Nothing Hidden

There were no Ministry officials at Hogwarts. Whatever had taken place there that morning, it was over, and all was still.

They had to step carefully, as the ground was littered with rubble. One wall was almost entirely destroyed, and the front door was missing, but the debris had been cleared away from the castle.

As they walked inside, Professor Dumbledore rushed to meet them. He wasn't satisfied until Harry had repeated twice that he was indeed still in one piece.

Harry would never know what a night Dumbledore had spent. To receive word in the dead of night that Hogwarts was under attack; to rush to the school only to find Harry and Severus missing!

He had found Sirius unhurt, but Sirius had never made it inside the school and had no way of knowing what had become of Harry. They had found Remus together, but he was unconscious and unable to tell them anything. Dumbledore had paced the floor in the hospital wing until Remus had regained consciousness, but Remus too could not tell him what he needed to know.

For many hours Dumbledore had struggled with agonizing thoughts. His trust in Severus Snape was sorely tested. Human nature was unpredictable; not even Dumbledore could peer into the heart of a man and know with certainty what path he would take. Dumbledore was not infallible. Many years ago, he had harbored a secret misgiving about Harry's mother. And he had been in terrible error. In the end Lily Potter had died for her child rather than stand aside and thus save her own life. Dumbledore was even now pained by the memory of his lapse. No, he could not fool himself; there was no way to know for sure, not until he saw Harry safe at Hogwarts again.

He heard their story, and found Snape's side woefully lacking in details. Harry had been too confused during their retreat from the castle to know anything of value. He took them to the hospital wing where Lupin was recovering under the care of Madam Pomfrey. Though he was no longer bed-bound, he walked with a pronounced limp and one eye was bandaged.

Harry almost cried at the sight of Lupin's injuries. He could not forget that it had been his own foolishness that had allowed the Death Eaters to gain entry into Hogwarts.

"Poppy," Dumbledore addressed the nurse, "would you be so kind as to put Harry to bed? He looks exhausted. The rest of us should meet in the staffroom." Then he looked closer at the tired faces around him. "But first let us have tea."

He regarded Lupin, "Remus . . ."

"I'm fine, Albus," Lupin interrupted. "I will join you."

"Very well. To the Great Hall."

Dumbledore led the way and the staff fell into step behind him, leaving Harry and Madam Pomfrey alone in the infirmary.

Harry was content to allow Madam Pomfrey to fuss over him. Knowing that Harry's sleep would be comfortless otherwise, the nurse gave him a draught to place him in a dreamless sleep.

He awoke hours later, not understanding at first what had pulled him out of sleep. It had not been a nightmare.

His scar!

His forehead felt as though on fire — his entire head threatened to split open.

Voldemort was close.

Harry looked wildly around, but the infirmary was empty. The nurse was nowhere in sight.

Harry contemplated yelling for help, surely that would bring someone running.

Finally he eased himself out of bed and began to walk slowly toward the door. The marble floor made walking silently impossible, Harry cringed as the empty room filled with the echoes of his footsteps.

His own footsteps, or someone else's? Harry stopped. The footsteps did not.

He turned.

His first sight of Voldemort was obscured by a flash of sparks. He was caught in a vice-like grip, his arms pinned to his sides. Behind him, the infirmary door shut silently, cutting Harry off from the rest of the school.

He was alone with Voldemort, and the only part of his body that was free to move were his eyes.

Voldemort approached, and the pain in Harry's forehead intensified.

"Crucio," hissed Voldemort, and Harry twisted in agony, unable to make a sound through his binds.

In the staffroom, Dumbledore had once again called a meeting. Although they had only been able to devote a few hours to sleep, and Dumbledore had taken none himself, they were intent on catching up on what each of them had missed.

Suddenly, Snape, who had been leaning back in his chair studying a Ministry report, sat bold upright.

In horror and disbelief he rolled up his sleeve and saw the Dark Mark growing more vivid with each second that passed.

"Albus!" he cried hoarsely, as everyone abandoned their chairs and crowded around him.

He would have felt pain, but there was only room in his mind for one single thought.

They had to get to the hospital wing.