The Red Skies Above

Chapter III

"Now that you have released my assistant, please step forward and join us for a spot of tea. Barney, why don't you come join us?" Dumbledore half asked, half ordered.

As we stepped forward and into the dining room, I noticed something odd about it. It was as if I had seen the kitchen in a dream, some time ago. In the corner was a cupboard with some china inside that had designs of broomsticks around the rims of the cups. The table was extremely long and it had a mark somewhere near the end of the room that lead to the kitchen. The table legs were exquisitely carved with the face of a dragon spitting its flame that swelled into a ball to form the base of the legs, but like a lot of things in the wizarding world, the dragons were alive, and the fire at the base continued to swirl while the dragons fought with each other, leaving their post as table legs for a while and causing the table to slant slightly until you kicked them to make them compose themselves.

Dumbledore was sitting at the head of the table, Barney next to him. They seemed to be having no problem with the slanting table, although I, on the other hand, kept sloshing tea on it every time the dragons moved.

"So, Hermione. I've heard quite a lot about you over the past few years. Your book, for example was very fascinating. I read it within a week; I couldn't take my eyes off of it! What a splendid piece of literature!" Dumbledore exclaimed, taking a sip of his tea.

"Why, thank you, Professor. I didn't know you were into such things as that. My book, When the Platypus Left the Building, was what I thought to be a good manuscript. It was quite comical," Hermione agreed.

I had had no idea Hermione had written a book, let alone about platypuses, nor had I had any idea that Dumbledore had read such a silly thing.

As I thought this, Dumbledore summoned a book about five or so inches thick stuffed with bookmarks. On the cover in a rather loopy font it said, When the Platypus Left the Building. "I also noticed that there are a few hidden things within this book. For instance:" Dumbledore cracked open the book to a page where he had placed one of the bookmarks.

"He looked up and into the face of his attacker, only to be surprised by the damp black mask on the assassin's face. Jamey grabbed his wand, dank from the rain that pounded down upon everything in the city, and began to cast a spell, only to be cut off by the tall man before him.

'Are you the one they call Jamey Sharr?' he asked in his gruff voice."

Hermione just stared at Dumbledore, a blank expression on her face. "What about it?"

"Ah, here's another one," Dumbledore said as if Hermione hadn't spoken. "As Jamey awoke in the chair that they had placed him in nights before, a pair of gray eyes frightened him. He stifled a scream as the pair of eyes were withdrawn to reveal a short man, about four feet tall in a gray shirt with many stains, hardly able to contain his great gut. The man had dirty blonde hair that was cut in somewhat of a bowl shape.

'Wh-who are y-you?' Jamey inquired, shivering in the coldness of the dark firm.

The man smiled, showing his broken and yellow teeth. 'Sid Ead at yer service! Call me Sid, if ya like!' He began to untie Jamey, chuckling every now and then to himself."

Hermione continued to stare at Dumbledore. "What?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "Think about the names, Miss Granger."

We sat there for about three minutes, the silence broken only by the slurping of tea from Barney and the dragons' fights. I really had no idea where Dumbledore was going with this whole name business. The names where names, and that's all they were.

"Alright, I'll tell you what you noticed. Yes, it is indeed true what you said about the names. Jamey Sharr can be interpreted, as well as Sid Ead," Hermione announced. ''Jamey and Sid are just anagrams. If you switch the 'y' and the 's', placing the 'y' at the end of the remaining word, and by switching the two words' places, you do indeed get the name, 'Harry James.' Sid Ead is quite easier. Just read it backwards and switch the words. There's your answer: 'is dead.' In the correct order it's just 'Harry James is dead.'"

I understood then why Dumbledore had picked up upon this, yet I still didn't know why he needed us here to confirm it. Why not just send an owl? Why did he need me here to ask Hermione about a stupid book? And why was everyone bringing up Harry?

"Ron," Dumbledore turned to me. "I hear you are quite the wizard, and on your way to starting a family as well! Good for you!" He took another sip of tea.

Unable to hold in the question any longer, I blurted it out. "Professor, how are you here, I mean the Prophet reported you dead? All the teachers and staff and even You-Know-Who thought you were!"

Dumbledore just looked up from his tea. "The Daily Prophet is known to lie, is it not? Perhaps they were just misinformed, or maybe they weren't. Now, I heard a rumor going around. Is it not true that you can speak words of Latin and create a spell of them?"

"Erm...yes, Professor. I can tell something to do my will in Latin, and it'll obey," I replied, not sure what his answer had meant.

"Could ya show us then?" Barney asked eagerly, spilling his tea on the table as it rocked back and forth.

"Sure, but what do you want me to do?" I replied, looking around the room for something to levitate, burst into flame, or morph. Dumbledore raised his hand and pointed at a feather resting on the cabinet with the china.

"Make it float over to you without any spell we taught you in Hogwarts."

I pulled out my wand and faced the white feather. I focused on it for quite a while, until everyone and everything else in the room seemed to disappear, leaving only the feather and me. I spoke clearly, "Veni ad me." The feather hopped off of the cupboard and began to crawl over to me like a worm, making odd cheeping noises every time it moved.

"Non! Veri ad me per aerem!" The feather stopped inching along and jumped into the air, flying over to me and squeezing itself into my right hand. As soon as I opened my hand to look at it and give it to Dumbledore, it became completely lifeless, yet when I closed my fingers, I could feel it squirm around.

Holding the feather in my right hand, I pointed my wand at the feather and demanded, "Non versa!" Immediately, the feather ceased its movement. I handed the feather to Dumbledore.

Once Dumbledore had the feather, Barney began to clap wildly. I smiled and could feel myself blush. Dumbledore gave me a satisfied nod, and I sat back down.

"Good job, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore congratulated me once Barney stopped clapping. "Tell me, though, why did you decide to put in hours of work to be fluent in Latin, and why did you take all that time to write the book, Miss Granger?"

A silence followed this question as we contemplated just how to answer it. Hermione was the first to speak.

"I decided to write my book to show people that were observant enough about what really happened to Harry. Only very few people understood my code, or else it wouldn't have been permitted to be published. If people knew about Harry, then maybe they'd rebel," she replied.

Dumbledore looked at me. "Alright. I learned how to speak in Latin because I wanted protection for me and my family against Death Eaters and You-Know-Who. If I could make up any counter attack, shield, or curse, we'd be perfectly safe. Hermione already knows a ton of spells, but I just wanted to protect my loved ones," I confessed.

"Well, now that that's cleared up, I have an even harder question for you both. What would have happened if Harry Potter had not been murdered in the First Battle?" Dumbledore asked, summoning the teakettle and pouring himself more.

I turned to Hermione without a clue to this answer, yet she looked thoughtful. "If Harry hadn't been killed, then Voldemort wouldn't have been able to take over, allowing the use of Portkeys, Floo powder, Apperating, and Broomsticks. The Death Eaters would be in Azkaban, and Hogwarts would still be functional, making the world an all in all better place, but if Harry had been killed later, Voldemort would have been quite angrier at the fact that Harry had escaped his clutches yet again and he would've taken it out on the world, meaning we'd all probably be slaves."

Dumbledore nodded again and answered, "But if Voldemort didn't kill Harry at all, then Voldemort would be slain, not Harry, and the world would be back to normal, or as normal as it was before the First battle took place. Come with me." He stood up from his chair and began to leave the dining room, walking into the room where Barney and I had arrived. There was something familiar about the room that I hadn't noticed while I was threatening Barney. Over in the corner were some blue curtains that seemed to be snoring, and along the wall were shrunken heads. It occurred to me then: we were in number twelve Grimmauld place.

Dumbledore continued to walk up various staircases and through rooms, glancing back every now and then to make sure we were behind him. At last, we stopped in a study filled with too many books for the shelves. Some were in piles on the floor, and some were just all over the place, even on the windowsill. The books that did fit on the shelves had a variety of titles, form How to Feed a Dragon: a Guide to Magical Care, and The Darkest of the Dark Ages to When Purple Light Becomes Black Liquid and Enchanted Tea Cups of Doom.

Some of the books were old, their spines falling off, or with no spine at all, while some looked brand new. Dumbledore reached for what seemed to be part of an encyclopedia set wrapped in black leather with sere edges. The volume was labeled H-R and it had a smudge of what I really hoped was ketchup on the first few pages.

Dumbledore flipped through the book until he found what he was looking for. He traced his left ring finger over the word, "Monotonous." Immediately, the book shot back to its place on the shelf, which turned into transparent goo. Dumbledore stepped right through it, and it rippled slightly like the surface of a puddle and then became smooth again.

Barney stepped forward and into the bookcase, leaving Hermione and me on the other side. "C'mon through! It won't bite ya!"

You could tell Hermione was thinking it over, weighing the pros and cons. She was like that, always thinking hard before doing something. I always hardly thought before doing something, so I stepped forward and into the goo.

It was an odd sensation that met me and made me shiver. It was as if there were one hundred Dementors surrounding me, sucking in my emotions and dread. My insides turned cold, yet this sensation was actually enjoyable. As I walked through it, for one split second I was cleansed of all of my grief, all of the memories, all my hate, and all of my tears. For one split second I was normal.

In one more second it was over and the bookshelf returned to being clear and solid. A few moments later Hermione followed through and the minute she had cleared the shelf, it became a solid brown piece of wood once again.

We had entered into a sort of hallway that was wood from floor to ceiling, and at each end, there was a large piece of wood running the entire height of the wall that became pointed at the top, nearly sixty feet off the ground. At the top of the one we were facing, I could just barely make out a pinprick of light, about large enough for a bird to fit into.

Little did I know that that was what it was for. Dumbledore turned and faced us, before promptly shifting into a white owl. He flew to the top of the ceiling and through the hole. About two minutes later, a door appeared in the wall that Dumbledore had flown through. It was a very nicely carved door, too, having a picture of a snake being stomped into the ground by an eagle. Behind the eagle were a few shrubs, covered in snow in the winter scene.

Barney, Hermione, and I all moved towards the door, when Hermione and I spotted a problem. The door was so nicely carved, but it was almost ten inches tall. Barney seemed to have no problem with this, changed into his cat, and he scampered inside, opening the door with his paws. Hermione, who I remembered having the animagus shape of a cat that looked a whole lot like Crookshanks changed into her form and slipped through. Now it was time for me. I had only one problem. My animagus form wouldn't fit inside the small door.

I was at least two times the size of the door, from floor to shoulders if I was in my form. I pulled out my wand, "Engorgio!" The door did nothing but squeak in a rather annoyed fashion at me. I sighed and became the Irish Shepherd again, crouching down as low to the ground as I could get. I was doing fine until my hindquarters got stuck. Just as I tried to pull myself all the way through, the door expanded slightly, and swatted my bottom with its doorknob, sending me in. The second I was inside, the door disappeared with a popping sound.

"Hello," Dumbledore greeted me. He was standing next to Barney as Hermione walked around the room, in awe of the artifacts that could be found here. This room was the largest I had seen since my Hogwarts days, with its ceiling almost twice the size of the hallway leading to it. All around the room there were pictures and articles tacked up to the walls, dating as far back as 1929. The place was littered with bookshelves stuffed with more books, potion ingredients, and even something that looked horribly like a stone chamber pot. In the corner was a long table stretching from one end of the room to the other, and on it stood sixty or so cauldrons, all with different colored smoke coming from the putrid liquids gurgling inside. Hourglasses stood beside the table on a cart, and few were scattered next to the cauldrons. There was even one taller than me.

Above the table and cart were two stained glass windows. One of them had a picture of a Phoenix, changing from golden to a dark red, flying through the sky, where a sunrise was taking place. The other had a picture of a caldron, leeches squirming around it, and an hourglass at its side. The picture would have been fine, were it not for the fact that we were of course, in the wizarding world where pictures moved. The squishing of the leeches was enough to make anyone sick, so I turned my attention back to Dumbledore, who I realized was now talking to Hermione.

"-Is a hard thing to do, and I've been studying it for years, so if anyone would know, it'd be me. Of course, actually operating one isn't that hard to do, as you know very well, Miss Granger, but trying to create one is more trouble then you could imagine. Although all of this is true, I have finally made the previously rather hard task of traveling back years instead of hours much, much easier." It dawned upon me the purpose of the hourglasses, or rather time Turners. I had heard of the device before, but had never really seen one in person. "You see, traveling back years on a Time Turner that only goes back an hour per turn is quite a complicated process, so I've created one that can go back years and years at a time!" He walked over to the chamber pot, lifting it off of the shelf, the liquid inside sloshing around. "And this, this is my Pensieve. You can relive memories that I place inside of it. For example..." he placed his wand to the top of his head and pulled away what seemed to be a strand of silver. Placing it in the Pensieve, the liquid began to spin, creating a sort of gas that rose from it. "Come in closer, Ronald." I noticed I was about fifteen feet away, so I moved in to get a better look at the image floating in the Pensieve.

Immediately, a lump lodged itself in my throat, restricting my breathing. There, in the Pensieve, was Harry Potter, same messy black hair and lightning bolt scar. "What you are about to experience may shake you very much, but I will inform you that Harry has looked into this very Pensieve and received no physical harm. If you would, please place your face so close to the surface that you think you will fall in. You will." Hermione and I both obeyed the old man and soon I could feel myself fall into the memory.