I Have a Rendezvous with Death

"I Have a Rendezvous with Death"

by Paracelsus

Chapter III: Tea for Two

Despite Harry's assertion that he'd "finished" his case on Friday, the debriefings, reports, and Ministry of Magic filings on the case took him well into the following week. It had been a particularly unpleasant case: a Death Eater laboratory had found a way to grow bacterial cultures using magic potions as the growth media. The resulting diseases could be tailored to target Muggles, Muggle-born wizards, half-blooded or full-blooded wizards, depending on the potion used for the culture; and combining magic with biological potency, they would be invariably fatal.

Harry had deduced the existence and location of the lab by piecing together dozens of clues; had chosen and led the Auror team that had raided it; and had captured not only the medi-wizards responsible, but their notes and all the cultures and potions as well. The Ministry was hailing the raid as a great success. Harry wasn't so sure.

I figured it out by putting myself in Voldemort's place: What Would Voldemort Do? I'm starting to worry if that's a good idea. It's been getting too easy for me to think as he does.

At least he knows he can't try a similar trick again. We have all the research notes, all the potions they used; we can make an antidote to whatever magical germs he concocts. So scratch bio-terrorism from his list of tactics. That only leaves, what, a few zillion?

Don't be depressed, Harry. Focus on Sunday. You'll see your friends on Sunday.

It was Thursday morning. Harry had Apparated to his office at Auror HQ, said hello to his owl Hedwig (she lived at the office these days, so as to not draw attention to Harry's home), and conjured himself a cup of morning tea (Earl Grey, hot). He'd barely had time to sip it when his superior, Rachel Naphtali, strode energetically into the room. She was a short, middle-aged witch, and her seeming stoutness was solid muscle. "Morning, Potter. Sit, sit. Just got another owl from the Ministry. The Magical Medical Licensing Board is interested in those research notes you collected."

"We've turned over copies to St. Mungo's," Harry pointed out. "Can't they share those? I'm a little leery of making too many copies."

"I agree, but they do have a legitimate need." She paced for a moment as she considered. "But not, maybe, an urgent one. What do you think of sequestering the originals for, let's say, ten years? The war ought to be over by then."

"One way or the other. Yes, ma'am, I agree. Shall I owl the Board and let them know?"

"No, they contacted me, so I'll return the favor." She smiled at him. It was a small smile, but to those who knew Naphtali, it spoke volumes. "You did good work, Potter. Just in case I hadn't mentioned it."

"You had, ma'am, but thank you again."

"So today, you get an easy one. There was an incident in Hogsmeade last night - no one seems to have been injured, but a house was destroyed, and the Dark Mark sent up. Interested?"

Harry was interested, but not for the reason Naphtali assumed. "This is the first Death Eater activity in Hogsmeade since the Battle. And nobody was killed? Either the intended targets got very lucky, or this was just a warning..."

"Or the assassins lost their nerve. Afraid of coming too close to Hogsmeade again, I reckon."

"I assume we've had investigators searching the site?"

"Preliminary only. I'd like you to go out there and sift through what they've found. See if you can spot anything - you seem to have a good nose for D.E. activity."

With anyone else, Harry might have suspected getting the assignment for its PR value as well: "Boy Who Lived Visits, Assures Town All Is Well." He knew, though, that Naphtali was simply giving him the assignment on its merits (and his).

She had no way of knowing that he'd been hoping for weeks to be given an assignment in Hogsmeade. This is my chance. I can complete my preparations today, if I'm lucky. "On my way, chief!" he cried, and finishing his tea in a single gulp, he grabbed a satchel from behind his desk and Disapparated.

*

Roderick and Aurelia Sinclair, residents of Hogsmeade, weren't very surprised when the young man showed up near their ruined house wearing the blue cloak and badge of an Auror. They'd been told, after all, that an agent would be coming to investigate the scene. They were immensely proud, however, when they learned just who the Auror was. "Can't tell you, Mr. Potter, what an honor this is," said Mrs. Sinclair for perhaps the fourth time.

"Not at all, ma'am," said Harry politely. "Let's get back to the matter at hand. You returned to home at...?"

"After midnight. We'd gone to the Brewsters' for cards last night, and a good thing too, wasn't it, Rod? We never saw who it was, but they left the Dark Mark above our house - what's left of our house, I should say - so it must have been You-Know-Who's men."

"And had either of you been engaging in anything that might have drawn the Death Eaters' attention?" Harry was always careful not to say Voldemort's name during questioning - no point in upsetting people who were already distressed - but he refused to say "You-Know-Who."

"No, sir," replied Mr. Sinclair. "Other than doing my bit four years ago... but I'm no different from lots of folks here, come to that."

Harry surveyed the site. The Sinclairs' house was the last one on this road; it was the most remote from the center of town. That, he decided, could well have been the only reason it was chosen. Still, just in case... "Would you object if I looked through the debris?"

"Not at all, sir. Your other team was here in the wee hours, looking for clews, but I don't doubt you'll be able to find something there."

"The first team would have been looking for perishable things: traces of leftover magic, scents, psychic disturbances, and so on," Harry smiled encouragingly. He raised his wand. "Aparecium imago incantatem!"

A translucent fog gathered near the center of the ruins. Harry stepped towards it as it condensed into two small ghostly images. One was a miniature skull with a serpent issuant from its mouth. The other was a tiny ball of flame.

"One spell to call the Dark Mark," Harry mused aloud, "and one to destroy the house. No other spells - no searching spells, no summoning spells..." It looked as though the Death Eaters' sole plan had been to show up in Hogsmeade, destroy the first house they came to, and run like rabbits. Harry wondered if it had truly been an accident that they'd chosen an empty house.

On the other hand, maybe this was an initiation of some sort. Despite everything, there are still those who see Voldemort as the victor in this war... more every week. New Death Eaters have to prove themselves in some way, and torturing Muggles - terrible as it is - doesn't make for headlines in the Daily Prophet.

He dispersed the tiny images with a wave of his hand and a murmured "Deletrius", and returned to the Sinclairs. "Thank you, you've been very helpful. I think we've gotten all the forensic evidence we can, so you can start salvaging and rebuilding any time you like."

"Thank you, Mr. Potter," said Mrs. Sinclair. "My brother over in Leeds owns a building company, we've already owled him and he'll be sending a crew here this morning. Oh, I do hope some of the china survived..."

Harry was starting to turn away when a cry from Mr. Sinclair brought him back. Flying towards the ruined house was a large bird with beautiful red and gold plumage. "Never seen a bird like that before," said Mr. Sinclair. "Not an owl, maybe a parrot...?"

"No," said Harry happily. "This bird's very special indeed." He extended his arm, and the bird landed on his forearm and regarded him calmly. "Hello, Fawkes."

Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix, was well known to Harry; they'd been fast friends ever since Harry had defeated the basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets. Harry was glad to see him now, but he knew Fawkes rarely left Dumbledore's study, so... He reached out to the bird's leg and detached the parchment that was tied to it. Still supporting Fawkes, he managed to unroll the parchment with his free hand, and read:

"My dear Harry: If you have the opportunity today, I would be delighted if you could join me for tea. It would give great pleasure to,

- your old teacher, Albus Dumbledore."

One could not ask for a more innocuous message. Trust Dumbledore to know his business, Harry thought. Not that I suspect the Sinclairs... but even innocents can be given Veritaserum. "Tell him I'll be right there," he instructed Fawkes. He'd always been quite sure that Fawkes and Dumbledore could communicate with one another.

Fawkes gave a thrilling musical trill, then spread his wings. Harry swept his arm upward and launched Fawkes like a falcon. He watched as the phoenix flew out of sight... back to Hogwarts. Bidding the Sinclairs good-bye, he picked up his satchel and started walking after him.

*

Some things hadn't changed. The entrance hall at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was still the same grand, imposing room that had so impressed him when he first arrived here, over ten years ago. The double doors to the Great Hall were as they always had been.

Some things had changed. The corridors weren't as he remembered them, and he quickly found himself taking the wrong turn. He stopped, confused. I knew the staircases like to rearrange themselves. I should've realized the hallways did, too. Or... is this intended to keep certain Dark alumni from wandering the school as they please, should they return?

At least the hallways were mostly empty; he didn't feel like dealing with crowds, not until he'd gotten his bearings. Then he spotted a lone student approaching him... a fifth-year, he guessed, by the looks of her. Her robes had the Hufflepuff crest on the shoulder, and she was wearing a prefect's badge.

"Pardon me," he addressed her as she started to walk by, "but I've an appointment to meet the Headmaster. Could you direct me to his office?"

"Yes, sir," she said politely. "I can take you there, if you'll come this way..." Harry saw her eyes travel up his form to his face, heard her gasp, and knew exactly what was going through her mind: "Blue cloak, Auror's badge, glasses, scar, scar?!, ohmigod..." "Um, yes, um, Mr., um, Potter, that is..."

"My friends call me Harry," he said with a smile, hoping to put her at her ease.

It didn't work. "Oh, yes, Mr., I mean, Harry," she said in great confusion. "Um." For a moment she stood frozen, staring at him with huge eyes. Harry had never actually seen a deer in headlights, but he was familiar with the expression.

At last, Harry gently said, "The Headmaster's Office, miss...?"

"Laurel Wooton, sir. Yes, this way." She started to lead him down a corridor. For a moment, Harry thought she might be too awestruck to speak to him again, until she said, "I was born in Hogsmeade. I was home for Christmas when..."

"I understand." And indeed, Harry did. If she was with her family in Hogsmeade four years ago... "I'll bet your parents were at the forefront. Please, when you see them, would you give them my regards?"

"I will, sir... I mean, Harry." She blushed trying to say his name. Well, she is a schoolgirl.

"Actually, Laurel, I wonder if you might do me a favor?" The girl showed her delight in being asked. He continued, "I'm seeing the Headmaster soon, but I'd like to fly around later this afternoon without making a lot of fuss. Do you think you could quietly get one of the school brooms for me?"

"Oh, certainly, sir. Where shall I bring it? Professor Dumbledore's office?"

"No, just someplace where it won't be likely to get tripped over. Mmmm, in my student days there was a girl's bathroom that nobody ever used..."

"Moaning Myrtle's bathroom," said Laurel promptly. "She's still in there, and it's still unused. You want me to leave it there?"

"Just behind the door, if you would."

"No problem, sir... Harry," she said, glad to be helpful. They'd arrived at the gargoyle statue that guarded the entrance to Dumbledore's office. "I'll leave you here. And Harry... sir, thank you for my parents."

Laurel left before he could figure out how to respond... and before he could ask her for Dumbledore's current password. Harry sighed and turned to the statue... only to discover that it was holding a small hand-lettered sign in its talons. "Back in fifteen minutes," it read.

He probably got the idea from a Muggle storefront. I'm surprised he didn't draw a little clock! Harry couldn't help smiling at this new display of Dumbledore's whimsy. He began to wander a little, exploring the new corridor - never losing sight of the gargoyle, of course.

He hadn't gone far when he heard someone say the words "Battle of Hogsmeade". Lots of reminders of that today, he thought grimly. He followed the voice to a door, slightly ajar, that led to a classroom. Harry recognized Professor Binns's reedy voice. Discussing Hogsmeade in the History of Magic class? I would've sworn Binns couldn't talk about anything later than Henry VIII. Curious, he leaned against the doorjamb and listened.

"The Battle of Hogsmeade was intended to be a turning point in the Dark Lord's campaign," Professor Binns was saying. "Hitherto, he had been fighting what may be termed a guerilla war, consisting of many small attacks intended to weaken and divide. This was to be a frontal military assault, for which he assembled an army of his followers. Ministry records suggest that he intended a blitzkrieg attack, relying on speed and surprise. It was planned for the time the town would have least expected such an attack: Christmas morning, just before dawn.

"By taking or destroying Hogsmeade, he would have done more than simply kill or capture hundreds of innocents. The choice of targets had strategic implications as well. He would have disrupted wizard transport and communications throughout half of Britain, and vastly weakened the entire wizard economy. And of course, the damage to our morale would have been incalculable."

Not to mention, thought Harry, the fact that he could destroy an entire town right under Dumbledore's nose... and proving that no place could be considered safe. That might've shaken our confidence to the breaking point.

"According to accounts from captured Death Eaters, the Dark Lord had assembled three columns of troops, set to attack Hogsmeade here, here, and here." There was the sound of chalk on a blackboard, and Harry wondered how a ghost like Binns had learned how to handle chalk. "They were made up of the Dark Lord's followers, led by his Death Eater lieutenants. He had also assembled a host of giants and trolls, to maximize the physical destruction of the town; scores of vampires, and an equal number of zombies; and most formidable of all, over a hundred dementors from Azkaban, which would have demoralized any resistance that might have been offered.

"However, the Dark Lord's plans went awry. His troops arrived at Hogsmeade in some disarray, to discover that the townsfolk had been alerted to the assault. Instead of a sleeping citizenry, he faced an armed militia.

"Hogsmeade's defenders did not wait for the Dark Lord's troops to cast the first spells. Those would undoubtedly have been Killing Curses, which would have caused great devastation to the militia's ranks. Instead, the people of Hogsmeade cast their own hexes, in such number and profusion that many of the attackers were too busy defending themselves to carry out their original battle plan.

"The Dark Lord's troops attempted to fall back and regroup, here." More sound of chalk, then Binns continued, "At this point, however, they were attacked from behind by another band of defenders. This second band, summoned by Professor Dumbledore, consisted mostly of Aurors and agents of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad - acting, it must be said, without Ministry authority. It also, remarkably, included a number of giants who had not sided with the Dark Lord - these were led by our own Professor Hagrid. Finally, there were a number of wizards and witches who had volunteered to fight - these were members of the so-called Order of the Phoenix, although the Ministry of Magic has not yet recognized that title.

"Caught in a pincer between two flanks, the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters eventually Disapparated. His remaining troops, bereft of leadership, quickly surrendered and were taken into custody. Most of them were not privy to the Dark Lord's more intimate secrets, but the information they have provided has nonetheless proven valuable.

"The Battle of Hogsmeade was indeed a turning point in the Dark Lord's campaign - but not in the way he envisaged. Instead of a crushing victory, he experienced a total rout. His ranks were decimated, his legend of invincibility demolished. Most of all, the wizarding community had learned that it could fight, and win, against the Dark Lord. He has since attempted no further standard military excursions, and has fallen back to his previous pattern of clandestine warfare."

And most important of all, added Harry silently, it forced the Ministry of Magic to finally admit that Voldemort had returned. Three years of denial by Fudge and his lackeys, then boom! They're all gung-ho in the fight against the Dark Lord. He fingered his Auror badge and smiled wryly. Of course, there were some unfortunate consequences...

"Now, your assignment for next week is... Yes?"

A student actually raised his hand? In Binns's class? Harry was sure he must be dreaming. On the other hand, this lecture was a lot more interesting than the lessons on goblin rebellions he'd been forced to sit through.

"Professor Binns," he heard a girl's voice say, "How did Hogsmeade get warning of the attack? How did they know what to do when the attack came?"

"As to that, Miss Broccoli, Ministry records show that the Hogsmeade militia was rousted and organized by two merchants in the town, a Frederick and George Weasley. They had received the warning from their sister, a Miss Virginia Weasley, who was at that time a sixth-year student at this very school. She too helped prepare the militia, and fought alongside her brothers when the Dark Lord attacked."

"But how did she learn of the attack, Professor?"

"The Ministry's official records are silent on that point, Miss Broccoli."

Another voice, a boy's voice this time, asked, "Sir, you said that You-Know-Who's forces were in disarray when they showed up at the town. Can you tell us what happened to disrupt them?"

Professor Binns didn't reply for a moment. "Official records do not tell us what might have happened before the Dark Lord's troops arrived at Hogsmeade, Mr. Icebucket. We have eyewitness accounts from some of the Dark Lord's followers who were taken prisoner, but these have been discounted by the Ministry as untrustworthy.

"If we accept these accounts, it would seem that each of the three columns of the Dark Lord's army were themselves attacked before they ever reached Hogsmeade.

"The first column, which contained the majority of the vampires and zombies, was attacked using a modification of a simple Lumos spell. By using Lumos solaris, a zone of full sunlight was cast over the vampires and zombies, causing many to shrivel and die, and the remainder to flee.

"The second column, containing most of the giants and trolls, was attacked using a potent Confundus Charm. This caused the already-dullwitted trolls to become almost catatonic, and the giants to fare little better. They therefore did not advance with the rest of the troops, and took no part in the battle.

"The third column was the most dangerous, for it contained all the Azkaban dementors. The Dark Lord undoubtedly wished to keep the dementors collected together, and not spread them among the entire army to its own detriment. The dementors were attacked by an exceptionally powerful Patronus, such as might be summoned by a Master Wizard. It repulsed all of the dementors, over a hundred strong, who would otherwise have made the defense of Hogsmeade much more difficult."

"Sir? Sir?" the boy insisted. "Don't we have any idea who...?"

"Not even these accounts mention who might have so disrupted the Dark Lord's army, Mr. Icebucket. And of course, the Ministry of Magic has ruled these accounts untrustworthy, so they play no part in the official history of the Battle."

Trust Binns to use only the official version, thought Harry as he listened. He always disliked anything that he couldn't label as solid, verifiable fact...

"Therefore, officially, we do not know whom to thank for saving the town of Hogsmeade," said Professor Binns, and Harry could swear he now heard a spark of humor in his voice. "Unofficially, however, their initials were H.P., H.G. and R.W."

Laughter erupted among the students, and Professor Binns called out, "As I was saying, your assignment for next week is to analyze the tactics..."

Harry quickly moved away from the door. Class was about to be dismissed, and he didn't want to be caught eavesdropping. For that matter, he didn't want to be recognized by a gaggle of students who'd just been taught Yet Another Exciting Legend of The Boy Who Lived.

He resolved, however, to find out the date of Binns's Deathday. Taking liberties with the Ministry's stuffy official version? I have to throw a party for the old boy.

*

Harry returned to the gargoyle statue to find that its hand-lettered sign now read, "Come in, Harry." Of course, he still didn't have the password, but he now suspected he wouldn't need one today.

"It's me," he told the gargoyle.

The gargoyle immediately moved aside, revealing the spiraling staircase that led to Dumbledore's study. Harry mounted the staircase, rode it to its top, and knocked on the study door. "Come in, come in," said the familiar voice, and Harry entered.

Albus Dumbledore was standing behind his desk, waving Harry to a seat. To one side, Fawkes sat on his perch, looking unaccountably pleased with himself. The round room was as Harry remembered it from countless visits: cluttered, comforting, and crazy. Dumbledore himself was thinner than Harry recalled - his body looked frail now, almost fragile - yet in the twinkling eyes, the smile, all the things that mattered, Dumbledore too was blessedly unchanged.

"Harry, my boy, I'm so happy to see you again," said Dumbledore, as he resumed his seat. He twiddled with his wand, and a full tea tray appeared on the desk between them. "Would you mind pouring? I find my hands aren't as steady as once they were..."

"Certainly, Professor." He poured two cups, handed one to Dumbledore, and added a dollop of cream to his own. He sniffed at the tea before taking a sip. "Darjeeling?"

"You've become quite the tea connoisseur, Harry," smiled Dumbledore. "I'll have you addicted to chamber music one day, see if I don't."

Harry leaned back in his chair. "So, Professor, tell me the news."

"Ah, the news." Dumbledore's smile dimmed. "The news is both good and bad, Harry. I've heard about your exploit last week - that removes one source of anxiety, at least. And the Order has been working harder than ever these last few months, educating the populace and adding to our defenses.

"I fear, however, that for every step we progress in the conflict, we take another step back. The attacks are not diminishing - and moreover, they are growing more vicious and brutal. Many are taking place in full sight of Muggles, which means we must expend extra resources to keep ourselves hidden.

"As for the mood of the populace, it has fallen steadily in the last year. Have you been to Diagon Alley recently?" Harry shook his head, and Dumbledore continued, "Take time to visit it soon - you'll find it revealing. The life seems to have gone out of the people there; it is but a shadow of its former bustling self. Even Hogsmeade, which had enjoyed a burst of confidence following the Battle there, is beginning to falter. And as for the smaller, more far-flung wizarding communities..." Dumbledore shook his head sadly.

"The Battle, the Battle," Harry muttered. "For some reason, I've been hearing a lot about the Battle of Hogsmeade today. I just overheard Professor Binns lecturing about it. He made it sound like some great victory - "

"And so it was, Harry," said Dumbledore quietly.

"Yeah, well, he didn't mention in his lecture how many people were hurt. How many people died. The destruction that, despite everything, we couldn't prevent."

"The destroyed property has long since been rebuilt," Dumbledore reminded him. "The injuries and deaths were tragic, but how far fewer than would have happened had Voldemort been allowed to carry the day." He regarded Harry with sympathetic blue eyes. "Sirius died a hero, Harry. Nothing can detract or take away from that. And nothing you might have done could have prevented it."

"I was there in the thick of the fight. I should have been watching my friends' backs, not grandstanding. Sirius died, Ron nearly died - it took him months to recover..."

"But he did recover. Don't let's dwell on might-have-beens. We surely have more pressing concerns."

Harry gave Dumbledore a rueful smile. "Point made, Professor." He sipped his tea, relaxing back into his chair and closing his eyes. "This may be the only place in the world," he said after a moment, "where I can really relax."

Dumbledore looked surprised. "Why, what do you mean, my boy? It's not as though I avoid disturbing topics when you're here."

"No, that's just it. We can safely talk about anything here." Harry opened one eye. "Last year, we had a couple of American Aurors visiting us - except they weren't called Aurors, of course. Did you know that Americans are abbreviation-happy?"

"Are they indeed?" Dumbledore took a sip from his own tea and settled himself to listen.

"Yeah. They don't call their men Aurors, they're P.A.'s - Paranormal Agents. Anyway, while they were here they gave a seminar on espionage. American spies collect intelligence through, let's see, 'sigint' - that's where they listen in on telephone conversations, owl post, and the like. And 'humint' - where they actually plant people in enemy organizations. And of course, 'magint' - magical surveillance."

"Very well, I believe you. They are abbreviation-happy." Dumbledore regarded Harry quizzically over his half-moon spectacles. "Do I gather that these activities have been worrying you of late?"

Harry nodded. "I've known since before I came to Hogwarts that there were magical means of watching people. How else to explain the addresses on those first letters I received? 'Mr. H. Potter, the Cupboard Under the Stairs, Four Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey,'" he quoted from memory. "Followed by 'the Smallest Bedroom,' and so on. Oh yeah, somebody must've been watching." He added, "I've learned a lot about Clairvoyancy since I became an Auror."

"Well, in your specific case, we knew where to look for you," Dumbledore observed. "It's not as though we have a magic mirror which we can command, 'Show me Harry Potter', and have your face appear. The Clairvoyancy spell must be directed... it must be told where to look, if you will. Of course, once the spell had found you, it could follow you without difficulty - despite your uncle's best intentions." He smiled gently.

"On the other hand," he continued, "the need for direction does impose certain limits. For instance, the spell cannot be used to observe an Unplottable point, since by definition one cannot give a direction to such a point."

"Plus, there are wards that can be set to block Clairvoyancy. I know you have them here, around Hogwarts. Auror HQ has them now, too. So does my home."

"Really?" Dumbledore looked impressed. "My respect for your abilities continues to grow."

"Oh, no," Harry demurred. "I didn't do it. I paid for it to be done." He leaned forward. "The very best wards, of course, are around Gringotts. Nobody's better at protecting their privacy than the goblins. I simply decided to go with the best. Don't even ask what it cost."

"Knowing the goblins, I can hazard a guess." Dumbledore looked puzzled. "I still don't see why you feel safer here than, say, at your office."

"There's still humint, Professor. We've suspected one person at Auror HQ might be Voldemort's spy. There may be others. And there's always the chance that someone could be kidnapped, fed Veritaserum, and forced to tell what he knows." Harry hesitated, then continued, "Plus, there's been a new development recently. My scar has started bothering me... not painful, just sort of itching."

"Do I gather you think it means Voldemort is spying on you?"

"My scar links me to Voldemort, Professor, you've said so lots of times. It's hurt me when he was near. It's allowed me to have dreams that let me see what he was doing. I think Voldemort has found a way to use my scar to his advantage. When it itches, it means he's using it as a homing beacon. He no longer needs to locate me on a map for his Clairvoyancy spell to work."

Dumbledore's face was grave. "Why didn't you tell me this sooner?"

"I only figured it out a week or two ago. And I didn't want him to know I knew, so I couldn't risk owling from my office. This is the first opportunity I've had where I've been sure he couldn't overhear." He grimaced. "I mean, I'm safe at home, between the goblins' wards and the Fidelius Charm on my house - he can't watch me there. But I couldn't contact you from home, could I? Even Hedwig doesn't know where I live!"

"Well, now that you've told me about it, I shall see if there might be some way to counteract it, to break the link your scar creates. I have hesitated to do so before..."

"Er, no, we might want to leave it alone for now." Harry avoided Dumbledore's eye as he said this.

Dumbledore looked at him sharply. "Harry," he said quietly, "do you have something in mind? Some misleading bit of information you want Voldemort to have?"

Harry shook his head. He still wouldn't meet Dumbledore's eye. "Please, Professor, I'd rather you not ask me that. See, if I did have something planned, and if it was a risky plan - risky for me, I mean - then you might be asked if you knew what I was planning, and why you didn't stop me, or tell anybody. If you don't ask if I had a plan, then you could honestly say that you didn't know... if I did have something planned." He gave a brief, nervous smile. "The Americans call that 'plausible deniability.'"

Dumbledore said nothing. Harry finished his tea. The silence stretched between them. Finally Harry raised his eyes to meet Dumbledore's gaze. It was the penetrating gaze he knew so well, that made him feel Dumbledore was reading his mind. He willed himself not to look away.

"Very well, Harry," Dumbledore finally said. "I will do this for you. I withdraw the question." His face softened slightly. "In return, however, I want you to do something for me."

"What's that, Professor?"

"Please call me Albus." Dumbledore smiled at the look of surprise on Harry's face. "I'm not your professor any more, Harry. We've been working together as adults and colleagues for years, and you have shown yourself to be my equal in many ways, not least in responsibility. I would greatly prefer to be treated as your friend, not as your Headmaster."

"Thank you, sir... I mean, Albus." Harry knew he was blushing, and he felt a sudden rush of sympathy for Laurel Wooton.