry, of which none worked. Then, he had tried every holly wand in the store, with no success. Then, Mr. Ollivander took his measurements again, and started from scratch. Still, none of the wands reacted to Harry in the slightest. Harry looked tired, Professor McGonagall looked bored, and even Mr. Ollivander, whom Harry remembered as getting more and more excited with every failed wand the first time he visited, was starting to look annoyed.

"Alright, Mr. Potter, here's what we're going to do," he nearly growled. "Let's take a little walk around the store. If you feel any tingling or any other odd feeling in your wand arm, tell me immediately. Understand?"

Harry gulped. "Yes," he said nervously. Mr. Ollivander grabbed him by the wrist and started to slowly parade Harry around the shop. Harry felt nothing until they had almost reached the back of the store. He stopped and felt a prickling sensation in his right hand.

"What is it, Mr. Potter?" Mr. Ollivander asked.

"Er, I sort of feel something. Wait a minute," Harry said. "What's that noise?" Mr. Ollivander fell silent, and Harry heard a kind of rattling sound. Instinctively, Harry held out his right hand, which then started to prickle even more, and said, "Accio Wand." The rattling stopped as a box flew from the end of the aisle into Harry's outstretched hand. Mr. Ollivander's eyes went very wide for a moment.

"Let's try this one, then," he said very hoarsely and nervously. He opened the box and let the wand fall into Harry's hand. Suddenly, Harry felt so light that he thought he was being lifted off the floor. Just as when he had touched his first wand for the first time, red and gold sparks flew from it and danced around the shop.

Harry and Mr. Ollivander walked back to the front of the shop so that Harry could pay. "Mr. Potter, you are a most intriguing customer of wands. Old Gregorovitch would love to get his hands on you," Mr. Ollivander said.

"By the way," Harry said, "what sort of wand is this?"

Mr. Ollivander looked at the box. "It is mahogany and unicorn tail hair, eleven inches, pliable . . .." He looked up at Harry as he trailed off, then back at the box, then back at Harry again.

Something clicked in the back of Harry's mind. "Hey, didn't my father use a mahogany wand?" he asked Mr. Ollivander.

"Yes, he did, he did indeed," said Mr. Ollivander weakly.

"Is something wrong, Mr. Ollivander?" asked Professor McGonagall, who looked relieved that Harry had finally found a wand.

"No, Minerva, nothing is wrong," said Mr. Ollivander. "However, I do think young Mr. Potter should know the story of this wand and how curious it is that Fate has chosen it for him. In fact," continued Mr. Ollivander, "this wand seemed to want Mr. Potter to wield it rather enthusiastically."

Mr. Ollivander gave Harry a very piercing stare. "You are correct, Mr. Potter. Your father did use a mahogany wand. In fact, he used a pliable mahogany wand, eleven inches in length, with a unicorn tail hair as the core."

"Wait a minute," gasped Harry. "This is my father's wand?"

"No," said Mr. Ollivander. "The mahogany came from the same tree, and the flexibilities and lengths are the same, but the cores are not from the same unicorn. However, they are from two unicorns from the same herd. A father and son, in fact. Your wand is as close to a brother wand to your father's without being one."

"What does that mean, Mr. Ollivander?" asked Professor McGonagall.

"I don't know. Intuitively, it makes perfect sense, but, in practice, no one knows," he responded. "I do think Albus should be informed though."

Harry tuned out Professor McGonagall and Mr. Ollivander's conversation and held his wand. He felt warm, comfortable, and safe when he was holding it, exactly like he did when Fawkes sat on his lap. This was the closest he had ever felt to his father, even closer than when he looked at the photo album Hagrid had made for him, even closer than when his father's smoky echo had come out of Voldemort's wand. He felt like he shared something with his father now besides his looks and name.

"Harry?" he heard Professor McGonagall prompting.

"Oh, sorry," he said. "How much do I owe you?" he asked Mr. Ollivander.

"For both wands, that will be sixteen Galleons," he replied.

Harry gave Mr. Ollivander the money from his bag, and Mr. Ollivander bowed him and Professor McGonagall from the shop. "Perhaps, if you're lucky," mumbled Mr. Ollivander as Harry left, "you won't have to be back here in a few years, Mr. Potter."

*

Ten minutes later, Harry and Professor McGonagall exited Eeylops Owl Emporium. In Hedwig's former cage was a gorgeous female brown and white owl with yellow eyes. The eyes reminded Harry of Hedwig, and their dispositions were similar, which is why Harry chose her.

"Have you thought about what to name her?" asked Professor McGonagall, glad for a topic to make small talk about.

"Well, I got the name 'Hedwig' from A History of Magic, but I was thinking of using a more Muggle name this time. Maybe something from Shakespeare," Harry replied.

"Then they wouldn't be Muggle names," Professor McGonagall smiled.

"What?" exclaimed Harry. "Shakespeare was a wizard?"

"He worked for the Department of Misinformation," she said. "He graduated right around the time the International Confederation of Warlocks started trying to keep the wizarding world secret from Muggles, and he wrote propaganda for Muggles that made them think that magic was fictional."

"The things you don't learn because all Professor Binns teaches is goblin rebellions," sighed Harry.

Professor McGonagall looked sternly at Harry. "I assure you History of Magic will not be the same this year and I strongly suggest you pay attention. That goes for all your classes."

"Oh, right," Harry said. "The O.W.L.s are this year."

"There are more important things than O.W.L.s," said Professor McGonagall cryptically.

"Don't say that in front of Hermione," Harry joked. "She'd be torn between contradicting a teacher and believing something she thinks is completely illogical."

Even Professor McGonagall, stern as she was, managed to smile at that.

"Anyway, the Shakespeare play I know best is The Tempest. I read it the year before I--" said Harry.

Suddenly, Professor McGonagall spun around very quickly and faced Harry with a look of pure shock and horror. "How did you--? How could you--?" she interrupted him, but couldn't finish her questions.

"What are you talking about, Professor?" Harry asked.

"Don't insult my intelligence, Potter. I know what's going on here," she said furiously.

Harry looked around. People were starting to stare at them. "Professor," he said very calmly, "I honestly don't know what you're upset about. If I did or said something wrong, I'm sorry, but I don't know what else to tell you."

Professor McGonagall took a deep breath and calmed down. "Never mind, Mr. Potter," she said. "I'm sorry I yelled; you obviously didn't realize--. Never mind. Now, what were you saying?"

Harry took a deep breath, too. He hesitated to continue, but eventually said as they started walking again, "I was saying that I read it the year before I came to Hogwarts, and I really liked it. Maybe I'll call her Ariel. I mean, an owl is pretty similar to a servant sprite, I suppose. Plus, then I get to be Prospero, who's my favorite character anyway. The only problem is, I bet that Hermione would object on the grounds that Prospero treats Ariel like a house-elf, or something like that."

Professor McGonagall sighed. "I think Ariel is a good name. It suits her," she said.

"Ariel it is then," Harry said. Ariel hooted with approval.

They continued to walk down Diagon Alley back towards the Floo grate. Suddenly, as they passed Quality Quidditch Supplies, Professor McGonagall gave a small start. I hope it didn't remind her of something else she wants to yell at me about, Harry thought.

"I just remembered, Mr. Potter," she said. "Madam Hooch wanted me to order another set of Quidditch balls. Do you mind if I stop in here?"

"Not at all," Harry said.

"Do you need anything from here?" she asked.

Harry shrugged. "I don't know," he said. "I've never been in there."

Professor McGonagall looked horrorstruck."Never?" she gasped.

"Never," Harry said.

"But-- but you play Quidditch. You're a Seeker. Why have you never been in this store?" she asked.

"I never thought about it," he said. "I've only had one opportunity before, and that was the summer before my third year, when I stayed at the Leaky Cauldron for two weeks. The Firebolt had just come out at the time, and I was afraid that if I went in I'd be tempted to buy it."

Professor McGonagall said very firmly, "Well, we are remedying this situation this instant, Mr. Potter."

"Er, okay. But what should I do about Ariel, Professor?" Harry asked.

"Give me two minutes," she said. She took Ariel's cage and Disapparated. She came back about a minute later, sans cage. "You can pick her up at the Three Broomsticks when you Floo back," she told Harry.

"Thanks," Harry said as they entered Quality Quidditch Supplies. He noticed that Professor McGonagall was having a hard time hiding the fact that she was about as excited as a third year going to Honeydukes for the first time. With a beaming smile on her face, she went to the counter in the back of the store to order a set of Quidditch balls for Hogwarts (they had to be specially ordered since the Bludgers were nonstandard and they were to come in a trunk with the Hogwarts crest). While she discussed the order with the wizard behind the counter, Harry took a look around the shop.

First, he took a quick trip through the racks of broomsticks, seeing if anything more recent than his Firebolt (well, his ex-Firebolt which he would be replacing) had come out. Apparently, the Firebolt was still the top of the line, though they now came with an updated Cushioning Charm. Harry definitely had no objections to that.

Next, he strolled down the clothing aisle, which had replica robes of each of the professional Quidditch teams in the British and Irish Leagues, as well as those for the national teams. Harry looked at the orange Chudley Cannons robes and considered ordering a set for Ron with his name embroidered on the back. However, he remembered how the Cannons hat he had gotten Ron for Christmas last year clashed horribly with his hair, so he decided to pass. Plus, he thought, where could he wear those robes anyway?

Finally, he looked at the equipment section of the store. He admired the polished, undented Beaters' bats, which came in different lengths and weights. He looked at gloves that strengthened the Gripping Charms on the Quaffle, so Keepers and Chasers were less likely to drop it. He found scorekeeper, manager, and strategist planning books to keep player statistics and plan maneuvers. There was a section of rulebooks, strategy books, and biographies. He saw miniature field and player models that could be used either to play a mini game or to plan or illustrate strategies and moves.

At last, he came to the Seeker equipment section. He saw a practice device that clipped onto a broomstick that tried to buck the Seeker off. It claimed to help Seekers practice balancing on their broomsticks without hands while still maneuvering to catch the Snitch. Harry passed on that one, as he had had enough experiences of getting thrown from a broomstick. He also saw a practice Snitch, which looked and moved exactly like an official Snitch, but it glowed in the dark and came with a Summoning Remote Control so that you didn't lose it during practice.

Harry decided to get one of the practice Snitches and a set of Prescription, Water-Repellant, Shatter-Resistant, Quidditch Goggles, so that he wouldn't have to wear his glasses during matches, which got wet, slipped around, and were prone to breakage. He wisely chose a clear set, unlike the black-rimmed, aviator-style ones Madam Hooch always wore, even when she wasn't flying. Professor McGonagall caught up with Harry as he paid for his purchases.

"Some wise acquisitions," she said. "I hope you practice this summer after you replace your broomstick, as it's been close to ten months since you've been on one, and we do have to defend Gryffindor's Quidditch Championship title."

"True," he said. "But we have a really experienced team this year, which is good."

"Yes, but there's two slots to be filled," she said as they left the store.

"Could be worse, there'll be four next year."

"Good point. I felt rather bad for Miss Bell, though; she would have been Captain last year, but she didn't even get a chance to play her last year at Hogwarts."

"Yeah, Katie wasn't too happy when she first heard the news, but she got over it. She enjoyed Quidditch mostly as a hobby, and this way she was able to concentrate on her N.E.W.T.s Who's going to be Captain this year?"

"I can't tell you yet. I'm still awaiting her response."

"Oh, so it's Angelina, then."

"How do you know that?" Professor McGonagall challenged him.

"Well, you said you were awaiting Her response, so it's not Fred or George. And you would choose Angelina over Alicia because Angelina's been on the team one more year than Alicia," Harry replied. "It's a seniority thing."

Professor McGonagall sighed. "Yes, I asked Miss Johnson to be Captain this year, but you're not to tell anyone about that until she accepts."

"I'm very good at keeping secrets," Harry smiled. There was silence again for a minute, but then Harry had a sudden inspiration. "So, which Quidditch team do you support, Professor?" he asked.

"Oh," Professor McGonagall said with surprise. "I didn't realize you knew any Quidditch teams."

"Well, I've read Quidditch through the Ages quite a few times, so I'm familiar with some of the teams. Ron likes the Cannons, but it seems rather unGryffindor-like to support a team whose motto is, 'Let's all just keep our fingers crossed and hope for the best.'" Harry said.

Professor McGonagall laughed. "Yes, I firmly believe you have to be a complete masochist to support the Cannons," she said. "I'm a Prides fan myself. I've been trying to convince Dumbledore of their inherent superiority for years, but he insists on supporting Puddlemere United. Though, now that Wood's their reserve Keeper, I may have to not jeer them so overtly anymore. Now my late husband was a Wasps fan, but I just couldn't stand Ludo Bagman. We used to go to the Prides v. Wasps game every year, and he would . . .."

Harry and Professor McGonagall talked Quidditch all the way down Diagon Alley, and then, after Harry Flooed back to the Three Broomsticks and collected Ariel, all the way back up to the castle. Her enthusiasm for Quidditch rivaled even Ron's, and Harry was reminded of when he had first met Ron on the Hogwarts Express and he had gone on for what seemed like hours about Quidditch. Though, Harry thought, it's much more interesting to hear about it when you know what it is.

Professor McGonagall walked Harry back to his room, and Harry told her he was going to write some letters then work on homework in the library. Before she left, Professor McGonagall handed him a small black device with a red button. "Here, Mr. Potter," she said. "If you need anything, press the red button and one of the house-elves will come help you. It's also a locator device, so please keep it with you at all times."

"Thanks, Professor," Harry said, and she left. "Hedwig," he said to the tapestry, which opened for him, "and stay open please. This room makes me claustrophobic and I'm only going to be here for a bit."

As he came in, he heard a frantic banging against the window. He opened it, and in flew Ron's owl Pigwidgeon, who, fortunately, had matured slightly, so he looked more respectable and acted less hyper. Pig dropped his letter on Harry's head and flew to Ariel's cage for a drink. Ariel gave Harry a very questioning look. "That's just Pig," he said. "You'll see him a lot. Be nice to him, he belongs to my best friend." He opened his best friend's note, which was even less legible and more scrawled than usual.

Harry,

Holy shit, are you OK? Dad came home a few minutes ago and ran into the kitchen with Mom and locked the door, so I knew something was wrong, so I went down to listen at the keyhole (after pushing Fred and George out of the way), and he said that something had happened at your house. Just send Pig right back and tell me what's going on.

Hope you're safe,

Ron

Harry smiled. It was nice to know that Ron cared about him that much and was worried about him, though Ron did tend to worry about lots of things. He sat down and wrote a short reply.

Ron,

I'm safe, but not OK. Wormtail somehow got into my house and broke my wand, burned my Firebolt, and killed Hedwig. Fortunately, he's under arrest now. I got a new wand, and my Firebolt was insured, but how can I really replace Hedwig? I mean, she was my pet and my first birthday present ever. Someone transfigured her into a figurine for me, though, so I'll always remember her. The good news is that I'm free from the Muggles. Don't want to say too much here, just in case. Are you going to be at the memorial service? If so, I'll see you there.

-Harry

Harry reattached the note to Pig, who quickly took off, back towards the Burrow. Harry sat down to write a similar note to Hermione, which he then attached to Ariel's leg. "Here's your first job," he said. "This goes to Hermione Granger. Just so you know, she's Muggle-born, but she's used to owl post." Ariel gave a hoot of understanding, then flew off out the open window. She flies very gracefully, noted Harry, who watched her as her brown feathers stood out against the white clouds until she faded from sight.

Harry sighed and fingered the Hedwig figurine in his pocket. He pulled it out and looked at her. I'm sorry, girl, he thought. If Harry didn't know better, he would have sworn he heard a hoot as he put the figurine back in his pocket.

He summoned a house-elf to his room to bring him some lunch (assorted sandwiches and pumpkin juice), which he ate quickly. Then he gathered his schoolbooks and assignments up and went to the library to work on some homework. If anything, it took his mind off of the events of the past few days.

*

A few hours later, Dumbledore found Harry in the library working on his Transfiguration homework (Discuss the Theory of Inverse Spells and how it applies to turning an inanimate object into a sentient animate being. Minimum length: 48 inches.). "Hello, Harry. Working hard?" he said.

"What? Oh, yes, Professor," he said. "Just about finished with this Transfiguration essay."

"Ah, the Theory of Inverse Spells," Dumbledore said. "One of my favorite topics when I taught Transfiguration. However, that's not what I came here to talk about," he said, taking a seat across from Harry. "Let's start with the easy question: Have you thought of a memory for the memorial service?"

"Yes, I did," said Harry. "Er, after the Yule Ball last year, Cedric came up to me and gave me a hint about the egg clue."

"Why did he do that?" asked Dumbledore.

"Well," Harry hesitated. "I had sort of given him a heads-up about the dragons, and he decided that it'd be only fair if he gave me some sort of help with the egg."

Dumbledore smiled. "A very wise choice, Harry. I think it shows very well the kind of person Cedric was. Is that background information part of the memory, too?"

"Yes," Harry replied after a moment. "He said that he owed me for the dragons."

"Perfect, then," said Dumbledore. "Now, there's something else I have to tell you about the service. It's going to be held at your parents' old house."

"What?" Harry exclaimed.

"Let me explain," said Dumbledore. "After Lord Voldemort's downfall, your parents' house in Godric's Hollow was turned into a memorial to all those Voldemort killed. The Diggorys and I thought that it would be an appropriate setting for the service."

Harry thought for a moment. "I'd really like to see it," he said. "I mean, I barely remember it, but I'd like to see it. See the memorial, too."

Dumbledore smiled. "How about we go there two hours early and you can look around before the service?" he asked.

"Sure," replied Harry. "I'd like that. But what's going to happen . . . after the service?"

The smile was wiped clean away from Dumbledore's face. "I can't tell you that, Harry. I'm working on a plan, but it hasn't been confirmed yet. You won't find out until right before you leave the service. That way, it's less likely that somebody will somehow find out."

Harry gulped. He wasn't sure he had ever seen Dumbledore look this serious before. Obviously, he didn't like having to do what he was planning. "Okay," he said. "Any other news? Surprises? Revelations? Secrets you've been keeping from me for fourteen years?"

Dumbledore's familiar smile returned. "Yes to the last one, but I'm still not going to tell you yet. I haven't heard anything from Mr. Fawcett about Pettigrew yet, and there hasn't been anything in the Daily Prophet either. We'll just have to wait and see. Now, how about you take a break from that essay and we'll have dinner. You can tell me what happened in Ollivanders today . . ."

*

Harry spent the next two days finishing all his homework and waiting for any news. He also filled out the insurance claim form for his Firebolt, which he would send, along with the remains, to the insurance company as soon as Ariel returned with Hermione's response. He had already gotten another letter from Ron, albeit a much calmer one than the last one:

Harry,

I'm glad that you're unhurt and that you're somewhere safe and away from the Muggles. I'm sure Snuffles is pleased about Wormtail. I'm really sorry about Hedwig. I know just how you feel: Errol died last week. We buried him in the garden. Fortunately, my parents have been using Hermes (that's Percy's owl) instead of Pig to send letters. I'll see you at the memorial service; you can tell me the whole story there. Hopefully you'll be able to come and stay with me sometime this summer, but I guess it depends on what Dumbledore says.

Stay safe,

Ron

PS He destroyed your Firebolt?!?! That's criminal! Good thing it was insured.

Harry had sent Pig back with a short reply expressing his condolences about Errol and confirming that he'd see Ron at the service. He was proofreading his Potions essay (Discuss, with examples, potions that use human blood and/or body parts, a topic that Harry had thought was an insensitive choice on Snape's part, considering what he had been through) when he heard a flap of wings at his window.

He unclipped Hermione's letter from Ariel's leg and she flew back to her cage, ready for a rest. "Get some sleep tonight," he told her. "I have a package to send in the morning." He was very eager to get the old, broken Firebolt out of his room, as it did naught but remind him of that night. He opened the letter and saw Hermione's familiar tiny writing, though it was much more scrawled than usual:

Dear Harry,

I'm so sorry about Hedwig. I know how much she meant to you. I can't imagine why Pettigrew would do something like that, something so spiteful and cruel. I'm glad they caught the salaud (that's French for 'person born out of wedlock'). I know this won't make it any better, but there is an upside: Snuffles can now prove his innocence. That means you can go live with him next summer instead of the Dursleys.

But, Harry, what are you going to do without your wand? I mean, your wand protected you from Voldemort before. Now that it's gone . . .. Never mind, I won't finish that thought.

I'm really glad you wrote me about what happened, but I haven't seen anything about it in the Daily Prophet. What does that mean? I hope you have some more information. I'll be at the memorial service, so we'll talk then, OK? In the meantime, don't do anything . . . risky (you know the kinds of things I'm talking about).

Love,

Hermione

PS Ariel's a rather smart owl, but I'm not sure I approve of the name . . .

Harry managed a small laugh and mentally paid himself five Galleons for correctly predicting Hermione's reaction. He finished his proofreading, then went to bed. He knew tomorrow was going to be a long and difficult day.

*

After Harry sent Ariel down to Hogsmeade to deliver the ruined Firebolt and claim form to the insurance company, he started packing up his belongings, remembering to leave his Invisibility Cloak out. Dumbledore had told him that he would arrange for everything to be delivered to the "safe house." As for the cloak, Dumbledore had asked Professor Lupin and Sirius to meet them at the memorial, where Sirius could put on the cloak and see the memorial and the service. After Ariel got back and Harry had stowed her away as well, he had nothing to do but wait until 2:30, when Professor Dumbledore would Portkey with him to the memorial. Harry was feeling rather apprehensive as he changed into his bottle green dress robes. He wasn't sure what to expect or how he would react when he got there and during the service.

Harry met Professor Dumbledore, who was wearing simple, black dress robes, in the entrance hall. Dumbledore and Harry grabbed hold of a black, rubber ring as Dumbledore consulted his watch. Must be a timed Portkey, Harry thought, right before he felt a tug in his stomach and the world started to fly past him.

When everything stopped spinning and he had regained his bearings, Harry blinked a few times and looked around. He saw a two-story house half in ruins. The room on the left end of the second floor was completely exposed: the roof and outside walls were completely blown off. That must have been my bedroom, Harry thought, with the yellow walls and teddy bear wallpaper. Even from outside, he saw the teddy bears on the wall feebly waving and smiling innocently, oblivious to the events that had happened there. This was the room that haunted him when he came near a Dementor and heard and saw Voldemort killing his mom in front of him. His eyes watered, but he didn't cry. Dumbledore put an arm on Harry's shoulder and steered him over to where Professor Lupin was waiting with Snuffles.

"Hi, Harry," said Professor Lupin, who was wearing shabby, midnight blue dress robes.

"Hi, Professor Lupin," said Harry.

"Please, call me Remus, Harry, as I'm not your teacher anymore," he said.

"Can do," said Harry. "Here, I brought this for Snuffles," he said as he handed over the Invisibility Cloak.

Remus draped the cloak over Snuffles, who vanished from sight. Harry briefly saw Sirius's feet emerge from the cloak as he returned to his human form, but then they disappeared again as he adjusted it around him. "Hello, Harry. Long time no see," said Sirius's disembodied voice.

"Ha, ha," said Harry sarcastically, smiling nonetheless. "Shall we take the tour?"

Remus and Sirius led Harry and Dumbledore around the house, telling all sorts of anecdotes from when Harry was a baby. For some reason, quite a few of them involved one or more of the Marauders ending up drunk and/or putting Harry in a potentially dangerous situation while Harry obliviously giggled with delight. " . . . And then, Harry, you tried to repeat what Sirius said, but it came out, 'Duck you, Pwongs.' Unfortunately, you said it right as your mother came into the room," Remus recounted. "She threw a fit and cast a spell on Sirius that sealed his mouth shut for the rest of the night."

"Yes, and Em wasn't too happy with that," Sirius added.

Remus rolled his eyes. "I'm sure you guys made up for it many times over," he said.

"I'm not sure about UP, but we sure made OUT for it many times," Sirius said.

"Thanks, but that's slightly more information than I needed, Sirius," Harry said.

"Uh-oh," Sirius said. "Harry, we're going to have to have a little chat at some point in the future, definitely before you move in with me."

Harry went crimson and kept walking. The next room contained some artifacts from the war. Harry merely glanced at most of the display cases until he came to one that made him stop cold. Behind the glass, he saw two wands: one willow, ten and a quarter inches long, and one mahogany, eleven inches long. He pulled out his own wand and held it up to the glass beside his father's. They looked indistinguishable from each other, down to the grain of the mahogany wood striping down the wand. As Harry pressed his wand again the glass, the air in the case between the two wands seemed to glow golden, and the wand felt warm against Harry's hand. Harry quickly pulled his wand away, afraid of damaging the case. Seeing his father's wand and the connection they made reassured him, but also unnerved him slightly. What does this really mean? he asked himself, but no answer came to mind.

Finally, Remus led the group into the room in which the service would be held. Harry heard Sirius give a small sniffle from under the Invisibility Cloak. From the fireplace, Harry guessed that this was the living room, the room in which his father had died trying to protect him from Voldemort. Harry could only guess how Sirius must have felt that night, coming to this house and seeing his best friend dead on the ground, knowing what could have happened if he hadn't let them switch Secret-Keepers. How does he cope with that guilt? Harry asked himself. My guilt over Cedric must only be a fraction of Sirius's, and I'm barely able to deal with it.

Harry went over to the wall on which were inscribed in gold the names of all those who were killed or tortured to insanity by Voldemort or Death Eaters. Harry was in complete disbelief at how many names were on that wall. He looked very carefully at the last eight names on the wall. James Gregory Potter, Oct. 31, 1981. Lily Evans Potter, Oct. 31, 1981. Frank McEwan Longbottom, Dec. 24, 1981. Eileen Davies Longbottom, Dec. 24, 1981. Bertha Anne Jorkins, July 7, 1994. Franklin John Bryce, Aug. 15, 1994. Bartemius Dana Crouch, May 24, 1995. Cedric Justin Diggory, June 24, 1995. Harry shuddered to think of how many more names would be on the wall by the time Voldemort could be defeated once again.

Harry was about to go when his eye caught the name above his father's: Miranda Gwendolyn McGonagall, Oct. 18, 1981. I wonder if that's Professor McGonagall's sister or daughter, Harry thought. She did say she had been married. I guess it depends if McGonagall was her maiden name or her husband's name. It could have been her sister-in-law, too, I guess. Suddenly, Harry felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked behind him to see who it was, but saw nothing there. "What's up, Sirius?" he asked.

"Nothing," Sirius said. "This is my first time back here, too, you know."

"Oh," said Harry. "It must be harder for you. You remember the place."

Sirius sighed. "I do, Harry, and being back here feels like a knife in my side. The only thing that makes it better is that you're here and safe. Now, I believe that there are some people here to see you."

"Thanks, Sirius," Harry said. "Umm, listen, I need to tell you something."

"What is it?" asked Sirius.

Harry took a deep breath. "I just wanted you to know that I don't blame you for my parents' deaths," he said. "I know that hearing it doesn't make it that much better, but--"

Harry was cut off by Sirius throwing off the Invisibility Cloak and embracing Harry more tightly than Harry had ever been held before. "Thank you, thank you, Harry," Sirius said through his sobs. "Hearing that from you, it just--" Sirius choked as he tried to find the words to express what he was feeling. Harry didn't need the words. He knew.

"I know, Sirius," Harry said. "I know." But do I really know? he thought. Even though Cedric's parents said the same thing to me, I still blame myself.

"Er--" said a familiar voice from behind Harry.

"Ron!" said another familiar voice sternly, followed by a sound of bodily contact. "Don't interrupt them."

"Ouch! Jeez, Hermione, your punches hurt," said Ron.

"We're done if you two are," said Harry, since Sirius had released him and was wiping his eyes by that point.

"Oh. Er, sorry, Harry. Umm, hi, Sirius," said Ron.

"Hello, Ron, Hermione," said Sirius. "Umm, could you guys maybe go talk over there?"

"Sure," said Harry, taking the hint. He took Ron and Hermione to a more private location. Harry noticed Ron's new green dress robes, which were similar to Harry's, though Ron's were a much lighter green and had a glossy finish on them. "Nice robes," Harry said with a grin.

"Thanks," Ron replied. "You won't believe this, but Fred and George got me these."

"Really?" said Harry. "Why'd they do that?"

"Well," Ron said, "Mum had laid out my old robes last week for me to try on to see if they still fit, and Fred came in with a bottle of this new gag they had invented. Well, he tripped and spilled it all over my dress robes, and my mom couldn't get the . . . substance out, so they went out and bought me new robes. I swear, I'm not trying to copy you."

"No worries," Harry said, glad that they had both kept the promise about the dress robes and were putting his money to good use. "Green suits you much better than maroon anyway."

"What was this 'substance' anyway?" asked Hermione.

Ron smiled. "Not going to tell you. It'd spoil all the fun."

"I don't like that sound of that, Ron," said Hermione.

"Don't worry. You'll find out soon enough," said Ron cryptically.

"I REALLY don't like the sound of that," replied Hermione.

"Say, Hermione, are those new robes, too?" Harry asked, trying to get off the topic.

"No, they're the same robes I wore to the Yule Ball," she said. "They came with a Sombretus charm to adjust them to a darker shade of blue for events like these. Anyway, enough about fashion. Let's talk."

"Yeah, Harry, what happened?" Ron added.

Harry ran through the full version of the events of five days ago and what happened afterwards. By the end, both Ron and Hermione were looking very pale, weak, and shaken. Hermione even had a tear in her eye.

"Wow, Harry, that's, umm, that's really scary," said Ron.

"You should have seen me at the time," Harry said. "I was a complete wreck. But that's the story."

"Harry, what's going to happen now?" Hermione asked softly.

"Well, I'm pretty vulnerable right now, so Dumbledore's sending me to a 'safe house' for the rest of the holidays," Harry replied.

"Where is it?" Ron asked.

"I don't know. I won't find out until right before I go there, which is right after the service," replied Harry.

"Speaking of which," said Hermione, "we should get seats."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione picked up programs, which featured a smiling portrait of Cedric on the front, under which were the dates September 20, 1977-June 24, 1995. The inside read:

Opening Remarks: Professor Deirdre Sprout, Head of Hufflepuff House, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Sharing of Memories

Closing Remarks: Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

They found a row of seats, being sure to save two for Sirius and Remus and five for the other Weasleys who were coming. The three of them chatted about rather insignificant things as they watched the seats fill. Harry saw almost all of the soon to be seventh year class, which was Cedric's old class, including (and this threw Harry for a bit of a loop) most of the seventh year Slytherins. Plus, most of Hufflepuff house was there, of course, including Hannah, Ernie, Justin, and most of the other fifth years that Harry knew from Herbology. He also saw some random Ravenclaws and Gryffindors (though none of the other fifth year Gryffindors), but very few Slytherins, and none of the fifth year Slytherins that Harry knew. All the Hogwarts professors were there as well, except for Hagrid, Harry noted. In addition, there were a few members of the class that had just graduated, including Penelope Clearwater, last year's Head Girl and Percy's girlfriend (or ex-girlfriend, Harry wasn't sure). Just as the rest of the Weasleys arrived, Harry caught a glimpse of Cho in the back with another girl Harry recognized as one of her Ravenclaw female friends. Those mauve dress robes look really good on her, Harry thought, before bringing his mind back to the present.

"Oh, Harry," Mrs. Weasley exclaimed as she engulfed him in a hug. "We were so worried about you. When Arthur came home and we didn't know what was going on, we were frantic."

Fortunately, Mr. Weasley stepped in at that point and escorted his wife to a seat. Fred, George, and Ginny followed them. "I was admiring Ron's dress robes earlier," Harry said to Fred and George with a wink. "They're very nice."

"Now, Ron, you didn't tell them what I spilled on your old ones, did you?" asked Fred.

Ron smiled. "Nope, still secret."

"That's a first," said George. "Ickle Ronniekins usually can't keep a secret to save his life."

"You'll do well to remember that 'Ickle Ronniekins' is taller than you two now," said Ron jokingly threateningly.

"And you'll do well to remember that we have almost fifteen years of blackmail material on you," said Fred.

At that point, Mr. Weasley cut in and hissed, "Stop it you three. Now is not the time. Blackmail and taunt each other at home, and preferably somewhere where I don't have to hear about it."

At that point Remus and Sirius sat down next to Harry (though, since Sirius was wearing the Invisibility Cloak, the seat next to Remus seemed to be empty, and, given that Remus was a well-known werewolf, it was unlikely that somebody would sit there and accidentally sit on Sirius). The crowd quieted down as Professor Sprout stood up at the front of the room and began talking about Cedric's life.

Harry felt he owed it to Cedric and his family to pay close attention, as he really didn't know Cedric in any context besides a competitor. However, Professor Sprout was talking in rather vague generalities that Harry really didn't see as memorializing Cedric that well at all. Oh well, he thought, I guess that that's what the Pensieve is for, and I'm sure Dumbledore will make some good closing remarks.

Finally, Professor Sprout sat down, and people who were contributing memories made a line down the aisle. Sirius, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny stayed behind as everyone else in the row got up to contribute their memories. The Diggory family went first, then the line processed forward to the Pensieve. Harry could see that people were presenting their wands to Dumbledore, who then tapped his wand to theirs and cast a spell before handing it back to the owner, and then the person would contribute the memory. Harry got ready by concentrating on the memory, trying to remember all the details of the exchange and the night.

When it was his turn to go, Dumbledore gave him a reassuring smile as he tapped Harry's wand and said, "Memorandum." Harry wand glowed silver for a moment, and then Harry touched it to his head as he had seen everyone else do. As he concentrated on the memory, it seemed to flow right into his wand. After he had played the memory through, he opened his eyes and found a small silvery gob on the end of his wand. He stirred it into the Pensieve, where it joined all the other memories, and then he returned to his seat.

I hope I did that right, he thought to himself as he sat down. After everyone in the line had contributed and returned to their seats, everybody stood up again, and Dumbledore cleared the chairs to the side. Next, everybody moved to the walls as Dumbledore levitated the Pensieve to the center of the room. Once it was there, he expanded it so that there was enough room for everybody to have a spot at the edge of the Pensieve. People circled around the Pensieve, and, once everybody had found a spot, everyone stuck their hand into the silvery liquid.

The Pensieve slideshow of memories started with Cedric's childhood then moved on to his Hogwarts days. Harry recognized his memory when it came to it and was relieved to find that it came out perfectly. He also saw a memory of Cedric talking to Oliver Wood and Madam Hooch after what Harry supposed was the Hufflepuff/Gryffindor Quidditch match third year when Dementors had caused Harry to fall from his broomstick. "Look, I want a rematch," Cedric said in the memory. "That's not a fair win, and that's not the way I want to win." Other than those two memories, Harry didn't really understand the context of what he was seeing. He supposed people stayed away from memories involving the Tournament. The memories went on for about forty-five minutes, and then everyone was released from the Pensieve and brought back to the room.

Professor Dumbledore stood up to make a final statement. "This is the life that Voldemort took from us. Remembering it is the first step to taking it back. See here the purposeless destruction Voldemort brings, the death of a good person, an innocent person who did nothing wrong. In Cedric's name, we will fight Voldemort. Thank you." Clearly, Dumbledore held to the adage: "Brevity is the soul of wit."

Afterwards people started milling around and talking. The Diggorys came over and thanked Harry for coming and expressed how much it meant to them that he was there. Harry spoke to some other people that he knew, then moved back to rejoin Hermione and the Weasleys. "Which one of you two contributed the memory from after the Hufflepuff/Gryffindor Quidditch game two years ago?" Harry asked Fred and George.

"Must have been George. I gave the one where he confronted Professor Snape about fairness," Fred said. "Left off the part where Snape took away 50 points from Hufflepuff and gave him a detention, but it still got the point across."

"Er, Harry?" said a female voice as Harry felt a tap on the shoulder.

"Yes?" asked Harry as he turned around and saw Cho standing there. "Oh."

"Could I talk to you for a minute? Alone?" she asked.

"Er, sure," Harry said nervously as she led him to a private corner.

"I just wanted to tell you what a nice memory of Cedric that was," Cho said to Harry, once they were alone.

"Oh, thanks," said Harry. "Er, which memory was yours?"

Cho stared at him in shock for a moment, then broke down and started to cry. Uh-oh, this isn't the reaction I was expecting, thought Harry. "Er, I'm sorry, Cho," he said. Though I don't know what for, he thought.

Cho wiped her eyes with a lace handkerchief and tried to bring her crying under control. "No, no, don't be sorry, Harry," she said. "It's not you. It's just that . . . I didn't give a memory. I thought and thought this whole week for a memory of Cedric, and I kept thinking all through the service, and finally, when it was my turn, I still didn't have one that was any good. God, that sounds so horrible. I mean, I was his girlfriend for six months, for Heaven's sake. Why couldn't I do this?" She started to cry again.

"Er," Harry said, "I suppose that it's harder if you know the person well. I mean, you know so much more about them, and you're trying to convey it all in just one memory, and it's never all there at once, and I don't know what I'm saying here."

"No, no, that's exactly it," Cho said. "That's what I was trying to do, and I just couldn't. God, why do I have to be such a perfectionist?"

"You're a Ravenclaw. It's your job," Harry said.

Cho grinned. "I would say something about stereotyping people by the House they're in, but it's not a stereotype if it's true."

"I don't know," Harry said. "Sometimes I have no clue what the Sorting Hat was thinking, either for me or for others, but I'm not going to name names."

"Good idea," said Cho. "Anyway, I've at got to go find my friend Lise. I guess I'll see you at school."

"Yeah, see you then," Harry said. As she left, he thought, Wow. I just had a conversation with her and didn't make an arse of myself. And speaking of arses . . . no, Harry! Wrong place, wrong time. He walked back over to the Weasleys. "Where's Hermione?" he asked.

"You just missed her," said Ron. "Her Portkey went off, but she said to tell you that if you want your birthday present, you'd better write her a letter sometime this week. Speaking of which, do you think Pig'll be able to find you at the 'safe house' or whatever?"

"I don't know," Harry replied. "If he can't, just send it to Dumbledore and he'll make sure it gets to me."

"Good idea, a first for you," jibed Ron.

"Ron!" chided Mrs. Weasley. "Well, come along everybody; we have to leave. Harry, hopefully you'll be able to stay with us later this summer."

"I hope so, too," said Harry. "Bye, Ron, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Fred, George, Ginny."

"Bye, Harry," they chorused as they were ushered to the Floo grate.

Harry saw that very few people were left. Remus came over to Harry, who assumed Sirius was nearby. "Say, Harry," Remus said. "My dog Snuffles really likes that 'chew toy' you let him borrow. Do you mind if he keeps it for awhile?"

Harry dealt very well with subtle hints like these. "Well, it's okay with me if Dumbledore doesn't think that I'll need it for myself."

Remus nodded. "Yes, we already asked him, and he told us to ask you."

"Sounds good to me," Harry said.

"Alright then, Harry. And if you want to take Snuffles for a walk sometime, just owl me and I'll arrange it, okay?" Remus added.

"As long as I don't have to scoop anything," Harry joked.

Remus laughed. "I doubt it. But I do believe that Snuffles's Portkey just went off, so I'm going to Apparate home now. I'll see you later, Harry."

"Goodbye, Prof-- Remus," Harry said, and Lupin Disapparated. Dumbledore walked over to Harry. "Time to go?" Harry asked.

"Yes, indeed," Dumbledore said and handed him a folded slip of parchment. "This is the Floo address for your 'safe house,'" Dumbledore explained as they walked to the Floo grate, which already had a fire going. "Read it, then toss it into the fire. Then you can go. Here's some Floo Powder."

Harry opened the parchment. He read it, then looked up at Dumbledore in utter shock and disbelief. "You're joking!" he exclaimed.

"I most certainly am not, Harry. Clearly, there are many things you do not know, but I can't explain them right now," Dumbledore said.

"But--" said Harry.

"No buts," said Dumbledore. "I do know what I'm doing, you know."

Harry sighed. "Fine," he said. "I've always been able to trust you; no reason to stop now, though I think this is a good one." He threw the paper in the fire and watched the ashes burn.

"Have a good rest of the summer," Dumbledore said, smiling.

I doubt I will, thought Harry. He took a pinch of Floo powder and threw it into the fire, which turned a brilliant green. Right before he jumped into the flames, he shouted the name of his destination.

"Malfoy Manor!"