Harry Potter and the Vitrum Immortalitatis

Chapter Three

As soon as the Portkey had dropped them at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, Snape swept up the stairs, trailing more bitterness than usual.

Lupin quietly answered Harry's unspoken question. "Voldemort found out about Professor Snape just last month. He won't talk about it. It's ironic, really. Other than tonight, he hasn't been able to leave the house at all. Too dangerous."

"Last month?" Harry's eyebrows drew together in confusion. "But we were still in school."

Lupin looked at him, his face sadder than usual. "Harry... the new term starts in two weeks."

Harry's stomach dropped.

"But... School just ended... Summer can't be over already." His voice took on a hysterical quality that stirred up even more self-loathing. "How can it be August already? I never had June and July; it can't be August yet."

"Harry –"

"And my birthday... I've been sixteen for two weeks and didn't know it? That can't be right. I usually get presents by owl and –"

"Harry," Lupin said, more forcefully than was usual for him. "Calm down."

"But–"

Firm, yet gentle, hands turned Harry's head up, forcing him to face his former professor. The werewolf's eyes brimmed with unshed tears.

"You've let yourself fall out of touch. This level of grief is not healthy, and it's time to stop. Sirius wouldn't want you doing this to yourself."

Harry screwed his face up in an effort to trap his tears. Two escaped him and rolled down his cheeks. Lupin's brow clouded with concern.

"Haven't you cried yet, Harry?" he asked softly.

The only answer he managed to make was a rough sob. He closed his stinging eyes, no longer trying to hold his sadness in. It tore from him in a series of wrenching sobs, like a length of barbed wire ripping through him. He felt himself pulled against Lupin's chest, and welcomed the embrace. An untold time later, his weeping subsided and his father's friend pulled away from him.

"You should go to bed now," he said quietly. "We'll fill you in tomorrow morning."

Harry nodded and wiped his eyes. He trudged up the stairs and into the room he had share with Ron last summer. His best friend was sprawled on one of the beds, snoring softly. Harry allowed himself a small smile. He slipped under the covers, feeling emptier than before, yet strangely peaceful. The despair was still there, lurking under the surface, but it had lessened. When sleep came, he was not afraid of the dreams it might bring.

*****

Random and unrelated images tumbled through Harry's dreams, neither sad nor happy. A solid scene came to light through the jumble, as if he were waking into a dream. He was in a dimly lit room, just behind a man in a tall-backed chair.

"Have you found it yet?" the man rasped in an all-too-familiar voice.

A figure in Death Eater's robes knelt before him. "No, my lord. It was already gone when we arrived at the site. We have no definite evidence indicating who took it, but –"

Voldemort waved one pale hand dismissively. "It was Dumbledore's Order, certainly. Snape revealed my plans to him long before the artifact was located. He will pay for his treachery. What of the boy?"

"Our intelligence proved false, my lord. Ministry records have confirmed that Lily Potter had no surviving relatives."

"That is not true, my lord." Wormtail stepped out of the shadows behind the kneeling Death Eater. "She had an older sister who married a Muggle named Dursley. I gave you their last known address, Lestrange!"

The kneeling man stood quickly, his hood falling back to reveal gaunt features. "And in all of your research, you managed to overlook the little fact that the Dursleys died in a car crash eleven years ago."

The color bled from Pettigrew's face. "I... you see... my lord –"

"Stop grovelling, Wormtail; it really has grown tiresome. You vaunt your special knowledge of the Potters, and then continue to fail me when it is put to the test. But Lord Voldemort is merciful. You have one more chance to find the boy. Now leave us."

Wormtail backed out of the room, bowing so low that his forehead nearly scraped the floor. Once Pettigrew was gone, Voldemort turned back to Lestrange.

"Kill him."

*****

"Harry!"

Harry woke to Hermione's joyful shriek, his scar aching dully.

"Ow!" He pressed one hand to his forehead. "Nice to see you, too, Hermione."

Ron stirred on his bed. "Hunh? Oh, morning, Harry."

"Why didn't you ever answer our letters? Did you get your OWL scores back? How did you do?"

"Let him breathe, Hermione." Ron sat up, rubbing his eyes and yawning. "Never mind; that's a good question. Why *didn't* you answer our letters?"

Harry shrugged noncommittally. "Just didn't get around to it, I suppose."

He thought back over his dream. He supposed he should tell Dumbledore about it, but he found himself reluctant to speak with the headmaster again. Their last meeting had gone less than spectacularly and he supposed that, deep in his heart, he blamed the old wizard for everything that was wrong in his life. He could have handled news of the prophecy at a younger age. Maybe not first year, but by second year he surely could have dealt with it. Third year would have been a good time as well. If he had known then, would things have turned out differently? Would Sirius still be alive? Cedric? No matter how many times he had been told that there was nothing he could have done, he still believed that he could have saved the Hufflepuff somehow.

"Harry? Are you listening?"

He shook his head to clear it. "I'm sorry, what was that?"

Hermione tapped her foot impatiently. "I've asked you three times about your OWLs. How did you do?"

"Oh, er... I dunno."

"You don't know? You haven't received them yet? Oh, honestly, they should have sent them to you by now."

"They may have." Harry looked out the window to avoid her eyes. "I haven't opened any of my mail this summer."

"Why not?" she asked.

"I'd rather not talk about it, if it's all the same," he answered hotly.

He saw the determined curiosity gather in her eyes.

"Now, really, H–"

"Let's see if breakfast's ready," Ron intervened. Harry thanked him with a nod.

With the exception of Ginny, they were the last ones to join the breakfast table. Ron loaded his plate as soon as they were seated, ignoring Hermione's glare of disapproval. She rolled her eyes at him, but soon started up a quiet conversation with Tonks. Harry smiled a little at the familiar scene.

"Are you feeling all right this morning, Harry, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked, cautious concern in her eyes.

"I'm fine, thanks." He smiled reassuringly. "Er, where is everyone?"

"Arthur's at work already; with all that's been going on he's been quite busy. Professor Snape is upstairs."

Tonks rolled her eyes. "He just comes down long enough to nick the whole pot of coffee. Too good to eat with the rest of us, I imagine."

Mrs. Weasley gave her a warning look. "Albus should be here later this evening. Fred and George..." She frowned.

"Have opened a shop near Fluorish and Blotts," Ginny finished, taking a seat across from Hermione. "Morning, everyone."

"Which reminds me!" Mrs Weasley brightened a little. "I'll be taking you lot to shop for your school things this afternoon. I will be speaking to Albus about his choice of Defence teacher, though. I don't know *how* he could allow them to assign 'Proper Curse-Casting' as a text. It's practically illegal, and the other Defence texts aren't much better."

"I'm sure Dumbledore knows what he's doing," Lupin said quietly.

"What's been going on?" Harry asked, pushing his eggs around on his plate with his fork.

"What do you mean, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

"Well, you said it's been busy at the Ministry with all that's been going on. What's been going on?"

"It's good and bad, I suppose," Lupin said unhelpfully. Tonks snorted a laugh.

"Fudge is dead," Ron said around a mouthful of toast.

Harry's eyes widened in surprise. "What?"

Lupin nodded. "He was assassinated on the tenth of June. Someone blew up his office, with him in it."

"Why would the Death Eaters kill him?" Harry asked. "He was doing just what they wanted."

"Wasn't them," Tonks answered. "Snape said they were as surprised as the rest of us. And it was a completely non-magical explosion. Possibly a potion of some kind, but probably not."

"Then who?"

"No one knows," said Lupin. "Some people say Dark wizards did it, others think it was Dumbledore. Strangely enough, those who think Dumbledore did it also think he had good reason. The ones who claim it was Dark wizards support him as well. As a result, our side has quite a bit more influence than we did last summer."

"Where's the bad?" asked Harry.

"The bad is that we don't know who really did it, or how they managed such a large explosion with no magic, *or* how they got into Fudge's office in the first place."

Ron pushed his empty plate away. "I think it *was* You-Know-Who."

Hermione let out an exasperated sigh. "For the last time, Ron, that just doesn't make sense."

"Think about it, though," he said, looking as if he were contemplating an opponent's chess move. "The way the Ministry's been hushing things up about themselves, using the 'Prophet' to slander anyone who makes them look bad, taking bribes... it's all very beneficial toYou-Know-Who if he wants to stay hidden. However, if he does try to take over, it'll be a lot easier if the Ministry is a bit less... consolidated. A little anarchy beforehand will make it easier for him to step in. It's the same thing Hitler did."

Everyone at the table stared at him mutely.

"What? I can't know a bit about history?"

Lupin blinked slowly before continuing. "Right, well, that's how things stand now. Voldemort's return has been officially recognized. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement even sent out little safety pamphlets."

Tonks snorted again. "The only problem is that they rather resemble the old pamphlets on how to survive nuclear holocaust. Totally useless."

"It probably serves the same purpose as those did," Hermione said knowingly. "Just like seatbelts on airplanes. To make the general public feel that there is some way to survive."

"That's cheery," Ron grumbled.

*****

Later that afternoon, the three Gryffindors walked down Diagon Alley toward the twins' shop. Mrs Weasley had left them at Fortescue's, taking their booklists with her.

"I'm anxious to see the new shop, really," Ron said buoyantly. "I hear all sorts of things from them when they come to visit, but I haven't been yet."

A new, garishly-painted building had somehow been squeezed in next to the bookstore. It looked to Harry as though it had been decorated by Dobby. He couldn't help but smile at the sight of it.

"Er, Ron?" Hermione asked timidly. "How are we supposed to get inside?"

Harry frowned. The bright blue door, the only visible entrance, was all the way up on the second floor of the building.

"Er... Oh, I remember them talking about this," Ron said. "The stairs are invisible."

"Why?" Hermione asked. "Wouldn't they want it to be easy for customers to get inside?"

"Who can say with those two?" Ron walked shakily up the invisible steps.

Even having seen his friend walk up the stairs, Harry's feet still didn't want to believe they were really there. The inside of the shop was nothing like the outside. The walls were plain wood panelling and a water-stained beige carpet covered the floor.

"This is a bit unexpected," Hermione said.

"Tell us about it," said Fred from behind the counter. He finished wrapping a small brown package, then set it aside. Nearby, George fiddled with an old register.

"Used to be a law office," he said. "We're not officially open yet, anyway."

"We still need a sign."

"A more fitting interior."

"Stock."

"We used up most of what we had in our war with Umbridge," George told them.

Fred smiled wistfully. "It was well spent."

Hermione crossed her arms. "When you're wasting your time on invisible steps, it's really no wonder you haven't –"

"You think *that's* the best we could do? They were here when we got here." Fred started wrapping another box.

"I thought you said this was a law office," she asked.

"It was." George glared at the register.

"As far as we can tell, the lawyer didn't want clients to begin with."

"So he made it difficult for them to get in."

"No wonder he went out of business." Fred tied the package with twine. "Anyway, we're strictly mail-order right now. Most of our money went into renting this place."

"You wouldn't believe how expensive it is to have premises on Diagon Alley. We're planning the grand opening just into the winter hols."

"Hopefully by then the place'll be presentable."

"There you are." Ginny had come up the stairs behind them. "Mum's been looking all over for... Is this the new shop?" She leaned in, curious eyes roaming the place. "Bit drab, isn't it?"

"We're busy right now, little sister..."

"So if you don't mind..."

"Get out!" they finished in unison.

Ginny gave them a withering glare. "Why would I want to stay in this smelly old place? Not everything is about *you*, you know."

She flounced indignantly down the invisible steps. "Come on, you three! It's time to go."

After short good-byes, Harry, Ron and Hermione followed Ginny back down to the street.

"Go on, Ginny," Ron called. "We'll catch up."

The youngest Weasley pursed her lips, looking highly offended, but soon left them alone.

"Why'd you do that?" Harry asked, fearing that he already knew the answer.

"Don't get angry, Harry," Hermione said warily. "We've been wanting to ask you something and it's been difficult to find an opportunity."

"We know something happened while you were at the Dursleys'," Ron said seriously. "It seemed like Dumbledore was never going to let you leave there, and then last night..."

"Last night *something* happened," Hermione continued. "Moody came back early from watching your house. He was even more... perturbed... than usual."

"Which is *very* perturbed," Ron added.

"Anyway, he Flooed Dumbledore, who came over straight away and called an emergency meeting."

"But Mum sent us to bed before we could hear anything," Ron said. "And then, this morning, there you were."

Harry looked from one eager face to the other. He wanted to tell them, needed to talk to someone, but

"It's really none of your business," he mumbled, and left them behind.