Unofficial Portkey Archive

Wherein both Harry's and Draco's return is announced to the school, Harry wakes up, contemplates Hermione's condition, takes a Thestral flight to a mountaintop and has a long talk with Dumbledore. Dumbledore reveals a critical secret; they discuss what the other doesn't know; something precious is hidden in a significant place; and Harry discovers a lost ability.

Disclaimer: I neither own nor claim any other rights in the characters and other concepts created by J.K. Rowling. I make no money, nor do I seek any commercial advantage from this work. As such it constitutes "fair use" as defined in 17 U.S.C. §107.

Chapter 38 - The Mountaintop

Despite very little sleep, Ron, Neville, Ginny, and most other Gryffindors arrived quite early to the Great Hall for breakfast. The three "boom-wins" amongst them were determined to buttonhole the Headmaster themselves should no announcement about Harry be forthcoming. Evidently, they were not alone in anticipating significant news. The Great Hall, barely half full for breakfast on most days (since many students skipped the meal, or else ate and ran), was almost as crowded as for the dinner hour. Even Slytherin attendance was noticeably greater than normal.

The three Gryffindors spotted their Ravenclaw boom-win counterpart. To enlist Luna in their scheme, they had a pleasant, if somewhat cryptic, conversation - cryptic because everyone seated nearby strained to overhear. They never finished.

Ron and the others looked up as the Great Hall went silent. Sure enough, Headmaster Dumbledore had making his way into the Hall from the staff entrance. His right hand was wrapped in some sort of dressing that gave off a dull orange glow, but the twinkle in his eye was unmistakable - even from the aft end of the Ravenclaw table.

Taking Luna's leave, the three Gryffindors quickly made their way back to their proper table. Dumbledore seemed to be waiting for them to find their seats before he began. When he did, the Headmaster's words were more momentous than any student in the Hall had ever heard him use.

Students of Hogwarts, at last it is my pleasure to have some good news to impart. I speak, of course, of the return of the prodigal. First….

"Whhheeuuu," Ron exhaled audibly, "If there's a first, then there's got to be a second…."

Ginny kicked him hard in the shins to shut him up.

…I can now confirm what some of you may already know. One of our students, Harry Potter, is free of the clutches of the Death Eaters. I did not rescue him, nor did the Ministry. Rather, Mister Potter owes his freedom to the forces of the Goblin Nation. We, too, owe the goblins a corresponding debt of gratitude.

As might be expected, Mister Potter was not well treated during his lengthy captivity. He has required medical attention beyond the capacity of the Hogwarts Hospital Wing. Thus, he is being treated elsewhere. Do not ask me where. I can inform you that his rehabilitation is proceeding apace. If all continues to unfold on its present course, the healer in charge of Mister Potter's care is of the view that he may be released as early as tomorrow morning.

As I am sure all of you recognise, Mister Potter has been through a considerable ordeal. My wish is that none of you add to that ordeal by bombarding him with questions. Please welcome him back without precondition, and let him decide how best to deal with what has happened on his own terms.

All Gryffindor house appointments are unaffected. Beyond that, Mister Potter's eligibility for extracurricular activities is a matter for his Head of House to decide.

Second, I am also pleased to inform you that Draco Malfoy will be returning….

"Bloody Hell!" Ron exclaimed loudly, causing much of the student body to turn and stare. Somewhat less audibly, he commented to his tablemates, "Who gives a farthing about the bleeding ferret. What I want to know is…."

Ron shut himself up, but not because of others' disapproval (although Ginny was not alone in being on the verge of hexing him). He suddenly realised that no news was probably not good news.

…I see that my opinion is not fully shared by everyone, Dumbledore observed over his half-moon glasses.

Be that as it may, Mister Malfoy will be returning to Hogwarts. As some of you may know, he had withdrawn in favour of attending Durmstrang, however his stay there was as short as it was unhappy. Recognising the error of his ways, Mister Malfoy recently contacted the Ministry's representative at Durmstrang and requested readmittance. I have given my concurrence. Thus, I expect that he will be back amongst us by the end of the weekend.

I hasten to assure all of our sixth-year Slytherins, both the returnees and those admitted under the Moses-Welday Emergency Dispensation, that your status will not change. One extra Slytherin is no cause for upset. Once again no house appointments will be affected, and Professor Slughorn will determine Mister Malfoy's eligibility for extracurricular activities.

In other circumstances this news would be cause for celebration, but not in light of our recent losses. Nonetheless, a gesture in the direction of Gryffindor and Slytherin is appropriate.

The Headmaster drew his wand and pointed it in the general direction of first the Gryffindor, and then the Slytherin table. The floating candles above each table changed from white to the colours of the respective houses.

Very well - you may carry on.

With that the Headmaster turned on his heel and swiftly exited through the staff entrance before anyone in the Great Hall could think to pose any questions.

Ron immediately leapt to his feet. "Let's go," he demanded. "We've got to find him, or at least McGonagall."

"Where are you off to, Ronald?" Luna asked in her dreamy voice. Somehow, she always seemed to turn up.

"You want to see Harry don't you?" Ron replied breathlessly. "We've got to find Dumbledore."

The four of them hurried out of the Hall, having altogether forgotten about their breakfasts.

* * * *

Harry woozily blinked his eyes at the midday sunlight streaming into the Room of Requirement. The Dreamless Sleep Potion had done its work exceedingly well, and it took some time before Harry recalled where he was. The faint, muffled sound of phoenix song reminded him of his circumstances.

Intermingled with the delicate, soothing music, Harry noticed the hum beneath his own bed.

Falling back upon his summer survival training, Harry mentally examined himself. His various burns, bruises, cuts and abrasions were mostly healed. There was very little ongoing pain. One after another he checked the status of each extremity, finding them all in reasonably good working order. His fingers and toes all responded to his commands. His senses, too, were functioning - as well as they normally did anyway. The tick list was complete.

"Accio glasses."

His new and unbreakable dragon ambergris-lensed glasses zoomed into Harry's outstretched hand - but he felt a sense of weakness course through him. He could perform wandless magic, but his magical abilities remained very much in the recovery stage. `Best to take it easy,' he thought.

Harry recalled that Dumbledore had returned his wand the previous evening - at least he presumed it was the previous evening. He had no idea how long he had been asleep.

Sure enough, he found his wand on the other side table. Harry grasped and waved it, generating random sparks. A tray with potions that appeared to be steaming lay next to his wand. A note from Hlr. Huxley addressed to him accompanied the potions.

Harry Potter - Daily Orders

Both your and Miss Granger's conditions are stable. I have returned to St. Mungo's for the moment, but will return soon.

Upon waking, you are to take by mouth the following three potions in the following order.

1. Draught of Peace (blue potion) For mental stability. Up to four times a day, as needed.

2. Invigorating Draught (yellow potion) For strengthening of your magical capabilities. Twice a day after waking and before bed.

3. Purgative Draught (grey potion) To ensure removal of all traces of illegal Muggle drugs from your system. Once a day, after waking, until all tests are negative.

The note ended with an illegible scrawl that Harry supposed was Hlr. Huxley's signature

He hoisted the first goblet. Although the bluish liquid gave off visible vapour, it was cold to the touch. In the air, its vapours sank rather than rose. Harry followed Healer's orders and consumed it. It tasted minty.

He drank the others as directed. The second potion tasted sour, like lemon peelings, and the third simply foul. Finished, Harry sank back into the bedclothes.

Harry felt better - less tired - almost immediately. After a few minutes, he gingerly swung his legs off the side of the bed. The hum beneath his bed dropped in pitch as his feet hit the floor. He stood without problem.

A small hand mirror rested on the headboard. Harry picked it up and took a look at a familiar face. Thankfully, his new glasses were not noticeably different from what he had been wearing for years

A set of Muggle clothing, obviously removed from his trunk, hung from a nearby trolley. He started to dress….

"Mister Potter, sir?"

"Dobby?"

Harry turned around slowly as he pulled his pants up. His eyes met the almost worshipful gaze of the free house-elf. Dobby could no longer restrain himself, and with a loud squeak darted forward and hugged Harry around his knees, almost causing the young wizard to lose his balance.

Tears streamed from the house-elf's eyes as he literally cried with joy. "Please, please, please … don't ever you go off like that again. You's a scared poor Dobby to death. Dobby was beside himself. I thought I'd a lost my master before he had ever…."

"You don't belong to me, Dobby," Harry reminded the elf.

"Next best thing, though," Dobby shrieked with rapture. "Dumbledore promised me that if … when you got back, I works for you! I's getting my reward!!"

"That's just wonderful," Harry told the beaming elf, whilst questioning to himself just how wonderful it would really turn out to be. "…Reward…why?"

"Bad wizards. They tooks your picture…. When I saw it … I knowed where you was," Dobby explained, enthusiasm evident in every word.

Now Harry was truly interested. "Er … where was I?"

Dobby looked around as if afraid of being overheard. "You was under Malfoy Manor," he fearfully whispered, "… with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named hisself, I've heard."

Mere mention of the name Malfoy raised a dozen urgent questions in Harry's mind - all of them unpleasant. He opened his mouth to grill Dobby, but the poor elf looked so pale, scared, and prone to self-punishment that Harry thought better of it.

`Dumbledore.… If anyone knows, he will,' he reminded himself.

As for Dobby, Harry had mercy and changed the subject. "You know, Dobby, I'm really hungry. You don't suppose…."

The elf snapped his fingers, and a golden Hogwarts service tray, identical to those in the Great Hall, came zooming across the room and halted smartly just in front of Harry.

"Anything!" Dobby squeaked, colour returning to his face and happiness to his voice. "Anything you want!"

"Well … I'm still a little weak, so something light…. A few strips of bacon, a Cornish pasty, perhaps…, a couple of pears, some runner beans, some pumpkin juice, and treacle tart…."

Harry had hardly stopped ordering when a mound of food - far more than he (or anyone except maybe Ron) could possibly eat in a single sitting appeared on the tray. The food kept coming and coming, filling up the tray and cascading onto the floor.

"Enough!" Dobby shouted, rapping the bottom of the tray with his diminutive fist. "So sorry," he apologised as he vanished the excess with a wave of his leathery hand. "We's been waiting for this for so long. Kitchen elves, they just outdid themselves a bit."

"That's quite all right," Harry grunted as he tucked in, eating heartily for the first time in weeks. It was so good to be back at Hogwarts … except…. Harry's mouth pursed as if still drinking the lemony Invigorating Draught, and his eyebrows knitted together as an idea formed in his head.

"Dobby, have you been here long?" Harry asked.

"Oh, yessir!" Dobby yelped, bouncing up and down. "Ever since Dumbledore got word that you's a coming back, Dobby's been here, making the Room ready for the great Harry Potter!"

"I know Hermione's behind that curtain," Harry said softly. "I can hear the music. What … what can you … you tell me about her … her … her condition?" The more he thought about the injuries to his best friend - who had amazingly come for him through space and time and then paid dearly for it - the more inarticulate Harry became. He pushed the tray away, raised his hands, and started rubbing his eyes as if he had a pounding headache.

Dobby shifted his feet nervously waiting for Harry to compose himself. When the elf spoke, it was barely above a whisper.

"Miz Myown … she's in a bad way … very bad. I hears the Healers talk. She was burnt … magical burns … over just about all her body…. Would have died, methinks, `cept for Headmaster Dumbledore and Fawkes. Healers, they's created something to heal her…. They thinks she'll heal … except … except…."

Dobby seized the largest of the empty potion goblets. He looked about to punish himself for thinking bad thoughts, so Harry swept out his arm, scooped up the startled elf, and deposited him on the bed next to him.

"Except what, Dobby?" Harry asked, staring directly into the elf's outsized eyes.

"The healers, they uses lots of big words that Dobby no understand," the elf whispered again, this time sadly. "They's saying, methinks, that Miz Myown's body will recover, but … but methinks … methinks that they's afraid for her mind."

With that Dobby burst into tears again - bitter tears this time. Harry might have followed suit but for the admonition he had received from the Headmaster the last time they had spoken. No matter what, he had to control his emotions. If he became overwrought, there was something dangerous about him - something dangerous that could hurt Hermione still further. He simply would not allow himself to do that.

Grimacing, Harry resorted to Occlumency to bottle up his emotions. He lowered his chin to his chest and brought his hands to his head until his cupped fingertips barely touched his forehead whilst his thumbs dug into either cheek. He concentrated on an image of the pale blue smoke cascading from the Invigorating Draught.

Harry shook his head wearily, feeling weak again from the magical effort. He retired to his sickbed and lay down for a bit. When Dobby regained his wits, he sent the elf away…. "Dobby, thanks for what you've done, but I'd really like to be by myself for a bit before the Headmaster gets here. There's a lot I have to think about."

He was alone in the Room of Requirement - alone with Hermione, that is. He wanted to be with her - to see her; to touch her; to tell her how sorry he was about all that had happened; even (if he mustered the nerve) to confess how he really felt. He rose again, and with effort pulled back the curtains that separated them. Almost immediately her nakedness made him uncomfortable. He closed the curtains, but that muffled the phoenix song so much…. The fading music matched the fading of Harry's hope.

Finally, without using magic, Harry dragged a chair to the same spot and reopened the curtain. He removed his glasses, so he could not see her clearly anymore. Then he closed the curtain behind him, sat down, and thought … thought about everything that Hermione meant to him….

She meant a lot - so much that Harry lost track of time.

Time lost its meaning as he sat there, thinking, inwardly devastated but maintaining his calm façade - Potemkin Harry. Eventually, he felt a friendly hand gently grasp his shoulder. With a bit of a start, he looked up into Dumbledore's piercing blue eyes. They were not twinkling, not this time. They looked as melancholy as Harry felt.

"She's … she's not doing well, is she?" He croaked in a soft voice.

"Well, yes and no," Dumbledore replied softly. "That is one of many things I wish to discuss with you before you are released back into the student body, but not here. Come…. Finish getting dressed, and we can go."

Harry numbly did as he was told. After he had donned a set of Hogwarts robes and finished lacing up his trainers, he started for the door, only to be halted once again by the touch of Dumbledore's hand. He looked questioningly at the Headmaster.

"Not that way, Mister Potter," Dumbledore warned. "Lest you desire to be mobbed. Come; let us take the scenic route."

Following the Headmaster's eyes, Harry spied a small door on the far end of the Room of Requirement. He was certain that this door had not been present during any of his previous visits - although admittedly he had been too panicked to seek an alternative exit the day Umbridge's gang of Slytherins had found the D.A. out.

Turning sideways to pass through the rather narrow exit, Harry followed Dumbledore's surprisingly rapid progress down a series of torchlit stone staircases and roughhewn corridors. Presently, they arrived at the same side door through which Professor Snape had emerged the day Harry first rode Sirius' flying motorcycle. A beaming Hagrid met them both.

"`Arry! I knew they couldn'ta kept yeh f'ever," the gigantic man bubbled. "Yer too darn strong fer `em. Knew yeh `ad it in yeh…."

"Rubeus, I believe you have a class to attend to." Dumbledore asked somewhat impatiently.

"Nah," Hagrid replied airily. "Th' moment I got yer request, I skived it off ta Grubbly-Plank. Had ta see `Arry after all this time, an all…. Yeh look like … like … like yerself, `Arry." He turned to Dumbledore, "There they are `Eadmaster. Brung `em just like yeh asked."

Hagrid gestured to the two Hogwarts carriages parked nearby, the Thestrals in their traces waiting placidly on the gravel walkway that skirted that part of the Castle.

"Oh Professor Hagrid," Dumbledore said with just a touch of reproach. "When I asked you to bring two Thestrals, I never mentioned carriages. That was intentional. Can you unhitch them?"

Hagrid gave the Headmaster a quizzical look, but did as requested - whilst muttering to himself. Soon the gamekeeper finished. He returned, a lead in each hand, with two Thestrals trailing docilely behind.

"Now we mount up, Mister Potter," Dumbledore said, the twinkle in his eye reappearing for just an instant. "I trust you recall how."

Gamely, but clumsily, Harry attempted to mount the nearer of the two Thestrals. "Urf," he panted. "I'm afraid I'm still a little weak from … from everything…."

"`Ere yeh go," Hagrid offered as he plucked Harry from the ground and effortlessly deposited him on the leather-winged beast. Somewhat more gingerly he also assisted the Headmaster, who still noticeably favoured his wrapped up hand.

"Let us be off, then," the Headmaster remarked. In a strong voice he called out, "Eagle's Mere."

Like arrows from a bow, the Thestrals took flight. Harry wrapped his arms around the ample neck of his mount. He stayed in that clinch until looking over at Dumbledore serenely controlling his animal with the lead that Hagrid had helpfully left attached. Harry fumbled for his own Thestral's lead, found it at last, and tried to mimic the Headmaster's full upright position.

Harry always loved the sensation of flight. The Castle - and the entire valley in which it was situated - rapidly dropped away beneath him. Afternoon sunlight glinted off the clear blue waters of the lake, where he could make out the giant squid lolling about just beneath the surface in the middle. Looking ahead, he saw the rapidly approaching bald, windswept crest of a tall rounded peak.

In almost no time the two Thestrals set down gently in the midst of an alpine meadow. An effusion of late season wildflowers bedecked the entire mountaintop mixed amongst verdant grasses and sedges.

The two wizards dismounted.

"What is this place?" Harry asked, more than a little awestruck as he took in the breathtaking 360° view.

"The Muggles call it Cairn Gorm," Dumbledore answered, as he removed his hat and let the stiff breeze ruffle his long grey locks. "As you have probably guessed, we wizards refer to it as `Eagle's Mere.' It is the tallest of the mountains that overlook Hogwarts Castle. If you look there, you can see the Castle…."

His eyes following Dumbledore's gesture, Harry drank in the scene. "It's beautiful," he remarked after spending quite a few seconds gazing at the distant structure set by the impossibly blue lake, as if in a picture postcard. "But why bring me here to have a serious discussion?"

"Several reasons," Dumbledore replied, his tone of voice becoming at once more serious. "First, it is secluded. Second, since the matters we have to discuss are indeed serious, it is well removed from the Castle. As long as we stay out of view of the Castle, even were you to have an accident with your control, I would not be risking a catastrophe. Third, I thought you would like this place. It was a favourite of your parents. James proposed marriage to Lily on this spot."

Whilst providing his explanation, Dumbledore strode across the crest of the mountain, moving away from Hogwarts. Harry trailed after him, all the time appreciating the stunning mountain views all around him. As Dumbledore finished reason number three, Harry noticed something vaguely familiar in the distance towards the western horizon.

"What's that?" Harry asked, gesturing towards a jagged feature atop a distant ridge.

Dumbledore raised his hand to shield his eyes from the sun and squinted in the direction Harry was pointing. "You mean the pinnacles rising from the ridge over there to the northwest?"

"Yes," Harry replied decisively.

"Those are known as the `Four Fingers of the Gods,'" Dumbledore replied. "They are natural basalt outcroppings with ancient magical connotations, dating back at least to the Druids."

Harry was thinking hard, trying to remember…. "The Four Fingers … do they overlook Godric's Hollow?"

"Why yes, Mister Potter, they do," Dumbledore said, pleased with Harry's observation. "I see that you must have spent a little more time awake in History of Magic than some would give you credit for."

"That's not how I know them," Harry replied, countering the Headmaster's banter with a more serious tone. "Sirius nearly crashed his motorbike into them the night my parents were murdered…. I saw it in the Pensieve…. You've said you were going to tell me everything. Why don't we start with that? I want to know about my parents' graves and about the little brother or sister I never had…."

"I meant what I said, Mister Potter" Dumbledore declared, the last traces of his smile vanishing. "And, in fact, that is amongst the topics that I intend to discuss today. Please believe me. But I would much rather that your parents' ultimate fate be among the last, rather than the first, items on the agenda."

"I'd much rather it be first," Harry declared obstinately. "You and I.… There's history here to overcome. It will be much easier for me to overcome it - and trust that you're telling me the whole story - if I'm first satisfied with your explanation of something you'd obviously rather not discuss. I'm afraid it's a matter of trust…."

Dumbledore hesitated, weighing his options and regarding Harry's steely eyes. Then he sighed and surrendered. "Very well. Trust is paramount, so we shall do it your way," the Headmaster said in a slightly put out voice. "Since I believe that Voldemort is presently badly injured and cannot respond quickly, I suppose that the risk is less than it might otherwise be."

"What does Voldemort's condition have to do with anything?" Harry asked, betraying both impatience and curiosity.

"Everything, I am afraid," Dumbledore replied. "Mister Potter … please let me call you Harry … at least for today…. You see … I am…." He paused, took a deep breath, and continued. "I am the Secret Keeper of your parents' final resting place. And that final resting place…," Dumbledore paused and extended his arm, "…is right here."

The air shimmered momentarily with the sensation of magic falling away - of protective wards collapsing. Harry gazed intently in the direction of the Headmaster's outstretched arm. There, from whence they had come, appeared two characteristic Order of the Phoenix tombstones, side by side, both commanding a glorious view of Hogwarts.

Ignoring Dumbledore, Harry made his way to them. He touched the markers reverently. He expected the polished, ivory-coloured marble tombstones to be cold to his touch - but instead they felt warm, as if still infused with the magical power of his parents' love, a power from beyond the grave. That may well have been the case, as both monuments were inscribed with the same simple epitaph, "No greater love."

Increasingly overcome, Harry gently sank to his knees between the tombstones. They were just close enough together that, if he extended both of his arms to the fullest, he could simultaneously touch the near sides of both. There was no floral arrangement; none was necessary. The abundance of alpine wildflowers kept the gravesites alive in riotous colour.

He openly wept, for just this once unafraid and unashamed to let anyone, even Dumbledore, see that he could cry. It had been almost fifteen years….

Fifteen years of not knowing….

Fifteen years of emptiness….

Fifteen years of having everyone else he grew up with take for granted what he so desperately craved….

Fifteen years without closure….

Dumbledore allowed the grieving boy as much private time as he chose to take. Presently, when Harry seemed to be finishing his cry, and starting to refocus, he stepped up behind the boy and once again put a guiding hand on his shoulder.

"Whenever you are ready, Harry…."

The Headmaster then stepped back and waited patiently for Harry to finish. Not much changed at first, then he saw the boy compose himself, give the pair of tombstones a soft slap with his fingertips, stand, and face him. There was questioning look on Harry's face.

"This is the truth," Dumbledore said softly. "When James and Lily died, the Demagifying Ritual used today did not exist. There was no choice but to conceal their graves to prevent Death Eaters from desecrating their corpses in pursuit of some nefarious Necromancy. Lily was indeed pregnant - with twins - which made this elaborate concealment all the more necessary. That consideration looms every bit as large now as it did then. Because of it, your parents unfortunately cannot stay in their preferred location any longer…. The Fidelius of that time was also … less refined … less adaptable than today's version."

`Peace…,' Harry thought ruefully. He had come here seeking it. He had hoped to find some serenity in answers to some of his most gnawing questions. He had hoped to find it in quiet contemplation with the spirits of his parents.

But that was a forlorn hope, as he had known all along whenever he stopped to consider things logically. It had probably been a mistake even to seek this information. Logic, however, was not his strongest point - and Harry was missing his logical anchor.

More than anything else, even Voldemort, that absence made peace hard to come by at this moment. There was someone behind a curtain down in the castle in the valley. He had put her there. Peace would have to wait.

Harry shook his head. Not only was his own peace elusive, but he had ruined whatever modicum of peace his parents had managed to find in death.

Harry looked up at the Headmaster, his face still streaked with remnants of his prior tears. "What just happened?" he asked, already fearing that he knew the answer.

"The only Fidelius Charm available when your parents were murdered extended only as far as those present when it was cast. It was impossible to add latecomers. You were already with the Dursleys, and far too young for such a spell in any event. With the Fidelius Charm protecting this place broken, word will soon get back to Voldemort of what has heretofore been concealed," Dumbledore explained gravely. "After all, you can probably guess who was amongst the small band of mourners that attended the interment so many years ago."

Harry thought for a moment. His fists briefly clenched in involuntary rage before his Occlumency training kicked in and once again his emotions vanished behind a mask of sang-froid. "Wormtail," Harry said. It was both a statement and a question.

"Quite right," Dumbledore affirmed. "As a consequence, one of the things you must now decide - before we leave this place - is what should be done with James' and Lily's bodies for safekeeping. Originally, I had planned to have this discussion with you when you came of age, but my hand was forced, and not just by you."

"What does that mean?" Harry asked.

"I believe Miss Granger had already ascertained my Secret Keeper status," Dumbledore revealed. "She said as much when she submitted to the magic through which she located you. That being the case, it was only a matter of time before you knew. It was best that you learnt it from me."

Harry gulped. There was old grief, and there was new grief. His anguish for his parents at least bore the superficial comfort of familiarity. Not so, the raw, ragged heartbreak that felt now as if ripping him in two. "Hermione, then…. Tell me what happened," he choked out. "How it happened ... why? Oh, please … Merlin please … please tell me she's going to be alright!"

At this, Harry's knees began wobbling and he started losing his balance. To keep from toppling over altogether, he grabbed a handful of the Headmaster's robes as he collapsed. Harry's Occlumency-mediated calm evaporated. Dumbledore reached down and placed both hands on Harry's head, ruffling his wild hair. The old man remembered, from long ago, when another Dark wizard had landed him in almost the same position - except that he had been middle-aged - so much older and more prepared than the boy before him.

"Harry, I took you to this place to tell you the truth, unvarnished…." Dumbledore intoned gravely.

Harry's anguished voice interrupted, "I-I-I … did this … somehow…. It was … me … wasn't it…?"

"Harry, I wish I could tell you no, but I cannot," Dumbledore admitted, trying to cushion the blow with the softest voice he possessed. "Your fate, and hers, are once again intertwined…. But to answer you fully, I first need to ask you a number of questions of my own…. I'm sure you had the purest of intentions…."

"The road to Hell … is paved with them," Harry answered desolately.

"And the way to Heaven could not be found without them," Dumbledore remonstrated. "It is…."

"I've as good as killed her," Harry muttered.

"She is not dead, not by a long shot," Dumbledore reminded the boy. "What cannot happen, if she is to recover, is for you to give up. Neither of you can give up, it is not in your natures. Why are you both in Gryffindor?"

Harry tried to stand on his own again, but he stepped on the hem of his own robes and fell flat on his face.

"AAUUGGHH"

At Harry's guttural sound, Dumbledore abruptly Apparated a few metres away. The boy emitted a puff of golden-coloured raw magic, followed almost immediately by a sharp crackling noise and a tendril of brownish grey smoke. The frightened Thestrals took flight and made a couple of circling passes before descending and resuming their searches for rodent snacks in the grass.

Finally, the boy staggered to his hands and knees, leaving behind a charred outline of where his body had rested - where the alpine meadow had been burnt black.

Dumbledore again approached, "Harry, how do you feel?" he asked.

"Mmmm…. Better, I think," he mumbled.

"You see why I brought you here," the Headmaster reminded. "I thought it was too much to ask of you, being inexperienced and in your present state, to exercise complete control of your power, given what we have to discuss…. No harm done, you see…."

"What … what power?"

"The Fifth Element," Dumbledore stated, pleased to change the subject for the time being. "I no longer have any doubt that you possess elemental magic of the fifth kind."

"Are you sure?" Harry asked weakly.

"I know of nothing else could have caused the destruction reported in the valley where you were found," the Headmaster explained portentously. "I have not personally seen it, as the goblins have declared it off-limits for the time being. But from what they tell me, you left several hectares of flat burning junk heap…. Not a thing remained alive. But for it happening in a steep-sided valley, I fear that the destruction would have been far wider. Even as it was, the Muggles thought a nuclear device had been detonated - until they found no radiation. This was too big for Obliviation, so it has been reported to the Muggle public as a close encounter with bit of a comet."

Harry grimaced. "At least all the Death Eaters are gone, then?"

"Anyone in the valley at the time of the incident was instantly vaporised," Dumbledore added. "By any chance, before this happened, did you see a castle nearby?"

"There was one," Harry recalled. "It was hard to see. I didn't have my glasses, and it was rather foggy, but yes there was."

"That was Killiechonate Castle - well over a thousand years old, and protected by centuries of accumulated wards that originate almost as long ago as Merlin himself. You destroyed it in an instant; reduced it to rubble. The goblins are searching it bit by bit, but word is that very little was left standing."

"And I did it…? How … how did it happen?"

"That, I do not know," Dumbledore admitted. "No one does…. In our society, even the study of the Fifth Element is an Obliviatable offence, so the questions that you pose are rarely asked, let alone answered. My guess - and that is all it is - is that something inherent in your own nature, combined with Voldemort's Killing Curse and your mother's blood magic, somehow gave you access to this power. One thing we do know is that the Killing Curse is associated with the Fifth Element."

Harry set his jaw. "I meant how did Hermione get hurt?" he clarified. The already tense muscles in his cheek flexed. He was returning to the most important topic and he was expecting more bad news.

Dumbledore conjured two absurdly out of place squashy armchairs, sat in one, and offered the other to Harry. "I shall tell you what I know, and if you do the same, maybe we can figure that out."

"All right," the boy said, taking a seat.

"I believe that the two of you had some sort of altercation shortly before you were kidnapped," Dumbledore stated.

Harry flinched visibly, but maintained his composure. Hermione's harsh last words to him were indelibly burned into his soul. "That's right…. I'd … I'd really rather not speak to that…. Need some privacy…." This was one memory that no amount of time and familiarity could ever make any less traumatic. It was just as jagged and painful as the day it happened. "…I might lose control again…, so just don't go there. Please…?"

"Very well," Dumbledore responded. "The details are not important here. She likewise refused to reveal them. However, I believe that her remorse over that incident is no less profound than yours. As much or more than anything else, that remorse drove her to do what she did."

Harry was shaken. "Remorse? You mean she regretted…?"

"When you were taken," Dumbledore added, "she and Tonks made a mad dash across London through the flames…."

Harry was genuinely puzzled, "Flames?" he asked.

Dumbledore's brow furrowed in surprised realisation. "Yes, the fire in London I mentioned in passing yesterday. It was a very large conflagration."

"Large fire," Harry repeated warily. "Well … there was this orangish glow through Eliza's window shades…. I thought it was the sunset, but … that can't be right, come to think of it … it was much too late…. Oh Merlin, help me…. She's dead too. I let it happen…."

The Headmaster could see Harry struggling with his Occlumency. The boy's fingertips left distinct indentations in the skin where he jammed them into his temples. To help, Dumbledore invoked the rationale of Hlr. Huxley's successful suggestion to keep Harry and Hermione close. He resorted to the same tactic that succeeded in the goblin palace. He put himself in harm's way and relied upon the reservoir of trust that he knew still to be there.

He stood and moved behind Harry's chair. Placing both arms on Harry's shoulders, he spoke softly, "Not this time … once is enough. Calm yourself. Use your training. You can do it…."

Harry struggled, knowing that if he lost control now, he could do grievous harm to the Headmaster. It was sufficient extra incentive for him to regain mastery over himself.

Dumbledore could sense it. "Better?" he asked.

"Better," Harry affirmed.

Relieved, Dumbledore returned to his seat. Sinking into it, he continued, "We have always suspected that Miss Brookings was deceased, although we never found any recognisable remains in the rubble of her building."

"Rubble?" Harry replied sceptically. "She was killed by Death Eaters using the Killing Curse. I was immobilised … by a stupid Petrificus … but I witnessed it. There was no rubble. What do you mean?"

Dumbledore sighed, "Your kidnapping coincided with a major disaster in Muggle London. I, and many others, have always believed the two events to be interrelated, and I believe you have now confirmed it. You see, that same evening, at almost the same moment, there was a terrible aeroplane crash. A large Muggle airliner lost two engines - very mysteriously - and crashed in flames into the Whitechapel District. The Muggles tell me that the resultant explosion compromised a number of poorly constructed natural gas lines, causing numerous secondary fires. They merged, and a firestorm, the likes of which has not been seen since the Blitz of the Grindelwald years, resulted…. Several thousand Muggles, the exact number is still uncertain, perished."

"Dammit … I had no idea…." Harry moaned. "I was Stupefied and carried off. I woke up in chains. I never knew…. So many people died because of me…."

It was the first time Harry had ever cursed in front of the Headmaster.

"They did not die because of you," Dumbledore corrected. "They died because the Death Eaters - like the Nazis - cared nothing about human life."

Harry shook his head slowly. "I know that," protested Harry, "but that just doesn't help what I feel very much…. She was cursed, you know…?"

"I am not sure I do," Dumbledore replied. "Tell me; who was cursed with what?"

"E-E-Eliza," Harry forced the word out. "She was under the … the Imperius Curse…. For how long, I don't know. She told me … a lot of things…. I don't know whether any of them were true anymore…."

Harry was looking shattered again, so Dumbledore did not press to find out what the "things" were. From the boy's face, he had a pretty good idea. "I sympathise," he said, "but if it is any solace, I can tell you with a high degree of certainty that she was not subject to that curse the night the two of you were brought to Hogwarts. It would have been detected…."

That helped - a little. Nor was there anything that could be done about Eliza's circumstances. That chapter was closed. "So this fire burned up Eliza's building, then?" Harry asked.

"No … which is why your added information is most enlightening," Dumbledore explained. "The main conflagration never made it across the docks. The building from which you were kidnapped was struck by one of the engines that fell from the aeroplane. That caused a separate fire that brought about the collapse of the building. That an engine just happened to strike this particular building is entirely too much for coincidence, particularly since the other engine took an entirely different path, almost striking the Ministry building, and killing Amelia Bones in the process."

"Then you think it was all a horrible ruse to hide the kidnappers' tracks?" Harry asked.

"Perhaps," Dumbledore replied. "Certainly to facilitate that crime … but if they were trying to hide their deed, they failed rather quickly, because of Miss Granger."

"She had the link…," Harry realised. "She knew, didn't she?"

Dumbledore was rummaging through his robes. "Correct, and I want to get back to her…. But before we pass on, I believe I have something for you. Something magical was found in the rubble…."

The Headmaster stood once more. With difficulty, he clutched something with his burned and bandaged hand. He held out a silver, heart-shaped locket.

Harry had to concentrate on suppressing his emotions again. It was touch and go for a bit, but in the end, the strength of his ego overcame the emotions of his id. The presence of the locket helped âˆ' and hurt âˆ' at the same time. Harry clutched the proffered relic of his relationship with Eliza. "I gave this to her…. I placed an Indestructibility Charm on it…."

"And a fine one it was," Dumbledore complimented as he returned to his seat. "There was not a scratch on it. The Muggle investigators were quite perplexed. Eventually, it made its way to me and I was able to open it and identify it from the pictures inside…."

Even with his strongest emotional autopilot locked firmly in place, Harry was having trouble dealing with what the locket made him feel. "I âˆ' I put a picture of me in it, and then we … we took a photo of her," he choked out. "That was the only picture of her I ever had. She barely had the locket two weeks…. Who knows what she really thought?"

"That is true, Harry," Dumbledore said soothingly. "The photographs are still there, if rather carbonised by the heat, but there is at least one unintended consequence."

"What's that," Harry asked, hesitant about what new and awful thing he might learn.

Dumbledore had the same fears, but for once there was nothing he could do. "You can imagine how the Muggle government - any government - would react to what happened. The scale of destruction is almost unprecedented … some say since 1666. Personally, though, I would compare it more to the Blitz, given the causes and origins of the fire. There is a major inquiry underway, conducted by the Prime Minister himself. The Muggles already wished to question you - a desire that will only be redoubled, given the rather explosive manner in which you have reappeared."

"So I'm going to have to tell the Muggles all about things too?" Harry asked apprehensively.

"Correct, I am afraid," Dumbledore confirmed. "I cannot prevent it…, not without causing a total breach with them. I can negotiate, however, but you will need to prepare yourself. Do you think you can do that, Harry?"

"It … It won't be easy, but I'll do it," Harry affirmed. "I think I have to. Just … oh Merlin…. Please don't let it be in public…. I wasn't taken under … exactly the best of circumstances…."

"Thank you, Harry," Dumbledore responded. "That is very brave of you. I shall arrange something. Now, back to Miss Granger."

"Yes, please," Harry agreed. "Please, what happened to her?"

Ponderously, because he dreaded this conversation himself, Dumbledore began, "From what Miss Tonks told me, once she arrived at Miss Brookings' building…."

Harry could not restrain himself. "Eliza's building? How did she know…?"

"She traced your ring, Harry. You may not have noticed, but she is still…."

"I saw," Harry broke in. "She's still wearing her ring."

"Auror rings are remarkable," Dumbledore advised. "You would do well to examine them more closely."

Rather than focusing on what the Headmaster was saying, Harry was thinking about how to tell âˆ' or more precisely, how to avoid telling âˆ' Dumbledore about the circumstances of his abduction. Ultimately he told him only that that he had not been wearing the ring at the time, which was obvious, and that the circumstances were "embarrassing." Wisely, the Headmaster chose not to pry further.

Harry hung his head in shame. It would be even harder to tell Hermione what happened âˆ' if he ever got the chance.

"Very well," said Dumbledore, "Miss Granger recovered both your ring and your wand using an Auror summoning spell. She not unreasonably concluded you had died…."

Harry shook his head and groaned.

"…At that point, Miss Granger began to exhibit irrational and self-destructive behavior. Tonks was forced to remove her from the area against her will for both of their safety. Miss Granger was brought to Hogwarts Castle in a state that could only be described as catatonic. She was unable, or unwilling, to speak to anyone for days - until she determined, through your shared link, that you were alive."

"So she recovered, then?" Harry asked, a glimmer of hope in his voice.

"Outwardly, at least," Dumbledore affirmed. "It appeared to be a full and remarkable recovery, except that she continued to have occasional incidents whilst under stress. She placed an inordinate amount of pressure upon herself during the ensuing weeks. Evidently, she viewed herself as on a mission."

"A mission to find me, I suppose," Harry commented.

"Precisely, Harry," Dumbledore confirmed. "It must have originated in that row of yours that I mentioned earlier. She blamed herself for something, and as a result she refused to rest until she had retrieved you. She was extraordinarily persistent. She outmanœuvred all my attempts to keep her safe. She was simply beyond caring about herself, and she willingly placed herself in extreme danger."

"Extreme danger?" Harry repeated harshly. "What did you let her do to herself?"

"I did not let her do anything." Dumbledore reiterated. "Quite the contrary, I tried to erect roadblocks to her obsessive quest at every turn. If I had not, I would have had a full-scale staff rebellion on my hands. However, as I said, she was not to be denied. She either forced my hand, or she and her friends outsmarted me…."

"Her friends?" Harry processed this latest revelation. "Who else did she involve in this? Ron? Neville? Ginny?"

"All of the above, but please âˆ' one question at a time. This old man is beginning to lose his train of thought," Dumbledore requested. "You see, with you missing, I needed her cooperation … I needed her to testify at several upcoming inquiries…."

"Yeah, I remember those," Harry observed. "I assume she did, then, but she exacted her own price."

"Precisely," Dumbledore affirmed. "Her price was that I allow her to invite a number of your mutual friends to Hogwarts Castle to help her research ways of using your shared link to reach you, and that I provide all of them with access to the library."

"Exactly how much danger was she putting herself in?" Harry asked pointedly.

"Extreme danger," Dumbledore replied gravely. "So much danger that, at Deputy Headmistress McGonagall's insistence, I spirited what I thought were all the relevant texts out of the library and hid them away. I was trying to devise some way to do what she wanted to do without involving any student, but I was ultimately unsuccessful."

Harry's eyes narrowed as he leaned forward towards the Headmaster, "And then you sort of `let something slip,' didn't you…? You gave some not-so-subtle hint knowing that she would make you tell her everything even if it came at the cost of her own life!" His voice was rising with his anger as he spoke.

"No, Harry!" Dumbledore defended himself stoutly. "Not in the slightest. The Deputy Headmistress would have resigned, had I given Miss Granger the slightest encouragement. As I said, the girl outsmarted me…."

"Professor McGonagall?" Harry asked. "Why her?"

"I can only say that she has unfortunate experience with magic of the sort that did what Miss Granger sought to do," Dumbledore said vaguely. "Any more than that is for her, not I, to decide to tell you. But as I was saying, I continued to try to thwart Miss Granger and the others using every trick I could devise without having her think I was sabotaging her effort. Unfortunately, I was found out."

"What did she do?" Harry asked whilst flopping back in his chair.

"That, I cannot say exactly," Dumbledore admitted, "except that it had something to do with that map of yours."

Harry was taken aback. "The Marauders' Map? How did she get that?"

"Again, I can only surmise," Dumbledore replied. "Presumably it arrived at Hogwarts when your personal effects were collected - they are all in your dormitory room by the way - and somehow she was able to gain access to your trunk. But I can still remember the exact moment I knew she discovered I was trying to stop her." Dumbledore reflexively rubbed his left shoulder.

"Okay." Harry prompted.

"She destroyed one of the means by which I had been monitoring her progress," Dumbledore sighed, recalling the moment. "She had a wizard photograph of you and me taken on the night of the Ashrak…. Well, you know how a Headmaster's picture can be used. One morning, she returned to her room and burned a hole right through my image. At that moment I knew that she knew."

"I … I gave her that picture," Harry added sadly. "I put it in a card I gave her the day I had dinner at her house. Now she's … she's…."

Harry had to stop and pull himself together again. He was contemplating a very bleak future, indeed. And worse, he was responsible for what had happened to her.

"Harry, stop it," Dumbledore instructed bracingly. "You are not to blame here. But even if you were, you cannot go falling to pieces like this. For your sake; for her sake; for everyone's sake…. That's why this is all so important…. You have so much to live for. You are the only one! You know what the prophecy says."

"Right. The bloody prophecy," Harry spat the words back in the Headmaster's face. "So I'm living just for bloody dying."

"I shall help you Harry," Dumbledore declared, "help you in any and every way I know how."

"So then I'm dying just for you?" Harry added sarcastically. "Seriously, I'm a wreck right now … a total wreck. I won't stand a chance against him. Answer me truthfully. Do you think I can beat Voldemort after all this? I mean, what good am I?"

"Truthfully, not at this time and certainly not in your present state," Dumbledore forthrightly acknowledged. "But that is of no present moment, as Voldemort is in no state to face you at this time either. Whatever you did, you injured him too, I am told. Not as seriously as Miss Granger, perhaps, but she had opened herself to you whereas Voldemort had not…."

"Sod Voldemort then. So it was me that did that horrible thing to Hermione?" Harry's question was also a statement.

"Unfortunately, I believe the answer is `yes,' Harry," Dumbledore answered.

"Then why don't you go ahead and kill me now?" Harry replied, his voice betraying equal parts sarcasm and intense guilt. "The spell is `Avada Kedavra,' and if you don't, I just might do it myself…."

Dumbledore practically leapt to his feet, his eyes narrowing to chips of icy blue. "NO YOU SHALL NOT!!" he thundered, stopping Harry cold. For once he did not care if he set the boy off. This was more serious….

With a sharp wave of his arm, he Vanished Harry's armchair, dumping the boy roughly onto the grass. At the same time, the Headmaster berated Harry in a cold fury. "Even after all she has done, you still have no clue. Have you given the slightest thought to what Miss Granger sacrificed to see you brought back here alive? She risked her life, and her sanity, for you. That you could even contemplate throwing everything she fought for away … just because you have this monumental guilt over something you could not control. Frankly, I am shocked. I would have thought that she meant more to you than that."

Harry hardly knew what to say. He had never seen the Headmaster so furious. He stuttered unintelligibly throughout the older man's diatribe, until the end, when Dumbledore demanded, "Get up. Well, do you have anything to say for yourself?"

Scrambling to his feet, he took the old man's bait, "Her…. She…. Hermione means more to me than you could possibly understand … everything."

"Then it would be a very good thing indeed if you began behaving as if she does," Dumbledore shot back, a little less angrily. He slumped back into his armchair, leaving Harry standing. But secretly he was pleased to have found an argument that seemed capable of pulling Harry back from the brink.

"You … you keep saying that Hermione made this huge sacrifice," Harry would not give up. "Well, just what did she do?"

"She found - in those books that I foolishly believed I had effectively hidden away - a series of spells that allowed her to locate you. Essentially, she opened up her own mind to you so completely that her consciousness was able to flow through the shared link, follow you, and reach you, wherever you were. The details are unimportant. Suffice it to say that she risked not only death, but raving insanity, to do what she did…."

Harry's expression went cold. "And when she succeeded, she suffered an even worse fate at my hands. Whoever said `payback is Hell' had no idea…."

"She accepted the risks with full understanding," Dumbledore countered. "I made sure before I cast the spells that…."

"YOU cast the spells?!" Harry fired back, eyebrows raised. "I thought you tried to stop her from doing this."

"Yes, I cast the spells," Dumbledore replied, adopting a rather defiant stance. "There was no other choice. She was prepared to proceed with Luna Lovegood in my stead. Miss Lovegood is a powerful, if unorthodox witch, but these spells were - quite frankly - entirely beyond her experience. It would have been suicidal for Miss Granger to go down that route … every bit as suicidal as you asking me to kill you a few minutes ago. Even so, to obtain Deputy Headmistress McGonagall's consent I had to tell her the prophecy."

"So she knows?" Harry said softly. "Does anyone else?"

"No," Dumbledore answered. "Not from me. Nor have I told Miss Granger … although in light of all that has happened, I now believe that it would be an excellent idea for you to tell her at some point."

"Why?" Harry asked. "I thought you said…?"

"That was then, this is now," Dumbledore stated. "I suspect that Miss Granger believes she knows the prophecy, but that she has misinterpreted it in a critical particular. Specifically, I think she has concluded that, in order to do away with Voldemort, you must also die in the process. That is something that bears correcting, and you should do so at your earliest opportunity, if we recover her."

"You mean when we recover her," Harry corrected.

Thoughtfully, Dumbledore reconjured Harry's armchair and offered it to him once again. "You swing from blackest despair, to outright optimism very quickly, Harry," Dumbledore observed.

"If you'd been hit with all this, all at once, right after being held captive for several weeks, you'd have trouble thinking straight too," Harry responded whilst ignoring the proffered seat. "And this isn't even the first time. You hit me with the prophecy in much the same way."

"I suppose you are right," Dumbledore conceded with a sigh. "Anyway, I wish I shared such conviction, but I am old and have seen much tragedy. The world is not for the faint of heart…. However, make no mistake, we shall spare no expense. We shall bring in the best specialists in the world."

"Take my money, then. Any and all of it, if need be," Harry offered as he paced back and forth. "It's no good to me."

"I could not possibly spend it all," Dumbledore replied. "That brings me to another matter that I needed to discuss with you."

"I beat Malfoy, didn't I?" Harry guessed. He had expected that was the case, since the Death Eaters had been so angry over Hermione's testimony. "I mean, Hermione did, since I wasn't in any position to testify."

"Indeed you - and she - did just that. The appeal period expires this Saturday, and I am told there will be no appeal. At some point thereafter, the will must be formally read. At that time, the award necessarily becomes generally known, if only because publicly recorded ownership documents will change. After that, everyone will know of your inheritance. You need to consider how to handle that," the Headmaster advised.

"Just how public is public?" Harry asked warily. "Is everything the Malfoys said about me … and Hermione … going to be released?"

"Oh no," Dumbledore responded more hopefully. "We wizards are far more secretive about wealth than that. The only official announcement should be that you are the primary heir to the Black Estate - that is quite enough, I would think."

"Much more than enough," Harry answered glumly. He flopped back into the armchair, seating himself heavily enough that its springs groaned in protest.

Dumbledore winced as he perceived Harry cycling into depression again. "I have taken the liberty of providing you, as the victorious party, with a complete set of the transcripts of the proceedings. You will find them on your bed in the dormitory. I recommend that you read them. It is best that you familiarise yourself with what you possess."

"That's what … somebody … once told me," Harry commented, recalling Eliza's advice. "There's so much of it that I'm going to become a slave to all that money. I'm really not all that interested. Send it all to Blackie Howe."

"I frankly believe that it should require your personal attention," Dumbledore remonstrated. "At the very least you should read Miss Granger's testimony. I think you will find it most enlightening. Thus, I have placed that volume on top."

Harry remembered his preparation with Howe and his partners. "She … she had to testify under Veritaserum, didn't she?"

"Indeed," Dumbledore replied, hopeful that the prospect of truth might get Harry interested.

"Why bother then?" Harry replied bitterly. "I already know how she feels about the money. She's made that quite clear. At least now she doesn't have to find out how right she was."

"You really should read it," Dumbledore persisted, "particularly in light of your will, which she has seen because you were thought dead."

"Well isn't that a perfect bollocks, then," Harry grumbled. "That was only supposed to come out after I'm dead, when it wouldn't matter whether she hated me or not. I didn't even do that for her. I did that for your bloody goblin friends…. That and Howe said I needed to do something…."

"Those `bloody goblins' saved your life," the Headmaster reminded Harry.

"And now Hermione hates me," Harry shot back at him, "or would if she could feel anything…."

Dumbledore leaned forward as he glared at Harry. "For the last time," he replied with exasperation, "Hermi … Miss Granger does not hate you. Please read the transcript. She would not have done what she did if she hated you."

Harry was about ready to yell at Dumbledore, but anything he said would have revealed what had transpired the last time he and Hermione had been together. He also realised that Dumbledore was probably right. "…Yeah, I take that back. At least when she came for me, she didn't hate me. I felt it through the link before Voldemort came and ruined everything."

"I need you to tell me about that," Dumbledore bore in, relieved that Harry seemed no longer to be denying the obvious. "I need to know exactly what happened from your perspective before what I'm assuming was some sort of explosion. All I have is the Quick-Quotes Quill notes that Miss Lovegood took of Miss Granger's side of the conversation, which I will gladly share with you."

"That, I think I'd like to see," Harry answered, for once accepting one of Dumbledore's offers of help.

"I thought so, therefore you will also find a copy of the notes also on your bed when you return," Dumbledore told him. "Now, as best as you can remember, what happened?"

"I had been kept in chains, in some sort of dungeon, for I don't know how long," Harry commenced. "There were three of them, three Death Eaters. I got one decent look at them. One was quite large, the others were normal sized âˆ' small even âˆ' all wearing Death Eater robes and masks. They all disguised their voices, so I can't tell you anything there that's helpful either."

"Anyway, something must have happened, because we left that place. I briefly remember being by the sea…. I could smell and hear it, but then they stunned me again. They kept me unconscious most of the time…. Beat and whipped me too…. I was usually out of it, but just before I escaped, I healed some infected cuts that I didn't have before."

"Tell me about your escape," Dumbledore prompted with great interest.

"I was hanging upside down, tied to something by my wrists and ankles, between two Thestrals. It was raining when I came to. Maybe that helped me wake up. Something hit me. I don't know what, but I suddenly felt more alert than I ever had in the dungeon. I used Elemental Magic to burn through the ropes that bound my hands…. At one point they made to stun me again, but they must have missed."

"I burnt through the ropes on my feet, and when I got free, I Apparated as far as I could away from them. They tried to kill me then and there, but something - it might have been a goblin, but I couldn't see very well - got in the way. Then I outran them. Even after being locked up for two weeks, I was still faster than they were. But I didn't know where I was going, and I ran right towards their castle."

"Ah yes, the castle," Dumbledore remarked. "You mentioned that. Go on."

Harry continued his rather emotionless description. "The forest opened onto the moor. I think it must have been somewhere in Scotland, given the mountains and all, a bunch of Death Eaters came at me from this castle in front of me, and I tried to escape through the moor. That was a mistake; it was almost impassable…. Then something really strange happened … the first of several. I started running faster all of a sudden…. When I looked down, I had the feet of some sort of beast."

"Harry, I can help you there," Dumbledore offered. "You are a natural Animagus, I believe some sort of griffin. Such powers usually start to manifest themselves around your age. The stress of your situation caused a spontaneous, partial transformation. One of the healers who treated you diagnosed this."

"A griffin Animagus, you say" Harry said, shaking his head. "What more can happen to me? Still, that goes a long way to explaining what happened next, though, so I guess it's right."

"What happened next?" Dumbledore prompted.

"I got to a line of trees. I thought it was more forest and I would try to lose the Death Eaters, but I was wrong again. Right on the other side of the line of trees was a huge, steep cliff, hundreds of metres straight down." Harry paused and took a deep breath. "I was treed, and one of them sliced off the branch I was standing on. I went over the cliff. I thought I was going to die. Then I started to fly. I had wings. I couldn't believe it."

"You were found with one wing still extending from your back," Dumbledore commented. "That is how your new ability was diagnosed."

"Makes sense, I guess," Harry agreed half-heartedly. "Anyway, I crash landed. It hurt like Hell. The Death Eaters must have Apparated after me. They started cursing me. I got up a shield, but it wasn't holding very well, and there were a lot of them…. Then it happened…."

"You did whatever it was that you did?" Dumbledore asked.

"No, at least not right away…. Hermione, she came for me. I still don't believe it…."

Harry paused. He concentrated, willing himself to recount what came next as calmly as he had previously done. Giving his head a rapid, little shake, he continued.

"I was on the verge of giving up. I couldn't maintain the shield; even though I put every bit of magic I could muster into it. I must have let down my other guards, because all of a sudden, she was there âˆ' in my head. I told her to get away, that it was dangerous. She refused, and then.…"

Harry paused, and fidgeted whilst again gathering his thoughts, considering exactly what he wanted to reveal. Dumbledore waited silently for him to continue.

"…I guess it was her.… There was this wonderful feeling. I thought she hated me, but she obviously didn't. I felt hope, real hope, for the first time in I don't know how long. With that, I found strength I didn't know I had. For some reason, I knew that the Death Eaters couldn't hurt me any more, so they didn't. But then…."

"Voldemort came," Dumbledore finished his sentence for him. "Miss Granger said something; that is how I know."

"Yeah, the bastard got into my head too. I don't know how, but it doesn't matter. He seemed to know Hermione was there. I wasn't going to let him hurt her. I tried harder than I had ever tried anything in my life to throw him out of my head. It was like something clicked…. There was a surge…. There was pain … blinding pain. The next thing I remember is waking up seeing goblins."

"Truly a remarkable story, Harry," Dumbledore allowed.

"Sod remarkable … I was so stupid," Harry spat, almost clawing at his face. "I forgot that whatever I did to Voldemort would also happen to Hermione. I didn't keep her safe, like I'd promised. Maybe I just should have let him have me…."

"She would not have been safe," Dumbledore interrupted. "Not for very long. None of us would be safe if Voldemort had succeeded. They would have made a terrible example of her, and you know it. As it was, I have it on good information that you injured Voldemort very severely - severely enough that it will take weeks, if not months, for him to recover."

Harry thought about what his captors had already been planning to do to Hermione, and he knew Dumbledore was correct. "What now?" he asked with fear creeping into his voice.

"You and I, we must trust each other," Dumbledore responded, measuring every word. "The world is very changed with what has happened. It presents great opportunities, but great risks. If it becomes public that you are a Fifth Element elemental, the Ministry's hand may be forced. Remember, it is a serious criminal offense merely to study the Fifth Element. You go far beyond that, Harry. If the new Minister of Magic were forced to act…."

"There's a new Minister of Magic?" Harry asked with interest. "Fudge finally fell?"

"Yes, in the immediate aftermath of the events surrounding your kidnapping, the Aurors threatened a mass resignation unless Fudge himself resigned. He did. The major factions were in disarray. Our side was trying to come to grips with your disappearance, and Ms. Bones, the leader of the pureblood faction, had just been killed. A Death Eater rampage was in the offing; suddenly they were being reported everywhere, along with Dementors. I don't believe it was as serious as was thought at the time, but everyone was terrified."

"Who's the new Minister?" Harry cut to the chase.

"Rufus Scrimgeour, the Head of the Auror Office, who organised the mass resignation threat."

"He tried to stun me that night âˆ' when the lightning came. He was with Fudge when they were trying to sabotage my training." Harry replied. "The day I set fire to the Situation Room. I remember him. He's no friend of ours."

"No he is not, but neither is he an enemy," Dumbledore cautioned. "He came in on a white horse, so to speak, and gave a blistering speech before the Wizengamot about how we had to fight the Death Eaters above all. He at least promised strong leadership after the drift under Fudge. He all but dared the Death Eaters to come out and fight. It was … `They know where I am, bring `em on,' I believe. Unwise bravado, to be sure, but it played well in a highly emotional session. There was no good alternative, and by acclamation, he was voted acting Minister, pending new elections. He is a wily politician in his own right - not overly bright, but willing to take tough measures. Right now he is a tactical ally of the Order."

"You said things were not as they appeared?" Harry questioned. "In what way?"

"What appeared to be a Death Eater rampage probably was nothing of the sort. Whilst they and their Dementor allies were certainly out and about, they actually caused very few casualties - far fewer than they could have - and most of those were among other Dark, or at least suspect, wizards. I believe they were doing the same thing as we … looking for you…."

"But the Death Eaters had me, I saw them," Harry sputtered. "I saw them kill Eliza in cold blood. I heard them plot against Hermione."

"Professor Snape was summoned by Voldemort," Dumbledore revealed. "As you know he is a spy. He reports that Voldemort was quite as much unaware of your whereabouts as we were. Whoever took you was on a rogue mission of their own."

"Snape is a liar and a traitor," Harry responded furiously. "He was there when my parents were murdered."

"Professor Snape tried to stop that from happening, and suffered for years because of it. In any event, I trust Professor Snape," Dumbledore declared.

"Why?" Harry asked pointedly.

"That is nothing that concerns you," Dumbledore responded. "That is between him and myself. All you need know is that he has conclusively proven his loyalty to me."

"You said you would tell me everything," Harry protested.

"I did not require you to tell me about what went on between yourself and either Miss Granger or Miss Brookings. I did not think that I needed to know, and I will prevent anyone else from inquiring. You must trust me, Harry, this is just as personal, and you do not need to know."

"You … and Snape? I never would have believed it?" Harry responded with a mock look of shock.

"I assure you that there is nothing afoot of the sort you are insinuating," Dumbledore responded in a similarly mock affronted manner. "I am not in the least bit sexually attracted to him."

Harry could not help but snigger. "I know, I know," he said. "It's just that you compared it to…."

"I know what I compared it to," Dumbledore responded. "I was not insinuating anything along those lines. The point is simply that there are limits to what the both of us need to know, and you are only sixteen, so most of what you wish to keep private is of a sexual nature. What you have to decide is: Are you prepared to live with some modicum of privacy upon both of our parts? We do need to trust each other."

"Yeah, I s'pose so," Harry conceded. "Don't think there's much choice."

"Good, because during the coming year, I intend to continue to instruct you personally in various things that I believe you need to know in order to do what you will eventually be called upon to do."

"That's fine," replied Harry, grudgingly. "But you need to know that, without Hermione, I don't think I'll ever be able to do what I need to do."

"I understand, and I reiterate that I will leave no avenue untried in seeking a cure for her condition," Dumbledore replied.

"So you don't think it's Death Eaters, then," Harry responded curiously. "If not them, who? They certainly played the part."

"Oh, I believe they were Death Eaters, at least at one time," Dumbledore corrected. "But they had their own objectives, and were operating without Voldemort's knowledge, or his consent. I doubt we need concern ourselves with them, because they will not live long. Voldemort does not tolerate insubordination."

"Do we know anything about them? …Beyond what I've told you?" Harry asked. He thought of everything they did to Eliza, whose only mistake had been to help him when he had asked - what they planned to do to Hermione. "If Voldemort doesn't kill them, I'd like to give it a go."

"Harry, deliberately killing them would be beneath you," Dumbledore answered softly. "Even with Voldemort, bringing about his death will be complicated. Do not sully yourself with the blood of your enemies."

"Turn the other bleeding cheek, you're saying?" Harry replied angrily. "After what they did to me, maybe, but after what they did to Eliza âˆ' and wanted to do to Hermione. I'm not some saint. I need … revenge…."

"I quite disagree," Dumbledore said placidly as Harry raged. "I simply mean that death is too good for them. Becoming them does not become you."

"I won't go looking," Harry said grimly. "But I make no promises if I find them anyway. Now, what do we know?"

"A little," Dumbledore replied. "They knew of a secret hideaway Voldemort had created beneath Malfoy Manor, because that is where you were held…."

"Dobby told me … wait," Harry narrowed his eyes. "Malfoy. He allowed this to happen. He … that little piece of…, I'll kill him!"

"Poppycock, Harry," Dumbledore responded hotly. "Do you not think that that possibility has crossed my mind? Young Mister Malfoy was at Durmstrang throughout most of the incident, attending orientation for transfer students. I have this on good authority from two different sources. His presence there was confirmed repeatedly. I know you despise him, but there is no reason to believe that he even knew about the dungeons where you were kept. They were built either by Voldemort himself or at his direction, and Voldemort would have no reason to take an underage wizard into that kind of confidence…."

Harry opened his mouth, but closed it again. Maybe he was being irrational. Everything the Headmaster said made perfect sense. But insignificant or not, he still hated Malfoy with a passion. Finally, he growled, "If he's at Durmstrang, then I no longer give a damn about the bloody ferret. Good riddance, after everything he's said and done to me. That's one less complication in my life…."

"Unfortunately, that is not the case," Dumbledore cautioned.

"What?"

"Mister Malfoy has decided to return to Hogwarts, and I have approved his readmission," Dumbledore declared. "He will return for next week's classes, if not before."

"Why would you let him back?" Harry protested vehemently. "If he's not a Death Eater already, that's what he wants to be when he grows up!"

"There is an expression that you would do well to remember, Harry," Dumbledore responded calmly. "Whilst one should keep one's friends close, one should keep one's enemies closer still."

"Oh, so you want to watch him?" Harry asked sarcastically.

"In a sense," Dumbledore replied evenly. "Voldemort needs followers. You did in a great many of them the other day. If he approaches Mister Malfoy, I would like to be in a position to do something about it. That is no different from my desire to protect you from anyone in the Ministry or with the Muggles who might be tempted to wish you harm because of the Fifth Element."

"No, no, no, NO!" Harry crescendoed. "He's a junior death eater âˆ' a security risk … and the biggest jerk in the school, now that Snape's left. I don't want him here…. Besides, with Hermione as helpless as she is right now, he might try something…. He hates her as much as me."

"I am sorry, Harry, but I remain Headmaster," Dumbledore responded magisterially. "That decision is final. Draco Malfoy is returning to Hogwarts."

"You're making a big mistake," reproached Harry.

The Headmaster ended the discussion. "It is my mistake to make, then. I shall live with it…. Harry, I am ready to release you to normal classes tomorrow. I promise you that you can visit Miss Granger whenever you want for as long as you want, within the constraints of your workload. But I need you to promise me two things…."

"Name them," Harry demanded.

Dumbledore stood and fixed the boy with an unyielding stare. "First, you must promise me that, under no circumstances will you lose control of your emotions whilst at Hogwarts - no matter what the provocation," he instructed - meaning Malfoy in particular. "You have immense power, but you do not know how to use it. You could harm yourself or others … especially Miss Granger. You have learned Occlumency well from both me and Sefu Kung. You must use it at all times to maintain control."

Unconsciously imitating the Headmaster, Harry rose as well. "Okay," he replied. That seemed logical - indeed essential.

"Second, you must promise to maintain your high level of academic achievement. You would be letting both me and Miss Granger down if you allowed her situation to distract you from your studies."

"I can do that," Harry said. "I want to do that."

"Very well," Dumbledore said reaching out his hand.

Harry stayed back. "Not so fast. I have some promises for you too."

"Very well," Dumbledore repeated.

"First, you'll do everything within your power to find out what's wrong with Hermione and set it right, whatever it is - and if there's anything outside of your power, let me know. Maybe my money can buy what you can't command," Harry demanded.

"I would be pleased to make that promise," Dumbledore answered.

"Second, if I ask you to, I want you to help me try to deal with all of the other ways that my life's been changing âˆ' the fame and fortune parts. I feel overwhelmed by it all at times, and you've been through it," Harry added.

"I would be happy to do that even without you asking, Harry," Dumbledore replied.

"No, I want the option of asking," Harry affirmed. "You can ask me if I want help, but it has to be my call."

"I accept that," agreed the Headmaster.

They shook hands, and blue light passed between them, creating a binding magical contract.

Dumbledore clapped his hands (causing himself to wince in pain) and Vanished the armchairs. "We should go now, but we have to make arrangements for your parents' remains, as the Fidelius Charm has been broken," he reminded Harry.

Harry looked stricken. "I don't know what to do," he confessed. "I'd like to bury them at Godric's Hollow, because I'd eventually like to rebuild the house there, but that's way in the future - if I even have a future."

"May I make a suggestion?" Dumbledore offered tentatively.

"Go ahead," Harry agreed.

"For the time being, we can store their remains in a safe, secret place in Hogwarts. Somewhere that I very much think Voldemort would not wish to tread, as I am sure Lucius has told him of the unpleasantness that went on there."

"You haven't said where," Harry commented warily. "What's the catch?"

"I'm afraid this place doesn't harbour very pleasant memories for you either," Dumbledore replied frankly.

"You don't mean…."

"Yes, the Chamber of Secrets, Harry," Dumbledore explained. "It is no longer frequented by any Basilisks, except for the remains of the one you killed."

"How would bloody Lucius Malfoy know about anything beyond that I destroyed his master's diary?"

"At the time, he was a member of Hogwarts' Board of Governors, and as Headmaster I owed them a full report concerning that incident," Dumbledore explained.

"No thanks," Harry dismissed the idea. "I'm not sending my parents' bodies through a loo."

"I had the house-elves build a new, more usable entrance," Dumbledore went on, "and the memory Voldemort has of the place - you destroyed it on your visit some years ago."

"But Voldemort speaks Parseltongue!" Harry protested.

"He does, but I know Tom Riddle. I have placed additional enchantments, in that language, upon the Chamber to deal with him. It is as safe as any place in Hogwarts, and safer than most. There are many catacombs in the Chamber that would serve quite well as a temporary resting place for their remains, particularly as I am disabled from performing another Fidelius Charm."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, in shock at that news. "You can't be asking me to do that."

"I am not proposing that anyone do it, as the fewer that know about this, the better," Dumbledore explained wearily. "It is one of the quirks of the complex Fidelius Charm that it can only be cast one time by any one caster for any one purpose. Therefore, I cannot do it a second time. You do not yet have that skill, and I do not wish to endanger anyone else with this information. Therefore, if we keep it a secret between ourselves, we serve the same purpose. At least that will have to do until you can enlist someone else acceptable to you to serve as the caster."

"Why would I want that?" Harry asked, puzzled.

"Because it is inevitable," Dumbledore answered knowingly. "That person is simply in a coma of sorts at the moment."

"Hermione?" Harry half asked, half stated.

"Could it be anyone else?" Dumbledore answered rhetorically. "As I mentioned at the outset, I believe she has already discovered my secret. That means it is inevitable that she will eventually seek to share it with you."

"Yeah, you're right," Harry agreed. "And if anyone else could learn how to do that spell right, she could."

"Precisely," Dumbledore affirmed. "Are we in agreement, then?"

"I have nothing better to propose," Harry admitted, giving Dumbledore's plan a rather weak endorsement.

"Very well. We have been away for quite some time, and we have yet another task to perform before either of us may rest. Could you collect the Thestrals, whilst I perform the excavating spell?"

* * * *

There were many things about Dumbledore that amazed Harry, and that afternoon the Headmaster added another item to that list. Despite age and injury, he deftly brought his Thestral - laden with both coffins containing the earthly remains of Harry's parents - to a perfect landing on the small balcony outside his tower office. Harry, by contrast, could barely bring the Thestral he rode within ten metres of the tower.

Struggling to maintain his Thestral relatively stationary, Harry shouted, "I don't think I can do that, sir!" across the gap separating him from Dumbledore.

"Nor is that my expectation," the Headmaster replied calmly whilst dismounting, of necessity favouring his uninjured hand. "I shall handle this. Hold still…."

Harry did as he was told and brought his Thestral to a halt.

"Now, I shall Disillusion you," Dumbledore told him. The Headmaster drew his wand. Harry heard the incantation and felt the cool, almost drippy, feeling as he came under the spell.

"You should stay Disillusioned and land anywhere you can, as long as it is within the Castle walls. Stay hidden unless you want to be mobbed. Then meet me by Gregor. No password will be necessary, just touch him with your wand."

Befuddled, Harry asked, "Who's Gregor?"

Dumbledore smiled whilst shaking his head. "The gargoyle who guards the lower entrance to my office is named Gregor. You will find him more helpful if you address him properly."

With considerable effort, Harry was able to manœuvre his Thestral into one of the Castle's smaller courtyards and, less awkwardly, to dismount. Fortunately, Thestrals remained invisible to most students, late afternoon classes were still in session, and the hallways were largely deserted. He was at the appointed location within the quarter hour.

Just as Dumbledore had promised, at the touch of Harry's wand, Gregor the gargoyle jumped aside, revealing the patiently waiting Headmaster.

"Thank you, Gregor. You may stand at ease," the Headmaster advised.

Behind him, two caskets levitated ominously.

Dumbledore motioned Harry onto the rotating staircase - which at that moment was not rotating. But as soon as Harry set foot upon it, he felt a lurch as stairs resumed moving. This motion, however, was a downwards rotation, the first time Harry recalled that happening. They descended for the equivalent of several storeys below ground level. Finally, the stairs ground to a halt where the walls, until that point roughhewn and dark with the grime of age, abruptly gave way to much newer stone facing.

"From here, we walk," Dumbledore declared. Seeing Harry's uncertain expression, he added. "Surely you did not think that I would leave something as significant as the Chamber of Secrets accessible only through malfunctioning toilets. That would have been most inconvenient - not to mention undignified."

Eerily trailed by two just-disinterred caskets, the two descended. For ten minutes they went down, down, down, until the vertical shaft opened into a corridor wide and tall enough for them and their macabre cargo easily to pass through. Ahead of them, less than ten metres distant, loomed an entrance into a vast room.

Harry overtly gawked upon entering the Chamber for the first time in over three years. It was even bigger than he remembered it. Behind him, Dumbledore must have performed some sort of spell, as the gloomy half-light abruptly brightened. They were at the back of the main chamber. Opposite, Harry could see the huge statue of Salazar Slytherin from which the deadly Basilisk had once emerged.

"Oh Merlin, look at that," Harry blurted. "This is way, way bigger than I remembered it."

"Undoubtedly you had more pressing matters during your previous visit," Dumbledore remarked dryly, "and with the shadows banished, the Chamber's true dimensions are more readily apparent."

"I'll say," Harry agreed as he craned his neck. Now, the ceiling - a series of massive, interconnected vaulted arches - was clearly visible in the improved lighting. "The ceiling must be as high as in the Reims cathedral. Actually, I'll bet this place is even bigger than that."

"That would be correct, Harry," Dumbledore informed him. "Indeed, this chamber is substantially larger than any room in the Castle above. Whatever else one might say about Salazar Slytherin, he made no little plans."

Harry stopped dead in his tracks.

Before him stretched the corpse of the monster that occasionally still haunted his dreams. The body of the massive 25-metre-long Basilisk lay where it fell. A powerfully magical, if evil, creature - its toxic-looking green skin was still intact.

"There is no need to fear it, now," Dumbledore intoned.

Gingerly, Harry approached it. He could tell that over time most of the huge serpent had mummified from within. Its one remaining fang, however, had lost none of its lethal, razor-sharp edge.

A morbid fascination with the fang gripped Harry. Careful to avoid its razor sharp serrated edge, he ran a finger along the smooth side of the fifteen-centimetre dagger-like structure. The other one of these had gone right through his arm. It would have killed him âˆ' except Fawkes saved his life.

"Harry…."

He snapped out of the trance. It occurred to him that he was altogether too fascinated with this monster. Instinctively, Harry drew back.

"It is dead, Harry. You killed it. It deserves no more respect in death than you ever gave it in life," Dumbledore advised the boy. "That could be dangerous."

With that the Headmaster reached his good arm into the maw of the beast, grasped the base of the remaining fang, and broke it cleanly off. A drip of venom fell from the cavity left behind. It sizzled as it struck the floor, etching the cold stone. Then he tossed the fang unceremoniously down the throat of the dead leviathan.

"I would leave you here for a moment to share some last private time with your parents," Dumbledore remarked, with the urgency of a command. "I shall investigate the Chamber's catacombs for a suitable interim resting place." The Headmaster lit his wandtip and strode off and out of sight down one of several corridors that led away from the cavernous main room.

Harry spent the next several minutes sadly communing with the mortal remains of James and Lily. Other than their deaths, he had no memory of his parents. He had zoned out, staring into space, when he realised he was gazing at Slytherin's statue - at the situs where the memory of Tom Riddle had once summoned the Basilisk.

Maybe, he thought, that might make an almost fool-proof hiding place. Riddle had used Parseltongue to open it, so it would take nothing less than Voldemort himself coming to the Castle to endanger his parents' bodies. That was virtually unthinkable. Dumbledore was the one wizard Voldemort feared.

He remembered the words Riddle had used to open the statue as if it were yesterday. Facing the gigantic stone face, Harry spoke slowly and clearly.

"Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four."

Nothing happened - nothing at all.

After spending a minute waiting in vain for the great mouth to open, Harry repeated the spell, this time pointing his wand for extra effect.

Again, nothing happened.

Harry then noticed that his voice did not have the characteristic hiss to it. Puzzled, he turned to the most snakelike thing in the Chamber - the body of the Basilisk. Addressing it, Harry said loudly, "I killed you, now I'm going to cut you to pieces."

His Queen's English echoed through the Chamber.

"Harry, what are you doing?" Headmaster Dumbledore's curious voice came from behind him. The Headmaster had returned.

"I'm … I'm … not sure," Harry answered weakly. "I think … I might have lost my ability to speak Parseltongue."

"Oh, my, that would be quite a development … unsettling," Dumbledore observed, his good hand rubbing his chin beneath his beard. "What makes you think that?"

"I tried to address Slytherin's statue in Parseltongue the way Riddle did the … the last time I was here. I tried twice and couldn't do it. Then I addressed the Basilisk itself. That's never failed before. I never even had to think about it. It's always just happened when I tried to talk to a snake of any sort."

"This is most unusual," Dumbledore agreed. "Is there anything else you could use as a confirmatory test?"

Harry thought. "The door," he realised. "Take me to the original door to the Chamber. That has snakes on it, and Parseltongue was how I got in here the first time."

Dumbledore guided Harry to the ancient, but intact, entryway. The serpentine door was firmly shut.

"Open," commanded Harry in a low, firm voice.

"That was English," the Headmaster announced.

"I know," Harry replied, more confused and concerned than ever.

He repeated the process with the same results. Turning to Dumbledore, Harry asked, "Do you think that the Fifth Element did it … destroyed my Parselmouth ability?"

"I cannot say," Dumbledore responded honestly. "The timing alone suggests that as a very plausible hypothesis. It bears research, and this could be of tremendous significance."

Now Harry was intrigued - and more than a little frightened. The Headmaster's eyes were not twinkling; they were fairly glistening with concentrated thought. "How so?" he demanded.

"I am not sure," Dumbledore replied, "but it may signify a change in strategy as to how you approach the prophecy."

"You'll have to explain that," Harry replied. "I'm afraid I'm not in very good shape right now for strategic thinking."

Rubbing his wounded appendage, Dumbledore answered. "Nor, unfortunately am I. First, some research. I need to consult the Book of Merlin, and possibly some other texts at the Ministry. Then I hope to be able to tell you something more concrete. Until I know more, it is best that I not say anything further, lest I mislead you. Can you live with that … with some uncertainty … for the moment?"

Harry was not very happy about the prospect, but agreed. "Yeah, I'll survive," he replied after a moment's hesitation. "I've done it all my life, after all."

"Then let us go about the unpleasant task of re-interring your parents. I have found what I think you will agree is a suitably out of the way spot. Then, I believe you will be fit to be released back into the student population, with one caveat…."

"That is?" Harry asked.

"As I said before, you must remain calm and in control of your emotions at all costs," Dumbledore instructed. "You cannot allow yourself to become agitated, for any reason - good or bad - or by any person, no matter whom that might be…. And it goes without saying that no one can know what we have done here."

* * * *

Author's notes: A farthing is a British coin of very small value, a quarter of a pence

Moses and Welday are the names of two brothers who were the last black major league baseball players prior to Jackie Robinson

Doctor's signatures are notoriously illegible

"Potemkin Harry" is a play on "Potemkin Village," a false-fronted village constructed to hide the wretched condition of the inhabitants. Minister Grigori Potemkin supposedly built these to deceive Catherine the Great about the wealth of newly conquered territory

The Room of Requirement should have generated an escape route for the DA in Book 5. Here's my attempt to harmonize canon

Eagles Mere is the name of a resort town here in Pennsylvania

Cairn Gorm is a real Scottish peak

"Risking a catastrophe" is an American criminal offense

There is a feature known as the "Five Fingers of the Gods" in Kauai

Order tombstones are made of Botticino limestone, which is accurately described

"No greater love" is part of a biblical phrase, with the unsaid portion being to lay down one's life for another

More insight into how Dumbledore's journey to face Grindelwald

"Flat burning junkheap" is from "Stop the World" by the Clash

The relationship between the killing curse and the Fifth Element was explored back in chapter 5, although it was not presented as the Fifth Element then

Harry doesn't catch Dumbledore's drift about Hermione's Auror ring until considerably later

Living just for dying … dying just for you, lines from "Sabbath, Bloody Sabbath, by Black Sabbath

That nobody's told Hermione the prophecy is quite consequential

Deeds to property are ordinarily recorded in searchable, public files

By offering the transcripts Dumbledore is trying to nudge Harry to reading Hermione's testimony about her feelings for Harry, but again he doesn't bite

That Harry's captors felt a need to disguise their voices should be significant, but even Dumbledore misses it

The new minister's speech was no different from Bush's "bring `em on" line

Dumbledore foreshadows the horcruxes

Harry's neither a saint nor a savior, but Dumbledore has the right idea

Harry's pledge to Dumbledore leads to dangerously extended passivity

This is the same staircase that leads to the Founders' Chamber

"Make no little plans" is what Thomas Burnham said about Chicago

The Chamber of Secrets will reappear in this fic. I'm surprised JKR has ignored it

Harry's inability to speak Parseltongue is the key to what happened in the valley

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