Invisible Trail

Chapter Four: Dumbledore's Pensieve

The summer holidays were always a sad period at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Dumbledore had discovered this ever since his first year as Headmaster, but he had thought that maybe eventually he would get used to it. As the years passed by, he discovered how mistaken he had been. He loved teaching and his students, that's why he could be found every summer wandering miserably around the castle. It was so quiet: no running in the corridors, no chatting in the Great Hall, no explosions in the dungeons, no complaints coming from Filch, the caretaker.

Dumbledore had always work to do and it would generally keep him busy enough to forget his students. This year, however, was very different: he could not concentrate on getting his work done; he had too many things in mind.

He got up from his chair and walked around his office several times; finally, he opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out his Pensieve. He took out his wand and whirled around the contents of the Pensieve with it, until he found what he was looking for. He had seen this memory many times before, trying to understand what had happened, but he felt that there was something that he missed every time. He touched the silvery substance contained in the Pensieve and was soon immersed in the memory.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

He was walking in a lonely corridor at 2:00 AM. To his right was walking an old man with white long beard and hair, half-moon spectacles, and a crooked nose; he recognized the man as himself. He was heading for bed after a short visit to the kitchens. He had had a nightmare and eating a snack always cheered him up. Yet, that day had been the exception. He had eaten a couple of pancakes and drunk a mug of hot chocolate, but he still felt strangely empty. There was something bothering him, something was just not right. He was trying to persuade himself that he was simply drowsy when an owl dropped a letter at his feet. The memory Dumbledore picked up the letter, opened it, and read its content:

Dumbledore:

It has happened! Late at night I heard an explosion and went to see what had happened. I saw nobody, but the Dark Mark was hanging over the destroyed house of the Dursleys. Fudge' on his way here, he thinks Harry did it. Come here as soon as you read this, you're the only one who can handle the situation.

Arabella Figg

The letter was barely legible, as though as it had been written at full speed. Both Dumbledores ran outside the school domains and Disapparated to Privet Drive.

Little mattered that Muggles saw him Apparating there because they had already seen several proofs of magic that night, but he tried to be careful. He observed himself closely; in case he discovered something that he had not seen that night. He spotted Arabella, who was trying to get the curious Muggles from getting into the house. Finally, he entered the house. The once beautiful, neat, and ordered house was now in ruins. The little what was left from it was on the edge of collapsing; a single wrong movement could accelerate the process of the inevitable.

He searched the house for any trace of Harry or his family, but none could be found. The job had been done expertly; there was no evidence, besides the Dark Mark, of who could have done it and he was sure Fudge would never admit it had been Voldemort even if he had witnessed the attack himself.

He carefully reached Harry's bedroom and packed all his things from school in his trunk, he would need them when he went to Hogwarts. He transfigured the trunk into a Muggle bar of chocolate (so nobody would know what it really was) and went outside the house to interrogate the neighbours. They had all seen the same: a big explosion and a pair of black-robbed men, one of which took something large and thin form his pocket and made the Dark Mark appear in the sky.

He had finished with the last of the Muggles when Fudge arrived with at least a dozen of Aurors. He noticed neither Bill nor Charlie were there, Fudge knew how close they were to Harry. The Aurors researched the house, but found nothing. They did notice, however, that Harry's trunk was missing and informed Fudge about it. After Obliviating every single Muggle in the street, the Aurors left without Fudge. He walked towards Dumbledore with a demented smile on his face.

"Potter will be sent to Azkaban for this," he stated. "I always sensed there was something wrong about him and now I can prove it!"

"You don't honestly believe he did this, do you? The Dark Mark proves it was a Death Eater," Dumbledore said.

"But he knows how to conjure it. He did it after the Quidditch World Cup three years ago, yet we could no prove it. Nevertheless, there is no doubt about it now. He killed his family, packed his things, and conjured the mark before fleeing so we would think it wasn't him."

"Kill his family?" Dumbledore asked as if not believing his ears. "He would never do it, be reasonable Cornelius! There are no bodies inside the house and there is no evidence that point to Harry. Voldemort has him, there is no other explanation!"

"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named! How many times do I have to tell you he is dead? Potter did this! I don't care what you believe, but it is quite obvious that you're trying to protect him. We all know he hated those Muggles, so he just killed them. As to the bodies' and his whereabouts, I have no idea. Dark wizards have twisted minds, which I cannot understand! Now if you'll excuse me, I have other things to do," and with that Fudge Disapparated.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Dumbledore returned to his office, as confused or even more than every time he relived this memory. 'How could Voldemort attack Harry while he was with his Aunt Petunia?' he asked himself. 'Has Lily's protective magic died away?'