Dumbledore's Secret

Chapter 12

Tonks raced through the doors of the hospital, with Remus and Snape following close behind.

"Fraulein, you can't ..." one of the nurses called out, but Tonks flashed her muggle police badge, and the woman said nothing else as they hurried through the ICU.

When they had gotten to Kingsley's room, Tonks demanded, "Who the hell are you?"

A middle-aged man with sat in the chair beside Kingsley's bed. He glanced up at them in surprise.

"Good god," Snape muttered, hurrying over to Kingsley. The Auror was still unconscious, and blood still seeped slowly from his orifices.

"Who are all of you?" the man demanded in German. In one hand, he held a badge, in the other, a wand. "If you go one step closer to him..." the stranger warned Snape.

Whether Snape didn't know German, or whether he didn't care to listen, Tonks was unsure. But she was grateful that the potions master ignored the stranger's threat and began immediately working on Kingsley.

"I said, don't take a step ..." The stranger stood up and pointed his wand at Snape's chest.

Tonks pulled out her Auror badge. "He's with me," she said in German. "Let me see that badge, and lower your wand immediately."

The man studied her badge, then reluctantly lowered his wand. He threw her his badge and said, "I'm Peter Zimmerman with the Spionageabwehr.*"

"Well, it's about fucking time you people showed up!" she yelled.

"Hey!" he said, putting up his hands. "We've had problems of our own, you know!"

"Really? How about a death eater attack on a muggle café? How about that for a problem?" she demanded.

"Tonks," Remus said gently, putting a hand on her shoulder.

She let out a long breath, then said to Zimmerman, "Look, I'm sorry, it's just ..." she looked helplessly at Kingsley as Snape mixed several potions and poured them down the unconscious man's throat.

They all sat in silence until Snape had stepped away from Kingsley. The Auror was no longer bleeding, but he still looked near dead.

"It's still going to be a close call," Snape said. "I'm not a trained healer ... hopefully he'll be stable in the next hour, and we can transport him to St. Mungo's. But I don't know how well he's going to react to the apparition."

Tonks nodded. "At least he's not bleeding anymore. Thanks," she said, flashing Snape a weary smile. The potions master nodded curtly, then turned to Zimmerman and said in flawless German, "What happened to him?"

Zimmerman shrugged. "I was hoping you could tell me that."

Tonks plopped into the other spare seat in the room. "I found him on the floor of a muggle café a few miles nearby."

"What were you doing there?" Remus asked.

"This morning, Kingsley got word from Zimmerman here," Tonks said. She looked at Zimmerman. "Do you speak any English?" she asked in German.

The German nodded, and Tonks sighed gratefully. "Good. What did you tell Kingsley last night? He never told me exactly ..."

"Last month, Kingsley contacted me about Nicolae Radu. You know who he is?" Tonks nodded. "Okay, good. Well, our agency didn't have anything on him, except that he had been living near Berlin for the past several years. We did a search, but we came up with very little. I asked around, but it wasn't until yesterday that I heard anything. An apothecary owner by the name of Matias Koppelhagen contacted me. He said he was looking for Radu, that they had been business partners. I set up the meeting between him and Kingsley."

"And you were the only person to know about this meeting?" Tonks demanded.

"On our end, yes. I'm not sure who your associate told."

"Kingsley got in touch with me as soon as he'd heard from you," Tonks said. "I don't think he would have told anyone else, and I sure as hell didn't. We left England around noon. I suppose Koppelhagen could have told someone ... No, wait! Of course," she said, hitting her hand against her forehead. "I'd forgotten. Koppelhagen thought he was being followed. The death eaters must have known about him even before he went to Zimmerman. Under torture or a truth serum, Radu must have mentioned Koppelhagen to the death eaters ..." she shook her head. "Is any of this making sense?"

"Why don't you start from the beginning?" Remus asked calmly.

She nodded. "So, after Kingsley contacted me, we met up, apparated to Germany, and didn't tell anyone where we were headed. I didn't even know until we got here. I think Kingsley asked me along because he knew I was pretty good with languages. Anyway, we came to this café, and not soon after we got here, Koppelhagen showed up." She told them about their meeting, about the mysterious note Koppelhagen had received, and about how the German had thought he was being followed by an English wizard. "Aparently he was correct. Well, when the death eaters attacked, Kingsley told me to get the muggles out ..." She stopped, then grabbed a handful of her spiky black hair. "Damn it! I shouldn't have left him in there. I shouldn't have ..."

"Listen, you did what you had to do," Remus said. "What happened after you got the muggles out?"

"I went back to the café. At this point, the death eaters had already gone, and Koppelhagen was nowhere to be found. All I found was Kingsley, and at first I thought he was dead ... Anyway, then I got him here." She glared at Zimmerman. "I still can't believe we didn't have any back up. If this had happened in Britain, there would have been Aurors swooping down the moment those death eater's had shot their first spell in the middle of a muggle crowd ..."

"Look," Zimmerman said angrily. "As I said, we had problems of our own. At approximately 2 o'clock this afternoon, a huge explosion rocked wizarding Munich. Luckily, not many people were hurt ... the explosion was at an abandoned warehouse, but someone also called in a threat against the Chancellor's palace, and most of us were busy ..."

"Two?" Tonks asked. "That was about the time when the death eaters showed up."

"You think there's a connection?" Remus asked.

"I don't know. Maybe I'm getting as paranoid as Mad Eye," she muttered.

Zimmerman shrugged. "Maybe it's not so paranoid. I thought, after I'd arrived at the scene of the explosion, that it was odd so many of us had been called out ... whoever called in the explosion made it seem a great deal more damaging than it actually was. And the threat to the Chancellor's Palace turned out to be a hoax. Maybe it was meant to distract us from you ...we've had our own problems with Death Eaters being able to bride and infiltrate our ministry."

"How did you end up here?" Tonks asked.

"After I headed back to the office, I got word of this attack, and I questioned the muggles at the scene before modifying their memories. One of them saw a man of Kingsley's description being put into an ambulance. I've known Kingsley for several years ...I was concerned."

As if he heard his name, Kingsley shifted in his bed and let out a small moan. They all looked anxiously over at him as Snape checked his vitals. "He's coming around, I think."

Zimmerman nodded. "Good. Well," he said, getting up. "If there's anything else I can do..."

Tonks nodded. "Yeah, thanks. Hey, and sorry about ..."

Zimmerman smiled. "I understand. It's been a rough day for all of us."

As he left, Remus said, "This key that Radu mentioned in his note to Koppelhagen ... any clue what it is?"

"And what happened to Koppelhagen?" Tonks asked.

"Koppelhagen is probably dead, or at least he will be as soon as he's told the death eaters everything he told you," Snape said, staring out the window beside Kingsley's bed. Then he turned to Tonks. "So, Koppelhagen thought Radu had figured out Slytherin's Power Potion?"

Tonks nodded. "Yeah, does that mean anything to you?"

"Well, it finally explains why everything I've been working on contains mandrake and ginger." He scowled. "I should have realized it earlier. But I never would have thought ...it's practically a fairy tale!"

"Koppelhagen made it sound like something all potions masters wanted to work on."

Snape rolled his eyes. "Not the sensible ones. I've always thought it was a dead end, some rambling thought of Slytherin's that a desperate academic tried to make into something more important than it really was."

"Well," Remus said, "Voldemort obviously believes it's important."

"Voldemort will believe anything you tell him about potions," Snape said with a sneer. "That's one of his weaknesses. He knows a great deal about dark magic, but very little about potions making in general. It's Radu that surprises me. I always thought he was a very serious potions master."

"You knew him?" Tonks asked.

"Yes, though not well. We'd met at some conferences, he'd invited me over for dinner once when I was visiting Berlin one summer ..."

"You've been to his labs?" Tonks asked excitedly.

Snape nodded, then smiled grimly. "This key in his lab..."

Remus groaned. "No, you're not going. If Koppelhagen knew about it, then so do the death eaters. And it's more than my life's worth if something happens to you. Albus will have my head." Then he smiled. "As will his granddaughter."

Snape glared at Remus. "I wasn't aware, Lupin, that you were my nanny."

"Look, Remus, this could be our chance..." Tonks said. "Why don't you apparate with Kingsley, and Professor Snape and I will..."

"Absolutely not!" Remus said angrily. "Why don't you take Kingsley? I'll go with Snape and ..."

"In case you've forgotten," Tonks said, "I am an Auror. I'm fully trained in ..."

"And I'm a defense professor, so ..."

Tonks started to speak, then stopped. "You're a defense professor?" She gasped. "You're teaching at Hogwarts again?" At his nod, she grinned broadly. "That's great news!"

"If we're done with conversation hour ..." Snape cut in sullenly.

"Look," Remus said, "why do we even have to go now? Why not wait until we can get more back up, some supplies, an invisibility cloak ..."

"Because," Tonks said. "If we hurry, we might actually make it there before the death eaters. They may not have had time to get anything out of Koppelhagen yet. Veritaserum isn't easy to come by, and torture takes time."

"Besides," Snape cut in. "I know exactly where the labs are. And, I have a better chance of finding whatever we're looking for, as I'm trained in potions. This so-called key has to have something to do with the Power Potion. If we wait ..."

"If we wait, you won't be allowed to go," Remus finished. "Which is exactly why we shouldn't go now ..." Both Tonks and Snape glared at him. "Fine, fine. But Tonks, you are not going. You've already had one run-in with death eaters today, you're beat, and..."

"And I'm a woman. Why don't you just say it?" she asked angrily. "You men are all the same."

"Look," Snape said. "The more you two stand here and bicker, the more time we lose. And, one of you needs to get Kingsley to St. Mungo's."

Tonks and Remus stared fiercely at each other. Finally Tonks threw up her arms. "Fine, fine, you go, Remus. But if the two of you aren't back at headquarters in an hour ..."

"Then you can meet us," Remus said. "Snape, tell her approximately where we're headed."

"Just east of Berlin, about 10 miles outside the wizarding section of the city ... I remember there's a broken down railway track nearby."

Tonks nodded. "Well, it's not much to go on, but hopefully I won't need to meet you. Just, be careful."

Both men nodded and quickly left the room. "Why," she asked Kingsley, who was still unconscious, "are men so difficult?" As if answering, Kingsley moaned again, and Tonks gently held his hands as she apparated them back to Britain.

*

Harry stared listlessly out his bedroom window. The eastern sky darkened into a rich blue-black, and the waning moon, large and yellow, rose just above the horizon. But the night sky held no beauty for him; it represented the passing of yet another day in which he had not heard back from Dumbledore.

To be fair, it had only been three days since he had sent the letter. But the wait was tortuous. The most recent vision had been bad, really bad. He knew it had to be one of Voldemort's tricks; it just had to be. Still, the idea of not telling anyone what he had seen, even if it was false, ate away at him. He'd already spent the last month feeling miserable about Snape, of all people.

Suddenly restless, Harry went over to his desk and pulled out all the letters he had received since he'd left Hogwarts. There was only one unopened parchment; for some reason, he couldn't bring himself to look at his O.W.L. results. But the letters from his friends, those he had read several times already. Still, he studied them again, just to make sure he hadn't missed something important, some hidden message about Snape or the Order or Voldemort.

Ron's letters had been full of talk about Quidditch and his family. Apparently Fred and George's joke shop was doing extremely well. And for some reason, Ron was always talking about Ginny - how she was getting really good at Quidditch, how she was really growing up, how she deserved someone much better than Dean, whom Harry had always thought a good guy. Hermione's letters were full of cheerful encouragement and not-so-subtle hints about how painful emotions shouldn't stay bottled up inside a person, especially not when that person had friends who were willing to listen. Neither friend had brought up their O.W.L.s or directly mentioned Sirius. They had both seemed to understand that these subjects were, for the time being, taboo.

Lupin's letters had been the most interesting, as he had actually given him some clues about what was happening with the Order. Harry flipped to the most recent letter:

Dear Harry,

I'm writing to you from a beautiful, sunny spot; I wish I could send a postcard so you could see how magnificent it is here. Unfortunately, my work isn't as nice as the scenery. I sometimes wonder if I'll ever get through to my "brothers" and "sisters." My efforts this summer have not been very successful; still, I hope I have reached a few of my kind.

How are you? Hanging in there with the muggles? Don't take this as official word, but I heard that you may not have to suffer much longer. We all look forward to seeing you soon. Another piece of good, but still unofficial, news. Let's just say that you and I will be seeing a great deal of each other next school year.

I'm not sure how to tell you about this next thing, so I'll just say it. Tonks and I are planning a memorial service for Sirius sometime in August. I want you to be involved in the planning ... at least, as much as you want to be. If you'd rather not talk about it, I understand. But you should know that I'm here for you. I think about Sirius everyday, and I miss him more than I can say.

Well, as I said before, hang in there. It won't be long. You may be with your friends before I will, so say hello to Ron and Hermione for me. And remember, I'm here if you need me.

Take care, Harry.

RL

Harry rubbed his eyes as he reread the section about Sirius. How long would it take for this ache inside of him to go away? He pushed the morose thought from his head and scanned the happier parts of the letter again. He wished Professor Lupin could have been more specific about how long it would be before he got to leave Privet Drive. It was already the end of July ... how much longer would he have to wait? But the hint about the school year ... Harry had understood that right away. He grinned at the thought of having Lupin as a teacher again, especially after that hellish year with Umbridge.

None of the letters mentioned anything about Snape or Voldemort, but this did not make him feel any better. He didn't know which of the two visions he'd had this summer was worse: the image of Snape at Voldemort's mercy, or ... Harry shook his head. He couldn't even think about it.

"Shoo! Get away from here!" Uncle Vernon yelled outside. "Get out of here you damned feline!" Then, with hardly a pause: "Boy! Get down here right now!"

Harry rolled his eyes. How was a stray cat his fault? He walked over to the window and looked out. In the twilight, he could just make out Uncle Vernon waving his briefcase at a regal looking tabby who sat rigidly on the front porch. His eyes widened when he saw that there was a snowy white owl perched next to the cat. Harry raced downstairs.

"Hedwig!" he said, and the owl soared gracefully to his outstretched arm.

"Get your bloody owl off our front porch!" Uncle Vernon mumbled. "And get this cat out of here, while you're at it."

Harry barely heard his uncle. There was no letter attached to Hedwig, no word from Dumbledore. His shoulders drooped.

"Did you hear what I said? Get that ..."

"Yeah, I heard you," Harry muttered. But he made no move toward the cat. He slumped down on the front step of the porch and stared out into the gathering darkness.

"If I have to tell you one more time, I'll..." Uncle Vernon boomed, throwing down his briefcase.

Harry looked up at his uncle with little interest. "You'll do what? Starve me? Make me do more chores tonight than Dudley could do in a lifetime? Oh, wait, you already do that." Harry went back to staring at the darkening sky.

"Listen here," Uncle Vernon said, grabbing Harry by the collar and dragging him to his feet.

"I think, Mr. Dursley, you should do the listening."

Harry gaped at Professor McGonagall, who now stood where the cat had been.

Uncle Vernon abruptly released Harry and swung around to face her. "Who in the ..." But he stopped as soon as he spotted her wand, which she casually tapped against the palm of her left hand. Her emerald green robes billowed in the night breeze, and her lined face was forbidding as she said, "I believe you were warned earlier this summer about mistreating your nephew."

His face reddened, and he took a step toward her, but she raised her wand and he stopped immediately. "I ... you ..."

McGonagall looked at Harry and said, "Is he always this articulate?'

He couldn't help but grin.

"Now, Mr. Dursley, I would advise you to pick up your bag and invite me inside. You can get me some tea. I've had a long day."

Uncle Vernon recovered himself. "I will do no such ..."

"Very well, then. Your nephew and I will simply talk out here." She looked out into the street. "Good evening," she called at a passing neighbor. The woman, who was walking her dog, gawked.

"Oh, very well, get inside!" Uncle Vernon muttered, opening the door. Harry's uncle then raced into the kitchen, and Professor McGonagall said, "Well, show me to parlor, Potter. As I said, I've had a long day."

Harry nodded and took her into the living room. She sat on the sofa, and he stood awkwardly in front of her.

"Sit down, child, sit down." She patted the sofa cushion. "I don't bite."

"Did Professor Dumbledore send you?" he asked eagerly as he sat beside her.

She nodded. "He wanted to come himself, but there was a bit of an emergency ..."

"Voldemort?"

She shuddered slightly, but shook her head.

"Snape?"

She looked at him in surprise. "Professor Snape? No, why would you think ..."

Harry bit his lip. It didn't sound as if anything had happened to him, but he had to be sure. "He's ... he's not, uh, hurt, is he?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Professor Snape is fine... you've seen something, haven't you?"

Harry looked away. "Uh ..."

"Mr. Potter, this is no time to be secretive."

He took a deep breath. "I saw something ... but it was last month. Just before the end of term. I saw ... Voldemort knew about Snape being a spy. And as I didn't see Snape again at the end of term, I thought ..."

"Well."

Harry looked at her. "I know I should have said something." Suddenly, he couldn't stop the words from pouring out. "I know I should have said something, but I couldn't. I was so angry and I was tired and I didn't know if it was real anyway, and it wasn't, but I felt..." He stopped when she put a hand on his shoulder. He looked at her in surprise.

"You needn't explain yourself to me, Harry," she said, her voice kinder than he'd ever heard it. "Is this what you wanted to discuss with the headmaster?"

He shrugged. "Well, I had another... uh, dream ... a few nights ago...But it's probably false, too."

Professor McGonagall looked him in the eye. "Harry, what I'm about to tell you must be kept strictly confidential ... Voldemort did discover Professor Snape's role, but the he was able to escape."

"You mean the vision ..."

"I think what you saw was accurate."

He closed his eyes. "No."

"Harry, you said you saw something else."

He shook his head. "It can't be true."

"What can't be true?"

"I saw ... I saw Percy."

"Percy Weasley? You saw him? Was he hurt?"

"No. He was one of them."

Professor McGonagall sighed and murmured, "Just as Albus suspected ..."

"Professor Dumbledore knew?" Harry's voice grew louder. "He knew?"

Before Professor McGonagall could respond, Aunt Petunia swept into the room holding a tray with two cups of tea and a plate of scones. Harry didn't know what shocked him more: that Dumbledore may have known all about Percy Weasley or that his Aunt Petunia was actually serving tea to a witch.

"Petunia," Professor McGonagall said, nodding her head respectfully. "Thank you."

Aunt Petunia said nothing, but she nodded in return. Then she turned to Harry and hissed, "Keep your voice down. Dudders is trying to watch the telly."

Harry rolled his eyes and said nothing. As soon his aunt had left the room, he reached for a scone, but Professor McGonagall slapped him gently on the hand.

"You never did learn any manners, did you, Potter?"

"Oh, here you go," he said, handing her the first scone.

She shook her head. "No, I'm referring to the fact that you didn't thank your aunt."

Harry looked away. "Why should I? I can't believe she actually gave us anything at all."

"Because, Potter, perhaps you could better a bad situation. You might find that being polite to your relatives, even when they do not return the courtesy, will make things a little easier for you."

Harry shook his head. "Uncle Vernon will never be kind to me, no matter what I do."

"Perhaps not, but your aunt may."

Harry shot her a skeptical look.

"You need to look below the surface more often, Potter. Things are not always what they seem."

Harry sighed. "Why does everyone have to speak in riddles? And how do you know anything about my aunt? Both you and Professor Dumbledore ..." Harry narrowed his eyes. "You've been trying to change the subject away from Percy."

Professor McGonagall shrugged. "That was a beneficial side effect."

Harry opened his mouth to resume his previous tirade, but before he could speak, she held up a hand and said, "Now, before you jump to unfounded conclusions, let me say that Professor Dumbledore did not know about Percy Weasley, but he guessed that it could possibly happen."

"Then why didn't he try to stop him? Why didn't he do something?"

"Tell me, Potter, what should he have done? Percy is a grown wizard, and he must make his own choices."

"But you don't understand! He's a Weasley!"

McGonagall raised an eyebrow. "And so?"

"Weasleys aren't death eaters! Percy must be under the Imperius Curse, or someone's tricked him or ..."

"What did you see? Did Percy seem to be under the Imperius?"

Harry closed his eyes and said quietly, "I don't know. He didn't seem like Mr. Crouch, he didn't seem to be struggling, he seemed ... he seemed normal. Maybe it's a really strong Imperius."

McGonagall shrugged. "Perhaps."

"Yes, it had to be. Otherwise, Percy wouldn't have joined. I mean, to break with his family is one thing, but to break with everything he's been taught ..."

"Tell me, what was Voldemort like at this meeting you saw?"

He bit his lip. "Uh, he was ..." Harry stopped and looked at McGonagall in surprise. "Why didn't I realize it before? He was different, really different. I mean, he wasn't cruel."

"Yes. No doubt he complimented Percy, he told him he was brave for making the right decision, he told him that for too long he'd been taught that what they were doing was evil when in reality they were the only ones working to save the wizarding world. He told Percy that history would long remember him as a brave man, a leader of wizarding kind. And he told him that strength was a virtue, that weakness was a fault, that muggles were polluting their world ..."

Harry gaped. "Yes, that's pretty much everything he ... how could you know that?"

"I know it because I know him." McGonagall looked away. "Tom Riddle was a classmate of mine. He could be very persuasive when he wanted to be. He has a gift for telling people what they want to hear. He is not always the simple-minded murderer that you've seen. If that were the case, how would he have ever attracted so many followers?"

"Well, because some people are evil."

"As I said, Potter, you need to learn how to look below the surface. There is more than good and evil in this world, though certainly good and evil exist. Most of us fall somewhere in between."

Harry considered this for a moment, then sighed. "But Percy falls closer to the good. He has to. It doesn't make sense otherwise."

"What doesn't make sense?"

"Everything! Percy is a Gryffindor, he's a Weasley, he's smart ... sure, he doesn't have a sense of humor, and okay, he got in a fight with his parents, even said some pretty nasty things about me, but in the end, he's a decent person. If he can become a death eater ..."

"Yes, Harry, that is the catch. If he can become a death eater, then any one of us could."

Harry shook his head. "No, not Ron, not Hermione, not me. We could never do that."

McGonagall's lips twitched slightly. "No, you probably couldn't be a death eater. Certainly, you're not one of their top recruiting choices. But death eaters aren't the only dangerous people out there, Harry. And believe me, few people see themselves as the villains. People aren't born evil, not even Tom Riddle. Events, and the way we respond to them, shape us."

Frowning, Harry said, "You sound as if you're making excuses for him, as if you've forgiven him."

"No, I'm not making excuses. Nothing can excuse what he's done. But it will do you no good to let self righteousness guide you through this war. You remember Mr. Crouch, don't you?"

Harry nodded. "But he wasn't evil. He was just ..."

"He was blind, Harry. He was blinded by his own sense of right. In the end, that did him no good. And there have been others like him, some even worse. There have been those fighting for our side who go home at night to beat their wives and children. Are they good or bad? And, though you may not accept it, there are death eaters who have hearts, who love their friends and family as you love your friends."

"You're talking about Snape." Harry nearly spit out his name. Now that he knew the potions master was safe, he felt more comfortable hating him again. "But he doesn't have a heart. He's a nasty ..."

"Professor Snape is not a death eater."

"But he was."

"Yes, he was."

Harry suddenly saw his fifteen year old father, laughing as he flipped Snape upside down in the air. He heard Sirius calling him "Snivellus." In a whisper Harry asked, "Do you think my dad and Sirius's ..." he almost could not say the word, "... bullying, do you think it pushed Snape into becoming a death eater?"

McGonagall sighed. "Harry, your father and Sirius are not to blame for Professor Snape's decisions, even if they did act less than admirably. No one except Professor Snape made the choice to take that mark. But the question is why he chose to join, why Percy would choose to do it, if he has ... why anyone would choose to do such things. If we can answer that, well, perhaps we can stop other people from making the same mistake. And remember, Professor Snape also chose to leave Voldemort. He chose to fight for us." She paused, and then added, "And your father, Harry, he chose to fight for us too, he chose to give his life for you. In their own way, both your father and Professor Snape are honorable men." Then she grinned. "Not always likeable men, but honorable."

Harry looked away, his head throbbing. He didn't want to think of Snape and his father as fitting into the same category. He didn't want to think of Percy as a death eater. He wanted things to be simple, the way they used to be, clear cut, clean.

"Now, Potter, hand me that last scone and tell me if you saw anything else."

Harry nodded gratefully. "Before I saw Percy, Voldemort was meeting with other death eaters. Peter Pettigrew was there. So was Goyle's dad, I think. And that ... woman," he said, squeezing his eyes shut. He couldn't think of Bellatrix Lestrange without hurting. "They were telling Voldemort that they had found some man, I can't remember his name, he was a friend of somebody important, I think ..."

"That's fine, Potter. Did they say anything else?"

"Pettigrew asked if they should capture the man, but Voldemort said he would use him as bait. That's all I can remember."

McGonagall nodded. "Thank you, Potter. I'm sure this will help the Order." She paused, then said, "Does your scar still hurt often?"

Harry nodded. "All the time. I would have thought after ... well, after last month, Voldemort wouldn't let me into his mind."

"It may be a good sign. You must be getting stronger, strong enough that you can enter his mind without him knowing it."

"Or me. I hate having no control over when these visions come. It doesn't make sense."

McGonagall sighed. "You'll have to resume occulmency, just to be sure. And perhaps work on your legilimency, so that you can better control these visions you see."

Harry groaned. "Not with Snape. I don't care what you say about his honor, I am not ..."

"Professor Snape, Potter. And no, you won't take lessons with him. We'll find someone."

"Besides, why should I learn to block the visions? Aren't they helpful?"

"Occulmency is not simply about keeping Voldemort out. It's about keeping him out of certain thoughts. If he can feed you false information, as he did last month, then you can do the same."

"And why isn't he doing that now?"

"Probably because he's not strong enough to break into your mind. Right now, he seems to be depending a great deal on his death eaters."

"Then the visions I am seeing ... he doesn't know?"

"I cannot say for sure. Perhaps not ... or perhaps he's toying with you. He might suspect that your knowing about Percy Weasley would torment you." She sighed. "I have little expertise in this field. When Professor Dumbledore arrives, perhaps you can ask him."

Harry nodded, then looked up, startled, as the clock chimed. "Nine o'clock?" He looked around the living room a little awkwardly. "Uh, can I get you something else? Some more food? I don' t know if my aunt and uncle will have left any dinner, but ..."

"No, thank you, Potter. I'm fine. I think I'll wait outside, get some fresh air. You should go upstairs and pack."

"Pack? Really? I get to leave?"

"As soon as Professor Dumbledore arrives. We'll deliver you to the headquarters where, I believe, the Weasleys and Miss Granger should already be waiting for you. I contacted them just before I arrived."

Harry grinned as he raced up to his bedroom. This was turning out to be a good evening, after all. As he threw his things into his trunk, he caught a glimpse of the wall calendar, and his grin widened so that his cheeks began to ache. He'd almost forgotten. Tomorrow was his birthday ... and he would get to spend it with the Weasleys and Hermione.

But the thought of the Weasleys suddenly made his stomach clench. Percy ... he pushed the vision of Percy in a death eater's robe from his mind and decided he was not going to let anything ruin his birthday. He would not think of Sirius or Percy or Snape or Voldemort. He would not think of the prophecy or the war. For one day, he was going to be happy again; for one day, he would simply be the boy who turned 16.