The injustice of it all welled up inside him so that he wanted to yell with fury. If it hadn't been for him, nobody would even have known Voldemort was back! And. his reward was to be stuck in Little Whinging for four solid weeks, completely cut off from the magical world, reduced to squatting among dying begonias so hat he could hear about water-skiing budgerigars! How could Dumbledore have forgotten him so easily?
'Yes, yes, yes, but luckily I'd stationed Mr Tibbles under a car just in case, and Mr Tibbles came and warned me, but by the time I got to your house you'd gone - and now - oh, what's Dumbledore going to say? You!' she shrieked at Dudley, still supine on the alley floor. 'Get your fat bottom off the ground, quick!'
'You know Dumbledore?' said Harry, staring at her.
'Of course I know Dumbledore, who doesn't know Dumbledore? But come on - I'll be no help if they come back, I've never so much as Transfigured a teabag.'
'Keep your wand out,' she told Harry, as they entered Wisteria Walk. 'Never mind the Statute of Secrecy now, there's going to be hell to pay anyway, we might as well be hanged for a dragon as an egg. Talk about the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery . . . this was exactly what Dumbledore was afraid of - What's that at the end of the street? Oh, it's just Mr Prentice . . . don't put your wand away, boy, don't I keep telling you I'm no use?'
'Why didn't you tell me you're a Squib, Mrs Figg?' asked Harry, panting with the effort to keep walking. 'All those times I came round your house - why didn't you say anything?'
'Dumbledore's orders. I was to keep an eye on you but not say anything, you were too young. I'm sorry I gave you such a miser-able time, Harry, but the Dursleys would never have let you come if they'd thought you enjoyed it. It wasn't easy, you know . . . but oh my word,' she said tragically, wringing her hands once more, 'when Dumbledore hears about this - how could Mundungus have left, he was supposed to be on duty until midnight - where is he? How am I going to tell Dumbledore what's happened? I can't Apparate.'
'I've got an owl, you can borrow her.' Harry groaned, wondering whether his spine was going to snap under Dudley's weight.
'Harry, you don't understand! Dumbledore will need to act as quickly as possible, the Ministry have their own ways of detecting underage magic, they'll know already, you mark my words.'
Mrs Figg raised the arm from which her string bag dangled and whacked Mundungus around the lace and neck with it; judging by the clanking noise it made it was full of cat food.
'Ouch - gerroff - gerroff, you mad old bat! Someone's gotta tell Dumbledore!'
'I hope Dumbledore murders him!' said Mrs Figg furiously. 'Now come on, Harry, what are you waiting for?'
'I'll take you to the door,' said Mrs Figg, as they turned into Privet Drive. 'Just in case there are more of them around . . . oh my word, what a catastrophe . . . and you had to fight them off yourself . . . and Dumbledore said we were to keep you from doing magic at all costs . . . well, it's no good crying over spilt potion, I suppose . . . but the cat's among the pixies now.'
'So,' Harry panted, 'Dumbledore's . . . been having . . . me followed?'
'Of course he has,' said Mrs Figg impatiently. 'Did you expect him to let you wander around on your own after what happened in June? Good Lord, boy, they told me you were intelligent . . . right . . . get inside and stay there,' she said, as they reached number four. 'I expect someone will be in touch with you soon enough.'
'Wait!' Harry shouted after her. He had a million questions to ask anyone who was in contact with Dumbledore; but within sec-onds Mrs Figg was swallowed by the darkness. Scowling, Harry readjusted Dudley on his shoulder and made his slow, painful way up number four's garden path.
Ignoring Uncle Vernon's anguished yell of 'OWLS!' Harry crossed the room at a run and wrenched the window open. The owl stuck out its leg, to which a small roll of parchment was tied, shook its feathers, and took off the moment Harry had taken the letter. Hands shaking, Harry unfurled the second message, which was written very hastily and blotchily in black ink.
Harry -
Dumbledore's just arrived at the Ministry and he's trying to sort it all out. DO NOT LEAVE YOUR AUNT AND UNCLE'S HOUSE. DO NOT DO ANY MORE MAGIC. DO NOT SURRENDER YOUR WAND.
Arthur Weasley
Dumbledore was trying to sort it all out . . . what did that mean? how much power did Dumbledore have to override the Ministry of Magic? Was there a chance that he might be allowed back to Hogwarts, then? A small shoot of hope burgeoned in Harry's chest, almost immediately strangled by panic - how was he supposed to refuse to surrender his wand without doing magic? He'd have to duel with the Ministry representatives, and if he did that, he'd be lucky to escape Azkaban, let alone expulsion.
His mind was racing . . . he could run for it and risk being captured by the Ministry, or stay put and wait for them to find him here. He was much more tempted by the former course, but he mew Mr Weasley had his best interests at heart . . . and after all, Dumbledore had sorted out much worse than this before.
But Harry was already pulling a roll of parchment from the owl's leg. He was so convinced that this letter had to be from Dumbledore, explaining everything - the Dementors, Mrs Figg, what the Ministry was up to, how he, Dumbledore, intended to sort everything out - that for the first time in his life he was disappointed to see Sirius's handwriting.
But at Uncle Vernon's words, Harry's exhausted brain had ground back into action. Why had the Dementors come to Little Whinging? How could it be coincidence that they had arrived in the alleyway where Harry was? Had they been sent? Had the Ministry of Magic lost control of the Dementors? Had they deserted Azkaban and joined Voldemort, as Dumbledore had predicted they would?
It felt very strange to be standing here in Aunt Petunia's surgi-cally clean kitchen, beside the top'-of-the-range fridge and the wide-screen television, talking calmly of Lord Voldemort to Uncle Vernon. The arrival of the Dementors in Little Whinging seemed to have breached the great, invisible wall that divided the relent-lessly non-magical world of Privet Drive and the world beyond. Harry's two lives had somehow become fused and everything had been turned upside-down; the Dursleys were asking for details about the magical world, and Mrs Figg knew Albus Dumbledore; Dementors were soaring around Little Whinging, and he might never return to Hogwarts. Harry's head throbbed more painfully.
Dear Mr Potter,
Further to our letter of approximately twenty-two minutes ago, the Ministry of Magic has revised its decision to destroy your wand forth-with. You may retain your wand until your disciplinary hearing on the twelfth of August, at which time an official decision will be taken.
Following discussions with the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the Ministry has agreed that the ques-tion of your expulsion will also be decided at that time. You should therefore consider yourself suspended from- school pending further enquiries.
With best wishes,
Yours sincerely,
Mafalda Hopkirk
Improper Use of Magic Office
Ministry of Magic
The nearest streetlamp went out with a pop. He clicked the unlighter again; the next lamp went out; he kept clicking until every lamp in the square was extinguished and the only remaining light came from curtained windows and the sickle moon overhead.
'Borrowed it from Dumbledore,' growled Moody, pocketing the Put-Outer. That'll take care of any Muggles looking out of the window, see? Now come on, quick.'
'HARRY! Ron, he's here, Harry's here! We didn't hear you arrive! Oh, how are you? Are you all right? Have you been furious with us? I bet you have, I know our letters were useless - but we couldn't tell you anything, Dumbledore made us swear we wouldn't, oh, we've got so much to tell you, and you've got things to tell us - 'the Dementors! When we heard - and that Ministry hearing - it's just outrageous, I've looked it all up, they can't expel you, they just can't, there's provision in the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery for the use of magic in life-threatening situations - '
'We wanted to give them to you, mate,' said Ron. 'Hermione was going spare, she kept saying you'd do something stupid if you were stuck all on your own without news, but Dumbledore made us - '
'- swear not to tell me,' said Harry. 'Yeah, Hermione's already said.'
The warm glow that had flared inside him at the sight of his two best friends was extinguished as something icy flooded the pit of his stomach. All of a sudden - after yearning to see them for a solid month - he felt he would rather Ron and Hermione left him alone.
There was a strained silence in which Harry stroked Hedwig automatically, not looking at either of the others.
'He seemed to think it was best,' said Hermione rather breath-lessly. 'Dumbledore, I mean.'
'Right,' said Harry. He noticed that her hands, too, bore the marks of Hedwig's beak and found that he was not at all sorry.
'I think he thought you were safest with the Muggles -' Ron began.
'Yeah?' said Harry, raising his eyebrows. 'Have either of you been attacked by Dementors this summer?'
'Well, no - but that's why he's had people from the Order of the Phoenix tailing you all the time - '
'Didn't work that well, though, did it?' said Harry, doing his utmost to keep his voice even. 'Had to look after myself after all, didn't I?'
'He was so angry,' said Hermione, in an almost awestruck voice. 'Dumbledore. We saw him. When he found out Mundungus had left before his shift had ended. He was scary.'
'Well, I'm glad he left,' Harry said coldly 'If he hadn't, I wouldn't have done magic and Dumbledore would probably have left me at Privet Drive all summer.'
'So why's Dumbledore been so keen to keep me in the dark?'
Harry asked, still trying hard to keep his voice casual. 'Did you - er - bother to ask him at all?'
He glanced up just in time to see them exchanging a look that told him he was behaving just as they had feared he would. It did nothing to improve his temper.
'We told Dumbledore we wanted to tell you what was going on,' said Ron. 'We did, mate. But he's really busy now, we've only seen him twice since we came here and he didn't have much time, he just made us swear not to tell you important stuff when we wrote, he said the owls might be intercepted.'
'He could still've kept me informed if he'd wanted to,' Harry said shortly. 'You're not telling me he doesn't know ways to send messages without owls.'
Hermione glanced at Ron and then said, 'I thought that, too. But he didn't want you to know anything.'
'Maybe he thinks I can't be trusted,' said Harry, watching their expressions.
'Don't be thick,' said Ron, looking highly disconcerted.
'Or that I can't take care of myself.'
'Of course he doesn't think that!' said Hermione anxiously.
'SO YOU HAVEN'T BEEN IN THE MEETINGS, BIG DEAL! YOU'VE STILL BEEN HERE, HAVEN'T YOU? YOU'VE STILL BEEN TOGETHER! ME, I'VE BEEN STUCK AT THE DURSLEYS' FOR A MONTH! AND I'VE HANDLED MORE THAN YOU TWO'VE EVER MANAGED AND DUMBLEDORE KNOWS IT - 'WHO SAVED THE PHILOSOPHER'S STONE? WHO GOT RID OF RIDDLE? WHO SAVED BOTH YOUR SKINS FROM THE DEMENTORS?'
'CAN'T'VE WANTED TO THAT MUCH, CAN YOU, OR YOU'D HAVE SENT ME AN OWL, BUT DUMBLEDORE MADE YOU SWEAR - '
'Well, he did - '
'Is anyone going to bother telling me what the Order of the Phoenix - ?'
'It's a secret society,' said Hermione quickly 'Dumbledore's in charge, he founded it. It's the people who fought against You-Know-Who last time.'
'Charlie's in the Order, too,' said George, 'but he's still in Romania. Dumbledore wants as many foreign wizards brought in as possible, so Charlie's trying to make contacts on his days off.'
'Well, apparently Fudge has been storming round the Ministry checking that nobody's having any contact with Dumbledore,' said George.
'Dumbledore's name is mud with the Ministry these days, see,' said Fred. They all think he's just making trouble saying You-Know-Who's back.'
'Dad says Fudge has made it clear that anyone who's in league with Dumbledore can clear out their desks,' said George.
Trouble is, Fudge suspects Dad, he knows he's friendly with Dumbledore, and he's always thought Dad's a bit of a weirdo because of his Muggle obsession.'
'But what's that got to do with Percy?' asked Harry, confused.
'I'm coming to that. Dad reckons Fudge only wants Percy in his office because he wants to use him to spy on the family - and Dumbledore.'
'I know,' said Ron in a low voice. 'And it got worse. He said Dad was an idiot to run around with Dumbledore, that Dumble-dore was heading for big trouble and Dad was going to go down with him, and that he - Percy - knew where his loyalty lay and it was with the Ministry. And if Mum and Dad were going to become traitors to the Ministry he was going to make sure everyone knew he didn't belong to our family any more. And he packed his bags the same night and left. He's living here in London now.'
'Look . . .' he muttered, but Ron shook his head, and Hermione said quietly, 'We knew you'd be angry, Harry, we really don't blame you, but you've got to understand, we did try to persuade Dumbledore -
'Yeah, I know,' said Harry shortly.
He cast around for a topic that didn't involve his headmaster, because the very thought of Dumbledore made Harry's insides burn with anger again.
'It's not SPEW!' said Hermione heatedly. 'It's the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare. And it's not just me, Dumbledore says we should be kind to Kreacher too.'
'Hasn't anyone told you? This was my parents' house,' said Sirius. 'But I'm the last Black left, so it's mine now. I offered it to Dumbledore for Headquarters - about the only useful thing I've been able to do.'
'Because the Ministry of Magic's still after me, and Voldemort will know all about me being an Animagus by now, Wormtail will have told him, so my big disguise is useless. There's not much I can do for the Order of the Phoenix . . . or so Dumbledore feels.'
There was something about the slightly flattened tone of voice in which Sirius uttered Dumbledore's name that told Harry that Sirius, too, was not very happy with the Headmaster. Harry felt a sudden upsurge of affection for his godfather.
'He's useful,' Sirius muttered. 'Knows all the crooks - well, he would, seeing as he's one himself. But he's also very loyal to Dumbledore, who helped him out of a tight spot once. It pays to have someone like Dung around, he hears things we don't. But Molly thinks inviting him to stay for dinner is going too far. She hasn't forgiven him for slipping off duty when he was supposed to be tailing you.'
'It's not down to you to decide what's good for Harry!' said Mrs Weasley sharply. The expression on her normally kind face looked dangerous. 'You haven't forgotten what Dumbledore said, I sup-pose?'
'Which bit?' Sirius asked politely, but with the air of a man readying himself for a fight.
The bit about not telling Harry more than he needs to know,' said Mrs Weasley, placing a heavy emphasis on the last three words.
'Meaning you have been known to act rashly, Sirius, which is why Dumbledore keeps reminding you to stay at home and - '
'We'll leave my instructions from Dumbledore out of this, if you please!' said Sirius loudly.
'Arthur!' said Mrs Weasley rounding on her husband. 'Arthur, back me up!'
Mr Weasley did not speak at once. He took off his glasses and cleaned them slowly on his robes, not looking at his wife. Only when he had replaced them carefully on his nose did he reply.
'Dumbledore knows the position has changed, Molly. He accepts that Harry will have to be filled in, to a certain extent, now that he is staying at Headquarters.'
'Well,' said Mrs Weasley, breathing deeply and looking around the table for support that did not come, 'well . . . I can see I' going to be overruled. I'll just say this: Dumbledore must have had his reasons for not wanting Harry to know too much, and speaking as someone who has Harry's best interests at heart -'
'And the very last person he wanted alerted to his return the moment he got back was Dumbledore,' said Lupin. 'And you made sure Dumbledore knew at once.'
'How has that helped?' Harry asked.
'Are you kidding?' said Bill incredulously. 'Dumbledore was the only one You-Know-Who was ever scared of!'
Thanks to you, Dumbledore was able to recall the Order of the Phoenix about an hour after Voldemort returned,' said Sirius.
'How d'you know what his plans are?' Harry asked quickly.
'Dumbledore's got a shrewd idea,' said Lupin, 'and Dumbledore's shrewd ideas normally turn out to be accurate.'
'So what does Dumbledore reckon he's planning?'
'Well, firstly, he wants to build up his army again,' said Sirius. 'In the old days he had huge numbers at his command: witches and wizards he'd bullied or bewitched into following him, his faithful Death Eaters, a great variety of Dark creatures. You heard him plan-ning to recruit the giants; well, they'll be just one of the groups he's after. He's certainly not going to try and take on the Ministry of Magic with only a dozen Death Eaters.'
'But why?' said Harry desperately. 'Why's he being so stupid? If Dumbledore - '
'Ah, well, you've put your finger on the problem,' said Mr Weasley with a wry smile. 'Dumbledore.'
'Fudge is frightened of him, you see,' said Tonks sadly.
'Frightened of Dumbledore?' said Harry incredulously.
'Frightened of what he's up to,' said Mr Weasley. 'Fudge thinks Dumbledore's plotting to overthrow him. He thinks Dumbledore wants to be Minister for Magic.'
'But Dumbledore doesn't want - '
'Of course he doesn't,' said Mr Weasley. 'He's never wanted the Minister's job, even though a lot of people wanted him to take it when Millicent Bagnold retired. Fudge came to power instead, but
he's never quite forgotten how much popular support Dumbledore had, even though Dumbledore never applied for the job.'
'Deep down, Fudge knows Dumbledore's much cleverer than he is, a much more powerful wizard, and in the early days of his Ministry he was forever asking Dumbledore for help and advice,' said Lupin. 'But it seems he's become fond of power, and much more confident. He loves being Minister for Magic and he's m; n-aged to convince himself that he's the clever one and Dumbledore's simply stirring up trouble for the sake of it.'
'How can he think that?' said Harry angrily. 'How can he think Dumbledore would just make it all up - that I'd make it all up?'
'Because accepting that Voldermort's back would mean trouble like the Ministry hasn't had to cope with for nearly fourteen yea 's,' said Sirius bitterly. 'Fudge just can't bring himself to face it. It's so much more comfortable to convince himself Dumbledore's lying to destabilise him.'
'You see the problem,' said Lupin. 'While the Ministry insists there is nothing to fear from Voldemort it's hard to convince people he's back, especially as they really don't want to believe it in the first place. What's more, the Ministry's leaning heavily on the Daily Prophet not to report any of what they're calling Dumbledore's rumour-mongering, so most of the wizarding community are completely unaware anything's happened, and that makes them easy targets for the Death Eaters if they're using the Imperius Curse.'
'Who said none of us are putting the news out?' said Sirius. 'Why d'you think Dumbledore's in such trouble?'
'What d'you mean?' Harry asked.
They're trying to discredit him,' said Lupin. 'Didn't you see the Daily Prophet last week? They reported that he'd been voted out of the Chairmanship of the International Confederation of Wizards because he's getting old and losing his grip, but it's not true; he was voted out by Ministry wizards after he made a speech announcing Voldemort's return. They've demoted him from Chief Warlock on the Wizengamot - that's the Wizard High Court - and they're talking about taking away his Order of Merlin, First Class, too.'
'But Dumbledore says he doesn't care what they do as long as they don't take him off the Chocolate Frog Cards,' said Bill, grinning.
'It's no laughing matter,' said Mr Weasley sharply. 'If he carries on defying the Ministry like this he could end up in Azkaban, and the last thing we want is to have Dumbledore locked up. While You-Know-Who knows Dumbledore's out there and wise to what he's up to he's going to go cautiously. If Dumbledore's out of the way - well, You-Know-Who will have a clear field.'
'We can't let them out to hunt every night,' Ron explained as he pulled on his maroon pyjamas. 'Dumbledore doesn't want too many owls swooping around the square, thinks it'll look suspi-cious. Oh yeah . . . I forgot . . .'
There was a pause and Harry knew that the others, like him, were wondering what horrors this weapon could perpetrate.
'So who d'you think's got it now?' asked George.
'I hope it's our side,' said Ron, sounding slightly nervous.
'If it is, Dumbledore's probably keeping it,' said Fred.
Harry took as much time as he dared to close the drawing-room door; he wanted to listen to what was going on downstairs. Sirius had obviously managed to shut the curtains over his mothers por-trait because she had stopped screaming. He heard Sirius walking down the hall, then the clattering of the chain on the front door, and then a deep voice he recognised as Kingsley Shacklebolt's saying, 'Hestia's just relieved me, so she's got Moody's Cloak now, thought I'd leave a report for Dumbledore . . .'
'All thanks to you, mate,' said George. 'But don't worry . . . Mum hasn't got a clue. She won't read the Daily Prophet any more, 'cause of it telling lies about you and Dumbledore.'
Then Harry remembered. He had seen Bellatrix Lestrange inside Dumbledore's Pensieve, the strange device in which thoughts and memories could be stored: a tall dark woman with heavy-lidded eyes, who had stood at her trial and proclaimed her continuing allegiance to Lord Voldemort, her pride that she had tried to find him after his downfall and her conviction that she would one day be rewarded for her loyalty.
'It's ideal for Headquarters, of course; Sirius said. 'My father put every security measure known to wizardkind on it when he lived here. It's unplottable, so Muggles could never come and call - as if they d ever have wanted to - and now Dumbledore's added his protection, you'd be hard put to find a safer house anywhere. Dumbledore is Secret Keeper for the Order, you know - nobody can find Headquarters unless he tells them personally where it is - that note Moody showed you last night, that was from Dumbledore . . .' Sirius gave a short, bark-like laugh. 'If my parents could see the use their house was being put to now . . . well, my mothers portrait should give you some idea.
He scowled for a moment, then sighed.
'I wouldn't mind if I could just get out occasionally and do something useful. I've asked Dumbledore whether I can escort you, to your hearing - as Snuffles, obviously - so I can give you a bit of moral support, what d'you think?'
Harry looked over at Sirius, but before he could ask the question, Mrs Weasley had answered it.
'Professor Dumbledore doesn't think it's a good idea for Sirius to go with you, and I must say I - '
' - think he's quite right,' said Sirius through clenched teeth.
Mrs Weasley pursed her lips.
'When did Dumbledore tell you that?' Harry said, staring at Sirius.
'He came last night, when you were in bed,' said Mr Weasley
Sirius stabbed moodily at a potato with his fork. Harry lowered his own eyes to his plate. The thought that Dumbledore had been in the house on the eve of his hearing and not asked to see him made him feel, if it were possible, even worse.
'. . . and I'll have to tell Dumbledore I can't do night duty tomorrow, I'm just t - t - too tired,' Tonks finished, yawning hugely again.
Harry gasped; he could not help himself. The large dungeon he had entered was horribly familiar. He had not only seen it before, he had been here before. This was the place he had visited inside Dumbledore's Pensieve, the place where he had watched the Lestranges sentenced to life imprisonment in Azkaban.
'Witness for the defence, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore,' said a quiet voice from behind Harry, who turned his head so fast he cricked his neck.
Dumbledore was striding serenely across the room wearing long midnight-blue robes and a perfectly calm expression. His long silver beard and hair gleamed in the torchlight as he drew level with Harry and looked up at Fudge through the half-moon spectacles that rested halfway down his very crooked nose.
The members of the Wizengamot were muttering. All eyes were now on Dumbledore. Some looked annoyed, others slightly fright-ened; two elderly witches in the back row, however, raised their hands and waved in welcome.
A powerful emotion had risen in Harry's chest at the sight of Dumbledore, a fortified, hopeful feeling rather like that which phoenix song gave him. He wanted to catch Dumbledore's eye, but Dumbledore was not looking his way; he was continuing to look up at the obviously flustered Fudge.
'Ah,' said Fudge, who looked thoroughly disconcerted. 'Dumbledore. Yes. You - er - got our - er - message that the time and - er - place of the hearing had been changed, then?'
'I must have missed it,' said Dumbledore cheerfully. 'However, due to a lucky mistake I arrived at the Ministry three hours early, so no harm done.'
'Yes - well - I suppose we'll need another chair - I - Weasley, could you - ?'
'Not to worry, not to worry,' said Dumbledore pleasantly; he took out his wand, gave it a little flick, and a squashy chintz arm-chair appeared out of nowhere next to Harry. Dumbledore sat down, out the tips of his long fingers together and surveyed Fudge over them with an expression of polite interest. The Wizengamot was still muttering and fidgeting restlessly; only when Fudge spoke again did they settle down.
'Yes,' said Fudge again, shuffling his notes. 'Well, then. So. The charges. Yes.'
'Enough, enough!' said Fudge, with a very supercilious look on his face. 'I'm sorry to interrupt what I'm sure would have been a very well-rehearsed story - '
Dumbledore cleared his throat. The Wizengamot fell silent again.
'We do, in fact, have a witness to the presence of Dementors in that alleyway,' he said, 'other than Dudley Dursley, I mean.'
Fudges plump face seemed to slacken, as though somebody had let air out of it. He stared down at Dumbledore for a moment or two, then, with the appearance of a man pulling himself back together, said, 'We haven't got time to listen to more tarradiddles, I'm afraid, Dumbledore. I want this dealt with quickly - '
'I may be wrong,' said Dumbledore pleasantly, 'but I am sure that under the Wizengamot Charter of Rights, the accused has the right to present witnesses for his or her case? Isn't that the policy of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Madam Bones?' he continued, addressing the witch in the monocle.
'True,' said Madam Bones. 'Perfectly true.'
'Oh, very well, very well,' snapped Fudge. 'Where is this person?'
'I brought her with me,' said Dumbledore. 'She's just outside the door. Should I - ?'
'No - Weasley, you go,' Fudge barked at Percy, who got up at once, ran down the stone steps from the judge's balcony and hurried past Dumbledore and Harry without glancing at them.
Dumbledore stood up and gave Mrs Figg his chair, conjuring a second one for himself.
Mrs Figg cast a frightened look from Fudge to Dumbledore, then got up and shuffled off towards the door. Harry heard it thud shut behind her.
'Oh, I don't think any of us believe the Dementors were there by coincidence,' said Dumbledore lightly.
The witch sitting to the right of Fudge, with her face in shade w, moved slightly but everyone else was quite still and silent.
'And what is that supposed to mean?' Fudge asked icily.
'It means that I think they were ordered there,' said Dumbledore.
'I think we might have a record of it if someone had ordered a pair of Dementors to go strolling through Little Whinging!' barked Fudge.
'Not if the Dementors are taking orders from someone other than the Ministry of Magic these days,' said Dumbledore calmly. 'I have already given you my views on this matter, Cornelius.'
'Yes, you have,' said Fudge forcefully, 'and I have no reason to believe that your views are anything other than bilge, Dumbledore. The Dementors remain in place in Azkaban and are doing every-thing we ask them to.'
Then,' said Dumbledore, quietly but clearly, 'we must ask our-selves why somebody within the Ministry ordered a pair of Dementors into that alleyway on the second of August.'
'I'm sure I must have misunderstood you, Professor Dumbledore,' she said, with a simper that felt her big, round eyes as cold as ever. 'So silly of me. But it sounded for a teensy moment as though you were suggesting that the Ministry of Magic had ordered an attack on this boy!'
'If it is true that the Dementors are taking orders only from the Ministry of Magic, and it is also true that two Dementors attacked Harry and his cousin a week ago, then it follows logically that somebody at the Ministry might have ordered the attacks,' said Dumbledore politely. 'Of course, these particular Dementors may have been outside Ministry control - '
'There are no Dementors outside Ministry control! snapped Fudge, who had turned brick red.
Dumbledore inclined his head in a little bow.
'Then undoubtedly the Ministry will be making a full inquiry into why two Dementors were so very far from Azkaban and why they attacked without authorisation.'
'It is not for you to decide what the Ministry of Magic does or does not do, Dumbledore!' snapped Fudge, now a shade of magenta of which Uncle Vernon would have been proud.
'Of course it isn't,' said Dumbledore mildly. 'I was merely expressing my confidence that this matter will not go uninvestigated.'
He glanced at Madam Bones, who readjusted her monocle and stared back at him, frowning slightly.
'I would remind everybody that the behaviour of these Dementors, if indeed they are not figments of this boy's imagina-tion, is not the subject of this hearing!' said Fudge. 'We are here to examine Harry Potter's offences under the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery!'
'Of course we are,' said Dumbledore, 'but the presence of Dementors in that alleyway is highly relevant. Clause Seven of the Decree states that magic may be used before Muggles in excep-tional circumstances, and as those exceptional circumstances include situations which threaten the life of the wizard or witch him- or herself, or any witches, wizards or Muggles present at the time of the - '
'We are familiar with Clause Seven, thank you very much!' snarled Fudge.
'Of course you are,' said Dumbledore courteously. Then we are in agreement that Harry's use of the Patronus Charm in these circumstances falls precisely into the category of exceptional circum-stances the clause describes?'
'If there were Dementors, which I doubt.'
'You have heard it from an eyewitness,' Dumbledore interrupted.
'If you still doubt her truthfulness, call her back, question her again. I am sure she would not object.'
'I - that - not -' blustered Fudge, fiddling with the papers before him. 'It's - I want this over with today, Dumbledore!'
'But naturally, you would not care how many times you heard from a witness, if the alternative was a serious miscarriage of jus-tice,' said Dumbledore.
'Serious miscarriage, my hat!' said Fudge at the top of his voice. 'Have you ever bothered to tot up the number of cock-and-bull stories this boy has come out with, Dumbledore, while trying to cover up his flagrant misuse of magic out of school? I suppose you've forgotten the Hover Charm he used three years ago - '
'That wasn't me, it was a house-elf!' said Harry.
'YOU SEE?' roared Fudge, gesturing flamboyantly in Harry's direction. 'A house-elf! In a Muggle house! I ask you.'
The house-elf in question is currently in the employ of Hogwarts School,' said Dumbledore. 'I can summon him here in an instant to give evidence if you wish.'
'I - not - I haven't got time to listen to house-elves! Anyway, that's not the only - he blew up his aunt, for Gods sake!' Fudge shouted, banging his fist on the judge's bench and upsetting a bottle of ink.
'And you very kindly did not press charges on that occasion, accepting, I presume, that even the best wizards cannot always control their emotions,' said Dumbledore calmly, as Fudge attempted to scrub the ink off his notes.
'And I haven't even started on what he gets up to at school.'
'But, as the Ministry has no authority to punish Hogwarts stu-dents for misdemeanours at school, Harry's behaviour there is not relevant to this hearing,' said Dumbledore, as politely as ever, but now with a suggestion of coolness behind his words.
'Oho!' said Fudge. 'Not our business what he does at school, eh? You think so?'
'he Ministry does not have the power to expel Hogwarts stu-dents, Cornelius, as I reminded you on the night of the second of August,' said Dumbledore. 'Nor does it have the right to confis-cate wands until charges have been successfully proven; again, as I reminded you on the night of the second of August, in your admirable haste to ensure that the law is upheld, you appear, in-advertently I am sure, to have overlooked a few laws yourself.'
'Laws can be changed,' said Fudge savagely.
'Of course they can,' said Dumbledore, inclining his head. 'And you certainly seem to be making many changes, Cornelius. Why, in the few short weeks since I was asked to leave the Wizengamot, it has already become the practice to hold a full criminal trial to deal with a simple matter of underage magic!'
A few of the wizards above them shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Fudge turned a slightly deeper shade of puce. The toadlike witch on his right, however, merely gazed at Dumbledore, her face quite expressionless.
'As far as I am aware,' Dumbledore continued, 'there is no law yet in place that says this court's job is to punish Harry for every bit of magic he has ever performed. He has been charged with a specific offence and he has presented his defence. All he and I can do now is to await your verdict.'
Dumbledore put his fingertips together again and said no more. Fudge glared at him, evidently incensed. Harry glanced sideways at Dumbledore, seeking reassurance; he was not at all sure that Dumbledore was right in telling the Wizengamot, in effect, that it was about time they made a decision. Again, however, Dumbledore seemed oblivious to Harry's attempt to catch his eye. He continued to look up at the benches where the entire Wizengamot had fallen into urgent, whispered conversations.
Fudge glanced around at them all, looking as though there was something large stuck in his throat, then lowered his own hand. He took two deep breaths and said, in a voice distorted by sup-pressed rage, 'Very well, very well . . . cleared of all charges.'
'Excellent,' said Dumbledore briskly, springing to his feel, pulling out his wand and causing the two chintz armchairs to vanish. 'Well, I must be getting along. Good-day to you all.'
And without looking once at Harry, he swept from the dungeon.
Dumbledore's abrupt departure took Harry completely by surprise. He remained sitting where he was in the chained chair, struggling with his feelings of shock and relief. The Wizengamot were all get-ting to their feet, talking, gathering up their papers and packing them away. Harry stood up. Nobody seemed to be paying him the slightest bit of attention, except the toadlike witch on Fudge's right, who was now gazing down at him instead of at Dumbledore. Ignoring her, he tried to catch Fudge's eye, or Madam Bones's, wanting to ask whether he was free to go, but Fudge seemed quite determined not to notice Harry, and Madam Bones was busy with her briefcase, so he took a lew tentative steps towards the exit and, when nobody called him back, broke into a very fast walk.
He took the last lew steps at a run, wrenched open the door and almost collided with Mr Weasley, who was standing right out-side, looking pale and apprehensive.
'Dumbledore didn't say - '
'Cleared,' Harry said, pulling the door closed behind him, 'of all charges!'
'I don't think private matters between myself and the Minister are any concern of yours, Potter,' said Malfoy, smoothing the front of his robes. Harry distinctly heard the gentle clinking of what sounded like a full pocket of gold. 'Really, just because you are Dumbledore's favourite boy, you must not expect the same indul-gence from the rest of us . . . shall we go up to your office, then, Minister?'
'Trying to sneak down to the courtroom, if you ask me,' said Mr Weasley, looking extremely agitated and glancing over his shoulder as though making sure they could not be overheard. Trying to find out whether you'd been expelled or not. I'll leave a note for Dumbledore when I drop you off, he ought to know Malfoy's been talking to Fudge again.'
'Don't think it hasn't occurred to us, Harry,' said Mr Weasley quietly. 'But Dumbledore thinks Fudge is acting of his own accord at the moment - which, as Dumbledore says, is not a lot of com-fort. Best not talk about it any more just now, Harry.'
'Be quiet, you three! Yes, we saw him talking to Fudge on Level Nine, then they went up to Fudge's office together. Dumbledore ought to know.'
'Absolutely,' said Sirius. 'We'll tell him, don't worry.'
'Course, once Dumbledore turned up on your side, there was no way they were going to convict you,' said Ron happily, now dishing great mounds of mashed potato on to everyone's plates.
'Yeah, he swung it for me,' said Harry. He felt it would sound highly ungrateful, not to mention childish, to say, 'I wish he'd talked to me, though. Or even looked at me.'
And as he thought this, the scar on his forehead burned so badly that he clapped his hand to it.
None of the others had noticed a thing; all of them were now helping themselves to food while gloating over Harry's narrow escape; Fred, George and Ginny were still singing. Hermione looked rather anxious, but before she could say anything, Ron had said happily, 'I bet Dumbledore turns up this evening, to celebrate with us, you know.'
'I don't think he'll be able to, Ron,' said Mrs Weasley, setting a huge plate of roast chicken down in front of Harry. 'He's really very busy at the moment.'
'Because it means Dumbledore's found a new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher,' said George.
'And about time too,' said Fred.
'What d'you mean?' Harry asked, jumping down beside them.
Well, we overheard Mum and Dad talking on the Extendable Ears a few weeks back,' Fred told Harry, 'and from what they were saying, Dumbledore was having real trouble finding anyone to do the job this year.'
'We thought Dumbledore was bound to pick you!' said George indignantly.
But maybe, said the small voice fairly, maybe Dumbledore doesn't choose prefects because they've got themselves into a load of dangerous situations . . . maybe he chooses them for other reasons . . . Ron must have something you don't . . .
Harry gave a small snort of laughter. A second later he felt sickened with himself.
Ron had not asked Dumbledore to give him the prefect badge. This was not Ron's fault. Was he, Harry, Ron's best friend in the world, going to sulk because he didn't, have a badge, laugh with the twins behind Ron's back, ruin this for Ron when, for the first time, he had beaten Harry at something?
'Well, congratulations,' said Moody, still glaring at Ron with his normal eye, 'authority figures always attract trouble, but I suppose Dumbledore thinks you can withstand most major jinxes or he wouldn't have appointed you . . .'
'I think Dumbledore might have hoped I would be able to exer-cise some control over my best friends,' said Lupin. 'I need scarcely say that I failed dismally.'
Kingsley Shacklebolts deep voice was audible even over the surrounding chatter.
'. . . why Dumbledore didn't make Potter a prefect?' said Kingsley.
'He'll have had his reasons,' replied Lupin.
'But it would've shown confidence in him. It's what I'd've done,' persisted Kingsley, ' 'specially with the Daily Prophet having a go at him every few days . . .'
'There's me,' said Moody, unnecessarily pointing at himself. The Moody in the picture was unmistakeable, though his hair was slightly less grey and his nose was intact. 'And there's Dumbledore beside me, Dedalus Diggle on the other side . . . that's Marlene McKinnon, she was killed two weeks after this was taken, they got her whole family. That's Frank and Alice Longbottom - '
'That's Dumbledore's brother Aberforth, only time I ever met him, strange bloke . . . that's Dorcas Meadowes, Voldemort killed her personally . . . Sirius, when he still had short hair . . . and . . . there you go, thought that would interest you!'
'Harry, you're to come with me and Tonks,' shouted Mrs Weasley over the repeated screeches of 'MUDBLOODS! SCUM! CREATURES OF DIRT!' - 'Leave your trunk and your owl, Alastor's going to deal with the luggage . . . oh, for heavens sake, Sirius, Dumbledore said no!'
'I'll still be reporting Sturgis to Dumbledore,' said Moody, 'that's the second time he's not turned up in a week. Getting as unreliable as Mundungus.'
There was a pause, then Harry said very quietly, so that Neville, Parvati and Lavender could not hear, 'Maybe he's not back yet. You know - from his mission - the thing he was doing over the summer for Dumbledore.'
Harry's eyes followed hers. They lit first upon Professor Dumbledore, sitting in his high-backed golden chair at the centre of the long staff table, wearing deep-purple robes scattered with silvery stars and a matching hat. Dumbledore's head was inclined towards the woman sitting next to him, who was talking into his ear.
Slowly, the long line of first-years thinned. In the pauses between the names and the Sorting Hat's decisions, Harry could hear Ron's stomach rumbling loudly. Finally, 'Zeller, Rose' was Sorted into Hufflepuff, and Professor McGonagall picked up the Hat and stool and marched them away as Professor Dumbledore rose to his feet.
Whatever his recent bitter feelings had been towards his Headmaster, Harry was somehow soothed to see Dumbledore standing before them all. Between the absence of Hagrid and the presence of those dragonish horses, he had felt that his return to Hogwarts, so long anticipated, was full of unexpected surprises, like jarring notes in a familiar song. But this, at least, was how it was supposed to be: their Headmaster rising to greet them all before the start-of-term feast.
'To our newcomers,' said Dumbledore in a ringing voice, his arms stretched wide and a beaming smile on his lips, 'welcome! To our old hands - welcome back! There is a time for speech-making, but this is not it. Tuck in!'
There was an appreciative laugh and an outbreak of applause as Dumbledore sat down neatly and threw his long beard over his shoulder so as to keep it out of the way of his plate - for food had appeared out of nowhere, so that the five long tables were groaning under joints and pies and dishes of vegetables, bread and sauces and flagons of pumpkin juice.
'I beg your pardon?' said Nearly Headless Nick politely, while Hermione looked revolted. Ron gave an enormous swallow and said, 'How can it know if the school's in danger if it's a Hat?'
'I have no idea,' said Nearly Headless Nick. 'Of course, it lives in Dumbledore's office, so I daresay it picks things up there.'
When all the students had finished eating and the noise level in the Hall was starting to creep upwards again, Dumbledore got to his feet once more. Talking ceased immediately as all turned to face the Headmaster. Harry was feeling pleasantly drowsy now. His four-poster bed was waiting somewhere above, wonderfully warm and soft . . .
'Well, now that we are all digesting another magnificent feast, I beg a few moments of your attention for the usual start-of-term notices,' said Dumbledore. 'First-years ought to know that the Forest in the grounds is out-of-bounds to students - and a few of our older students ought to know by now, too.' (Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged smirks.)
'Mr Filch, the caretaker, has asked me, for what he tells me is the four-hundred-and-sixty-second time, to remind you all that magic is not permitted in corridors between classes, nor are a number of other things, all of which can be checked on the exten-sive list now fastened to Mr Filch's office door.
'We have had two changes in staffing this year. We are very pleased to welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank, who will be taking Care of Magical Creatures lessons; we are also delighted to introduce Professor Umbridge, our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.'
There was a round of polite but fairly unenthusiastic applause, during which Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged slightly panicked looks; Dumbledore had not said for how long Grubbly-Plank would be teaching.
Dumbledore continued, 'Tryouts for the house Quidditch teams will take place on the - '
He broke off, looking enquiringly at Professor Umbridge. As she was not much taller standing than sitting, there was a moment when nobody understood why Dumbledore had stopped talking, but then Professor Umbridge cleared her throat, 'Hem, hem,' and it became clear that she had got to her feet and was intending to make a speech.
Dumbledore only looked taken aback for a moment, then he sat down smartly and looked alertly at Professor Umbridge as though he desired nothing better than to listen to her talk. Other members of staff were not as adept at hiding their surprise. Professor Sprout's eyebrows had disappeared into her flyaway hair and Professor McGonagall's mouth was as thin as Harry had ever seen it. No new teacher had ever interrupted Dumbledore before. Many of the students were smirking; this woman obviously did not know how things were done at Hogwarts.
'Thank you, Headmaster,' Professor Umbridge simpered, 'for those kind words of welcome.'
Harry found his attentiveness ebbing, as though his brain was slipping in and out of tune. The quiet that always filled the Hall when Dumbledore was speaking was breaking up as students put t heir heads together, whispering and giggling. Over on the Ravenclaw table Cho Chang was chatting animatedly with her friends. A few seats along from Cho, Luna Lovegood had got out The Quibbler again. Meanwhile, at the Hufflepuff table Ernie Macmillan was one of the few still staring at Professor Umbridge, but he was glassy-eyed and Harry was sure he was only pretending to listen in an attempt to live up to the new prefect's badge gleaming on his chest.
She sat down. Dumbledore clapped. The staff followed his lead, though Harry noticed that several of them brought their hands together only once or twice before stopping. A few students joined in, but most had been taken unawares by the end of the speech, not having listened to more than a few words of it, and before they could start applauding properly, Dumbledore had stood up again.
Thank you very much, Professor Umbridge, that was most illu-minating,' he said, bowing to her. 'Now, as I was saying, Quidditch tryouts will be held . . .'
There was a great clattering and banging all around them; Dumbledore had obviously just dismissed the school, because everyone was standing up ready to leave the Hall. Hermione jumped up, looking flustered.
'Well,' said Seamus again, still avoiding Harry's eye, she . . . er . . . well, it's not just you, it's Dumbledore, too . . .'
'She believes the Daily Prophet?' said Harry. 'She thinks I'm a liar and Dumbledore's an old fool?'
Seamus looked up at him.
'Yeah, something like that.'
'You don't know my mother, she'd weasel anything out of anyone!' Seamus snapped at him. 'Anyway, your parents don't get the Daily Prophet. They don't know our Headmaster's been sacked from the Wizengamot and the International Confederation of Wizards because he's losing his marbles - '
'My gran says that's rubbish,' piped up Neville. 'She says it's the Daily Prophet that's going downhill, not Dumbledore. She's can-celled our subscription. We believe Harry,' said Neville simply. He climbed into bed and pulled the covers up to his chin, looking owlishly over them at Seamus. 'My grans always said You-Know-Who would come back one day. She says if Dumbledore says he's back, he's back.'
Had Dumbledore suffered like this all summer, as first the Wizengamot, then the International Confederation of Wizards had thrown him from their ranks? Was it anger at Harry, perhaps, that had stopped Dumbledore getting in touch with him for months? The two of them were in this together, after all; Dumbledore had believed Harry, announced his version of events to the whole school and then to the wider wizarding community. Anyone who thought
Harry was a liar had to think that Dumbledore was, too, or else that Dumbledore had been hoodwinked . . .
'That's quite all right,' said Hermione with dignity. Then she shook her head. 'Don't you remember what Dumbledore said at the last end-of-term feast?'
Harry and Ron both looked at her blankly and Hermione sighed again.
'About You-Know-Who. He said his "gift for spreading discord and enmity is very great. We can fight it only by showing an equally strong bond of friendship and trust - " '
'The point,' Hermione pressed on loudly, 'is that this sort of thing is exactly what Dumbledore was talking about. You-Know-Who's only been back two months and we've already started fighting among ourselves. And the Sorting Hat's warning was the same: stand together, be united - '
'Dumbledore didn't even mention how long that Grubbly-Plank woman's staying,' he said, as they made their way across to the Gryffindor table.
'Maybe . . .' said Hermione thoughtfully.
'What?' said both Harry and Ron together.
'Well . . . maybe he didn't want to draw attention to Hagrid not being here.'
'Nothing,' she said simply, rolling up the newspaper and laying it down by her plate. 'Nothing about you or Dumbledore or anything.'
'Poisonous toadstools don't change their spots,' said Ron sagely. 'Anyway, I've always thought Dumbledore was cracked to trust Snape. Where's the evidence he ever really stopped working for You-Know-Who?'
'I think Dumbledore's probably got plenty of evidence, even if he doesn't share it with you, Ron,' snapped Hermione.
'But I was telling the truth!' said Harry, outraged. 'Voldemort is back, you know he is; Professor Dumbledore knows he is - '
'What I don't get,' said Harry through clenched teeth, laying down his knife and fork (his hands were shaking too much to hold them steady), 'is why they all believed the story two months ago when Dumbledore told them . . .'
'What d'you mean, you're not sure they believed Dumbledore?' Harry asked Hermione when they reached the first-floor landing.
'Look, you don't understand what it was like after it happened,' said Hermione quietly. 'You arrived back in the middle of the lawn clutching Cedric's dead body . . . none of us saw what what happened in the maze . . . we just had Dumbledore's word for it that You-Know-Who had come back and killed Cedric and fought you.'
'Which is the truth!' said Harry loudly.
'I know it is, Harry, so will you please stop biting my head off?' said Hermione wearily. 'It's just that before the truth could sink in, everyone went home for the summer, where they spent two months reading about how you're a nutcase and Dumbledore's going senile!'
'How can Dumbledore have let this happen?' Hermione cried suddenly, making Harry and Ron jump; Crookshanks leapt off her, looking affronted. She pounded the arms of her chair in fury, so that bits of stuffing leaked out of the holes. 'How can he let that terrible woman teach us? And in our OWL year, too!'
'Yes, but to employ someone who's actually refusing to let us do magic! What's Dumbledore playing at?'
'Dumbledore would know if something had happened to Hagrid,' said Hermione at once. 'It's just playing into Malfoy's hands to look worried; it tells him we don't know exactly what's going on. We've got to ignore him, Harry. Here, hold the Bowtruckle for a moment, just so I can draw its face . . .'
'I want you to know, Potter,' he said in a loud, carrying voice, 'that it's not only weirdos who support you. I personally believe you one hundred per cent. My family have always stood firm behind Dumbledore, and so do I.'
'Dumbledore, then, tell Dumbledore!'
'No,' said Harry flatly.
'Why not?'
'He's got enough on his mind,' said Harry, but that was not the true reason. He was not going to go to Dumbledore for help when Dumbledore had not spoken to him once since June.
Harry watched Fred, George and Lee Jordan juggling empty Butterbeer bottles for a moment. Then Hermione said, 'But last year your scar hurt when nobody was touching you, and didn't Dumbledore say it had to do with what You-Know-Who was feeling at the time? I mean, maybe this hasn't got anything to do with Umbridge at all, maybe it's just coincidence it happened while you were with her?'
'She's evil,' said Harry flatly. Twisted.'
'She's horrible, yes, but . . . Harry, I think you ought to tell Dumbledore your scar hurt.'
It was the second time in two days he had been advised to go to Dumbledore and his answer to Hermione was just the same as his answer to Ron.
'I'm not bothering him with this. Like you just said, it's not a big deal. It's been hurting on and off all summer - it was just a bit worse tonight, that's all - '
'Harry, I'm sure Dumbledore would want to be bothered by this - '
'Yeah,' said Harry, before he could stop himself, 'that's the only bit of me Dumbledore cares about, isn't it, my scar?'
'Don't say that, it's not true!'
'. . . "Ministry warns wizarding community that Black is very dangerous . . . killed thirteen people . . . broke out of Azkaban . . ." the usual rub-bish,' Hermione concluded, laying down her half of the paper and looking fearfully at Harry and Ron. 'Well, he just won't be able to leave the house again, that's all,' she whispered. 'Dumbledore did warn him not to.'
'It could be a frame-up!' Ron exclaimed excitedly. 'No - listen!' he went on, dropping his voice dramatically at the threatening look on Hermione's face. The Ministry suspects he's one of Dumbledore's lot so - I dunno - they lured him to the Ministry, and he wasn't trying to get through a door at all! Maybe they've just made some-thing up to get him!'
[Percy's Letter]
From something the Minister let slip when telling me you are now a prefect, I gather that you are still seeing a lot of Harry Potter. I must tell you, Ron, that nothing could put you in danger of losing your badge more than continued fraternisation with that boy. Yes, I am sure you are surprised to hear this - no doubt you will say that Potter has always been Dumbledore's favourite - but I feel bound to tell you that Dumbledore may not be in charge at Hogwarts much longer and the people who count have a very dif-ferent - and probably more accurate - view of Potter's behaviour. I shall say no more here, but if you look at the Daily Prophet tomorrow you will get a good idea of the way the wind is blowing - and see if you can spot yours truly!
[Percy's Letter]
This leads me to my other bit of advice. As I have hinted above, Dumbledore's regime at Hogwarts may soon be over. Your loyalty, Ron, should be not to him, but to the school and the Ministry. I am very sorry to hear that, so far, Professor Umbridge is encountering very little co-operation from staff as she strives to make those nec-essary changes within Hogwarts that the Ministry so ardently desires (although she should find this easier from next week - again, see the Daily Prophet tomorrow!). I shall say only this - a student who shows himself willing to help Professor Umbridge now may be very well-placed for Head Boy ship in a couple of years!
I am sorry that I was unable to see more of you over the summer. It pains me to criticise our parents, but I am afraid I can no longer live under their roof while they remain mixed up with the dan-gerous crowd around Dumbledore. (If you are writing to Mother at any point, you might tell her that a certain Sturgis Podmore, who is a great friend of Dumbledore's, has recently been sent to Azkaban for trespass at the Ministry. Perhaps that will open their eyes to the kind of petty criminals with whom they are currently rubbing shoulders.) I count myself very lucky to have escaped the stigma of association with such people - the Minister really could not be more gracious to me - and I do hope, Ron, that you will not allow family ties to blind you to the misguided nature of our parents' beliefs and actions, either. I sincerely hope that, in time, they will realise how mistaken they were and I shall, of course, be ready to accept a full apology when that day comes.
'Yeah, and Dumbledore said it happened whenever Voldemort was feeling a powerful emotion,' said Harry, ignoring, as usual, Ron and Hermione's winces. 'So maybe he was just, I dunno, really angry or something the night I had that detention.'
'Sirius!' she said reproachfully. 'Honestly, if you made a bit of an effort with Kreacher, I'm sure he'd respond. After all, you are the only member of his family he's got left, and Professor Dumbledore said - '
'That's exactly what he thinks you're doing,' said Sirius, 'or, rather, that's exactly what he's afraid Dumbledore's doing - forming his own private army, with which he will be able to take on the Ministry of Magic.'
'Yep,' said Sirius. 'Fudge thinks Dumbledore will stop at nothing to seize power. He's getting more paranoid about Dumbledore by the day. It's a matter of time before he has Dumbledore arrested on some trumped-up charge.'
This reminded Harry of Percy's letter.
'D'you know if there's going to be anything about Dumbledore in the Daily Prophet tomorrow? Ron's brother Percy reckons there will be - '
'Ah . . .' said Sirius, 'well, he was supposed to be back by now, no one's sure what's happened to him.' Then, seeing their stricken faces, he added quickly, 'But Dumbledore's not worried, so don't you three get yourselves in a state; I'm sure Hagrid's fine.'
'Listen, don't go asking too many questions about Hagrid,' said Sirius hastily, 'it'll just draw even more attention to the fact that he's not back and I know Dumbledore doesn't want that. Hagrid's tough, he'll be OK.' And when they did not appear cheered by this, Sirius added, 'When's your next Hogsmeade weekend, anyway? I was thinking, we got away with the dog disguise at the station, didn't we? I thought I could - '
' "That's how Dolores Umbridge came to be appointed to the teaching staff at Hogwarts," said Weasley last night. "Dumbledore couldn't find anyone so the Minister put in Umbridge, and of course, she's been an immediate success - " '
'She's been a WHAT?' said Harry loudly.
'Wait, there's more,' said Hermione grimly.
' "I feel much easier in my mind now that I know Dumbledore is being subjected to fair and objective evaluation," said Mr Lucius Malfoy, 41, speaking from his Wiltshire mansion last night. "Many of us with our children's best interests at heart have been con-cerned about some of Dumbledore's eccentric decisions in the last few years and are glad to know that the Ministry is keeping an eye on the situation."
'Among those eccentric decisions are undoubtedly the contro-versial staff appointments previously described in this newspaper, which have included the employment of werewolf Remus Lupin, half-giant Rubeus Hagrid and delusional ex-Auror, "Mad-Eye" Moody.
'Rumours abound, of course, that Albus Dumbledore, once Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, is no longer up to the task of managing the prestigious school of Hogwarts.
' "I think the appointment of the Inquisitor is a first step towards ensuring that Hogwarts has a headmaster in whom we can all repose our confidence," said a Ministry insider last night.
'Wizengamot elders Griselda Marchbanks and Tiberius Ogden have resigned in protest at the introduction of the post of Inquisitor to Hogwarts.
' "Hogwarts is a school, not an outpost of Cornelius Fudge's office," said Madam Marchbanks. "This is a further, disgusting attempt to discredit Albus Dumbledore."
'Quite a period,' said Professor Umbridge, making a note on her clipboard. 'So it was Professor Dumbledore who appointed you?'
'That's right,' said Professor Trelawney shortly.
'Hem, hem,' said Professor Umbridge, employing the same silly little cough she had used to interrupt Dumbledore on the first night of term. Professor McGonagall ignored her. Seamus handed back Harry's essay; Harry took it without looking at him and saw, to his relief, that he had managed an 'A'.
'Hmm,' said Professor Umbridge, dropping her voice, though Harry could still hear her quite clearly. 'I wonder - the Headmaster seems strangely reluctant to give me any information on the matter - can you tell me what is causing Professor Hagrid's very extended leave of absence?'
' 'Fraid I can't,' said Professor Grubbly-Plank breezily. 'Don't know anything more about it than you do. Got an owl from Dumbledore, would I like a couple of weeks' teaching, work. I accepted. That's as much as I know. Well . . . shall I get started then?'
'Oh, yes, Dumbledore's excellent,' said Professor Grubbly-Plank heartily. 'Yes, I'm very happy with the way things are run, very happy indeed.'
The trouble is,' she said to Harry, 'until V-Voldemort - oh, for heaven's sake, Ron - comes out into the open, Sirius is going to have to stay hidden, isn't he? I mean, the stupid Ministry isn't going to realise Sirius is innocent until they accept that Dumbledore's been telling the truth about him all along. And once the fools start catching real Death Eaters again, it'll be obvious Sirius isn't one . . . I mean, he hasn't got the Mark, for one thing.'
'I don't reckon he'd be stupid enough to turn up,' said Ron bracingly. 'Dumbledore'd go mad if he did and Sirius listens to Dumbledore even if he doesn't like what he hears.'
'Where's the proof You-Know-Who's back?' said the blond Hufflepuff player in a rather aggressive voice.
'Well, Dumbledore believes it - ' Hermione began.
'You mean, Dumbledore believes him,' said the blond boy, nodding at Harry.
'What makes me say You-Know-Who's back?' he repeated, looking Zacharias straight in the face. 'I saw him. But Dumbledore told the whole school what happened last year, and if you didn't believe him, you won't believe me, and I'm not wasting an afternoon trying to convince anyone.'
Zacharias said dismissively, 'All Dumbledore told us last year was that Cedric Diggory got killed by You-Know-Who and that you brought Diggory's body back to Hogwarts. He didn't give us details, he didn't tell us exactly how Diggory got murdered, I think we'd all like to know - '
'And did you kill a Basilisk with that sword in Dumbledore's office?' demanded Terry Boot. That's what one of the portraits on the wall told me when I was in there last year . . .'
'We think the reason Umbridge doesn't want us trained in Defence Against the Dark Arts,' said Hermione, 'is that she's got some . . . some mad idea that Dumbledore could use the students in the school as a kind of private army. She thinks he'd mobilise us against the Ministry'
Harry did not answer. He knew exactly why the subject of people who were in St Mungo's because of magical damage to their brains was highly distressing to Neville, but he had sworn to Dumbledore that he would not tell anyone Neville's secret. Even Neville did not know Harry knew.
'Do you have any idea why Dumbledore has consistently refused to appoint you?' asked Umbridge.
'I suggest you ask him,' said Snape jerkily.
'Oh, I shall,' said Professor Umbridge, with a sweet smile.
'Yeah,' said Angelina, beaming. 'I went to McGonagall and I think she might have appealed to Dumbledore. Anyway, Umbridge had to give in. Ha! So I want you down at the pitch at seven o'clock tonight, all right, because we've got to make up time. You realise we're only three weeks away from our first match?'
'No,' said Harry, shaking his head. 'It's more like . . . his mood, I suppose. I'm just getting flashes of what mood he's in. Dumbledore said something like this was happening last year. He said that when Voldemort was near me, or when he was feeling hatred, I could tell. Well, now I'm feeling it when he's pleased, too . . .'
'Well then, Dumbledore.'
'I've just told you, he already knows,' said Harry shortly, get-ting to his feet, taking his cloak off his peg and swinging it around him. There's no point telling him again.'
Ron did up the fastening of his own cloak, watching Harry thoughtfully.
'Dumbledore'd want to know,' he said.
It appeared that Hermione had gone to bed early, leaving Crookshanks curled in a nearby chair and an assortment of knobbly knitted elf hats lying on a table by the fire. Harry was rather grateful that she was not around, because he did not much want to dis-cuss his scar hurting and have her urge him to go to Dumbledore, too. Ron kept throwing him anxious glances, but Harry pulled out his Charms books and set to work on finishing his essay, though he was only pretending to concentrate and by the time Ron said he was going up to bed, too, he had written hardly anything.
. . . confusing was the word, all right; why did he know what Voldemort was feeling? What was this weird connection between them, which Dumbledore had never been able to explain satisfac-torily?
'And if you really needed a bathroom,' said Harry, suddenly remembering something Dumbledore had said at the Yule Ball the previous Christmas, 'would it fill itself with chamber pots?'
'This room isn't just some mad idea of Dobby's; Dumbledore knows about it, too, he mentioned it to me at the Yule Ball.'
Hermione's expression cleared.
'Dumbledore told you about it?'
'Just in passing,' said Harry, shrugging.
'Oh, well, that's all right then,' said Hermione briskly and raised no more objections.
'Yeah, the DA's good,' said Ginny. 'Only let's make it stand for Dumbledore's Army, because that's the Ministry's worst fear, isn't it?'
There was a good deal of appreciative murmuring and laughter at this.
'All in favour of the DA?' said Hermione bossily, kneeling up on her cushion to count. That's a majority - motion passed!'
She pinned the piece of parchment with all of their signatures on it on to the wall and wrote across the top in large letters:
DUMBLEDORE'S ARMY
'Well, yes,' said Umbridge, still smiling. 'As a matter of fact, Minerva, it was you who made me see that we needed a further amendment . . . you remember how you overrode me, when I was unwilling to allow the Gryffindor Quidditch team to re-form? How you took the case to Dumbledore, who insisted that the team be allowed to play? Well, now, I couldn't have that. I contacted the Minister at once, and he quite agreed with me that the High Inquisitor has to have the power to strip pupils of privileges, or she - that is to say, I - would have less authority than common teachers! And you see now, don't you, Minerva, how right I was in attempting to stop the Gryffindor team re-forming? Dreadful tempers . . . anyway, I was reading out our amendment . . . hem, hem . . . "the High Inquisitor will henceforth have supreme authority over all punishments, sanctions and removal of privileges pertaining to the students of Hogwarts, and the power to alter such punish-ments, sanctions and removals of privileges as may have been ordered by other staff members. Signed, Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic, Order of Merlin First Class, etc., etc." '
'Not really,' said Hagrid, shaking his shaggy head. 'It's jus' that mos' wizards aren' bothered where they are, 's'long as it's a good long way away. But where they are's very difficult ter get ter, fer humans anyway, so we needed Dumbledore's instructions. Took us abou' a month ter get there - '
'Yeh don' understand,' said Hagrid. The Ministry's keepin' an eye on Dumbledore an' anyone they reckon's in league with 'im, an' - '
'We know about that,' said Harry quickly, keen to hear the rest of Hagrid's story, 'we know about the Ministry watching Dumbledore - '
'We had ter lay off the magic once we got near 'em. Partly 'cause they don' like wizards an' we didn' want ter put their backs up too soon, an' partly 'cause Dumbledore had warned us You-Know-Who was bound ter be after the giants an' all. Said it was odds on he'd sent a messenger off ter them already. Told us ter be verv careful of drawin' attention ter ourselves as we got nearer in case there was Death Eaters around.'
'Yep,' said Hagrid sadly, 'eighty left, an' there was loads once, musta bin a hundred diff'rent tribes from all over the world. Bu' they've bin dyin' out fer ages. Wizards killed a few, o' course, bu' mostly they killed each other, an' now they're dyin' out faster than ever. They're not made ter live bunched up together like tha'. Dumbledore says it's our fault, it was the wizards who forced 'em to go an' made 'em live a good long way from us an' they had no choice bu' ter stick together fer their own protection.'
'Well, Dumbledore'd told us how ter do it,' said Hagrid. 'Give the Gurg gifts, show some respect, yeh know.'
'It was def'nitely on some o' their minds,' said Hagrid, shrug-ging, 'but we did what Dumbledore told us ter do, which was ter hold our gift up high an' keep our eyes on the Gurg an' ignore the others. So tha's what we did. An' the rest of 'em went quiet an' watched us pass an' we got right up ter Karkuss leet an we bowed an' put our present down in front o' him.'
'Well, anyway,' said Hagrid quickly, intervening before Ron could answer back, 'Dumbledore'd bewitched this branch to burn fer evermore, which isn' somethin' any wizard could do, an' so I lies it down in the snow by Karkuss feet and says, "A gift to the Gurg of the giants from Albus Dumbledore, who sends his respectful greetings."'
'Didn' matter,' said Hagrid imperturbably, 'Dumbledore had warned us tha' migh' happen. Karkus knew enough to yell fer a couple o' giants who knew our lingo an' they translated fer us.'
'And did he like the present?' asked Ron.
'Oh yeah, it went down a storm once they understood what it was,' said Hagrid, turning his dragon steak over to press the cooler side to his swollen eye. 'Very pleased. So then I said, "Albus Dumbledore asks the Gurg to speak with his messenger when he returns tomorrow with another gift." '
'Why couldn't you speak to them that day?' asked Hermione.
'Dumbledore wanted us ter take it very slow,' said Hagrid. 'Let 'em see we kept our promises. We'll come back tomorrow with another present, an' then we do come back with another present - gives a good impression, see? An' gives them time ter test out the firs' present an' iind out it's a good one, an' get 'em eager ier more. In any case, giants like Karkus - overload 'em with information an' they'll kill yeh jus' to simplify things. So we bowed outta the way an' went off an' found ourselves a nice little cave ter spend that night in an' the followin' mornin' we went back an' this time we found Karkus sittin' up waitin' fer us lookin' all eager.'
'What did he say?'
'Not much,' said Hagrid. 'Listened mostly. Bu' there were good signs. He'd heard o' Dumbledore, heard he'd argued against the killin' o' the last giants in Britain. Karkus seemed ter be quite int'rested in what Dumbledore had ter say. An' a few o' the others, 'specially the ones who had some English, they gathered round an' listened too. We were hopeful when we left that day. Promised ter come back next mornin' with another present.
'We didn' leave after three days!' said Hagrid, looking outraged. 'Dumbledore was relyin' on us!'
'Well, it wasn' the giants who worried us most,' said Hagrid. 'We were more concerned abou' the Death Eaters. Dumbledore had told us before we wen' not ter tangle with 'em if we could avoid it, an' the trouble was they knew we was around - 'spect Golgomath told 'em abou' us. At night, when the giants were sleepin' an' we wanted ter be creepin' inter the caves, Macnair an' the other one were sneakin' round the mountains lookin' fer us. I was hard put to stop Olympe jumpin' out at 'em,' said Hagrid, the corners of h s mouth lifting his wild beard, 'she was rarin' ter attack 'em . . . she's somethin' when she's roused, Olympe . . . fiery, yeh know . . . 'spect it's the French in her . . .'
'Nope,' said Hagrid, heaving a deep sigh as he turned over his steak and applied the cooler side to his face, 'but we did wha' we meant ter do, we gave 'em Dumbledore's message an' some o' them heard it an' I spect some o' them'll remember it. Jus' maybe, them that don' want ter stay around Golgomath'll move outta the moun-tains, an' there's gotta be a chance they'll remember Dumbledore's friendly to 'em . . . could be they'll come.'
'Hagrid . . . please . . .' said Hermione, a note of real desperation in her voice. 'Umbridge is looking for any excuse to get rid of teachers she thinks are too close to Dumbledore. Please, Hagrid, teach us something dull that's bound to come up in our OWL.'
'No, no, no,' said Hagrid, chuckling, 'tha's jus' superstition, that is, they aren' unlucky, they're dead clever an' useful! Course, this lot don' get a lot o' work, it's mainly jus' pullin' the school car-riages unless Dumbledore's takin' a long journey an' don' want ter Apparate - an' here's another couple, look - '
Hermione rolled her eyes, but Harry's spirits soared: the thought of Christmas at The Burrow was truly wonderful, though slightly marred by Harry's guilty feeling that he would not be able to spend the holiday with Sirius. He wondered whether he could possibly persuade Mrs Weasley to invite his godfather for the festivities. Even though he doubted whether Dumbledore would permit Sirius to leave Grimmauld Place anyway, he could not help but think Mrs Weasley might not want him; they were so often at loggerheads. Sirius had not contacted Harry at all since his last appearance in the fire, and although Harry knew that with Umbridge on con-stant watch it would be unwise to attempt to contact him, he did not like to think of Sirius alone in his mother's old house, perhaps pulling a lonely cracker with Kreacher.
'I believe you, Potter,' said Professor McGonagall curtly. 'Put on your dressing gown - we're going to see the Headmaster.'
They followed Professor McGonagall past the silent figures of Neville, Dean and Seamus, out of the dormitory down the spiral stairs into the common room, through the portrait hole and off along the Fat Lady's moonlit corridor. Harry felt as though the panic inside him might spill over at any moment; he wanted to run, to yell for Dumbledore; Mr Weasley was bleeding as they walked along so sedately and what if those fangs (Harry tried hard not to think 'my fangs') had been poisonous? They passed Mrs Norris, who turned her lamplike eyes upon them and hissed faintly but Professor McGonagall said, 'Shoo!' Mrs Norris slunk away into the shadows, and in a few minutes they had reached the stone gargoyle guarding the entrance to Dumbledore's office.
'Fizzing Whizzbee,' said Professor McGonagall.
The gargoyle sprang to life and leapt aside; the wall behind it split in two to reveal a stone staircase that was moving continually upwards like a spiral escalator. The three of them stepped on to the moving stairs; the wall closed behind them with a thud and they were moving upwards in tight circles until they reached the highly polished oak door with the brass knocker shaped like a griffin.
Though it was now well past midnight there were voices coming from inside the room, a positive babble of them. It sounded as though Dumbledore was entertaining at least a dozen people.
Professor McGonagall rapped three times with the griffin knocker and the voices ceased abruptly as though someone had switched them all off. The door opened of its own accord and Professor McGonagall led Harry and Ron inside.
The room was in half-darkness; the strange silver instruments standing on tables were silent and still rather than whirring and emitting puffs of smoke as they usually did; the portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses covering the walls were all snooz-ing in their frames. Behind the door, a magnificent red and gold bird the size of a swan dozed on its perch with its head under its wing.
'Oh, it's you, Professor McGonagall . . . and . . . ah.'
Dumbledore was sitting in a high-backed chair behind his desk; he leaned forward into the pool of candlelight illuminating the papers laid out before him. He was wearing a magnificently embroi-dered purple and gold dressing gown over a snowy white night-shirt, but seemed wide-awake, his penetrating light blue eyes fixed intently upon Professor McGonagall.
'Professor Dumbledore, Potter has had a . . . well, a nightmare,' said Professor McGonagall. 'He says . . .'
'It wasn't a nightmare,' said Harry quickly.
Professor McGonagall looked round at Harry, frowning slightly.
'Very well, then, Potter, you tell the Headmaster about it.'
'I . . . well, I was asleep . . .' said Harry and, even in his terror and his desperation to make Dumbledore understand, he felt slightly irritated that the Headmaster was not looking at him, but exam-ining his own interlocked fingers. 'But it wasn't an ordinary dream . . . it was real . . . I saw it happen . . .' He took a deep breath, 'Ron's dad - Mr Weasley - has been attacked by a giant snake.'
The words seemed to reverberate in the air after he had said them, sounding slightly ridiculous, even comic. There was a pause in which Dumbledore leaned back and stared meditatively at the ceiling. Ron looked from Harry to Dumbledore, white-faced and shocked.
'How did you see this?' Dumbledore asked quietly, still not looking at Harry.
'Well . . . I don't know,' said Harry, rather angrily - what did it matter? 'Inside my head, I suppose - '
'You misunderstand me,' said Dumbledore, still in the same calm tone. 'I mean . . . can you remember - er - where you were posi-tioned as you watched this attack happen? Were you perhaps standing beside the victim, or else looking down on the scene from above?'
This was such a curious question that Harry gaped at Dumbledore; it was almost as though he knew . . .
'I was the snake,' he said. 'I saw it all from the snake's point of view.'
Nobody else spoke for a moment, then Dumbledore, now looking at Ron who was still whey-faced, asked in a new and sharper voice, 'Is Arthur seriously injured?'
'Yes,' said Harry emphatically - why were they all so slow on the uptake, did they not realise how much a person bled when fangs that long pierced their side? And why could Dumbledore not do him the courtesy of looking at him?
But Dumbledore stood up, so quickly it made Harry jump, and addressed one of the old portraits hanging very near the ceiling. 'Everard?' he said sharply. 'And you too, Dilys!'
A sallow-faced wizard with a short black fringe and an elderly witch with long silver ringlets in the frame beside him, both of whom seemed to have been in the deepest of sleeps, opened their eyes immediately.
'You were listening?' said Dumbledore.
The wizard nodded; the witch said, 'Naturally.'
The man has red hair and glasses,' said Dumbledore. 'Everard, you will need to raise the alarm, make sure he is found by the right people - '
Both nodded and moved sideways out of their frames, but instead of emerging in neighbouring pictures (as usually happened at Hogwarts) neither reappeared. One frame now contained nothing but a backdrop of dark curtain, the other a handsome leather arm-el" air. Harry noticed that many of the other headmasters and mis-tresses on the walls, though snoring and drooling most convincingly, kept sneaking peeks at him from under their eyelids, and he sud-denly understood who had been talking when they had knocked.
'Everard and Dilys were two of Hogwartss most celebrated Heads,' Dumbledore said, now sweeping around Harry, Ron and Professor McGonagall to approach the magnificent sleeping bird on his perch beside the door. 'Their renown is such that both have portraits hanging in other important wizarding institutions. As they are free to move between their own portraits, they can tell us what may be happening elsewhere . . .'
'But Mr Weasley could be anywhere!' said Harry.
'Please sit down, all three of you,' said Dumbledore, as though Harry had not spoken, 'Everard and Dilys may not be back for several minutes. Professor McGonagall, if you could draw up extra chairs.'
Professor McGonagall pulled her wand from the pocket of her dressing gown and waved it; three chairs appeared out of thin air, straight-backed and wooden, quite unlike the comfortable chintz armchairs that Dumbledore had conjured up at Harry's hearing. Harry sat down, watching Dumbledore over his shoulder. Dumble-dore was now stroking Fawkes's plumed golden head with one finger. The phoenix awoke immediately. He stretched his beau-tiful head high and observed Dumbledore through bright, dark eyes.
'We will need,' Dumbledore said very quietly to the bird, 'a warning.'
There was a flash of fire and the phoenix had gone.
Dumbledore now swooped down upon one of the fragile silver instruments whose function Harry had never known, carried it over to his desk, sat down facing them again and tapped it gently with the tip of his wand.
The instrument tinkled into life at once with rhythmic clinking noises. Tiny puffs of pale green smoke issued from the minuscule silver tube at the top. Dumbledore watched the smoke closely, his brow furrowed. After a few seconds, the tiny puffs became a steady stream of smoke that thickened and coiled in the air . . . a serpent's head grew out of the end of it, opening its mouth wide. Harry wondered whether the instrument was confirming his story: he looked eagerly at Dumbledore for a sign that he was right, but Dumbledore did not look up.
'Naturally, naturally,' murmured Dumbledore apparently to him-self, still observing the stream of smoke without the slightest sign of surprise. 'But in essence divided?'
Harry could make neither head nor tail of this question. The smoke serpent, however, split itself instantly into two snakes, both coiling and undulating in the dark air. With a look of grim satis-faction, Dumbledore gave the instrument another gentle tap with h.s wand: the clinking noise slowed and died and the smoke ser-pents grew faint, became a formless haze and vanished.
Dumbledore replaced the instrument on its spindly little table. Harry saw many of the old headmasters in the portraits follow him with their eyes, then, realising that Harry was watching them, hastily pretend to be sleeping again. Harry wanted to ask what the strange silver instrument was for, but before he could do so, there was a shout from the top of the wall to their right; the wizard called Everard had reappeared in his portrait., panting slightly.
'Dumbledore!'
'What news?' said Dumbledore at once.
'I yelled until someone came running,' said the wizard, who was mopping his brow on the curtain behind him, 'said I'd heard some-thing moving downstairs - they weren't sure whether to believe me but went down to check - you know there are no portraits down there to watch from. Anyway, they carried him up a few minutes later. He doesn't look good, he's covered in blood, I ran along to Elfrida Cragg's portrait to get a good view as they left - '
'Good,' said Dumbledore as Ron made a convulsive movement. 'I take it Dilys will have seen him arrive, then - '
And moments later, the silver-ringleted witch had reappeared in her picture, too; she sank, coughing, into her armchair and said, "Yes, they've taken him to St Mungo's, Dumbledore . . . they car-ried him past my portrait . . . he looks bad . . ."
'Thank you,' said Dumbledore. He looked round at Professor McGonagall.
'Minerva, I need you to go and wake the other Weasley children.'
'Of course . . .'
Professor McGonagall got up and moved swiftly to the door. Harry cast a sideways glance at Ron, who was looking terrified.
And Dumbledore - what about Molly? said Professor McGonagall, pausing at the door.
That will be a job for Fawkes when he has finished keeping a lookout for anybody approaching,' said Dumbledore. 'But she may already know . . . that excellent clock of hers . . .'
Harry knew Dumbledore was referring to the clock that told, not the time, but the whereabouts and conditions of the various Weasley family members, and with a pang he thought that Mr Weasley's hand must, even now, be pointing at mortal peril. But it was very late. Mrs Weasley was probably asleep, not watching the clock. Harry felt cold as he remembered Mrs Weasley's Boggart turning into Mr Weasley's lifeless body, his glasses askew, blood running down his face . . . but Mr Weasley wasn't going to die . . . he couldn't . . .
Dumbledore was now rummaging in a cupboard behind Harry and Ron. He emerged from it carrying a blackened old kettle, which he placed carefully on his desk. He raised his wand and murmured, 'Portus!' For a moment the kettle trembled, glowing with an odd blue light; then it quivered to rest, as solidly black as ever.
Dumbledore marched over to another portrait, this time of a clever-looking wizard with a pointed beard, who had been painted wearing the Slytherin colours of green and silver and was appar-ently sleeping so deeply that he could not hear Dumbledore's voice when he attempted to rouse him.
'Phineas. Phineas.'
The subjects of the portraits lining the room were no longer pretending to be asleep; they were shifting around in their frames, the better to watch what was happening. When the clever-looking wizard continued to feign sleep, some of them shouted his name, too.
'Phineas! Phineas! PHINEAS!'
He could not pretend any longer; he gave a theatrical jerk and opened his eyes wide.
'Did someone call?'
'I need you to visit your other portrait again, Phineas,' said Dumbledore. 'I've got another message.'
'Visit my other portrait?' said Phineas in a reedy voice, giving a long, fake yawn (his eyes travelling around the room and focusing on Harry). 'Oh, no, Dumbledore, I am too tired tonight.'
Something about Phineas's voice was familiar to Harry, where had he heard it before? But before he could think, the portraits on the surrounding walls broke into a storm of protest.
'Insubordination, sir!' roared a corpulent, red-nosed wizard, brandishing his fists. 'Dereliction of duty!'
'We are honour-bound to give service to the present Headmaster of Hogwarts!' cried a frail-looking old wizard whom Harry recognised as Dumbledore's predecessor, Armando Dippet. 'Shame on you, Phineas!'
'Shall I persuade him, Dumbledore?' called a gimlet-eyed witch, raising an unusually thick wand that looked not unlike a birch rod.
'Oh, very well,' said the wizard called Phineas, eyeing the wand with mild apprehension, 'though he may well have destroyed my picture by now, he's done away with most of the family - '
'Sirius knows not to destroy your portrait,' said Dumbledore, and Harry realised immediately where he had heard Phineas's voice before: issuing from the apparently empty frame in his bedroom in Grimmauld Place. 'You are to give him the message that Arthur Weasley has been gravely injured and that his wife, children and Harry Potter will be arriving at his house shortly. Do you understand?'
'Your father has been injured in the course of his work for the Order of the Phoenix,' said Dumbledore, before Harry could speak. 'He has been taken to St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. I am sending you back to Sirius's house, which is much more convenient for the hospital than The Burrow. You will meet your mother there.'
'How're we going?' asked Fred, looking shaken. Floo powder?'
'No,' said Dumbledore, 'Floo powder is not safe at the moment, the Network is being watched. You will be taking a Portkey.' He indicated the old kettle lying innocently on his desk. "We are just waiting for Phineas Nigellus to report back . . . I want to be sure that the coast is clear before sending you - '
There was a flash of flame in the very middle of: the office, leaving behind a single golden feather that floated gently to the floor.
'It is Fawkes's warning,' said Dumbledore, catching the feather as it fell. 'Professor Umbridge must know you're out of your beds . . . Minerva, go and head her off - tell her any story - '
Professor McGonagall was gone in a swish of tartan.
'He says he'll be delighted,' said a bored voice behind Dumbledore; the wizard called Phineas had reappeared in front of his Slytherin banner. 'My great-great-grandson has always had an odd taste in house-guests.'
'Come here, then,' Dumbledore said to Harry and the Weasleys. 'And quickly, before anyone else joins us.'
Harry and the others gathered around Dumbledore's desk.
'You have all used a Portkey before?' asked Dumbledore, and they nodded, each reaching out to touch some part of the black-ened kettle. 'Good. On the count of three, then . . . one . . . two . . .'
It happened in a fraction of a second: in the infinitesimal pause before Dumbledore said 'three', Harry looked up at him - they were very close together - and Dumbledore's clear blue gaze moved from the Portkey to Harry's face.
At once, Harry's scar burned white-hot, as though the old wound had burst open again - and unbidden, unwanted, but terrifyingly strong, there rose within Harry a hatred so powerful he felt, for that instant, he would like nothing better than to strike - to bite - to sink his fangs into the man before him - '
'. . . three.'
'It was - ' Harry began; this was even worse than telling McGonagall and Dumbledore. 'I had a - a kind of- vision . . .'
'She probably doesn't even know what's happened yet,' said Sirius. The important thing was to get you away before Umbridge could interfere. I expect Dumbledore's letting Molly know now.'
But then, what just happened in Dumbledore's office? he asked him-self. I felt like I wanted to attack Dumbledore, too . . .
'Fawkes!' said Sirius at once, snatching up the parchment. 'That's not Dumbledore s writing - it must be a message from your mother - here - '
'I don't know what would have happened if it hadn't been for you, Harry' she said in a muffled voice. 'They might not have found Arthur for hours, and then it would have been too late, but thanks to you he's alive and Dumbledore's been able to think up a good cover story for Arthur being where he was, you've no idea what trouble he would have been in otherwise, look at poor Sturgis . . .'
When he paused for breath, Sirius said, 'Did you tell Dumbledore this?'
'Yes,' said Harry impatiently 'but he didn't tell me what it meant. Well, he doesn't tell me anything any more.'
'I'm sure he would have told you if it was anything to worry about,' said Sirius steadily
'But that's not all,' said Harry, in a voice only a little above a whisper. 'Sirius, I . . . I think I'm going mad. Back in Dumbledore's office, just before we took the Portkey . . . for a couple of seconds there I thought I was a snake, I felt like one - my scar really hurt when I was looking at Dumbledore - Sirius, I wanted to attack him!'
'Yes,' said Mrs Weasley. She sounded rather uneasy. 'You know, Dumbledore seems almost to have been waiting for Harry to see something like this.'
'Yeah, well,' said Moody, 'there's something funny about the Potter kid, we all know that.'
'Dumbledore seemed worried about Harry when I spoke to him this morning,' whispered Mrs Weasley.
'Course he's worried,' growled Moody. The boy's seeing things from inside You-Know-Who's snake. Obviously, Potter doesn't realise what that means, but if You-Know-Who's possessing him - '
Was this why Dumbledore would no longer meet Harry's eyes? Did he expect to see Voldemort staring out of them, afraid, per-haps, that their vivid green might turn suddenly to scarlet, with catlike slits for pupils? Harry remembered how the snakelike face of Voldemort had once forced itself out of the back of Professor Quirrell's head and ran his hand over the back of his own, wondering what it would feel like if Voldemort burst out of his skull.
How had he become a snake? Perhaps he was an Animagus . . . no, he couldn't be, he would know . . . perhaps Voldemort was an Animagus . . . yes, thought Harry, that would fit, he would turn into a snake of course . . . and when he's possessing me, then we both transform . . . that still doesn't explain how I got to London and back to my bed in the space of about five minutes . . . but then Voldemort's about the most powerful wizard in the world, apart from Dumbledore, it's probably no problem at all to him to trans-port people like that.
Harry ignored him. His hand was on the doorknob when Phineas Nigellus said lazily, 'I have a message for you from Albus Dumbledore.'
Harry span round.
'What is it?'
' "Stay where you are." '
'I haven't moved!' said Harry, his hand still upon the doorknob. 'So what's the message?'
'I have just given it to you, dolt,' said Phineas Nigellus smoothly. 'Dumbledore says, "Stay where you are." '
'Why?' said Harry eagerly, dropping the end of his trunk. 'Why does he want me to stay? What else did he say?'
'Nothing whatsoever,' said Phineas Nigellus, raising a thin black eyebrow as though he found Harry impertinent.
Harry's temper rose to the surface like a snake rearing from long grass. He was exhausted, he was confused beyond measure, he had experienced terror, relief, then terror again in the last twelve hours, and still Dumbledore did not want to talk to him!
'So that's it, is it?' he said loudly. ' "Stay where you are"? That's all anyone could tell me after I got attacked by those Dementors, loo! Just stay put while the grown-ups sort it out, Harry! We won't bother telling you anything, though, because your tiny little brain might not be able to cope with it!'
'You know,' said Phineas Nigellus, even more loudly than Harry, 'this is precisely why I loathed being a teacher! Young people are so infernally convinced that they are absolutely right about every-thing. Has it not occurred to you, my poor puffed-up popinjay, that there might be an excellent reason why the Headmaster of Hogwarts is not confiding every tiny detail of his plans to you? Have you never paused, while feeling hard-done-by, to note that following Dumbledore's orders has never yet led you into harm? No. No, like all young people, you are quite sure that you alone feel and think, you alone recognise danger, you alone are the only one clever enough to realise what the Dark Lord may be planning - '
'He is planning something to do with me, then?' said Harry swiftly.
'Did I say that?' said Phineas Nigellus, idly examining his silk gloves. 'Now, if you will excuse me, I have better things to do than listen to adolescent agonising . . . good-day to you.'
And he strolled to the edge of his frame and out of sight.
'Fine, go then!' Harry bellowed at the empty frame. 'And tell Dumbledore thanks for nothing!'
He felt as though he had journeyed for miles and miles . . . it seemed impossible that less than twenty-four hours ago Cho Chang had been approaching him under the mistletoe . . . he was so tired . . . he was scared to sleep . . . yet he did not know how long he could fight it . . . Dumbledore had told him to stay . . . that must mean he was allowed to sleep . . . but he was scared . . . what if it happened again?
He would not go down to dinner; he would not inflict his company on them. He turned over on to his other side and, after a while, dropped back off to sleep. He woke much later, in the early hours of the morning, his insides aching with hunger and Ron snoring in the next bed. Squinting around the room, he saw the dark outline of Phineas Nigellus standing again in his portrait and it occurred to Harry that Dumbledore had probably sent Phineas Nigellus to watch over him, in case he attacked somebody else.
The feeling of being unclean intensified. He half-wished he had not obeyed Dumbledore . . . if this was how life was going to be for him in Grimmauld Place from now on, maybe he would be better off in Privet Drive after all.
'I came on the Knight Bus,' said Hermione airily, pulling off her jacket before Harry had time to speak. 'Dumbledore told me what had happened first thing this morning, but I had to wait for term to end officially before setting off. Umbridge is already livid that you lot disappeared right under her nose, even though Dumbledore told her Mr Weasley was in St Mungo's and he'd given you all per-mission to visit. So . . .'
Harry peered inside. Most of the cupboard was taken up with a very large and old-fashioned boiler, but in the foot of space under-neath the pipes Kreacher had made himself something that looked like a nest. A jumble of assorted rags and smelly old blankets were piled on the floor and the small dent in the middle of it showed where Kreacher curled up to sleep every night. Here and there among the material were stale bread crusts and mouldy old bits of cheese. In a far corner glinted small objects and coins that Harry guessed Kreacher had saved, magpie-like, from Sirius's purge of the house, and he had also managed to retrieve the silver-framed family photographs that Sirius had thrown away over the summer. Their glass might be shattered, but still the little black-and-white people inside them peered up at him haughtily, including - he felt a little jolt in his stomach - the dark, heavy-lidded woman whose trial he had witnessed in Dumbledore's Pensieve: Bellatrix Lestrange. By the looks of it, hers was Kreachers favourite photograph; he had placed it to the fore of all the others and had mended the glass clumsily with Spellotape.
'I did,' he said glumly. 'Dumbledore told me but I promised I wouldn't tell anyone . . . that's what Bellatrix Lestrange got sent to Azkaban for, using the Cruciatus Curse on Neville's parents until they lost their minds.'
Harry didn't want to leave Sirius again with only Kreacher for company; in fact, for the first time in his life, he was not looking forward to returning to Hogwarts. Going back to school would mean placing himself once again under the tyranny of Dolores Umbridge, who had no doubt managed to force through another dozen decrees in their absence; there was no Quidditch to look forward to now that he had been banned, there was every likeli-hood that their burden of homework would increase as the exams drew even nearer; and Dumbledore remained as remote as ever. In fact, if it hadn't been for the DA, Harry thought he might have begged Sirius to let him leave Hogwarts and remain in Grimmauld Place.
'I'm his godfather,' said Sirius, louder than ever.
'I am here on Dumbledore's orders.' said Snape, whose voice, by contrast, was becoming more and more quietly waspish, 'but by all means stay, Black, I know you like lo feel . . . involved.'
It was Sirius's turn to flush. Snape's lip curled in triumph as he turned to Harry.
'The Headmaster has sent me to tell you, Potter, that it is his wish for you to study Occlumency this term.'
'Why do I have to study Occlu - thing?' he blurted out.
'Because the Headmaster thinks it a good idea,' said Snape smoothly. 'You will receive private lessons once a week, but you will not tell anybody what you are doing, least of all Dolores Umbridge. You understand?'
'Why can't Dumbledore teach Harry?' asked Sirius aggressively. 'Why you?'
'I suppose because it is a headmasters privilege to delegate less enjoyable tasks,' said Snape silkily. 'I assure you I did not beg for the job.' He got to his feet. 'I will expect you at six o'clock on Monday evening, Potter. My office. If anybody asks, you are taking remedial Potions. Nobody who has seen you in my classes could deny you need them.'
'I've warned you, Snivelus,' said Sirius, his face barely a foot from Snape's, 'I don't care if Dumbledore thinks you've reformed, I know better - '
'Oh, but why don't you tell him so?' whispered Snape. 'Or are you afraid he might not take very seriously the advice of a man who has been hiding inside his mother's house for six months?'
That nights meal should have been a cheerful one, with Mr Weasley back amongst them. Harry could tell Sirius was trying to make it so, yet when his godfather was not forcing himself to laugh loudly at Fred and George's jokes or offering everyone more food, his face fell back into a moody, brooding expression. Harry was separated from him by Mundungus and Mad-Eye, who had dropped in to offer Mr Weasley their congratulations. He wanted to talk to Sirius, to tell him he shouldn't listen to a word Snape said, that Snape was goading him deliberately and that the rest of them didn't think Sirius was a coward for doing as Dumbledore told him and remaining in Grimmauld Place. But he had no opportunity to do so, and, eyeing the ugly look on Sirius's face, Harry wondered occa-sionally whether he would have dared to mention it even if he had the chance. Instead, he told Ron and Hermione under his voice about having to take Occlumency lessons with Snape.
'Dumbledore wants to stop you having those dreams about Voldemort,' said Hermione at once. 'Well, you won't be sorry not to have them any more, will you?'
The shadowy room was lined with shelves bearing hundreds of glass jars in which slimy bits of animals and plants were suspended in variously coloured potions. In one corner stood the cupboard full of ingredients that Snape had once accused Harry - not without reason - of robbing. Harry's attention was drawn towards the desk, however, where a shallow stone basin engraved with runes and symbols lay in a pool of candlelight. Harry recognised it at once - it was Dumbledore's Pensieve. Wondering what on earth it was doing there, he jumped when Snape's cold voice came out of the shadows.
'Well, Potter, you know why you are here,' he said. 'The Headmaster has asked me to teach you Occlumency. I can only hope that you prove more adept at it than at Potions.'
'And why does Professor Dumbledore think I need it, sir?' said Harry looking directly into Snape's eyes and wondering whether Snape would answer.
'But why does Professor Dumbledore want to stop it?' he asked abruptly. 'I don't like it much, but it's been useful, hasn't it? I mean . . . I saw that snake attack Mr Weasley and if I hadn't, Professor Dumbledore wouldn't have been able to save him, would he? Sir?'
'Professor Dumbledore says his name.' said Harry quietly.
'Dumbledore is an extremely powerful wizard,' Snape muttered. 'While he may feel secure enough to use the name . . . the rest of us . . .' He rubbed his left forearm, apparently unconsciously, on the spot where Harry knew the Dark Mark was burned into his skin.
The usual rules do not seem to apply with you, Potter. The curse that failed to kill you seems to have forged some kind of connection between you and the Dark Lord. The evidence sug-gests that at times, when your mind is most relaxed and vulner-able - when you are asleep, for instance - you are sharing the Dark Lord's thoughts and emotions. The Headmaster thinks it inadvis-able for this to continue. He wishes me to teach you how to close your mind to the Dark Lord.'
'And Vol - he - realised I was there?'
'It seems so,' said Snape coolly.
'How do you know?' said Harry urgently. 'Is this just Professor Dumbledore guessing, or - ?'
'What other options does he have?' said Hermione bitterly. 'He can hardly say, "Sorry, everyone, Dumbledore warned me this might happen, the Azkaban guards have joined Lord Voldemort" - stop whimpering, Ron - "and now Voldemort's worst supporters have broken out, too." I mean, he's spent a good six months telling everyone you and Dumbledore are liars, hasn't he?'
He glanced up at the staff table. It was a different story there: Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall were deep in conversation, both looking extremely grave. Professor Sprout had the Prophet propped against a bottle of ketchup and was reading the front page with such concentration that she was not noticing the gentle drip o egg yolk falling into her lap from her stationary spoon. Meanwhile, at the far end of the table, Professor Umbridge was tucking into a bowl of porridge. For once her pouchy toad's eyes were not sweeping the Great Hall looking for misbehaving students. She scowled as she gulped down her food and every now and then she shot a malevolent glance up the table to where Dumbledore and McGonagall were talking so intently.
It was true that Harry was the subject of much renewed muttering and pointing in the corridors these days, yet he thought he detected a slight difference in the lone of the whisperers' voices. They sounded curious rather than hostile now, and once or twice he was sure he overheard snatches of conversation that, suggested that the speakers were not satisfied with the Prophet's version of how and why ten Death Eaters had managed to break out of the Azkaban fortress. In their confusion and fear, these doubters now seemed to be turning to the only other explanation available to them: the one that Harry and Dumbledore had been expounding since the previous year.
'That's not funny,' said Hermione sharply. 'Dumbledore doesn't want you to have dreams about that corridor at all, or he wouldn't have asked Snape to teach you Occlumency. You're just going to have to work a bit harder in your lessons.'
'Shut up, Ron,' said Hermione angrily. 'How many times have you suspected Snape, and when have you ever been right? Dumbledore trusts him, he works for the Order, that ought to be enough.'
'He used to be a Death Eater,' said Ron stubbornly. 'And we've never seen proof that he really swapped sides.'
'Dumbledore trusts him,' Hermione repeated. 'And if we can't trust Dumbledore, we can't trust anyone.'
'So you actually stick to it, do you, that He Who Must Not Be Named is back?' said Rita, lowering her glass and subjecting Harry to a piercing stare while her finger strayed longingly to the clasp of the crocodile bag. 'You stand by all this garbage Dumbledore'5 been telling everybody about You-Know-Who returning and you being the sole witness?'
For some reason he glanced up at the staff table as he said this. Harry had the strangest feeling that Dumbledore had been watching him a second before, but when he looked towards the Headmaster he seemed to be absorbed in conversation with Professor Flitwick.
'I haven't got to tell anyone,' said Harry shortly. 'I wouldn't have seen it at all if I could do Occlumency. I'm supposed to have learned to shut this stuff out. That's what they want.
By 'they' he meant Dumbledore. He got back into bed and rolled over on to his side with his back to Ron and after a while he heard Ron's mattress creak as he, too, lay back down. Harry's scar began to burn; he bit hard on his pillow to stop himself making a noise. Somewhere, he knew, Avery was being punished.
'Oh really, Professor McGonagall?' said Umbridge in a deadly voice, taking a few steps forward. 'And your authority for that statement is . . . ?'
'That would be mine,' said a deep voice.
The oaken front doors had swung open. Students beside them scuttled out of the way as Dumbledore appeared in the entrance. What he had been doing out in the grounds Harry could not imagine, but there was something impressive about the sight of him framed in the doorway against an oddly misty night. Leaving the doors wide open behind him he strode forwards through the circle of onlookers towards Professor Trelawney, tear-stained and trembling, on her trunk, Professor McGonagall alongside her.
'Yours, Professor Dumbledore?' said Umbridge, with a singu-larly unpleasant little laugh. 'I'm afraid you do not understand the position. I have here - ' she pulled a parchment scroll from within her robes'- an Order of Dismissal signed by myself and the Minister for Magic. Under the terms of Educational Decree Number Twenty-three, the High Inquisitor of Hogwarts has the power to inspect, place upon probation and sack any teacher she - that is to say, I - feel is not performing to the standards required by the Ministry of Magic. I have decided that Professor Trelawney is not up to scratch. I have dismissed her.'
To Harry's very great surprise, Dumbledore continued to smile. He looked down at Professor Trelawney, who was still sobbing and choking on her trunk, and said, 'You are quite right, of course, Professor Umbridge. As High Inquisitor you have every right to dismiss my teachers. You do not, however, have the authority to send them away from the castle. I am afraid,' he went on, with a courteous little bow, 'that the power to do that still resides with the Headmaster, and it is my wish that Professor Trelawney con-tinue to live at Hogwarts.'
At this, Professor Trelawney gave a wild little laugh in which a hiccough was barely hidden.
'No - no, I'll g - go, Dumbledore! I sh - shall - leave Hogwarts and s - seek my fortune elsewhere - '
'No,' said Dumbledore sharply. 'It is my wish that you remain, Sybill:
He turned to Professor McGonagall.
'Might I ask you to escort Sybill back upstairs, Professor McGonagall?'
Professor Umbridge was standing stock still, staring at Dumbledore, who continued to smile benignly.
'And what,' she said, in a whisper that carried all around the Eintrance Hall, 'are you going to do with her once I appoint a new Divination teacher who needs her lodgings?'
'Oh, that won't be a problem,' said Dumbledore pleasantly. 'You see, I have already found us a new Divination teacher, and he will prefer lodgings on the ground floor.'
'You've found - ?' said Umbridge shrilly. 'You've found? Might I remind you, Dumbledore, that under Educational Decree Number Twenty-two - '
'The Ministry has the right to appoint a suitable candidate if - and only if - the Headmaster is unable to find one,' said Dumbledore. 'And I am happy to say that on this occasion I have succeeded. May I introduce you?'
He turned to face the open front doors, through which night mist was now drifting. Harry heard hooves. There was a shocked murmur around the Hall and those nearest the doors hastily moved even further backwards, some of them tripping over in their haste to clear a path for the newcomer.
Through the mist came a face Harry had seen once before on a dark, dangerous night in the Forbidden Forest: white-blond hair and astonishingly blue eyes; the head and torso of a man joined to the palomino body of a horse.
'This is Firenze,' said Dumbledore happily to a thunderstruck Umbridge. 'I think you'll find him suitable.'
'You mark my words, she's going to want revenge on Dumbledore for appointing a new teacher without consulting her,' said Hermione, closing the newspaper. 'Especially another part-human. You saw the look on her face when she saw Firenze.'
'Professor Dumbledore has kindly arranged this classroom for us,' said Firenze, when everyone had settled down, 'in imitation of my natural habitat. I would have preferred to teach you in the Forbidden Forest, which was - until Monday - my home . . . but that is no longer possible.'
'Please, sir . . . why have the other centaurs banished you?'
'Because I have agreed to work for Professor Dumbledore,' said Firenze. They see this as a betrayal of our kind.'
'Fizzing Whizzbee,' sang Umbridge; the stone gargoyle jumped aside, the wall behind split open, and they ascended the moving stone staircase. They reached the polished door with the griffin knocker, but Umbridge did not bother to knock, she strode straight inside, still holding tight to Harry.
The office was full of people. Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk, his expression serene, the tips of his long fingers together. Professor McGonagall stood rigidly beside him, her face extremely tense. Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic, was rocking backwards and forwards on his toes beside the fire, apparently immensely pleased with the situation; Kingsley Shacklebolt and a tough-looking wizard with very short wiry hair whom Harry did not recognise, were positioned either side of the door like guards, and the freckled, bespectacled form of Percy Weasley hovered excitedly beside the wall, a quill and a heavy scroll of parchment in his hands, appar-ently poised to take notes.
Harry fully intended to respond with a defiant 'yes': his mouth had opened and the word was half-formed when he caught sight of Dumbledore's face. Dumbledore was not looking directly at Harry - his eyes were fixed on a point just over his shoulder - but as Harry stared at him, he shook his head a fraction of an inch to each side.
Fudge looked incredulously from Harry to Professor Umbridge. Harry took advantage of his momentary inattention to steal another quick look at Dumbledore, who gave the carpet the tiniest of nods and the shadow of a wink.
'Yes, yes, do,' said Fudge, nodding, and he glanced maliciously at Dumbledore as Umbridge left the room. There's nothing like a good witness, is there, Dumbledore?'
'Nothing at all, Cornelius,' said Dumbledore gravely, inclining his head.
'Blatant corruption!' roared the portrait of the corpulent, red-nosed wizard on the wall behind Dumbledore's desk. The Ministry did not cut deals with petty criminals in my day, no sir, they did not!'
'Thank you, Fortescue, that will do,' said Dumbledore softly.
The purpose of Potters meeting with these students,' continued Professor Umbridge, 'was to persuade them to join an illegal society, whose aim was to learn spells and curses the Ministry has decided are inappropriate for school-age - '
'I think you'll find you're wrong there, Dolores,' said Dumbledore quietly, peering at her over the half-moon spectacles perched halfway down his crooked nose.
Harry stared at him. He could not see how Dumbledore was going to talk him out of this one; if Willy Widdershins had indeed heard every word he had said in the Hog's Head there was simply no escaping it.
'Oho!' said Fudge, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet again. 'Yes, do let's hear the latest cock-and-bull story designed to pull Potter out of trouble! Go on, then, Dumbledore, go on - '
Percy Weasley let out a hearty laugh.
'Oh, very good, Minister, very good!'
Harry could have kicked him. Then he saw, to his astonishment, that Dumbledore was smiling gently, too.
'Cornelius, I do not deny - and nor, I am sure, does Harry - 'that he was in the Hog's Head that day, nor that he was trying to recruit students to a Defence Against the Dark Arts group. I am merely pointing out that Dolores is quite wrong to suggest that such a group was, at that time, illegal. If you remember, the Ministry Decree banning all student societies was not put into effect until two days after Harry's Hogsmeade meeting, so he was not breaking any rules at all in the Hog's Head.'
Percy looked as though he had been struck in the face by some-thing very heavy. Fudge remained motionless in mid-bounce, his mouth hanging open.
Umbridge recovered first.
That's all very fine, Headmaster,' she said, smiling sweetly, 'but we are now nearly six months on from the introduction of Educational Decree Number Twenty-four. If the first meeting was not illegal, all those that have happened since most certainly are.'
'Well,' said Dumbledore, surveying her with polite interest over the top of his interlocked fingers, 'they certainly would be, if they had continued after the Decree came into effect. Do you have any evidence that any such meetings continued?'
As Dumbledore spoke, Harry heard a rustle behind him and rather thought Kingsley whispered something. He could have sworn, too, that he felt something brush against his side, a gentle some-thing like a draught or bird wings, but looking down he saw nothing there.
'Evidence?' repeated Umbridge, with that horrible wide toad-like smile. 'Have you not been listening, Dumbledore? Why do you think Miss Edgecombe is here?'
'Oh, can she tell us about six months' worth of meetings?' said Dumbledore, raising his eyebrows. 'I was under the impression that she was merely reporting a meeting tonight.'
Harry felt a horrible plummeting in his stomach. This was it, they had hit a dead end of solid evidence that not even Dumbledore would be able to shift aside.
Professor Umbridge seized Marietta, pulled her round to face her and began shaking her very hard. A split second later Dumbledore was on his feet, his wand raised; Kingsley started forwards and Umbridge leapt back from Marietta, waving her hands in the air as though they had been burned.
'I cannot allow you to manhandle my students, Dolores,' said Dumbledore and, for the first time, he looked angry.
'Excellent,' said Fudge, a smile spreading across his face, 'excel-lent, Dolores. And . . . by thunder . . .'
He looked up at Dumbledore, who was still standing beside Marietta, his wand held loosely in his hand.
'See what they've named themselves?' said Fudge quietly. 'Dumbledore's Army.'
Dumbledore reached out and took the piece of parchment from Fudge. He gazed at the heading scribbled by Hermione months before and for a moment seemed unable to speak. Then he looked up, smiling.
'Well, the game is up,' he said simply. 'Would you like a written confession from me, Cornelius - or will a statement before these witnesses suffice?'
Harry saw McGonagall and Kingsley look at each other. There was fear in both faces. He did not understand what was going on, and nor, apparently, did Fudge.
'Statement?' said Fudge slowly. 'What - I don't - ?'
'Dumbledore's Army, Cornelius,' said Dumbledore, still smiling as he waved the list of names before Fudge's face. 'Not Potter's Army. Dumbledore's Army.'
'But - but - '
Understanding blazed suddenly in Fudge's face. He took a hor-rified step backwards, yelped, and jumped out of the fire again.
'You?' he whispered, stamping again on his smouldering cloak.
That's right,' said Dumbledore pleasantly.
'You organised this?'
'I did,' said Dumbledore.
'You recruited these students for - for your army?'
'Tonight was supposed to be the first meeting,' said Dumbledore, nodding. 'Merely to see whether they would be interested in joining me. I see now that it was a mistake to invite Miss Edgecombe, of course.'
Marietta nodded. Fudge looked from her to Dumbledore, his chest swelling.
Then you have been plotting against me!' he yelled.
That's right,' said Dumbledore cheerfully.
'NO!' shouted Harry.
Kingsley flashed a look of warning at him, McGonagall widened her eyes threateningly, but it had suddenly dawned on Harry what Dumbledore was about to do, and he could not let it happen.
'No - Professor Dumbledore - '!'
'Be quiet, Harry, or I am afraid you will have to leave my office,' said Dumbledore calmly.
'Yes, shut up, Potter!' barked Fudge, who was still ogling Dumbledore with a kind of horrified delight. 'Well, well, well - I came here tonight expecting to expel Potter and instead - '
'Instead you get to arrest me,' said Dumbledore, smiling. 'It's like losing a Knut and finding a Galleon, isn't it?'
'Weasley!' cried Fudge, now positively quivering with delight, 'Weasley, have you written it all down, everything he's said, his confession, have you got it?'
'Yes, sir, I think so, sir!' said Percy eagerly, whose nose was splat-tered with ink from the speed of his note-taking.
The bit about how he's been trying to build up an army against the Ministry, how he's been working to destabilise me?'
'Yes, sir, I've got it, yes!' said Percy, scanning his notes joyfully.
'Very well, then,' said Fudge, now radiant with glee, 'duplicate your notes, Weasley, and send a copy to the Daily Prophet at once. If we send a fast owl we should make the morning edition!' Percy dashed from the room, slamming the door behind him, and Fudge turned back to Dumbledore. 'You will now be escorted back to the Ministry, where you will be formally charged, then sent to Azkaban to await trial!'
'Ah,' said Dumbledore gently, 'yes. Yes, I thought we might hit that little snag.'
'Snag?' said Fudge, his voice still vibrating with joy. 'I see no snag, Dumbledore!'
Well,' said Dumbledore apologetically, 'I'm afraid I do.'
'Oh, really?'
Well - it's just that you seem to be labouring under the delu-sion that I am going to - what is the phrase? - come quietly. I am afraid I am not going to come quietly at all, Cornelius. I have absolutely no intention of being sent to Azkaban. I could break out, of course - but what a waste of time, and frankly, I can think of a whole host of things I would rather be doing.'
Umbridge's face was growing steadily redder; she looked as though she was being filled with boiling water. Fudge stared at Dumbledore with a very silly expression on his face, as though he had just been stunned by a sudden blow and could not quite believe it had happened. He made a small choking noise, then looked round at Kingsley and the man with short grey hair, who alone of everyone in the room had remained entirely silent so fa;-. The latter gave Fudge a reassuring nod and moved forwards a little, away from the wall. Harry saw his hand drift, almost casually, towards his pocket.
'Don't be silly, Dawlish,' said Dumbledore kindly. 'I'm sure you are an excellent Auror - I seem to remember that you achieved "Outstanding" in all your NEWTs - but if you attempt to - er - 'bring me in by force, I will have to hurt you.'
The man called Dawlish blinked rather foolishly. He looked towards Fudge again, but this time seemed to be hoping for a clue as to what to do next.
'So,' sneered Fudge, recovering himself, 'you intend to take on Dawlish, Shacklebolt, Dolores and myself single-handed, do you, Dumbledore?'
'Merlin's beard, no,' said Dumbledore, smiling, 'not unless you are foolish enough to force me to.'
'He will not be single-handed!' said Professor McGonagall loudly, plunging her hand inside her robes.
'Oh yes he will, Minerva!' said Dumbledore sharply. 'Hogwar.s needs you!'
'Enough of this rubbish!' said Fudge, pulling out his own wand. 'Dawlish! Shacklebolt! Take him!'
A streak of silver light flashed around the room; there was a bang like a gunshot and the floor trembled; a hand grabbed the scruff of Harry's neck and forced him down on the floor as a second silver flash went off; several of the portraits yelled, Fawkes screeched and a cloud of dust filled the air. Coughing in the dust, Harry saw a dark figure fall to the ground with a crash in front of him; there was a shriek and a thud and somebody cried, 'No!'; then there was the sound of breaking glass, frantically scuffling footsteps, a groan . . . and silence.
Harry struggled around to see who was half-strangling him and saw Professor McGonagall crouched beside him; she had forced both him and Marietta out of harm's way. Dust was still floating gently down through the air on to them. Panting slightly, Harry saw a very tall figure moving towards them.
'Are you all right?' Dumbledore asked.
'Yes!' said Professor McGonagall, getting up and dragging Harry and Marietta with her.
The dust was clearing. The wreckage of the office loomed into view: Dumbledore's desk had been overturned, all of the spindly tables had been knocked to the floor, their silver instruments in pieces. Fudge, Umbridge, Kingsley and Dawlish lay motionless on the floor. Fawkes the phoenix soared in wide circles above them, singing softly.
'Unfortunately, I had to hex Kingsley too, or it would have looked very suspicious,' said Dumbledore in a low voice. 'He was remark-ably quick on the uptake, modifying Miss Edgecombe's memory like that while everyone was looking the other way - thank him, for me, won't you, Minerva?
'Now, they will all awake very soon and it will be best if they do not know that we had time to communicate - you must act as though no time has passed, as though they were merely knocked to the ground, they will not remember - '
'Where will you go, Dumbledore?' whispered Professor McGonagall. 'Grimmauld Place?'
'Oh no,' said Dumbledore, with a grim smile, 'I am not leaving to go into hiding. Fudge will soon wish he'd never dislodged me from Hogwarts, I promise you.'
'Professor Dumbledore . . .' Harry began.
He did not know what to say first: how sorry he was that he had started the DA in the first place and caused all this trouble, or how terrible he felt that Dumbledore was leaving to save him from expulsion? But Dumbledore cut him off before he could say another word.
'Listen to me, Harry,' he said urgently. 'You must study Occlumency as hard as you can, do you understand me? Do every-thing Professor Snape tells you and practise it particularly every night before sleeping so that you can close your mind to bad dreams - you will understand why soon enough, but you must promise me - '
The man called Dawlish was stirring. Dumbledore seized Harry's wrist.
'Remember - close your mind - '
But as Dumbledore's fingers closed over Harry's skin, a pa n shot through the scar on his forehead and he felt again that ter-rible, snakelike longing to strike Dumbledore, to bite him, to hurt him - '
' - you will understand,' whispered Dumbledore.
Fawkes circled the office and swooped low over him. Dumbledore released Harry, raised his hand and grasped the phoenix's long golden tail. There was a flash of fire and the pair of them were gone.
'Well, Minerva,' said Fudge nastily, straightening his torn shirt-sleeve, 'I'm afraid this is the end of your friend Dumbledore.'
'You think so, do you?' said Professor McGonagall scornfully.
Professor McGonagall said nothing, but marched Harry and Marietta to the door. As it swung closed behind them, Harry heard Phineas Nigellus's voice.
'You know, Minister, I disagree with Dumbledore on many counts . . . but you cannot deny he's got style . . .'
BY ORDER OF THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC
Dolores Jane Umbridge (High Inquisitor) has replaced
Albus Dumbledore as Head of Hogwarts School of
Witchcraft and Wizardry.
The above is in accordance with Educational Decree Number Twenty-eight.
Signed: Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Minister for Magic
The notices had gone up all around the school overnight, but they did not explain how every single person within the castle seemed to know that Dumbledore had overcome two Aurors, the High Inquisitor, the Minister for Magic and his Junior Assistant to escape. No matter where Harry went within the castle, the sole topic of conversation was Dumbledore's flight, and though some of the details may have gone awry in the retelling (Harry overheard one second-year girl assuring another that Fudge was now lying in St Mungo's with a pumpkin for a head) it was surprising how accu-rate the rest of their information was. Everybody knew, for instance, that Harry and Marietta were the only students to have witnessed the scene in Dumbledore's office and, as Marietta was now in the hospital wing, Harry found himself besieged with requests to give a first-hand account.
'Dumbledore will be back before long,' said Ernie Macmillan confidently on the way back from Herbology, after listening intently to Harry's story. They couldn't keep him away in our second year and they won't be able to this time. The Fat Friar told me - ' he dropped his voice conspiratorially, so that Harry, Ron and Hermione had to lean closer to him to hear '- that Umbridge tried to get back into his office last night after they'd searched the castle and grounds for him. Couldn't get past the gargoyle. The Head's office has sealed itself against her.' Ernie smirked. 'Apparently, she had a right little tantrum.'
' - what with Dumbledore gone - ' said Fred.
' - we reckon a bit of mayhem - ' said George.
' - is exactly what our dear new Head deserves,' said Fred.
'You don't get it, Hermione, do you?' said Fred, smiling at her. 'We don't care about staying any more. We'd walk out right now if we weren't determined to do our bit for Dumbledore first. So, anyway,' he checked his watch, 'phase one is about to begin. I'd get in the Great Hall for lunch, if I were you, that way the teachers will see you can't have had anything to do with it.'
'Yerse . . . I've been telling Dumbledore for years and years he's too soft with you all,' said Filch, chuckling nastily. 'You filthy little beasts would never have dropped Stink Pellets if you'd known I had it in my power to whip you raw, would you, now? Nobody would have thought of throwing Fanged Frisbees down the corri-dors if I could've strung you up by the ankles in my office, would they? But when Educational Decree Number Twenty-nine comes in, Potter, I'll be allowed to do them things . . . and she's asked the Minister to sign an order for the expulsion of Peeves . . . oh, things are going to be very different around here with her in charge
'Good,' she whispered. 'Very good. Now then . . .' She leaned forwards a little. 'Where is Albus Dumbledore?'
'No idea,' said Harry promptly.
'Drink up, drink up,' she said, still smiling. 'Now, Mr Potter, let us not play childish games. I know that you know where he has gone. You and Dumbledore have been in this together from the beginning. Consider your position, Mr Potter . . .'
'I don't know where he is,' Harry repeated.
He got into bed, yawning. With his glasses off, the occasional firework passing the window had become blurred, looking like sparkling clouds, beautiful and mysterious against the black sky. He turned on to his side, wondering how Umbridge was feeling about her first day in Dumbledore's job, and how Fudge would react when he heard that the school had spent most of the day in a state of advanced disruption. Smiling to himself, Harry closed his eyes . . .
Harry spent the whole of the next day dreading what Snape was going to say if he found out how much further into the Department of Mysteries Harry had penetrated during his last dream. With a surge of guilt he realised that he had not practised Occlumency once since their last lesson: there had been too much going on since Dumbledore had left; he was sure he would not have been able to empty his mind even if he had tried. He doubted, how-ever, whether Snape would accept that excuse.
Snape was standing with his back to Harry, removing, as usual, certain of his thoughts and placing them carefully in Dumbledore's Pensieve. He dropped the last silvery strand into the stone basin and turned to face Harry.
Harry tried to make a case for Snape having deserved what he had suffered at James's hands: but hadn't Lily asked, 'What's he done to you?' And hadn't James replied, 'It's more the fact that he exists, if you know what I mean.' Hadn't James started it all simply because Sirius had said he was bored? Harry remembered Lupin saying back in Grimmauld Place that Dumbledore had made him prefect in the hope that he would be able to exercise some control over James and Sirius . . . but in the Pensieve, he had sat there and let it all happen . . .
'Which means that this boy has as much chance of becoming an Auror as Dumbledore has of ever returning to this school.'
'A very good chance, then,' said Professor McGonagall.
'Aha! shrieked Professor Umbridge, pointing a stubby linger at McGonagall. 'Yes! Yes, yes, yes! Of course! That's what you want, isn't it, Minerva McGonagall? You want Cornelius Fudge replaced by Albus Dumbledore! You think you'll be where I am, don't you: Senior Undersecretary to the Minister and Headmistress to boot!'
'Dumbledore sacrificed himself to keep you in school, Harry!' whispered Hermione, raising her book to hide her face from Umbridge. 'And if you get thrown out today it will all have been for nothing!'
'I'm coming up there to have a word with Snape!' said Sirius forcefully, and he actually made to stand up, but Lupin wrenched him back down again.
'If anyone's going to tell Snape it will be me!' he said firmly. 'But Harry, first of all, you're to go back to Snape and tell him that on no account is he to stop giving you lessons - when Dumbledore hears - '
'Firenze said they're angry because he went to work for Dumbledore,' Harry said, tripping on a protruding root because he was busy watching Hagrid's profile.
'It's not the end o' the world, I'll be able ter help Dumbledo-e once I'm outta here, I can be useful ter the Order. Air you lot'll have Grubbly-Plank, yeh'll - yeh'll get through yer exams fine . . .'
'I dunno how yeh work that out,' said Hagrid impatiently. 'He's done nothin' except help Albus Dumbledore - '
'Firenze has entered into servitude to humans,' said a grey cen-taur with a hard, deeply lined face.
'Servitude!' said Hagrid scathingly. 'He's doin' Dumbledore a favour is all - '
'Journey was fine, journey was fine, we've made it plenty of times before!' she said impatiently. 'Now, I haven't heard from Dumbledore lately!' she added, peering around the Hall as though hopeful he might suddenly emerge from a broom cupboard. 'No idea where he is, I suppose?'
'None at all,' said Umbridge, shooting a malevolent look at Harry, Ron and Hermione, who were now dawdling around the foot of the stairs as Ron pretended to do up his shoelace. 'But I daresay the Ministry of Magic will track him down soon enough.'
'I doubt it,' shouted tiny Professor Marchbanks, 'not it Dumbledore doesn't want to be found! I should know . . . exam-ined him personally in Transfiguration and Charms when he did NEWTs . . . did things with a wand I'd never seen before.'
'At least they didn't get to take Hagrid off to Azkaban,' said Ron. 'I 'spect he's gone to join Dumbledore, hasn't he?'
'I suppose so,' said Hermione, who looked tearful. 'Oh, this is awful, I really thought Dumbledore would be back before long, but now we've lost Hagrid too.'
'She'd have sacked him anyway,' said Dean. 'He was too close to Dumbledore.'
There was nobody left to tell. Dumbledore had gone, Hagrid had gone, but he had always expected Professor McGonagall to be there, irascible and inflexible, perhaps, but always dependably, solidly present . . .
'Yeah - and that's why Dumbledore's been so keen to keep Sirius locked up all the time!' said Harry.
'You don't get it!' Harry shouted at her, 'I'm not having night-mares, I'm not just dreaming! What d'you think all the Occlumency was for, why d'you think Dumbledore wanted me prevented from seeing these things? Because they're REAL, Hermione - Sirius is trapped, I've seen him. Voldemort's got him, and no one else knows, and that means we're the only ones who can save him, and if you don't want to do it, fine, but I'm going, understand? And if I remember rightly, you didn't have a problem with my saving-people thing when it was you I was saving from the Dementors, or - ' he rounded on Ron - when it was your sister I was saving from the Basilisk - '
'I never said I had a problem!' said Ron heatedly.
'But Harry, you've just said it,' said Hermione fiercely, 'Dumbledore wanted you to learn to shut these things out of your mind, if you'd done Occlumency properly you'd never have seen this - '
'Clearly, it was very important for you to talk to somebody. Was it Albus Dumbledore? Or the half-breed, Hagrid? I doubt it was Minerva McGonagall, I hear she is still too ill to talk to anyone.'
'Well,' gulped Hermione into her hands, 'well, he was trying to speak to Professor Dumbledore.'
'Dumbledore?' said Umbridge eagerly. 'You know where Dumbledore is, then?'
'Well . . . no!' sobbed Hermione. 'We've tried the Leaky Cauldron in Diagon Alley and the Three Broomsticks and even the Hog's Head - '
'Idiot girl - Dumbledore won't be sitting in a pub when the whole Ministry's looking for him!' shouted Umbridge, disappoint-ment etched in every sagging line of her face.
'But - but we needed to tell him something important!' wailed Hermione, holding her hands more tightly over her face, not, Harry knew, out of anguish, but to disguise the continued absence of tears.
'Yes?' said Umbridge with a sudden resurgence of excitement. 'What was it you wanted to tell him?'
'We . . . we wanted to tell him it's r - ready!' choked Hermione.
'What's ready?' demanded Umbridge, and now she grabbed Hermione's shoulders again and shook her slightly. 'What's ready, girl?'
'The . . . the weapon,' said Hermione.
'Weapon? Weapon?' said Umbridge, and her eyes seemed to pop with excitement. 'You have been developing some method of resistance? A weapon you could use against the Ministry? On Professor Dumbledore's orders, of course?'
'Y - y - yes,' gasped Hermione, 'but he had to leave before it was finished and n - n - now we've finished it for him, and we c - c - can't find him t - t - to tell him!'
'What kind of weapon is it?' said Umbridge harshly, her stubby hands still tight on Hermione's shoulders.
'We don't r - r - really understand it,' said Hermione, sniffing loudly. 'We j - j - just did what P - P - Professor Dumbledore told us t - t - to do.'
'Dumbledore never told you the reason you bear that scar was hidden in the bowels of the Department of Mysteries?' Malfoy sneered.
====
'Dumbledore never told you?' Malfoy repeated. 'Well, this explains why you didn't come earlier, Potter, the Dark Lord wondered why - '
'You are not in a position to bargain, Potter,' said Lucius Malfoy, his pale face flushed with pleasure. 'You see, there are ten of us and only one of you . . . or hasn't Dumbledore ever taught you how to count?'
'Dubbledore!' said Neville, his sweaty face suddenly transported, staring over Harry's shoulder.
'What?'
'DUBBLEDORE!'
Harry turned to look where Neville was staring. Directly above them, framed in the doorway from the Brain Room, stood Albus Dumbledore, his wand aloft, his face white and furious. Harry felt a kind of electric charge surge through every particle of his body - they were saved.
Dumbledore sped down the steps past Neville and Harry, who had no more thoughts of leaving. Dumbledore was already at the foot of the steps when the Death Eaters nearest realised he was there and yelled to the others. One of the Death Eaters ran for it, scrabbling like a monkey up the stone steps opposite. Dumbledore's spell pulled him back as easily and effortlessly as though he had hooked him with an invisible line - '
Harry released Neville, though he was unaware of doing so. He was jumping down the steps again, pulling out his wand, as Dumbledore, too, turned towards the dais.
Dumbledore had most of the remaining Death haters grouped in the middle of the room, seemingly immobilised by invisible ropes; Mad-Eye Moody had crawled across the room to where Tonks lay, and was attempting to revive her; behind the dais there were still flashes of light, grunts and cries - Kingsley had run for-ward to continue Sirius's duel with Bellatrix.
There was a loud bang and a yell from behind the dais. Harry saw Kingsley hit the ground yelling in pain: Bellatrix Lestrange turned tail and ran as Dumbledore whipped around. He aimed a spell at her but she deflected it; she was halfway up the steps now - '
'What - ?' cried Voldemort, staring around. And then he breathed, 'Dumbledore!'
Harry looked behind him, his heart pounding. Dumbledore was standing in front of the golden gates.
Voldemort raised his wand and another jet of green light streaked at Dumbledore, who turned and was gone in a whirling of his cloak. Next second, he had reappeared behind Voldemort and waved his wand towards the remnants of the fountain. The other statues sprang to life. The statue of the witch ran at Bellatrix, who screamed and sent spells streaming uselessly off its chest, before it dived at her, pinning her to the floor. Meanwhile, the goblin and the house-elf scuttled towards the fireplaces set along the wall and the one-armed centaur galloped at Voldemort, who vanished and reappeared beside the pool. The headless statue thrust Harry backwards, away from the fight, as Dumbledore advanced on Voldemort and the golden centaur cantered around them both.
'It was foolish to come here tonight, Tom,' said Dumbledore calmly. The Aurors are on their way - '
'By which time I shall be gone, and you will be dead!' spat Voldemort. He sent another killing curse at Dumbledore but missed, instead hitting the security guard's desk, which burst into flame.
Dumbledore flicked his own wand: the force of the spell that emanated from it was such that Harry, though shielded by his golden guard, felt his hair stand on end as it passed and this time Voldemort was forced to conjure a shining silver shield out of thin air to deflect it. The spell, whatever it was, caused no visible damage to the shield, though a deep, gong-like note reverberated from it - an oddly chilling sound.
'You do not seek to kill me, Dumbledore?' called Voldemort, his scarlet eyes narrowed over the top of the shield. 'Above such brutality, are you?'
'We both know that there are other ways of destroying a man, Tom,' Dumbledore said calmly, continuing to walk towards Voldemort as though he had not a fear in the world, as though nothing had happened to interrupt his stroll up the hall. 'Merely taking your life would not satisfy me, I admit - '
There is nothing worse than death, Dumbledore!' snarled Voldemort.
'You are quite wrong,' said Dumbledore, still closing in upon Voldemort and speaking as lightly as though they were discussing the matter over drinks. Harry felt scared to see him walking along, undefended, shieldless; he wanted to cry out a warning, but his headless guard kept shunting him backwards towards the wall, blocking his every attempt to gel out from behind it. 'Indeed, your failure to understand that there are things much worse than death has always been your greatest weakness - '
Another jet of green light flew from behind the silver shield. This time it was the one-armed centaur, galloping in front of Dumbledore, that took the blast and shattered into a hundred pieces, but before the fragments had even hit the floor, Dumbledore had drawn back his wand and waved it as though brandishing a whip. A long thin flame flew from the tip; it wrapped itself around Voldemort, shield and all. For a moment, it seemed Dumbledore had won, but then the fiery rope became a serpent, which relin-quished its hold on Voldemort at once and turned, hissing furi-ously, to face Dumbledore.
Voldemort vanished; the snake reared from the floor, ready to strike - '
There was a burst of flame in midair above Dumbledore just as Voldemort reappeared, standing on the plinth in the middle of the pool where so recently the five statues had stood.
'Look out!' Harry yelled.
But even as he shouted, another jet of green light flew at Dumbledore from Voldemort's wand and the snake struck - '
Fawkes swooped down in front of Dumbledore, opened his beak wide and swallowed the jet of green light whole: he burst into flame and fell to the floor, small, wrinkled and flightless. At the same moment, Dumbledore brandished his wand in one long, fluid movement - the snake, which had been an instant from sinking its fangs into him, flew high into the air and vanished in a wisp of dark smoke; and the water in the pool rose up and covered Voldemort like a cocoon of molten glass.
Sure it was over, sure Voldemort had decided to flee, Harry made to run out from behind his statue guard, but Dumbledore bellowed: 'Stay where you are, Harry!'
For the first time, Dumbledore sounded frightened. Harry could not see why: the hall was quite empty but for themselves, the sobbing Bellatrix still trapped under the witch statue, and the baby phoenix Fawkes croaking feebly on the floor - '
And when the creature spoke, it used Harry's mouth, so that in his agony he felt his jaw move . . .
'Kill me now, Dumbledore . . .'
Blinded and dying, every part of him screaming for release, Harry felt the creature use him again . . .
'If death is nothing, Dumbledore, kill the boy . . .'
Let the pain stop, thought Harry . . . let him kill us . . . end it, Dumbledore . . . death is nothing compared to this . . .
And there were voices echoing through the hall, more voices than there should have been . . . Harry opened his eyes, saw his glasses lying by the heel of the headless statue that had been guarding him, but which now lay flat on its back, cracked and immobile. He put them on and raised his head a little to find Dumbledore's crooked nose inches from his own.
'Are you all right, Harry?'
'Yes,' said Harry, shaking so violently he could not hold his head up properly. 'Yeah, I'm - where's Voldemort, where - who are all these - what's - '
The Atrium was full of people; the floor was reflecting the emerald green flames that had burst into fire in all the fireplaces along one wall; and streams of witches and wizards were emerging from them. As Dumbledore pulled him back to his feet, Harry saw the tiny gold statues of the house-elf and the goblin, leading a stunned-looking Cornelius Fudge forward.
'If you proceed downstairs into the Department of Mysteries, Cornelius,' said Dumbledore - apparently satisfied that Harry was all right, and walking forwards so that the newcomers realised he was there for the first time (a few of them raised their wands; others simply looked amazed; the statues of the elf and goblin applauded and Fudge jumped so much that his slipper-clad feet left the floor) - 'you will find several escaped Death Eaters con-tained in the Death Chamber, bound by an Anti-Disapparation Jinx and awaiting your decision as to what to do with them.'
'Dumbledore!' gasped Fudge, beside himself with amazement. 'You - here - I - I - '
He looked wildly around at the Aurors he had brought with him and it could not have been clearer that he was in half a mind to cry, 'Seize him!'
'Cornelius, I am ready to fight your men - and win, again!' said Dumbledore in a thunderous voice. 'But a few minutes ago you saw proof, with your own eyes, that I have been telling you the truth for a year. Lord Voldemort has returned, you have been chasing the wrong man for twelve months, and it is time you listened to sense!'
'I - don't - well -' blustered Fudge, looking around as though hoping somebody was going to tell him what to do. When nobody did, he said, 'Very well - Dawlish! Williamson! Go down to the Department of Mysteries and see . . . Dumbledore, you - you will need to tell me exactly - the Fountain of Magical Brethren - what happened?' he added in a kind of whimper, staring around at the floor, where the remains of the statues of the witch, wizard and centaur now lay scattered.
'We can discuss that after I have sent Harry back to Hogwarts,' said Dumbledore.
'Harry - Harry Potter?'
Fudge wheeled around and stared at Harry, who was still standing against the wall beside the fallen statue that had guarded him during Dumbledore and Voldemort's duel.
'He - here?' said Fudge, goggling at Harry. 'Why - what's all this about?'
'I shall explain everything,' repeated Dumbledore, 'when Harry is back at school.'
He walked away from the pool to the place where the golden wizard's head lay on the floor. He pointed his wand at it and mut-tered, 'Portus.' The head glowed blue and trembled noisily against the wooden floor for a few seconds, then became still once more.
'Now see here, Dumbledore!' said Fudge, as Dumbledore picked up the head and walked back to Harry carrying it. 'You haven't got authorisation for that Portkey! You can't do things like that right in front of the Minister for Magic, you - you - '
His voice faltered as Dumbledore surveyed him magisterially over his half-moon spectacles.
'You will give the order to remove Dolores Umbridge from Hogwarts,' said Dumbledore. 'You will tell your Aurors to stop searching for my Care of Magical Creatures teacher so that he can return to work. I will give you . . .' Dumbledore pulled a watch with twelve hands from his pocket and surveyed it. . . half an hour of my time tonight, in which I think we shall be more than able to cover the important points of what has happened here. After that, I shall need to return to my school. If you need more help from me you are, of course, more than welcome to contact me at Hogwarts. Letters addressed to the Headmaster will find me.'
Fudge goggled worse than ever; his mouth was open and his round face grew pinker under his rumpled grey hair.
'I - you - '
Dumbledore turned his back on him.
'Take this Portkey, Harry.'
He held out the golden head of the statue and Harry placed his hand on it, past caring what he did next or where he went.
'I shall see you in half an hour,' said Dumbledore quietly 'One . . . two . . . three
Harry felt the familiar sensation of a hook being jerked behind his navel. The polished wooden floor was gone from beneath his feet; the Atrium, Fudge and Dumbledore had all disappeared and he was flying forwards in a whirlwind of colour and sound . . .
Harry's feet hit solid ground; his knees buckled a little and the golden wizard's head fell with a resounding clunk to the floor. He looked around and saw that he had arrived in Dumbledore's office.
Everything seemed to have repaired itself during the Headmasters absence. The delicate silver instruments stood once more on the spindle-legged tables, puffing and whirring serenely. The portraits of the headmasters and headmistresses were snoozing in their frames, heads lolling back in armchairs or against the edge of the; picture. Harry looked through the window. There was a cool line of pale green along the horizon: dawn was approaching.
'And what brings you here in the early hours of the morning?' said Phineas eventually. This office is supposed to be barred to all but the rightful Headmaster. Or has Dumbledore sent you here? Oh, don't tell me . . .' He gave another shuddering yawn. 'Another message for my worthless great-great-grandson?'
'I hope this means,' said the corpulent, red-nosed wizard who hung on the wall behind the Headmasters desk, 'that Dumbledore will soon be back among us?'
'Dumbledore thinks very highly of you, as I am sure you know,' he said comfortably. 'Oh yes. Holds you in great esteem.'
The empty fireplace burst into emerald green flame, making Harry leap away from the door, staring at the man spinning inside the grate. As Dumbledore's tall form unfolded itself from the fire, the wizards and witches on the surrounding walls jerked awake, many of them giving cries of welcome.
'Thank you,' said Dumbledore softly.
He did not look at Harry at first, but walked over to the perch beside the door and withdrew, from an inside pocket of his robes, the tiny, ugly, featherless Fawkes, whom he placed gently on the tray of soft ashes beneath the golden post where the full-grown Fawkes usually stood.
'Well, Harry,' said Dumbledore, finally turning away from the baby bird, 'you will be pleased to hear that none of your fellow students are going to suffer lasting damage from the night's events.'
Harry tried to say, 'Good,' but no sound came out. It seemed to him that Dumbledore was reminding him of the amount of damage he had caused, and although Dumbledore was for once looking at him directly, and although his expression was kindly rather than accusatory, Harry could not bear to meet his eyes.
'Madam Pomfrey is patching everybody up,' said Dumbledore 'Nymphadora Tonks may need to spend a little time in St Mungos, but it seems she will make a full recovery.'
Harry contented himself with nodding at the carpet, which was growing lighter as the sky outside grew paler. He was sure all the: portraits around the room were listening closely to every wore! Dumbledore spoke, wondering where Dumbledore and Harry had been, and why there had been injuries.
'I know how you're feeling, Harry,' said Dumbledore very quietly.
'No, you don't,' said Harry, and his voice was suddenly loud and strong; white-hot anger leapt inside him; Dumbledore knew nothing about his feelings.
'You see, Dumbledore?' said Phineas Nigellus slyly. 'Never try to understand the students. They hate it. They would much rather be tragically misunderstood, wallow in self-pity, stew in their own - '
That's enough, Phineas,' said Dumbledore.
Harry turned his back on Dumbledore and stared determinedly out of the window. He could see the Quidditch stadium in the dis-tance. Sirius had appeared there once, disguised as the shaggy black dog, so he could watch Harry play . . . he had probably come to see whether Harry was as good as James had been . . . Harry had never asked him . . .
There is no shame in what you are feeling, Harry,' said Dumbledore's voice. 'On the contrary . . . the fact that you can feel pain like this is your greatest strength.'
Harry felt the white-hot anger lick his insides, blazing in the terrible emptiness, filling him with the desire to hurt Dumbledore for his calmness and his empty words.
'My greatest strength, is it?' said Harry, his voice shaking as he stared out at the Quidditch stadium, no longer seeing it. 'You haven't got a clue . . . you don't know . . ."
'What don't I know?' asked Dumbledore calmly.
It was too much. Harry turned around, shaking with rage.
'I don't want to talk about how I feel, all right?'
'Harry, suffering like this proves you are still a man! This pain is part of being human - '
'THEN - I - DON'T - WANT - TO - BE - HUMAN!' Harry roared, and he seized the delicate silver instrument from the spindle-legged table beside him and flung it across the room; it shattered into a hundred tiny pieces against the wall. Several of the pictures let out yells of anger and fright, and the portrait of Armando Dippet said, 'Really!'
'I DON'T CARE!' Harry yelled at them, snatching up a lunascope and throwing it into the fireplace. 'I'VE HAD ENOUGH, I'VE SEEN ENOUGH, I WANT OUT, I WANT IT TO END, I DON'T CARE ANY MORE - '
He seized the table on which the silver instrument had stood and threw that, too. It broke apart on the floor and the legs rolled in different directions.
'You do care,' said Dumbledore. He had not flinched or made a single move to stop Harry demolishing his office. His expression was calm, almost detached. 'You care so much you feel as though you will bleed to death with the pain of it.'
'I - DON'T!' Harry screamed, so loudly that he felt his throat might tear, and for a second he wanted to rush at Dumbledore and break him, too; shatter that calm old face, shake him, hurt him, make him feel some tiny part of the horror inside himself.
'Oh, yes, you do,' said Dumbledore, still more calmly. 'You have now lost your mother, your father, and the closest thing to a parent you have ever known. Of course you care.'
'YOU DON'T KNOW HOW I FEEL!' Harry roared. 'YOU - STANDING THERE - YOU - '
But words were no longer enough, smashing things was no more help; he wanted to run, he wanted to keep running and never look back, he wanted to be somewhere he could not see the clear blue eyes staring at him, that hatefully calm old face. He turned on his heel and ran to the door, seized the doorknob again and wrenched at it.
But the door would not open.
Harry turned back to Dumbledore.
'Let me out,' he said. He was shaking from head to foot.
'No,' said Dumbledore simply.
For a few seconds they stared at each other.
'Let me out,' Harry said again.
'No,' Dumbledore repeated.
'If you don't - if you keep me in here - if you don't let me - '
'By all means continue destroying my possessions,' said Dumbledore serenely. 'I daresay I have too many.'
He walked around his desk and sat down behind it, watching Harry.
'Let me out,' Harry said yet again, in a voice that was cold and almost as calm as Dumbledore's.
'Not until I have had my say,' said Dumbledore.
'Do you - do you think I want to - do you think I give a - I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU'VE GOT TO SAY!' Harry roared. 'I don't want to hear anything you've got to say!'
'You will,' said Dumbledore steadily. 'Because you are not nearly as angry with me as you ought to be. If you are to attack me, as I know you are close to doing, I would like to have thoroughly earned it.'
'What are you talking - ?'
'It is my fault that Sirius died,' said Dumbledore clearly. 'Or should I say, almost entirely my fault - I will not be so arrogant as to claim responsibility for the whole. Sirius was a brave, clever and ener-getic man, and such men are not usually content to sit at home in hiding while they believe others to be in danger. Nevertheless, you should never have believed for an instant that there was any necessity for you to go to the Department of Mysteries tonight. If I had been open with you, Harry, as I should have been, you would have known a long time ago that Voldemort might try and lure you to the Department of Mysteries, and you would never have been tricked into going there tonight. And Sirius would not have had to come after you. That blame lies with me, and with me alone.'
Harry was still standing with his hand on the doorknob but was unaware of it. He was gazing at Dumbledore, hardly breathing, listening yet barely understanding what he was hearing.
'Please sit down,' said Dumbledore. It was not an order, it was a request.
Harry hesitated, then walked slowly across the room now lit-tered with silver cogs and fragments of wood, and took the seat facing Dumbledore's desk.
'Am I to understand,' said Phineas Nigellus slowly from Harry's left, 'that my great-great-grandson - the last of the Blacks - is dead?'
'Yes, Phineas,' said Dumbledore.
'I don't believe it,' said Phineas brusquely.
Harry turned his head in time to see Phineas marching out of his portrait and knew that he had gone to visit his other painting in Grimmauld Place. He would walk, perhaps, from portrait to portrait, calling for Sirius through the house . . .
'Harry, I owe you an explanation,' said Dumbledore. 'An expla-nation of an old man's mistakes. For I see now that what I have done, and not done, with regard to you, bears all the hallmarks of the failings of age. Youth cannot know how age thinks and feels. But old men are guilty if they forget what it was to be young . . . and I seem to have forgotten, lately . . .'
The sun was rising properly now; there was a rim of dazzling orange visible over the mountains and the sky above it was colour-less and bright. The light fell upon Dumbledore, upon the silver of his eyebrows and beard, upon the lines gouged deeply into his lace.
'I guessed, fifteen years ago,' said Dumbledore, 'when I saw the scar on your forehead, what it might mean. I guessed that it might be the sign of a connection forged between you and Voldemort.'
'You've told me this before, Professor,' said Harry bluntly. He did not care about being rude. He did not care about anything very much any more.
'Yes,' said Dumbledore apologetically. 'Yes, but you see - it is necessary to start with your scar. For it became apparent, shortly after you rejoined the magical world, that I was correct, and that your scar was giving you warnings when Voldemort was close to you, or else feeling powerful emotion.'
'I know,' said Harry wearily.
'And this ability of yours - to detect Voldemort's presence, even when he is disguised, and to know what he is feeling when his emotions are roused - has become more and more pronounced since Voldemort returned to his own body and his full powers.'
Harry did not bother to nod. He knew all of this already.
'More recently,' said Dumbledore, 'I became concerned that Voldemort might realise that this connection between you exists. Sure enough, there came a time when you entered so far into his mind and thoughts that he sensed your presence. I am speaking, of course, of the night when you witnessed the attack on Mr Weasley'
'Yeah, Snape told me,' Harry muttered.
'Professor Snape, Harry' Dumbledore corrected him quietly. 'But did you not wonder why it was not I who explained this to you? Why I did not teach you Occlumency? Why I had not so much as looked at you for months?'
Harry looked up. He could see now that Dumbledore looked sad and tired.
'Yeah,' Harry mumbled. 'Yeah, I wondered.'
'You see,' Dumbledore continued, 'I believed it could not be long before Voldemort attempted to force his way into your mind, to manipulate and misdirect your thoughts, and I was not eager to give him more incentives to do so. I was sure that if he realised that our relationship was - or had ever been - closer than that of headmaster and pupil, he would seize his chance to use you as a means to spy on me. I feared the uses to which he would put you, the possibility that he might try and possess you. Harry, I believe I was right to think that Voldemort would have made use of you in such a way. On those rare occasions when we had close con-tact, I thought I saw a shadow of him stir behind your eyes . . .'
Harry remembered the feeling that a dormant snake had risen in him, ready to strike, in those moments when he and Dumbledore had made eye-contact.
'Voldemort's aim in possessing you, as he demonstrated tonight, would not have been my destruction. It would have been yours. He hoped, when he possessed you briefly a short while ago, that I would sacrifice you in the hope of killing him. So you see, I have been trying, in distancing myself from you, to protect you, Harry. An old man s mistake . . ."
He sighed deeply. Harry was letting the words wash over him. He would have been so interested to know all this a few months ago, but now it was meaningless compared to the gaping chasm inside him that was the loss of Sirius; none of it mattered . . .
'Sirius told me you felt Voldemort awake inside you the very night that you had the vision of Arthur Weasley's attack. I knew at once that my worst fears were correct: Voldemort had realised he could use you. In an attempt to arm you against Voldemort s assaults on your mind, I arranged Occlumency lessons with Professor Snape.'
He paused. Harry watched the sunlight, which was sliding slowly across the polished surface of Dumbledore's desk, illuminate a silver ink pot and a handsome scarlet quill. Harry could tell that the por-traits all around them were awake and listening raptly to Dumbledore's explanation; he could hear the occasional rustle of robes, the slight clearing of a throat. Phineas Nigellus had still not returned . . .
'Professor Snape discovered,' Dumbledore resumed, 'that you had been dreaming about the door to the Department of Mysteries for months. Voldemort, of course, had been obsessed with the pos-sibility of hearing the prophecy ever since he regained his body; and as he dwelled on the door, so did you, though you did not <now what it meant.
'And then you saw Rookwood, who worked in the Department of Mysteries before his arrest, telling Voldemort what we had known all along - that the prophecies held in the Ministry of Magic are
heavily protected. Only the people to whom they refer can lilt them from the shelves without suffering madness: in this case, either Voldemort himself would have to enter the Ministry of Magic, and risk revealing himself at last - or else you would have to take it for him. It became a matter of even greater urgency that you should master Occlumency.'
'But I didn't,' muttered Harry. He said it aloud to try and ease the dead weight of guilt inside him: a confession must surely relieve some of the terrible pressure squeezing his heart. 'I didn't practise, I didn't bother, I could've stopped myself having those dreams, Hermione kept telling me to do it, if I had he'd never have been able to show me where to go, and - Sirius wouldn't - 'Sirius wouldn't - '
Something was erupting inside Harry's head: a need to justify himself, to explain - '
'I tried to check he'd really taken Sirius, I went to Umbridge's office, I spoke to Kreacher in the fire and he said Sirius wasn't there, he said he'd gone!'
'Kreacher lied,' said Dumbledore calmly. 'You are not his master, he could lie to you without even needing to punish himself. Kreacher intended you to go to the Ministry of Magic.'
'He - he sent me on purpose?'
'Oh yes. Kreacher, I am afraid, has been serving more than one master for months.'
'How?' said Harry blankly. 'He hasn't been out of Grimmauld Place for years.'
'Kreacher seized his opportunity shortly before Christmas,' said Dumbledore, 'when Sirius, apparently, shouted at him to "get out". He took Sirius at his word, and interpreted this as an order to leave the house. He went to the only Black family member for whom he had any respect left . . . Black's cousin Narcissa, sister of Bellatrix and wife of Lucius Malfoy.'
'How do you know all this?' Harry said. His heart was beating very fast. He felt sick. He remembered worrying about Kreacher's odd absence over Christmas, remembered him turning up again in the attic . . .
'Kreacher told me last night,' said Dumbledore. 'You see, when
you gave Professor Snape that cryptic warning, he realised that you had had a vision of Sirius trapped in the bowels of the Department of Mysteries. He, like you, attempted to contact Sirius at once. I should explain that members of the Order of the Phoenix have more reliable methods of communicating than the fire in Dolores Umbridge's office. Professor Snape found that Sirius was alive and safe in Grimmauld Place.
'When, however, you did not return from your trip into the Forest with Dolores Umbridge, Professor Snape grew worried that you still believed Sirius to be a captive of Lord Voldemort's. He alerted certain Order members at once.'
Dumbledore heaved a great sigh and continued, 'Alastor Moody, Nymphadora Tonks, Kingsley Shacklebolt and Remus Lupin were at Headquarters when he made contact. All agreed to go to your aid at once. Professor Snape requested that Sirius remain behind, as he needed somebody to remain at Headquarters to tell me what had happened, for I was due there at any moment. In the mean-time he, Professor Snape, intended to search the Forest for you.
'But Sirius did not wish to remain behind while the others went to search for you. He delegated to Kreacher the task of telling me what had happened. And so it was that when I arrived in Grimmauld Place shortly after they had all left for the Ministry, it was the elf who told me - laughing fit to burst - where Sirius had gone.'
'He was laughing?' said Harry in a hollow voice.
'Oh, yes,' said Dumbledore. 'You see, Kreacher was not able to betray us totally. He is not Secret Keeper for the Order, he could not give the Malfoy's our whereabouts, or tell them any of the Order's confidential plans that he had been forbidden to reveal. He was bound by the enchantments of his kind, which is to say that he could not disobey a direct order from his master, Sirius. But he gave Narcissa information of the sort that is very valuable lo Voldemort, yet must have seemed much too trivial for Sirius to think of banning him from repeating it.'
'Like what?' said Harry.
'Like the fact that the person Sirius cared most about in the world was you,' said Dumbledore quietly. 'Like the fact that you were coming to regard Sirius as a mixture of father and brother.
Voldemort knew already, of course, that Sirius was in the Order, and that you knew where he was - but Kreacher's information made him realise that the one person for whom you would go to any lengths to rescue was Sirius Black.'
Harry's lips were cold and numb.
'So . . . when I asked Kreacher if Sirius was there last night . . .'
The Malfoy's - undoubtedly on Voldemort's instructions - had told him he must find a way of keeping Sirius out of the way once you had seen the vision of Sirius being tortured. Then, if you decided to check whether Sirius was at home or not, Kreacher would be able to pretend he was not. Kreacher injured Buckbeak the Hippogriff yesterday, and, at the moment when you made your appearance in the fire, Sirius was upstairs tending to him.'
There seemed to be very little air in Harry's lungs; his breathing was quick and shallow.
'And Kreacher told you all this . . . and laughed?' he croaked.
'He did not wish to tell me,' said Dumbledore. 'But I am a suf-ficiently accomplished Legilimens myself to know when I am being lied to and I - persuaded him - to tell me the full story, before I left for the Department of Mysteries.'
'And,' whispered Harry, his hands curled in cold fists on his knees, 'and Hermione kept telling us to be nice to him - '
'She was quite right, Harry,' said Dumbledore. 'I warned Sirius when we adopted twelve Grimmauld Place as our Headquarters that Kreacher must be treated with kindness and respect. I also told him that Kreacher could be dangerous to us. I do not think Sirius took me very seriously, or that he ever saw Kreacher as a being with feelings as acute as a human's - '
'Don't you blame - don't you - talk - about Sirius like - ' Harry's breath was constricted, he could not get the words out properly; but the rage that had subsided briefly flared in him again: he would not let Dumbledore criticise Sirius. 'Kreacher's a lying - foul - he deserved - '
'Kreacher is what he has been made by wizards, Harry,' said Dumbledore. 'Yes, he is to be pitied. His existence has been as miserable as your friend Dobby's. He was forced to do Sirius's bidding, because Sirius was the last of the family to which he was enslaved, but he felt no true loyalty to him. And whatever Kreacher's faults, it must be admitted that Sirius did nothing to make Kreacher's lot easier - '
'DON'T TALK ABOUT SIRIUS LIKE THAT!' Harry yelled.
He was on his feet again, furious, ready to fly at Dumbledore, who had plainly not understood Sirius at all, how brave he was, how much he had suffered . . .
'What about Snape?' Harry spat. 'You're not talking about him, are you? When I told him Voldemort had Sirius he just sneered at me as usual - '
'Harry you know Professor Snape had no choice but to pretend not to take you seriously in front of Dolores Umbridge,' said Dumbledore steadily, 'but as I have explained, he informed the Order as soon as possible about what you had said. It was he who deduced where you had gone when you did not return from the Forest. It was he, too, who gave Professor Umbridge fake Veritaserum when she was attempting to force you to tell her Sirius's where-abouts.'
Harry disregarded this; he felt a savage pleasure in blaming Snape, it seemed to be easing his own sense of dreadful guilt, and he wanted to hear Dumbledore agree with him.
'Snape - Snape g - goaded Sirius about staying in the house - 'he made out Sirius was a coward - '
'Sirius was much too old and clever to have allowed such feeble taunts to hurt him,' said Dumbledore.
'Snape stopped giving me Occlumency lessons!' Harry snarled. 'He threw me out of his office!'
'I am aware of it,' said Dumbledore heavily. 'I have already said that it was a mistake for me not to teach you myself, though I was sure, at the time, that nothing could have been more dangerous than to open your mind even further to Voldemort while in my presence - '
'Snape made it worse, my scar always hurt worse after lessons with him - ' Harry remembered Ron's thoughts on the subject and plunged on '- how do you know he wasn't trying to soften me up for Voldemort, make it easier for him to get inside my - '
'I trust Severus Snape,' said Dumbledore simply. 'But I forgot - another old man's mistake - that some wounds run too deep for the healing. I thought Professor Snape could overcome his feelings about your father - I was wrong.'
'But that's OK, is it?' yelled Harry, ignoring the scandalised faces and disapproving mutterings of the portraits on the walls. 'It's OK: for Snape to hate my dad, but it's not OK for Sirius to hate Kreacher?'
'Sirius did not hate Kreacher,' said Dumbledore. 'He regarded him as a servant unworthy of much interest or notice. Indifference and neglect often do much more damage than outright dislike . . . the fountain we destroyed tonight told a lie. We wizards have mis-treated and abused our fellows for too long, and we are now reaping our reward.'
'SO SIRIUS DESERVED WHAT HE GOT, DID HE?' Harry yelled.
'I did not say that, nor will you ever hear me say it,' Dumbledore: replied quietly. 'Sirius was not a cruel man, he was kind to house - 'elves in general. He had no love for Kreacher, because Kreacher was a living reminder of the home Sirius had hated.'
'Yeah, he did hate it!' said Harry, his voice cracking, turning his back on Dumbledore and walking away. The sun was bright inside the room now and the eyes of all the portraits followed him as he walked, without realising what he was doing, without seeing the office at all. 'You made him stay shut up in that house and he hated it, that's why he wanted to get out last night - '
'I was trying to keep Sirius alive,' said Dumbledore quietly.
'People don't like being locked up!' Harry said furiously, rounding on him. 'You did it to me all last summer - '
Dumbledore closed his eyes and buried his face in his long-fingered hands. Harry watched him, but this uncharacteristic sign of exhaustion, or sadness, or whatever it was from Dumbledore, did not soften him. On the contrary, he felt even angrier that Dumbledore was showing signs of weakness. He had no business being weak when Harry wanted to rage and storm at him.
Dumbledore lowered his hands and surveyed Harry through his half-moon glasses.
'It is time,' he said, 'for me to tell you what I should have told you five years ago, Harry. Please sit down. I am going to tell you everything. I ask only a little patience. You will have your chance to rage at me - to do whatever you like - when I have finished. I will not stop you.'
Harry glared at him for a moment, then flung himself back into the chair opposite Dumbledore and waited.
Dumbledore stared for a moment at the sunlit grounds outside the window, then looked back at Harry and said, 'Five years ago you arrived at Hogwarts, Harry, safe and whole, as I had planned and intended. Well - not quite whole. You had suffered. I knew you would when I left you on your aunt and uncle's doorstep. I knew I was condemning you to ten dark and difficult years.'
He paused. Harry said nothing.
'You might ask - and with good reason - why it had to be so. Why could some wizarding family not have taken you in? Many would have done so more than gladly, would have been honoured and delighted to raise you as a son.
'My answer is that my priority was to keep you alive. You were in more danger than perhaps anyone but I realised. Voldemort had been vanquished hours before, but his supporters - and many of them are almost as terrible as he - were still at large, angry, desperate and violent. And I had to make my decision, too, with regard to the years ahead. Did I believe that Voldemort was gone for ever? No. I knew not whether it would be ten, twenty or fifty years before he returned, but I was sure he would do so, and I was sure, too, knowing him as I have done, that he would not rest until he killed you.
'I knew that Voldemort's knowledge of magic is perhaps more extensive than any wizard alive. I knew that even my most com-plex and powerful protective spells and charms were unlikely to be invincible if he ever returned to full power.
'But I knew, too, where Voldemort was weak. And so I made my decision. You would be protected by an ancient magic of which he knows, which he despises, and which he has always, therefore, underestimated - to his cost. I am speaking, of course, of the fact that your mother died to save you. She gave you a lingering protection he never expected, a protection that flows in your veins to this day. I put my trust, therefore, in your mother's blood. I delivered you to her sister, her only remaining relative.'
'She doesn't love me,' said Harry at once. 'She doesn't give a damn - '
'But she took you,' Dumbledore cut across him. 'She may have taken you grudgingly, furiously, unwillingly, bitterly, yet still she took you, and in doing so, she sealed the charm I placed upon you. Your mother's sacrifice made the bond of blood the strongest shield I could give you.'
'I still don't - '
'While you can still call home the place where your mother's blood dwells, there you cannot be touched or harmed by Voldemort. He shed her blood, but it lives on in you and her sister. Her blood became your refuge. You need return there only once a year, but as long as you can still call it home, whilst you are there he cannot hurt you. Your aunt knows this. I explained what I had done in the letter I left, with you, on her doorstep. She knows that allowing you houseroom may well have kept you alive for the past fifteen years.'
'Wait,' said Harry. 'Wait a moment.'
He sat up straighter in his chair, staring at Dumbledore.
'You sent that Howler. You told her to remember - it was your voice - '
'I thought,' said Dumbledore, inclining his head slightly, 'that she might need reminding of the pact she had sealed by taking you. I suspected the Dementor attack might have awoken her to the dangers of having you as a surrogate son.'
'It did,' said Harry quietly. 'Well - my uncle more than her. He wanted to chuck me out, but after the Howler came she - she said I had to stay.'
He stared at the floor for a moment, then said, 'But what's this got to do with - '
He could not say Sirius's name.
'Five years ago, then,' continued Dumbledore, as though he had not paused in his story, 'you arrived at Hogwarts, neither as happy nor as well-nourished as I would have liked, perhaps, yet alive and healthy. You were not a pampered little prince, but as normal a boy as I could have hoped under the circumstances. Thus far, my plan was working well.
'And then . . . well, you will remember the events of your first year at Hogwarts quite as clearly as I do. You rose magnificently to the challenge that faced you and sooner - much sooner - than I had anticipated, you found yourself face to face with Voldemort. You survived again. You did more. You delayed his return to full power and strength. You fought a man's fight. I was . . . prouder of you than I can say.
'Yet there was a flaw in this wonderful plan of mine,' said Dumbledore. 'An obvious flaw that I knew, even then, might be the undoing of it all. And yet, knowing how important it was that my plan should succeed, I told myself that I would not permit this flaw to ruin it. I alone could prevent this, so I alone must be strong. And here was my first test, as you lay in the hospital wing, weak from your struggle with Voldemort.'
'I don't understand what you're saying,' said Harry.
'Don't you remember asking me, as you lay in the hospital wing, why Voldemort had tried to kill you when you were a baby?'
Harry nodded.
'Ought I to have told you then?'
Harry stared into the blue eyes and said nothing, but his heart was racing again.
'You do not see the flaw in the plan yet? No . . . perhaps not. Well, as you know, I decided not to answer you. Eleven, I told myself, was much too young to know. I had never intended to tell you when you were eleven. The knowledge would be too much at such a young age.
'I should have recognised the danger signs then. I should have asked myself why I did not feel more disturbed that you had already asked me the question to which I knew, one day, I must give a ter-rible answer. I should have recognised that I was too happy to think that I did not have to do it on that particular day . . . you were too young, much too young.
'And so we entered your second year at Hogwarts. And once again you met challenges even grown wizards have never faced; once again you acquitted yourself beyond my wildest dreams. You did not ask me again, however, why Voldemort had left that mark on you. We discussed your scar, oh yes . . . we came very, very close to the subject. Why did I not tell you everything;
'Well, it seemed to me that twelve was, after all, hardly better than eleven to receive such information. I allowed you to leave my presence, bloodstained, exhausted but exhilarated, and if I felt a twinge of unease that I ought, perhaps, to have told you then, it was swiftly silenced. You were still so young, you see, and I could not find it in myself to spoil that night of triumph . . .
'Do you see, Harry? Do you see the flaw in my brilliant plan now? I had fallen into the trap I had foreseen, that I had told myself I could avoid, that I must avoid.'
'I don't - '
'I cared about you too much,' said Dumbledore simply. 'I cared more for your happiness than your knowing the truth, more for your peace of mind than my plan, more for your life than the lives that might be lost if the plan failed. In other words, I acted exactly as Voldemort expects we fools who love to act.
'Is there a defence? I defy anyone who has watched you as I have - and I have watched you more closely than you can have imagined - not to want to save you more pain than you had already suffered. What did I care if numbers of nameless and faceless people and creatures were slaughtered in the vague future, if in the here and now you were alive, and well, and happy? I never dreamed that I would have such a person on my hands.
'We entered your third year. I watched from afar as you strug-gled to repel Dementors, as you found Sirius, learned what he was and rescued him. Was I to tell you then, at the moment when you had triumphantly snatched your godfather from the jaws of the Ministry? But now, at the age of thirteen, my excuses were run-ning out. Young you might be, but you had proved you were excep-tional. My conscience was uneasy, Harry. I knew the time must come soon . . .
'But you came out of the maze last year, having watched Cedric Diggory die, having escaped death so narrowly yourself . . . and I did not tell you, though I knew, now Voldemort had returned, I must do it soon. And now, tonight, I know you have long been ready for the knowledge I have kept from you for so long, because you have proved that I should have placed the burden upon you
before this. My only defence is this: I have watched you struggling under more burdens than any student who has ever passed through this school and I could not bring myself to add another - the greatest one of all.'
Harry waited, but Dumbledore did not speak.
'I still don't understand.'
'Voldemort tried to kill you when you were a child because of a prophecy made shortly before your birth. He knew the prophecy had been made, though he did not know its full contents. He set out to kill you when you were still a baby, believing he was ful-filling the terms of the prophecy. He discovered, to his cost, that he was mistaken, when the curse intended to kill you backfired. And so, since his return to his body, and particularly since your extraordinary escape from him last year, he has been determined to hear that prophecy in its entirety. This is the weapon he has been seeking so assiduously since his return: the knowledge of how to destroy you.'
The sun had risen fully now: Dumbledore's office was bathed in it. The glass case in which the sword of Godric Gryffindor resided gleamed white and opaque, the fragments of the instruments Harry had thrown to the floor glistened like raindrops, and behind him, the baby Fawkes made soft chirruping noises in his nest of ashes.
The prophecy's smashed,' Harry said blankly. 'I was pulling Neville up those benches in the - the room where the archway was, and I ripped his robes and it fell . . .'
The thing that smashed was merely the record of the prophecy kept by the Department of Mysteries. But the prophecy was made to somebody, and that person has the means of recalling it perfectly.'
'Who heard it?' asked Harry, though he thought he knew the answer already.
'I did,' said Dumbledore. 'On a cold, wet night sixteen years ago, in a room above the bar at the Hog's Head inn. I had gone there to see an applicant for the post of Divination teacher, though it was against my inclination to allow the subject of Divination to continue at all. The applicant, however, was the great-great-granddaughter of a very famous, very gifted Seer and I thought it common politeness to meet her. I was disappointed. It seemed to me that she had not a trace of the gift herself. I told her, courteously I hope, that I did not think she would be suitable for the post. I turned to leave.'
Dumbledore got to his feet and walked past Harry to the black cabinet that stood beside Fawkes's perch. He bent down, slid back a catch and took from inside it the shallow stone basin, carved with runes around the edges, in which Harry had seen his father tormenting Snape. Dumbledore walked back to the desk, placed the Pensieve upon it, and raised his wand to his own temple. From it, he withdrew silvery, gossamer-fine strands of thought clinging to the wand and deposited them into the basin. He sat back down behind his desk and watched his thoughts swirl and drift inside the Pensieve for a moment. Then, with a sigh, he raised his wand and prodded the silvery substance with its tip.
A figure rose out of it, draped in shawls, her eyes magnified to enormous size behind her glasses, and she revolved slowly, her feet in the basin. But when Sybill Trelawney spoke, it was not in her usual ethereal, mystic voice, but in the harsh, hoarse tones Harry had heard her use once before:
'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches . . . born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies . . . and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not . . . and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives . . . the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies . . .'
The slowly revolving Professor Trelawney sank back into the silver mass below and vanished.
The silence within the office was absolute. Neither Dumbledore nor Harry nor any of the portraits made a sound. Even Fawkes had fallen silent.
'Professor Dumbledore?' Harry said very quietly, for Dumbledore, still staring at the Pensieve, seemed completely lost in thought. 'It . . . did that mean . . . what did that mean?'
'It meant,' said Dumbledore, 'that the person who has the only chance of conquering Lord Voldemort for good was born at the end of July, nearly sixteen years ago. This boy would be born to parents who had already defied Voldemort three times.'
Harry felt as though something was closing in on him. His breathing seemed difficult again.
'It means - me?'
Dumbledore surveyed him for a moment through his glasses.
The odd thing, Harry,' he said softly, 'is that it may not have meant you at all. Sybill's prophecy could have applied to two wizard boys, both born at the end of July that year, both of whom had parents in the Order of the Phoenix, both sets of parents having narrowly escaped Voldemort three times. One, of course, was you. The other was Neville Longbottom.'
'But then . . . but then, why was it my name on the prophecy and not Neville's?'
The official record was re-labelled after Voldemort's attack on you as a child,' said Dumbledore. 'It seemed plain to the keeper of the Hall of Prophecy that Voldemort could only have tried to kill you because he knew you to be the one to whom Sybill was referring.'
'Then - it might not be me?' said Harry.
'I am afraid,' said Dumbledore slowly, looking as though every word cost him a great effort, 'that there is no doubt that it is you.'
'But you said - Neville was born at the end of July, too - and his mum and dad - '
'You are forgetting the next part of the prophecy, the final iden-tifying feature of the boy who could vanquish Voldemort . . . Voldemort himself would mark him as his equal. And so he did, Harry. He chose you, not Neville. He gave you the scar that has proved both blessing and curse.'
'But he might have chosen wrong!' said Harry. 'He might have marked the wrong person!'
'He chose the boy he thought most likely to be a danger to him,' said Dumbledore. 'And notice this, Harry: he chose, not the pure-blood (which, according to his creed, is the only kind of wizard worth being or knowing) but the half-blood, like himself. He saw himself in you before he had ever seen you, and in marking you with that scar, he did not kill you, as he intended, but gave you powers, and a future, which have fitted you to escape him not once, but four times so far - something that neither your parents, nor Neville's parents, ever achieved.'
'Why did he do it, then?' said Harry, who felt numb and cold. 'Why did he try and kill me as a baby? He should have waited to see whether Neville or I looked more dangerous when we were older and tried to kill whoever it was then - '
That might, indeed, have been the more practical course,' said Dumbledore, 'except that Voldemort's information about the prophecy was incomplete. The Hog's Head inn, which Sybill chose for its cheapness, has long attracted, shall we say, a more inter-esting clientele than the Three Broomsticks. As you and your friends found out to your cost, and I to mine that night, it is a place where it is never safe to assume you are not being overheard. Of course, I had not dreamed, when I set out to meet Sybill Trelawney, that I would hear anything worth overhearing. My - our - one stroke of good fortune was that the eavesdropper was detected only a short way into the prophecy and thrown from the building.'
'So he only heard - ?'
'He heard only the beginning, the part foretelling the birth of a boy in July to parents who had thrice defied Voldemort. Consequently, he could not warn his master that to attack you would be to risk transferring power to you, and marking you as his equal. So Voldemort never knew that there might be danger in attacking you, that it might be wise to wait, to learn more. He did not know that you would have power the Dark Lord knows not - '
'But I don't!' said Harry, in a strangled voice. 'I haven't any powers he hasn't got, I couldn't fight the way he did tonight, I can't possess people or - or kill them - '
There is a room in the Department of Mysteries,' interrupted Dumbledore, 'that is kept locked at all times. It contains a force that is at once more wonderful and more terrible than death, than human intelligence, than the forces of nature. It is also, perhaps, the most mysterious of the many subjects for study that reside there. It is the power held within that room that you possess in such quantities and which Voldemort has not at all. That power took you to save Sirius tonight. That power also saved you from pos-session by Voldemort, because he could not bear to reside in a body so full of the force he detests. In the end, it mattered not that you could not close your mind. It was your heart that saved you.'
Harry closed his eyes. If he had not gone to save Sirius, Sirius would not have died . . . More to stave off the moment when he would have to think of Sirius again, Harry asked, without caring much about the answer, The end of the prophecy . . . it was some-thing about . . . neither can live . . .'
'. . . while the other survives,' said Dumbledore.
'So,' said Harry, dredging up the words from what felt like a deep well of despair inside him, 'so does that mean that . . . that one of us has got to kill the other one . . . in the end?'
'Yes,' said Dumbledore.
For a long time, neither of them spoke. Somewhere far beyond the office walls, Harry could hear the sound of voices, students heading down to the Great Hall for an early breakfast, perhaps. It seemed impossible that there could be people in the world who still desired food, who laughed, who neither knew nor cared that Sirius Black was gone for ever. Sirius seemed a million miles away already; even now a part of Harry still believed that if he had only pulled back that veil, he would have found Sirius looking back at him, greeting him, perhaps, with his laugh like a bark . . .
'I feel I owe you another explanation, Harry,' said Dumbledore hesitantly. 'You may, perhaps, have wondered why I never chose you as a prefect? I must confess . . . that I rather thought . . . you had enough responsibility to be going on with.'
Harry looked up at him and saw a tear trickling down Dumbledore's face into his long silver beard.
'Albus Dumbledore, newly reinstated Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, reinstated member of the International Confederation of Wizards and reinstated Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, has so far been unavailable for com-ment. He has insisted over the past year that You-Know-Who is not dead, as was widely hoped and believed, but is recruiting fol-lowers once more for afresh attempt to seize power. Meanwhile, the "Boy Who Lived" - '
'You-Know- Who's Last Attempt to Take Over, pages two to Jour, What the Ministry Should Have Told Us, page five, Why Nobody Listened to Albus Dumbledore, pages six to eight, Exclusive Interview with Harry Potter, page nine . . . Well,' said Hermione, folding up the newspaper and throwing it aside, 'it's certainly given them lots to write about. And that interview with Harry isn't exclusive, it's the one that was in The Quibbler months ago . . .'
Hermione looked rather disapproving and asked, 'So has all the trouble stopped now Dumbledore's back?'
'Yes,' said Neville, 'everything's settled right back to normal.'
'I s'pose Filch is happy, is he?' asked Ron, propping a Chocolate Frog Card featuring Dumbledore against his water jug.
All six of them looked around. Professor Umbridge was lying in a bed opposite them, gazing up at the ceiling. Dumbledore had strode alone into the Forest to rescue her from the centaurs; how he had done it - how he had emerged from the trees supporting Professor Umbridge without so much as a scratch on him - nobody knew, and Umbridge was certainly not telling. Since she had returned to the castle she had not, as far as any of them knew, uttered a single word. Nobody really knew what was wrong with her, either. Her usually neat mousy hair was very untidy and there were still bits of twigs and leaves in it, but otherwise she seemed to be quite unscathed.
'Bet Dumbledore wishes he could've got rid of Trelawney for good,' said Ron, now munching on his fourteenth Frog. 'Mind you, the whole subject's useless if you ask me, Firenze isn't a lot better . . .'
The voice rang across the Entrance Hall. Snape had emerged from the staircase leading down to his office and at the sight of him Harry felt a great rush of hatred beyond anything he felt towards Malfoy . . . whatever Dumbledore said, he would never forgive Snape . . . never . . .
Perhaps the reason he wanted to be alone was because he had felt isolated from everybody since his talk with Dumbledore. An invisible barrier separated him from the rest of the world. He was - he had always been - a marked man. It was just that he had never really understood what that meant . . .
But when the dormitory door closed behind Ron, Harry made no effort to speed up his packing. The very last thing he wanted to do was to attend the Leaving Feast. He was worried that Dumbledore would make some reference to him in his speech. He was sure to mention Voldemort's return; he had talked to them about it last year, after all . . .