Mourning Dawn (A Prelude to The Wand of Elder)

It had begun to get uncomfortable under the cloak in the growing heat of the burgeoning summer morning. Harry had taken it off, laid it on the ground, and was still sitting on it a few hours later.

Harry had watched the sun turn the lake from black glass to sparkling fire. He was thinking of everything and nothing as he watched the lake's shining surface. His thoughts flitted like a buzzing fly, and he did not let himself dwell too long on any particular thing. He did not know which way such musings would take him.

He did not know whether he would feel elated and triumphant for defeating Voldemort, or whether he would feel horrified and saddened for his lost friends. He also knew that whichever mental path he took, he would feel guilty for not taking the other. Therefore, he took neither and instead wrapped himself in protective numbness as he had so often wrapped himself in his father's cloak.

As the warm summer breeze brushed Harry's face, his stomach rumbled and he realized that he had barely eaten in nearly twenty-four hours. Harry withdrew the food given to him by the house elves and tried to eat a little more, but it seemed to turn sour on his tongue. He rewrapped the bacon and sweet bread and stuffed them back in his pocket.

He continued to watch the sunlight dance on the water, still hovering in that mental limbo that he had carved as a safe refuge for his swirling mind. Occasionally, Harry heard people bustling about the castle grounds behind him, or voices calling to each other in the distance. People around the school were waking, and beginning what would most likely be an eventful day. By now breakfast was being served and those that had fought the Battle of Hogwarts were probably beginning to wonder what was to happen next.

Yet Harry ignored the world around him for as long as he could and kept his eyes fixed on the water. He was trying to look as inconspicuous as possible so he could enjoy his benumbed solitude.

That's why he was so surprised when a small voice behind him asked, "Harry Potter?"

Harry jerked around, startled. His eyes having been dazzled by the sunlight shimmering on the lake, Harry had trouble focusing on the very small boy who had addressed him. Harry did not recognize the boy, and for a moment thought that he must be some young student's even younger sibling. But the boy wore extremely well kept school robes, which were perfectly cleaned and pressed despite the fact that there wouldn't be lessons any time soon. Harry decided that the boy must be a first year student.

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but his throat was dry after hours in the morning sun with nothing to drink, and only a rough grunt issued. The boy looked at him patiently while Harry struggled to speak. The boy did not smile or frown. The boy just watched.

"Yes?" squeaked Harry, clearing his throat and feeling a bit unnerved by the boy's imperturbable gaze.

"I've been given a message from Professor McGonagall," said the boy in a steady crisp voice. "She and the temporary Minister of Magic will see you right away in the Headmaster's Office. You will follow me." It was not a request.

"Uh...okay," said Harry, getting to his feet, and feeling surprised by how diminutive the boy was. He barely reached Harry's waist.

Harry picked up his invisibility cloak and folded it back into the pocket of his robes. He could feel the young boy's eyes watching him. Harry felt like he was standing on balance scales.

"Lead on," said Harry with what he hoped was a kind smile.

Without a word, but with an impressive swirl of his small robes, the boy turned and started walking briskly towards the castle.

"What's your name?" asked Harry in a friendly tone.

"Alexander Didact," said the boy matter-of-factly.

Alexander did not seem particularly friendly or conversational, but his manner was not particularly unfriendly or unapproachable either. Harry thought the boy might just be nervous, yet Alexander's stride was purposeful and unhurried and his voice was businesslike and steady.

After walking for several moments in silence, Harry said, "What year are you, Alexander?"

"I am completing my first year," said Alexander. "You next question will be to ask about my House. It is Ravenclaw."

This took Harry aback, but he did not dress Alexander down for rudeness. Harry couldn't have done, since Alexander had not sounded rude when he had said it. Alexander simply sounded as if he had anticipated Harry's question and had saved Harry the time and trouble of asking it, and himself the time and trouble of listening to it. Harry shook his head slightly, and decided to keep silent.

As they walked, Harry's thoughts turned to the coming meeting. He wondered what had caused Kingsley and Professor McGonagall to want to see him so quickly. Professor McGonagall had indicated that it could be weeks before Kingsley got an opportunity to talk to Harry. The fact that the presumed timetable had been accelerated gave Harry a sense of foreboding, and he had a feeling this meeting was going to be loads of trouble.

Thus, the apprehensive young man and the strange young boy continued in silence until they had gone through the front doors of the school, and made their way into the entrance hall.

"I trust you know where it is," said the boy. Once again, it was not a question. "I have also informed Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger of the summons, as well as the time and place. They had not wandered off alone, and were thus told a short while in advance."

There was no accusation or peevishness in Alexander's tone, despite the words. He was, once again, simply stating that which was true. To Harry, the boy's surgically blunt manner was not endearing.

"Yes, I can take it from here. Thanks, Alexander," said Harry, looking up as someone called his name from across the entrance hall. He waved to Angelina Johnson and Oliver Wood, who looked like they were making their way to the Great Hall for breakfast. Harry had a feeling there would be a lot of Quidditch discussed at that meal despite recent events.

"You do not..." began the boy, and then stopped, looking thoughtful.

Harry looked down at Alexander expectantly, but the boy just stared at Harry in a measuring way. Harry smiled encouragingly, but Alexander did not look as if he was afraid to speak. Alexander looked at Harry with the air of someone choosing his words carefully. Harry had the impression that the careful selection of words had nothing to do with politeness, but rather that Alexander wanted to be excruciatingly accurate in making his point.

"Yes?" prompted Harry.

"It is not logical for so many to suffer injury and die in order to protect one," said Alexander, sounding as if he were commenting about the weather.

"Wh...what!?" spluttered Harry, flabbergasted.

"Furthermore," said Alexander, not missing a beat, "Professor McGonagall instructed that I relate to you the password for the Headmaster's Office. It is 'transmogrify.'"

"What!?" said Harry again, even more surprised by the boy's change of subject.

Alexander studied Harry unabashedly for a few seconds. Then, with another swirl of small robes, the boy turned on his heel in a precise manner and strode towards the Great Hall. His small form quickly disappeared into the crowd gathering for breakfast.

Shaking his head, not knowing whether he was annoyed, indignant or remorseful, Harry made his way up the stairs towards the Headmaster's Office.