Harry Potter and the Simulacrum Seal

Chapter Sixteen: Of Two Minds

The days following the Prophet's article were bleak. Harry was wanted by the Ministry but couldn't possibly turn himself in - after all, he was technically guilty. He wasn't any good to anyone in Azkaban.

But he wasn't useful to Scrimgeour in Azkaban, either, so Harry didn't think he'd really be sent there if he confessed his guilt. More likely he'd say he'd talked Harry into turning "good" again, and keep him as a useful publicity tool.

That would be almost worse than imprisonment.

'Lay low for awhile,' advised Remus, and Harry did so, if only because he simply had nothing better to do. The locket was probably lost forever now, and after nearly two months of effort spent finding it, failure was hard to bear well. By now, Malfoy had returned the locket to his master, and Voldemort would either hide it elsewhere or keep it nearby; in either case, Harry was even worse off than when he'd started.

The Prophet seemed to be trying its best to discredit Harry - probably at the Ministry's directive - but it had met with little success so far, and its rhetoric had toned down once it realized that its readers weren't biting. Letters to the editor had poured in to the Daily Prophet expressing, if not confidence in Harry, then at least the feeling that they had no choice but to trust him.

Degrees of cynicism varied, but the messages were similar.

'If Harry Potter has really defected, we may as well bend over and kiss our arses goodbye, so let's give him the benefit of the doubt, shall we?'

'If he is on our side, he won't be for long if you keep on like this!'

'If he wants to break into people's homes, I say let him have at it. He's welcome to my antique broomstick collection so long as he'll get rid of He Who Must Not Be Named!'

Harry spent his days training with Remus and Moody and practicing what he learned. He fell into a routine, and Moody's lessons, at least, were yielding benefits; Harry had managed to best the retired Auror in their last head-to-head duel.

Ron and Hermione, and even Neville, who'd joined in, had improved as well, though they were not quite in Harry's league anymore. Hermione knew more spells and could perform more of them non-verbally, but there was something missing. Privately, Moody told Harry, 'The thing that separates the decent duellers from the great ones like you and me can't be taught and can't be learned - instinct, creativity, strategizing on-the-fly!'

Harry was proud that Moody put Harry in the same league as himself. But duelling progress wasn't enough to stave off frustration, because he knew Moody was deliberately not using Legilimency against him, and the Death Eaters wouldn't be so generous.

If anything seemed more out of reach than Voldemort's Horcruxes, it was proficiency at Occlumency. Hermione had become moderately skilled at it, and Ron had picked up the basics, but Remus, the most patient of teachers, was becoming visibly frustrated with Harry's lack of progress.

Even so, Harry was surprised when Remus cancelled his Occlumency lesson altogether, at least for Harry. After all, if Occlumency was so important, it wasn't as if Harry could just give up, so Remus couldn't give up on Harry - could he?

'Someone has consented to give you a private lesson,' said Remus. 'I've spoken with him about your difficulties, and he's willing to give it a try...though I'm not sure how much help he can be...'

Harry didn't argue, though he was sceptical of the possibility that "someone" had a method for learning Occlumency that would work for him. He was starting to understand the frustration that a Squib must feel with magic generally, and it wasn't pleasant.

***

Slughorn had gone back to the way he'd lived before becoming a professor at Hogwarts, or so it seemed. He was staying in an obscure Muggle village in a cottage house. It wasn't nearly as grand as the home he'd been squatting in when he and Harry had first met - and Slughorn had abandoned his piano somewhere along the way.

Remus and Slughorn greeted each other formally, without hostility or cordiality. Then Remus wished Harry luck, and Harry was on his own. He could tell that Slughorn wasn't overly pleased to see him; his eyes kept dodging around the room, looking anywhere but at Harry.

'Well, well, Harry...good to see you again...' said Slughorn nervously, clutching his wand in both hands and holding it close. 'Lupin says you need some help with...er, Occlumency, was it?'

'Yeah,' said Harry, making himself at home and taking up a comfortable chair near Slughorn, 'but with all due respect, sir, I don't think there's anything you can do.'

At this, Slughorn finally dared to look at him. 'Oh ho, is that so?' he said, sounding mildly insulted. 'I'll have you know I've taught some of the best Occlumens you'll ever come across! Why, Severus said my lessons were invaluable!'

Harry's blood ran cold. He couldn't help glaring.

Slughorn rushed to cover his tracks. 'Well, I mean, not that useful...surely, even without...'

Slughorn got out of his chair and paced the room, looking around at the piles of books he had with him. Harry thought he recognized some from the Hogwarts library, but didn't intend to call him on it.

'Here, here it is! This is what I wanted to show you! It's -'

'I've already seen that book,' stated Harry immediately. Slughorn's moustache drooped in dismay.

'I say...this is the book on Occlumency...I thought perhaps Lupin had neglected...well, what on earth is wrong with you, then, if you can't learn it?'

'I don't know,' admitted Harry openly. 'I'm just no good at it at all.'

Slughorn sat back down in his chair with an oomph. He seemed to be considering something. 'I remember,' he began, 'that someone else came to me once who couldn't learn Occlumency. I tried to teach her the basics, but it didn't stick - and I found it amazing, because she was one of the most talented witches I'd met in years...'

Harry perked up at this, interested. At least he wasn't the only one who was awful at it. 'So what did you do?'

Guiltily, Slughorn shrugged his shoulders. 'Not much.'

Great. That was helpful. But before Harry could politely let himself out, Slughorn said, 'But you know, I told her that the best defence is a good offence...'

Curious, Harry watched as Slughorn aimed his wand, and another book flew into his hands. The book screamed Dark magic; the cover was made of black dragon hide, and it was kept shut by a heavy metal lock. Slughorn's eyes stared sharply into Harry's, his demeanour changed to that of a strict instructor.

Quietly, with the book placed ominously in his lap, Slughorn said, 'Legilimency is considered to be Darker magic than Occlumency - it can do terrible damage to a mind. I'm sure this isn't what Lupin had in mind when he brought you here...but if you know Legilimency, you'll at least be on an even playing field with your opponent. You'll be able to read his mind.'

His voice nearly a whisper now, Slughorn added, 'Even if you were good at Occlumency, few, very few, can conquer You Know Who's Legilimency. But, if you work at it, you could become a good enough Legilimens to break his Occlumency barriers. Yet breaking through his mental defences during a duel would be a tall order indeed...though you don't need access to the deepest thoughts in a duel, only the surface, so it is possible...'

Slughorn gave Harry a warning look. 'It's a power most wouldn't be capable of using wisely.'

Then the old man smiled, and Harry knew that Slughorn would give him the book. 'You're your mother's son, though. I can't imagine progeny of hers doing anything awful.'

At least Slughorn's bloodline bias is useful for once, thought Harry.

'And,' continued Slughorn, his face conspiratorially suggestive, 'it's a good skill to have in life - makes it easier to tell who's with you and who's not.'

Harry schooled his features into agreement, but he had a feeling that Slughorn's idea of the moral use of Legilimency wasn't the same as his own.

They talked a while longer, with Slughorn showing him the proper motion and flick of the wrist for a beginning level Legilimency spell ('At more advanced levels, non-verbal casting is possible simply with eye contact,' he said, which Harry already knew). Soon, though, Harry and Slughorn both agreed that Harry could learn the rest on his own and come back to Slughorn with any important questions.

'...Wait,' Slughorn said as Harry was headed out the door. Harry looked back at him; he seemed conflicted for a moment, but then he handed Harry a golden, circular object. Harry opened it up.

'A compass?'

'Just keep the compass in your pocket, focus on my name, and you can Apparate to wherever I am,' said Slughorn. 'I'll be leaving here soon, so -'

'Why don't you stay at Order headquarters?' Harry asked immediately. 'If you're so worried about your life, then -'

'Not everyone can live under one roof, my boy,' he said obliquely. Even without Legilimency, Harry could tell there was a little more to it than that. However, he didn't have any good reason to press the point, so he let it lie. Amazed at how much better he felt now that he'd found a way around Occlumency, Harry returned to Grimmauld Place in high spirits.

***

...Which plummeted like a stone when he discovered what was going on in the drawing room at Grimmauld Place.

Half the Order - Bill, Charlie, Remus, Moody, Tonks, and others Harry couldn't recognize so easily - were holding a very loud, magically technical conversation, bandying about terms like 'incorporeal modus', 'direct disanimation,' and 'the Fifth Law of Synthology'. And in the middle of it all was the simulacrum of Harry's mum, smiling benignly.

Anger flared. 'What's going on?' Harry asked, grabbing Tonks, who was nearest to the door.

'Wonderful, you're here!' she said, ignoring his distemper. The conversation continued to swirl around them as she said, 'We've found out something interesting about what the Ministry thinks is in that thing!' Tonks casually directed her thumb toward the bag.

'What?'

'Something to do with Dementors - a way to trap them! The Ministry thinks it could take out You Know Who's entire cadre of Dementors with whatever's in there! Minister Scrimgeour wants it badly. We're trying to pry it open.'

'And you didn't even think to ask first?!' Harry's voice sounded shrill.

'We didn't think you'd mind, you didn't even seem to want it!'

But Harry was already pushing his way into the middle of the room. Someone grabbed his shoulder, but he shrugged it off harshly and placed himself between the greater part of the crowd and the bag.

'Excuse me!' shouted Harry. The room slowly quieted down. 'What are you lot doing with my mum's stuff?'

'I just told you,' said Tonks with little patience.

'Yeah, you think some anti-Dementor thingy's in here, I know, but what are you going to do about it? Why does the Ministry even think that?'

'We're not sure,' admitted Remus, 'but it seems they believe it firmly, for whatever reason. As for how we're going to get at the information, we're working on it. So far we haven't got much.'

A balding man Harry didn't recognize said, 'According to the Fifth Law of Synthology, there must be some crack in her, some imperfection we can exploit to tear her open.'

Tear her open. He couldn't help but look back at it, at her, and a chill ran down his spine at the thought of someone wanting to tear her open. The image of his mother being ripped apart by something like a werewolf came to mind.

'But as I've noted,' interrupted Bill Weasley harshly, 'that could very well destroy the information itself.' With something like affection, he looked at the simulacrum, and, in a low voice, said, 'She's the key to it, whatever it is. A beautiful bit of magic.'

The simulacrum responded to being called beautiful by winking at Bill. A couple of the attendees to the impromptu conference scribbled down notes. 'Second stage self-awareness,' muttered the balding man from before with awe.

'Maybe you should leave it with us. I promise we won't do anything drastic without informing you first,' Remus gently cajoled him.

Well isn't that nice, seeing as it's mine, thought Harry unhappily. But if it was for the good of the cause, he couldn't reasonably take the bag and storm out, even though he wanted to deeply.

Then Harry noticed Remus's eyes finally falling on the book he was carrying, and decided it was definitely time to leave. He wasn't too sure that Remus would approve of his study of Legilimency, and there was no point in starting a conflict.

Ron, Hermione, and Neville had gone out with Mrs Weasley to buy some necessary items -like food - for Grimmauld Place. Harry set the large Occlumency book down on his bed with a thump and thought about whether he wanted to start studying or not. But it was too loud downstairs, and he knew he wouldn't be able to concentrate, so he decided to see what Ginny was up to.

He knocked on the door to her bedroom. A few seconds later the door opened. Grumpily, Ginny answered the knock, and said, 'What?'

'Er -'

But her expression changed immediately, as though she were relieved it was him. 'Oh good, it's you. Sorry, I didn't mean to be rude. I'm not in the best of moods lately, and Hermione's been getting on my nerves a little. Come on in.' She moved away from the door, and Harry walked in.

He suddenly felt uncomfortable about being in Ginny's room, but she'd already shut the door, so it was a little late to leave without being very impolite. 'Er, so, how - how're you doing?' he asked, casting around for a neutral subject.

'I'm fine,' she said blandly. 'Nothing going on. Just bored.'

'Yeah, well, you won't be bored for long. You'll be going back to school soon,' said Harry, and even before the words left his lips he knew it was exactly the wrong thing to say.

'Did Hermione put you up to this?' asked Ginny sharply, her eyes probing Harry's own.

Harry had no idea what she meant. 'Wh-what? No!'

But Ginny took Harry's discomfort as an admission of guilt. Stormily, she stated, 'You can tell her to mind her own business! At least she gets to be useful! Luna and I are kept in the dark about everything just because we're one silly year younger than the rest of you! Even Neville gets to stay here, and I could out-duel him easily!'

Harry wasn't so sure, given that Neville had been getting extra lessons with him and Ron and Hermione, but telling her that was obviously not the best idea. 'Look, Hermione really didn't tell me anything! I swear!' he protested.

At that moment, Luna opened the door and walked in. 'Hello Harry,' she said with a smile. 'We got our school assignments today, did you hear?'

Ginny sat down on the side of her bed angrily, not looking at Harry. 'Er, that's great,' said Harry, trying to sound a little enthusiastic for Luna's sake, since she really did look excited. 'Where are you going?'

'Durmstrang!' said Luna immediately. With some sadness, she added, 'And Ginny is going to Beauxbatons.'

'It's completely stupid, I don't even speak French, and I'd learn much more by staying here!' Ginny declared.

'They've arranged some classes in English for Hogwarts students,' replied Luna reasonably.

Ginny fumed in silence. Harry left as quickly as he politely could, realizing that this wasn't the best time to talk to her. Even if Harry wanted Ginny to stay - which he didn't, because she would be many times safer out of the country - it wasn't up to him.

The wisdom of staying out of it was reinforced when, after dinner, a shouting match between Mrs Weasley and Ginny carried very clearly up the stairs.

'I'M NOT GOING! IT'S RIDICULOUS!'

'YOU MOST CERTAINLY ARE! WHAT ON EARTH WOULD YOUR FATHER THINK?!'

'PITY HE ISN'T HERE TO SAY! HOW CAN I LEAVE WHEN HIS MURDERER IS WALKING ROUND FREE?!'

'HE'S NOT DEAD!'

'HE MAY AS WELL BE!'

At this point Harry sound-proofed the room with a spell. It's not my business, he firmly informed his brain. They've got to work it out for themselves.

Hermione ran in the room shortly after. 'Good God, I can't take it,' she said. 'I only meant to help -'

'Don't,' suggested Ron.

***

Late in the evening, as Harry buried his nose in the Legilimency book, he tapped the simulacrum's bag with his toe, oddly comforted by its presence. It had been kindly returned by Tonks; the Order hadn't found a safe way to disarm the simulacrum's protections without doing exactly what the simulacrum wanted - ask whatever question it existed to answer. So they'd gone at it for an hour, unsuccessfully asking every question related to Dementors that they could come up with.

And then Harry had tried, quietly, alone in his room, to ask the right question. He hadn't asked anything about Dementors; there had still remained a tiny, hopeful part of him that wanted the simulacrum to be a message from his mother meant for him, even if that seemed unlikely.

'Is there something my mum wanted to tell me?' he had asked her in a whisper.

'No,' she had said. 'Sorry.' That sad look had come over its face, and Harry had found himself replacing its deadened eyes with sparkling, true ones in his thoughts.

The politeness had become irritating after a few more similar questions, so he'd stopped, his final hopes dashed, and now the bag sat quiescent at his feet. He focused on each individual page of the old text; it sat heavily in his lap, the leather bindings warm on his bare legs in the heat of summer. His eyes dried from lack of blinking, but Harry hardly noticed.

When his eyes protested firmly that they could read no more, Harry shut the book and lay back in bed, closing his stinging eyes, and thought of Ginny. He wondered if she was lying awake atop the blankets in that summer nightgown he'd seen her in before, or if all the frustration she'd used up on her mother had tired her enough for her to fall into a restless sleep.

Her unhappiness bothered Harry a lot - but she wasn't an adult by the standards of wizarding Britain, and Mrs Weasley was unlikely to budge from her position. She wanted Ginny kept safe abroad, and so did Harry...

And that was his last thought before he drifted off. The book was splayed open across his chest, and its rough pages itched against his skin even as he slept.

***

Ron and Hermione, the only people he'd told about the Legilimency book so far, were both supportive of his efforts. He was a little surprised that Hermione didn't mind him learning a subject that skirted the lines of Dark magic, but she pointed out that he really was utterly useless at Occlumency, and they simply didn't have years for him to learn it, so any decent shortcut had to be explored.

'It's only rational,' she had said, though she looked like she was swallowing bitter medicine. Ever since, Harry had got the impression that she was avoiding eye contact with him, which he thought was silly, because he was nowhere near skilled enough to read minds that way.

Yet.

Over the next few days, whenever Harry saw Ginny, or even passed by the door to her room, he hesitated, wondering if this was the right time. He needed to talk to her before she left, because he could easily be dead before she returned from Beauxbatons, and he didn't want them to part - possibly forever - on bad terms.

But the "perfect" opportunity never came, partly because he was making excuses every time a decent chance came along and perhaps because of his intensive Legilimency study on top of everything else he was doing to prepare himself.

So on the day before she left, he summoned up all his courage, repeated in his head a few lines of dialogue he had practiced, and knocked firmly on the door of the bedroom she shared with Hermione.

His heart dropped a little when Hermione opened the door, but before she could speak or he could think twice, he said, 'Excuse-me-Hermione-but-I'd-like-to-talk-to-Ginny-alone-please.'

Hermione's head turned. Softly, she asked, 'Ginny, Harry would like to talk to you alone, is that okay?'

He didn't hear her answer, but Hermione opened the door wider and left as soon as Harry stepped in. Ginny was reading the sixth-year's Transfiguration textbook, which Harry took as a good sign.

She didn't look up as Harry awkwardly sat down beside her. He grasped at his rehearsed lines like slippery eels and managed at last to grip one. 'I want to wish you luck at Beauxbatons. I'll miss you, but I'm really glad you're going, because I wouldn't be able to live with myself if anything happened to you.' Harry was pleased with how calm he sounded; his voice hardly shook at all.

'I'm not a damsel in distress, Harry,' replied Ginny, still staring at her textbook, though her eyes weren't moving over the lines.

'I know. You're a really strong person, and I respect you. But all the same, I mean what I said,' he responded, heartfelt.

Ginny put her book down and looked at him, her face set with determination. Without raising her voice, but with a distinctive seriousness, she stated, 'You didn't stop me from helping before. Remember the Department of Mysteries? If I'd known that going out with you would make you so protective that you wouldn't even care what I thought, I'd never have gone near you.'

Harry's prepared speech went out the window like a horde of bats. 'That's not fair and you know it! I was an idiot then!'

'I think you're being an idiot now,' she said, her temper more in check than Harry's. 'If you hadn't brought us along with you that day you'd have died, and if you die because I'm not there to save you, because you thought it would be better to keep me safe in France, I'll never forgive you.'

This wasn't going right. 'I didn't come here to argue with you.'

'No, you came here to patronize me.' She turned back to her book.

Harry was furious. He stomped toward the door, and before he left, he coldly said, 'Actually, I came here to tell you I love you, but it seems sort of stupid now. I don't know what I was thinking. Goodbye, Ginny.'

He slammed the door and went up to his room. He didn't bother to even say goodbye to her when she left the next day. The regret he felt channelled itself into his Legilimency studies, and he was soon good enough - or at least felt he was - to challenge Moody for real.

***

Mad Eye Moody was all too happy to oblige Harry in his request that he fight as dirtily as he could. Hermione's eyes went the size of doorknobs, and Ron's mouth hung open in horror. Neville grinned and said, 'Awesome.'

Remus seemed happy as well, and he conjured a chair in the corner to sit in while he watched. Harry half-expected snack foods to appear out of thin air, and said so jokingly, but Moody glared at him, telling him they wouldn't duel at all if he didn't take it seriously.

Their battle was punctuated by gasps and cheers from the sidelines. Despite his practice with Ron, Harry still found it amazing to look inside another person's mind, even if only on the surface level where actions were decided. He blocked or dodged all of Moody's hexes and curses and annulled his creative transfigurations of the furniture into dangerous objects or beasts.

But he hadn't worked out how to outwit Moody, either, since Moody could see exactly what Harry could, until Harry got an idea. It was a little mad, but Harry realized it might just give him the tiny advantage he needed.

Not even bothering to hide what he was casting, he blocked Moody's last hex and, before he could cast another, cried, 'Serpensortia!'

As he cast the spell, he focused as hard as he could on making the biggest snake possible. The snake that popped out of his wand was a good ten feet long, and Moody's real eye bulged.

'Trip his legs!' Harry hissed to the snake while Moody was distracted.

Harry was lucky; if the snake had emerged but a foot further away from Moody, the old Auror would have managed to dispel it before it could do anything at all. But instead, moving like lightning, the snake shot around his real leg, and his wooden one clunked, trying to counterbalance. It failed, and an instant later, Moody toppled over.

Triumphantly, Harry cast the simple, harmless hex they were using to symbolize the Killing Curse before his opponent hit the ground - and he could have sworn that Moody was smiling. He nodded slightly to the snake in thanks, though he knew it couldn't understand, and dispelled it himself.

Ron, Hermione, and Neville whooped in celebration and tackled Harry to the floor. Remus clapped, his expression chagrined.

Moody bore Harry no ill will at all, and clapped him hard on the back once they were both on their feet again. 'That was clever, Potter! You used your strengths! Brilliant strategy! I'm damned if you won't make the best Auror of your age!'

Harry grinned from ear to ear like a dope. He was about to inform Moody that it had been entirely luck when everyone's attention was caught by a joyful screech that was, without a doubt, Mrs Weasley.

'OH MY GOODNESS! OH MY GOODNESS! OH, THIS IS WONDERFUL!' Mrs Weasley was still gushing when they got to her, alternately hugging and hopping around Bill.

Her face bright pink, Mrs Weasley told them the news. 'Bill is pregnant! I mean, Fleur is pregnant - but with Bill! Oh, where is she?!'

Bill's face, however scarred, couldn't hide that he was morose, which seemed totally inappropriate for the situation. 'She's at home. We had a fight.'

'What?!' Mrs Weasley talked over him. 'Why? What on earth - why?!'

'Never mind, Mum. It's personal.'

But Mrs Weasley's stores of patience had been run through entirely by Ginny, and she hadn't yet replenished them. 'Bill Weasley, I demand to know! You can't just tell me I'm expecting a grandchild and then say you and Fleur are breaking up!'

'I didn't say that,' answered Bill impatiently, 'I said we had a fight.'

'What sort of fight?'

Bill crossed his arms. Mrs Weasley glared. Bill gave out first. He sighed, and said, 'I want her to go back to France. All things considered, it seems right to me. We can't risk the baby. But Fleur disagrees, and we had a big row, so I left the house to cool down and to tell you the good news.'

'I completely agree with you!' said Mrs Weasley fervently. 'This is no place for a woman with a baby to think of, not at all -'

'That's what I said!' Bill replied, and the two of them became a feedback loop of agreement with Bill's opinion and outrage at Fleur's objections. Moody muttered his own congratulations before he walked out, and whispered, 'Nice Legilimency,' to Harry as he passed by.

'Occlumency lesson, Harry?' enquired Remus, leading the way back to their practice room.

'Er, all right,' he agreed half-heartedly, if only to satisfy Remus and get away from Bill and Mrs Weasley's argument with the absent Fleur.

It seemed awfully stupid to him. Fleur had been doing a lot of information-gathering for the Order, and she was their best recruiter, especially with men. She was an exceptional dueller too - had been since Harry met her. Fleur could look after herself as well as anyone else. And none of them were really safe anywhere, because Voldemort wasn't likely to stop at the English Channel -

Oh.

***

That night, after forty-two drafts, Harry sent Hedwig away into the sky with a letter for Ginny.

***

Fred and George were right: Dark magic texts were very oddly written. In some sections the Legilimency book was clear and crisp and easy to learn from, but in others it rambled along dully, occasionally including soap opera-like interludes about the author's various revenges on past paramours.

And he'd had a strange love life. Harry was skimming through one such passage when a single word grabbed his attention. He traced it back to the beginning of the sentence:

I smote the jezebel's gigolo without brutish application of force or the vulgar use of tongues, exacting upon him an end worse than Death through the excavation of his Mind, nesting within his Mind a Mindscape moulded in mine image. This scheme I cannot advise, for though the jezebel's Mind was to be entrapped there for ever until the natural death of her inamorato enduring Hellish torments, another of her felonious lovers Rescued her, for the Mindscape cannot be closed until Death.

After the wench's escape, the Felon espied the form of my vault key in the Mindscape and copied it, for I had gone to my vault that day, and it is impossible to avoid completely an accidental scattering of thoughts. Providence allowed me to intercept him before he could make me a pauper, and I visited upon him a most Painful Death.

'It can't be closed?' Harry said aloud, staring intently at the words and rereading the passage over and over to make sure he was right.

The mindscape Lord Voldemort had created within Mr Weasley's mind! Harry thought back to it; there had been all sorts of items, seemingly random, that Voldemort wouldn't have placed there on purpose. They were a sampling of what was in his mind at the time he made the mindscape - scattered thoughts! If I can get back in, Harry realized, the magnitude of his discovery sinking in, there might be clues...he might have accidentally left clues...