Harry Potter and the Ancient Secret of War

Chapter Five

The Signs of Things to Come

Minerva McGonagall sat at the desk in her office, doing her work. She had been doing this since the last twenty years, ever since she had been appointed Deputy Headmistress at Hogwarts. It was her job to send the school letters to all the students. She quite enjoyed this work. It was not enough to keep her busy during the vacations and being the workaholic that she was, Professor McGonagall thought that some work was at least better than none.

However, this year around, it was different. She was a member of the Order of the Phoenix and besides her normal work, she did some voluntary work for the Order as well. Not that she minded though. But at seventy, and two months after she had recovered from a potentially fatal attack, Professor McGonagall found herself behind schedule for the first time in her life. She was the kind of person whom students like Hermione Granger looked to as role models and she did not think that being late would serve a good influence for the students.

However, late as she was, Professor McGonagall couldn't help it. The Ministry had made a mess of the O.W.L. results and so, it was left to her to cope with the delay and send letters to the sixth-year students nearly one month behind schedule. Most wouldn't really mind, thinking that it was best if the results were delayed, but few would definitely take notice. At this, the name of Hermione Granger popped into her mind. But then again, with all that was going on, maybe she was too occupied to notice, Professor McGonagall thought.

Normally, Professor McGonagall would use magic to do all the work with the letters. But for the fifth and seventh years, she always made it a point to skip the routine and do everything the Muggle way. It gave her a strange sense of satisfaction reviewing the performances of all these students that she had taught over the years. Sure, not all the students did very well, but Professor McGonagall had been in the profession of teaching long enough to know that results did not convey the full meaning of what a student had learnt at school.

She smiled to herself as she thought this. The names of Fred and George Weasley came to her mind. They had each got three owls only during their fifth year and had left school without appearing for the NEWTs last year - their seventh and last at Hogwarts. And yet, here they were, doing very well for themselves in the outside world. Their shop, Weasleys Wizarding Wheezes, located at 92, Diagon Alley, was creating ripples in the wizarding world. (They had long overtaken Zonko's as the most popular wizard joke shop in the whole of England and had even started exporting their goods) Professor McGonagall had been to their shop once that summer, not for making any purchases but because the Weasley twins had specially invited her to the opening of their summer collection of joke items. And she had to admit that although the nature of the things on display didn't please her to say in the least, they were indeed, good specimens of magic. Professor McGonagall shook her head. The twins had joined the Order about a month ago and to her surprise, were very serious and helpful when it came to its affairs. Clearly, there was a part of them that knew when it was fine to be funny and when they had to be dead serious.

Professor McGonagall came upon her next letter. It read `Granger, Hermione' at the top. Unlike the usual letters that were sent for all students, the letters for the fifth and seventh year students were also accompanied by transcripts of their performance in various exams. Professor McGonagall looked the letter up and down and a smile made its appearance in the corner of her mouth. She could trust Miss Granger to perform as well as she did. She had got herself eighteen owls and in the process, had created a new school record. So much so for the fact that Professor McGonagall had thought her own record of sixteen owls couldn't be beaten.

She took the letter folded it neatly and put it an envelop that had Hermione's address on it. She also added to the envelop, the usual letter informing the students about the re-opening of Hogwarts and the book list. After that, she sealed the envelop using her magic and put it on her `out' tray. The owls would take care of the deliveries later.

After some more time of examining each letter individually to detect any flaws and sealing them up, Professor McGonagall came upon the one document she had wanted to see all along. The name `Potter, Harry' was written over the transcript and Professor McGonagall looked it up and down with the hawk-like look that many of her students had come to be wary of over the years. She was quite surprised by what she saw. So much so, that she did not see a sallow-faced man with greasy, black hair enter her office and approach her desk.

“Professor McGonagall?” came the voice of Severus Snape. “Still busy with work, I see?”

Severus Snape had great respect for Professor McGonagall. She, along with Professor Dumbledore, was one of the two persons in the world against whom he felt no grievance. Even when he was at school, she was probably the only one who saw James Potter and his gang in true light - like that of mischief-makers. Over the years, she had become a big sister of sorts for him, and although the students felt that the two had great animosity, due to the fact that they were the Heads of Houses of the two most competitive houses at Hogwarts, they were in reality, good friends.

Hearing Snape, Professor McGonagall looked up and said, “Severus! How very surprising to see you! I don't suppose it is time for the meeting yet.” She was referring to the Order meeting that she was supposed to attend with Dumbledore and Snape that evening.

“In fact, it is,” Snape replied. Then with a pause, he smirked, “Tell me, what has made always punctual Professor McGonagall forget about time?”

McGonagall did not seem to mind in the least as she heard Snape's remark. She was quite used to his sarcastic comments and knew better than to take them to heart.

“You would too,” she replied in a business like manner, “if you saw this.”

She handed over Harry's transcript to Snape. A faint look of surprise registered itself on his normally expressionless face as he scanned the document up and down.

“I must admit,” he said slowly, “this is surprising, to say in the least.”

“I wouldn't think so,” Professor McGonagall said, “After all, his parents were just brilliant, I wouldn't be surprised if he had come into his own this time around.”

“You must be joking,” Snape continued in the same silky dry voice, “With all that he had done last year and with all that he had on mind, I would have been surprised if he even got one owl. And now I see his official transcript in my hand, telling me that he has got no less than, well, twelve owls!”

“I think I will have to talk to Dumbledore…,” Professor McGonagall began, but stopped as Dumbledore's voice floated in from the doorway and Dumbledore himself made his way towards her desk.

“Talk to me about what?” he asked, with a twinkle in his eyes.

He walked up to the desk. Professor McGonagall asked him, “Shall I draw you a chair?”

“No,” Dumbledore answered, “I think I will do that myself.”

With that, he waved his wand and conjured a chair out of thin air. It was quite a comfortable and squashy armchair and Dumbledore seated himself firmly upon it. Once seated, he looked first at McGonagall and then at Snape.

“So, what did you want to talk to me about?” he asked again.

“Who else, Albus? About Harry Potter,” Professor McGonagall replied dryly.

“What is it now?” Dumbledore asked.

“You remember how you vetoed my recommendation for making him a prefect last year. Then you did the same with my recommendation for making him the Gryffindor Quidditch captain this year, despite the fact that he is the only one on the team who has been playing for more than one year?” Professor McGonagall asked Dumbledore. He nodded slightly. Obviously, he remembered it well. Snape, meanwhile, continued listening, without saying a word.

“Why are you saying this? Isn't Mr Weasley carrying out his duties well?” Dumbledore asked.

Professor McGonagall continued, “No, Mr Weasley is okay. It's nothing against him. But I must say that I had told you then and I tell you even now that not making Harry a prefect and now, not giving him a chance to lead the Gryffindor Quidditch team were both wrong decisions on your part.”

“And why would you say so?”

“Because the boy obviously has a knack for leading, Albus. And not only that, even his grades have picked up. Look! He has got twelve OWLs. That is more than anyone else has got, except for Miss Granger. That too, at a time when he was obviously not concentrating fully on his studies. You cannot deny it, Albus. He has got considerable talent…”

Dumbledore interrupted, “I never once have questioned his talent.”

Professor McGonagall however continued, “I never said that you did. All I am trying to say is that he has finally started realizing what he is capable of. He is finally starting to use his potential and I think we ought to show more faith in him.”

“Minerva, I don't think there has ever been any time when we have failed to show faith in Harry,” Dumbledore said.

“Too much faith,” Snape muttered in a whisper that was clearly audible.

“Excuse me, did you say anything, Severus?” Professor McGonagall asked him.

“No,” Snape replied, “But now that this has come up, I would like to say, Headmaster, that although I believe Potter, being the mischief-maker that he is, should not be given any school responsibility, I do believe that he has done curiously well in these exams.”

“And what may you mean by that?” Dumbledore asked him, fixing his blue eyes on Snape's black ones.

Snape opened his mouth to answer, but Professor McGonagall spoke before he could, “What Severus means, Albus, is that we believe it is time for Harry to step up and do what he has been destined to do.”

“And may I know what he has been destined to do?” Professor Dumbledore asked calmly.

“You know it yourself. It was you who told the Order,” Professor McGonagall replied.

“Then may I hear it again, just to make sure I have not forgotten any of it?” Dumbledore said.

Professor McGonagall dropped her voice into a hoarse whisper and said, “You said that Harry is the one who will defeat Vv - I mean, You-Know-Who.”

“Minerva,” Professor Dumbledore said, “May I remind you that I said that Harry is the only one who can defeat Voldemort? The prophecy doesn't say that he will, it only says that he can. And may I also ask you what you are implying by telling me all this?”

“What I am implying, Albus,” Professor McGonagall said, “is that I think Harry is ready.”

A long moment of silence prevailed in the room after Professor McGonagall said this. It was only broken by the sound of the fire crackling in the fireplace. Dumbledore shook his head slightly.

Finally, Snape broke the silence and said, “Headmaster, I think Professor McGonagall is right. I think Potter is ready. And I don't believe that there can be a better opportunity to fulfil the terms of the prophecy than this. The mind of the Dark Lord is shrouded with doubt. He overestimates Potter. He thinks that Potter is more powerful than him. All this has made him overcautious. Let us strike now that the iron is hot.”

“Minerva, Severus, we are at war here,” Dumbledore said, “And the decision on the fate of a war, especially one with so much at stake here, cannot be taken by a few persons alone in a few minutes, even as the one who has the power to end all this is unaware of everything.”

“War! War! That is what we have been at for so long,” Snape replied smoothly, “The war was never over, Headmaster. It has now gone on too long. Everyone is tired of it. If it stretches any longer, everybody's patience will begin to wane. What would you do then?”

“The desire for the end to come has clouded your rational thinking, Severus,” Dumbledore replied. “I have said it repeatedly and I will say it again now, I do not think that Harry is ready. Not yet.”

“Then when will he be ready?” Professor McGonagall asked.

“He will be ready when he has to be,” Dumbledore replied. “I don't know when that will be, but one thing that I know is that it isn't now. No, it isn't. But at the same time, I will also say this, he has started on that path - the path on which he will get all that he needs to fulfil the prophecy. He has just started looking beyond the apparent and into all that lies underneath. Soon, he may succeed in getting the powers that he needs to fight Voldemort as an equal. But though that time is approaching, it is not now.”

“Fifty years ago, I took some actions in haste and that haste proved very costly. Fifty years ago, I made a mistake - a mistake for which the whole wizarding world is having to suffer till today. And I don't want to repeat it. I will not hasten the end in the hope of getting it to come soon. I will not interfere with things as they are. No, if Harry needs time to be ready, I will give it to him.”

“Don't you think you care too much for him?” Snape asked.

“Call it what you may,” Dumbledore replied, “If this is care, then let it be said that I care for a person whom I would trust with my life. I care for a person whom, I trust, can find a solution to all this turmoil. And I would also advise you to put aside the thoughts of your rivalry with James and look at Harry for who he is.” Dumbledore put a stern emphasis on the last sentence as he spoke.

Snape, however, didn't seem to hear what Dumbledore had just said.

“Don't you think your trust is misplaced and misdirected?” Snape asked again. But as soon as he asked the question, he regretted it, for Dumbledore's eyes became lifeless and he looked at him with a stony expression on his face.

He said slowly, emphasizing each and every word, “I do not think, Severus, that it is your wont to question me about who I trust. Many people may not have believed in the persons I trust, but they have always proved me right. And remember what happened fifteen years ago. When no one believed in someone, I trusted him.”

At this, Dumbledore looked directly into Snape's eyes and all colour drained from his face. Dumbledore turned around and said loudly, “This has taken far too long. I think we must all get going. We have a meeting to attend.”

Just as Dumbledore said this, the fireplace came to life and the head of Kingsley Shacklebolt appeared in the fire, “Albus,” he panted, sounding as if he had just run a marathon, “The Granger home, it has been attacked.”

* * * * *

`Why do things always have to be so complicated?' thought Ronald Weasley, as he lay back on his bed in his room at 12, Grimmauld Place. It was the same room that he had shared with Harry for about two months during the last year. The room was pretty much like what it had been then, except for one fact - the fact being that the empty portrait of Phineas Nigellus - a great-great-grandfather of Sirius had become unusually quiet. Harry had told Ron and Hermione about how Phineas (he was immortalised as a portrait in the office of the Hogwarts Headmaster) had taken in the news of Sirius' death. (That was just about the only thing that Harry had let his friends in on about his talk with Dumbledore that night.) Ron believed that he had not yet gotten over the death of the last of his descendants.

Ron had been in this miserable house along with his family for the last three days - ever since they had abruptly left Harry's birthday party. Once there, he had been left alone with his sister Ginny in the house for a couple of hours. From what he had gathered, Ron realized that the rest of his family as well as some other members of the Order of the Phoenix had gone off to fight a group of Death Eaters somewhere. If Ron had known that `that somewhere' was his home, he'd definitely have had a fit, but of course, he didn't know all this, not at that time. Neither did Ginny. He had endured the excruciating wait for more than two hours, before anyone returned. In the meantime, Ginny had already fallen asleep, tired from all the partying they had done earlier in the day.

The miserable house did nothing to cheer Ron up. Personally, he had always disliked this house filled with stuff related to Dark Magic, a nasty house elf and (to Ron, the nastiest things of all!) spiders. In the beginning, he had thought that the house was quite `cool' - it was definitely bigger than the Burrow and his room was undoubtedly bigger. But soon, he had found out that bigger is definitely not always better. During his stay in the house during last year, Ron did not mind the house that much, especially since Harry and Hermione had been there with him. But now, having to wait there alone, without an inkling of a information as to what was going on, Ron could not wait to get out of this dark, dusty house and breathe the open air again.

It was two hours before anyone came back to Headquarters. Whoever it was rang the doorbell and this resulted in Sirius' mother starting to scream again. Apparently, she hadn't been in the least affected by the news of her older son's death and was still as nasty as ever. Ron, however, ignored her shouts just then and without even bothering to pull back the curtains over her portrait, he ran to the door. In the way, he tripped over the umbrella stand made from a troll's severed leg. This only served the purpose of adding to the din. As he opened the door, Ron found himself thinking that all the people outside would probably be prepared for a Death Eater attack, hearing all the noise that had been produced inside.

However, when he opened the door, Ron faced only a group of tired, haggard looking wizards and witches. They had obviously returned after the fight and from their tired yet cheerful demeanour, it was clear that they had won, at least this time. They seemed apparently unaware of all the din that was going on inside. They entered and conjured up some dinner for all of them. Tonks, Mundungus Fletcher, Kingsley Shacklebolt were there along with his parents and brothers (except for Percy, who had apologised to his parents and was now trying for a full reconciliation. He had shifted into the Burrow with them now and things were almost back to normal, although they were just a bit strained).

From what Ron gathered, he heard that the Burrow had been attacked by a group of Death Eaters. He did not know why. He did not know that the attack had been planned to coincide with the attack on Hermione's home. Ron felt strangely happy. He'd never realized how much he loved his house until then, at a time when it could have been destroyed and all of them could have been killed.

But the joy was short-lived as his father told him about the attack on Hermione's parents and the critical condition that they were in. Ron wanted to go and visit Hermione but his parents as well as the other Order members (who irritatingly included his twin brothers as well). So, Ron had to be content with hearing bits and snippets of news from here and there while he was stuck up in this dark and gloomy house.

`Why do things have to be so complicated?' he thought as he lay in his bed. `I want to be with Hermione, tell her I am sorry and help her, but all I get is to be stuck up in this house for three days, without any news of what is happening. How I hate being a Weasley, being driven around in a pack with my brothers and sisters!'

`I wish I were in Harry's place; I would at least know what is going on, I would at least be with Hermione,' he wished for the umpteenth time. And then suddenly it hit him, an idea! An idea that could earn him the scorn of everyone but Ron felt that it was worth it.

So, he quickly and quietly went downstairs. Once in the living room, he picked up a handful of Floo powder and flooed to a place in Hermione's neighbourhood. It was a wizarding shop that sold all kind of junk (to be honest). The proprietor of the shop was not there and Ron was thankful for that. He did not want anyone to ask him what he was doing there at this late hour.

Ron made his way up to Hermione's home. He had been to her house once, when they had gone out together. Ron tried not to remember what happened at their date as he made his way slowly through the darkness.

Finally, he reached Hermione's house. He stood nervously on the porch and fidgeted around a bit with the doorbell. That proved costly, for Ron did not see a group of black hooded and cloaked figures lurking nearby. One of them directed a spell at him. He did not feel anything, but just fell onto the porch. And before anyone knew, another of the figures sent a powerful spell at the door and the door burst open, letting out the light inside the house.

* * * * *

Lupin, Tonks and Nick were sitting comfortably downstairs in the living room as they saw Hermione and then, Harry go upstairs.

“Any bet for what's going on between them?” Tonks asked after sometime.

“Who?” Lupin asked her back.

“Who else? Harry and Hermione.” Tonks replied.

“I think, Nymphadora, it is better that we don't get involved in this. Harry is sixteen now and Hermione will be as well in a few days. I don't think it is a good idea for us to interfere in this. If there is anything, they are mature enough to realize it and act accordingly,” Lupin lectured.

“Yeah, yeah. Tell me that. They have been hanging around each other for the last five years and when they have finally noticed each other, you tell me to buzz off! That will just not do,” Tonks muttered.

Nick, who had been quiet till now, said, “I don't know them well, to say in the least, but if you ask me, I think -”

But what he thought, no one was able to tell afterwards because just then, the door to the house flew open with a loud bang and a group of Death Eaters entered and it started raining spells.

It was really fortunate that all three of them were very quick, with both their wands and their movement. They quickly got over the initial shock of the Death Eater attack and started trying to hit them with their spells in turn.

A battle ensued, then and there, as the three Order members tried to fight off those five Death Eaters. Meanwhile, no one was aware of the fact that Ron Weasley was lying on the porch, injured.

* * * * *

Meanwhile, as the duels progressed downstairs, Harry and Hermione looked at each other, their wands out before them.

“What do you think it is?” Harry asked her.

She shook her head. Clearly, she had as little idea as he did. Suddenly, they hear Tonks scream out, “STUPEFY!”

That was all the cue that Harry and Hermione needed. They sprinted down the stairs and into the living room. There they were met with sight that they had feared. Lupin and Nick were fighting two Death Eaters at once, while Tonks was fighting one that was almost double her size.

Upon seeing the Death Eaters, Hermione joined the fray quickly, but Harry stood there, rooted to his place.

`Something is wrong. These are not Death Eaters,' a small voice in his head told him.

`But they are dressed like Death Eaters,' the rest of his brain reasoned.

`Maybe they are just an illusion, created by Voldemort. Maybe they aren't real then,' the small voice said again.

At this, Harry became convinced that it was indeed the case. He wondered just what to do. Just then, a spell came flying by him and missed by millimetres.

`That was close,' thought Harry, `What should I do now though?'

Even as he said this, he did not move from the spot where he was standing. Hermione was getting really worried about what was happening to him, even as she conjured up a shield to protect herself from her opponent's spell.

Suddenly, Harry found himself trying to remove the illusion. As he did so, the voice in the back of his head egged him on, `Yes, think they are not there. Believe in that, like you believed that the vision you saw today was a lie. Look at the room, but remove them from it. Believe in what you think, and not in the illusion. Use your mind.'

Harry found himself thinking more forcefully as time passed. Suddenly, the sensation passed over and Harry found himself looking at the living room. But how different it was from the living room of a few moments ago.

Lupin was getting up from the floor, dusting his robes as he did so. He seemed largely healthy, maybe it was the werewolf inside him that protected him as such. Tonks too, was not looking bad, if you discounted the gash on her arm. Nick was all right, although he was sweating from the encounter that they just had. Hermione looked a bit shaken, but was unscathed otherwise. Apparently, the Death Eaters had caused a lot of damage. Many things including the TV and several of the photos kept on the mantelpiece were broken.

Death Eaters? At this thought, Harry looked closely amidst the pile of rubbish that had been the result of all the duelling that had gone on. There he could discern clearly the shapes of five Death Eaters lying, apparently unconscious.

“What happened?” he asked.

“I don't know,” Hermione replied, “We were just fighting each of them and suddenly, they dropped to the ground and fell unconscious.”

The others went around now, checking the Death Eaters and removing their hoods and masks to reveal their identity. But Harry still stood there, wondering. What had happened to the Death Eaters? And more importantly, what was happening to him? He had taken the Death Eaters to be a mere illusion and yet here they were, lying unconscious before him but in flesh and blood. How did it happen? Was he responsible? Had he done this to them?

Harry was abruptly brought out of his musings as Hermione shrieked, “There is someone out there, on the porch.”

The five of them went slowly to the porch, fearing another attack that might happen. But when they reached the porch, Harry was stunned as were all others. Lying on the ground before them was the apparently lifeless body of Ron Weasley.

Nick regained his composure, probably either because he was a trained Healer and his professional capabilities came to the fore on seeing this or because he didn't know Ron as well as the others. He bent down and felt for Ron's breathing. He looked up at the others and said, “He is just stunned. Otherwise he's okay and yes, breathing. He's alive.”

Those words seemed to bring everyone out of their shocked states. Lupin quickly pointed his wand at Ron and muttered, “Mobilicorpus!”

At that, Ron's body floated up in the air as if he was supported by an invisible stretcher. They took him inside to the room where Harry was sleeping and made him to lay on Harry's bed. Lupin looked at Tonks and said, “Inform everyone at Headquarters regarding what has happened.”

She nodded and made her way out of the room, undoubtedly to apparate from there. Then Lupin turned to Nick and asked, “What do we do now?”

“Nothing,” he replied, “Not for the time being. We have to first ascertain whether we can use magic on him and then I will do the `enervate' spell.”

Lupin nodded and then spoke to Harry and Hermione, “Undoubtedly, you want to be with your best friend. In case you need any of us, we will be downstairs.”

After Nick and Lupin had gone away, Hermione asked, “Harry, do you think he will be all right.”

Harry went to Hermione and pulled her in a hug. He said, “Yes, of course. You heard Nick. He'll be okay.”

Hermione buried her head in Harry's shoulders. Slowly, she pulled away from him, as if she was doing so with great reluctance.

“Harry,” she said. “We've to tell Ron about…you and me…about us.”

“Not now.”

“If not now, then when? Harry, he's our best friend. He has got the right to know. And if he finds out from anyone else, then he will never speak to us again.”

“Hermione, please. I don't think I am ready to tell anyone. Please don't feel bad but I am confused about all this. I am even confused about our relationship. I need time to think things out.”

“I will give you time, Harry. All the time that you need. But couldn't we just tell him, as if it is just nothing more than a plain boyfriend-girlfriend thing?”

“No,” Harry said, shaking his head, “I don't think I could tell anyone that especially since it would be a lie, especially since I think-”

With that, Harry broke off and looked straight into Hermione's eyes. And for the first time, Hermione saw something there that she never had seen in those eyes - a feeling of true love.

“Think what, Harry?” she asked him.

But he didn't answer her and said instead, “Never mind. But promise me Hermione, that you will wait till I am ready to tell everyone this.”

Hermione nodded and said softly, “I promise.”

With that, Harry swept her into her arms and gave her a long, sweet kiss on the lips. Suddenly, they heard a low moaning sound emanating from Ron's direction. Hermione pulled away before he could give her another one and said, “I think we should go and tell Nick.”

Harry nodded and they both went off together downstairs with Hermione thinking, `This is going to be a very interesting year.'

* * * * *

Albus Dumbledore stared into the fire into the face of Kingsley Shacklebolt. He never allowed himself to be surprised, yet he had to admit that he was surprised with this news. He asked Kingsley, “What happened?”

Kingsley told him everything. Even as he listened to him, Dumbledore couldn't help but appreciate the reason why Kingsley was one of the top Aurors in the Ministry. He was always concise with his words and knew when to speak and when to attack. It was the former ability that he was exhibiting as he told Albus all that Tonks had reported at the Headquarters.

“Is Mr Weasley okay?” Dumbledore asked.

“Yes,” Kingsley replied, “Nick checked him up. Tonks said that he is just stunned and Nick told to wait before using `Enervate' on him.”

“The ones who attacked them - were they real Death Eaters?” Snape asked, coming to the fore.

“Yes,” Kingsley replied, “They were undoubtedly so. But Tonks tells me that Potter apparently didn't believe so.”

Dumbledore narrowed his eyes. “What did he do?” he asked.

Kingsley replied, “Apparently, he just stood there, muttering something like `They're not real'. And then something happened as the Death Eaters suddenly collapsed on the floor.”

Dumbledore nodded. He said, “I understand all the Weasleys are by now at the Grangers.”

Kingsley nodded.

“Very well,” said Dumbledore. “Tell them to be there for tonight and then tomorrow, they will have to return to the Headquarters. And Kingsley, (his voice became softer and more thoughtful as he said this) go and check whether they really are Death Eaters.”

Kingsley understood what Dumbledore meant. He wanted him to check the attackers' left arm. If they were Death Eaters, the Dark Mark would definitely be imprinted there. With an almost imperceptible nod of his head, he went and the fireplace returned to normal.

After Kingsley departed from the fire, Dumbledore turned around to find Snape and McGonagall looking closely at him.

“How do you think he did it?” Professor McGonagall asked.

“What?” Dumbledore asked as if he didn't have the slightest idea of what was happening,

“You know what I am talking about. How did Harry get rid of the Death Eaters? And that too, without his wand? How did he learn wandless magic? What does this mean?” McGonagall asked.

“It means that he used his mind for doing magic and not just his wand,” Dumbledore replied slowly. And then, he continued, emphasizing every word that he was saying, “It means that Harry is finally starting to believe…It means that he is finally and firmly on the path which may take him to the ancient powers that he can get.”

With this, Dumbledore looked at both the professors. But by the looks on their faces, it was clear that neither of them understood what he meant.

* * * * *

What You Can Expect Next:

There will be the death that I talked about and Ron will understand what's going on between Harry and Hermione. Dumbledore opens up a little more as well.

* * * * *

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