Chapter 27: Ghosts of Christmas Past
Harry sat down on the floor next to Hermione, who had fallen there in a crumpled sort of heap. She was weeping, shaking violently and making strange squeaky sounds. Harry wanted to comfort her, but the sight of Lupin's limp form made Harry just as weak as Hermione's little noises. All Harry could do was stare at Lupin, wondering vaguely how many more of the people close to him were going to die.
Dumbledore took Lupin's body from the room as Snape slumped down in his chair. He looked fatigued, his face pained from the wounds on his body. For the first time Harry thought Snape looked remorseful, though Harry was sure this wasn't the case.
`You may leave whenever you choose,' said Snape coldly, Harry taking it as meaning the end of their brief alliance. He hauled Hermione to her feet, cradling her as she buckled under the pressure of walking. She was still weeping, which Harry was glad of as he didn't much feel like talking.
Harry entered Gryffindor Tower to find Dumbledore sitting with Ron alone, the rest of the place empty. Ron wore a look of mingled shock, anger and sadness; Harry deduced that Dumbledore must have recounted the night's events to him. The Headmaster himself looked more strained and drawn that Harry had ever seen him. In the flickering of the firelight Harry thought Dumbledore looked old and frail, cutting the figure of a man tired and spent.
Harry and Hermione fell into chairs near the fire, neither saying a word. Harry glanced at Ron, who looked like he wanted to speak but just didn't know what to say. It was Dumbledore who spoke first.
`What happened to Remus Lupin is in no way your fault, Harry,' he said solemnly, `you would not have been able to prevent it.'
`How do you know?' Harry spat as a spurt of anger jumped from the well inside.
`I arrived just as you left, catching the end of the portkey taking you away. Even if you had realised that Pettigrew was there, the fact that he was so near to Remus meant that nobody would have been able to stop him.'
`So you've caught him then?' Hermione asked.
`Or killed him?' Harry asked hopefully.
`Neither, I'm afraid,' replied Dumbledore, that same aggravating solemnity in his voice.
`You mean he got away?' Harry cried, unable to believe his ears, `Just like that? Escaped?'
`He Disapparated as soon as Remus went down,' said Dumbledore, `there wasn't enough time for me to even throw my anti-Disapparation spell.'
`To hell with that!' said Harry, who found himself shouting now, `Why didn't you just kill the scumbag?'
`Harry-'
`No, no, don't Harry me,' yelled Harry, `I want an answer.'
`We apprehend the Death Eaters and they are tried in our courts. They are sent to Azkaban to be punished.'
`Sod Azkaban!' yelled Harry, `That place is worthless without the Dementors. Even Mrs Figg could break out of there! What's the point?'
`They have to be punished for their crimes,' said Dumbledore with an annoyingly maddening air, `death is an easy way out for many of them and is the forte of the enemy. If we sink to their level we become as bad as them. Besides, many aren't acting of their own free will.'
`Rubbish,' spat Harry standing up, `just because they're too weak to resist the Imperius Curse doesn't mean it's a good enough excuse for them to kill people!'
`Of course it doesn't, Harry,' smiled Hermione, in a blatant attempt to calm his temper; he ignored her.
`Anyway, if killing is good enough for Voldemort then why isn't it good enough for us?'
`You want to be the same as Lord Voldemort?' asked Dumbledore passively.
`No…no, of course not…don't be stupid!' cried Harry, `But if they can kill us we should return the favour. Maybe old Barty Crouch had the right idea after all.'
`He may well have done…' said Dumbledore quietly.
`Of course he didn't!' cried Hermione. `Two wrongs don't make a right and a death for a death isn't a fair trade. All it leaves is heartache and misery for the family and friends of all those who die.'
`Those Death Eaters don't give a toss about that! They didn't when they killed Sirius, or Lupin or when they set that snake on your Dad-'
`Don't have a go at me,' said Ron quickly. `I agree with you mate.'
`And Voldemort sure didn't care about it when he slaughtered my mum and dad in front of me did he! I'm sorry but these people don't deserve life, in any form. Get them out of the way before they send more people the way of anyone close to me. Maybe they should just kill me, get it over with.'
`Don't say that, it isn't funny,' said Hermione, who suddenly looked extremely anxious, `not funny at all.'
`Harry does of course have a point,' said Dumbledore taking off his glasses and cleaning them on his robes, `enough people take that view. Its why Barty Crouch was so popular in the first place. But look what happened to him.'
`But I haven't got a deranged, psychotic son who wants revenge against me!' cried Harry.
`Before that Barty was going downhill,' said Dumbledore patiently. `He was more paranoid and aggressive than Mad-Eye Moody, more obsessed with catching Dark wizards than anyone. He even mooted the idea of torturing them for information.'
`I'd have backed him,' said Harry sullenly.
`Me too,' added Ron, his eyes gleaming.
`The idea of killing for the sake of it is the easy route out. It doesn't make it the right thing to do.'
`Wrong,' said Harry. `I'm not sure how much of this you have grasped, sir, but we are at war. In war, people die. Its what happens.'
`This isn't a war like you'd understand it,' said Dumbledore.
`Oh really? Well, lets see. People die, I've seen two deaths in the last month, your own brother was one of them. You have fighting, I've been involved in two or three recently. Disagree if you want.'
`I cannot, as you know,' sighed Dumbledore.
`Then what are you doing? The Order, The Ministry, the side of good? What are we doing.'
`Waiting for the enemy to move and reacting.'
`Not good enough,' said Harry, now pacing. `Not good enough at all. Its like chess, except we are the losing team. They are moving all the right pieces and striking with devastating effect.'
`This I cannot deny.'
`Then it has to end,' said Harry sternly. `They strike, and we back off. They sucker us in, and we retreat. They ambush us and our good people die. Well, no more! No more damn it! I'm done running. I've had enough of being scared. They have advanced too far. A line must be drawn…and it must be drawn here!'
And with that he stormed upstairs, leaving them all gawping at him.
The next few weeks were strained to say the least. Hermione seemed on tenterhooks with Harry mist times, seemingly worried that he might explode with a tirade against anything she said. Ron was happier though, firmly agreeing with Harry on a more active resistance against Voldemort.
The problem was that since his outburst Harry had come to realise how short-sighted his sermon was. In the anger and grief over Lupin's death Harry had ranted and raved, venting some of the frustrations he felt over the lack of activity against the Dark Lord. In the heat of an argument it seemed a good idea to shout the odds to Dumbledore, to act like a General issuing battle orders.
But in the cold light of day, the reality of the situation really hit home. Harry wasn't involved, not really. Ultimately, he knew he would be at the heart of the conflict, the prophesised key to vanquishing Voldemort. But at the moment, the only thing he was, was a student of Hogwarts. Just like all the other students, except for his immense fame and important destiny. He had considered the fact that his celebrity should have died by now, owing to the fact that, yes, he had once defeated Voldemort, but he had come back, making the act ultimately useless. He was famous for an incident whose effects had been short term only, the false fame should have died with Voldemort's rebirth.
It was made apparent to Harry the reason for his continued fame one afternoon in the first week of February. It was a cold Saturday and most of the sixth-year Gryffindors were in the library looking up various texts to help them through the mountains of homework each teacher was setting them. Harry and Hermione were looking up the uses of powdered eagle talons for Potions with Neville, researching the calming and peace-inducing properties of certain mushroom varieties for Herbology.
`So, any news on You-Know-Who?' Neville asked to Harry's surprise.
`No, should I have?' Harry asked.
`Oh…no,' said Neville quickly, `Its just…well, someone heard about you going off to fight Death Eaters. Somebody heard you arguing with Dumbledore, said it sounded like you were fighting You-Know-Who properly.'
`Well, I'd like to be,' said Harry ruefully, ignoring Hermione's slightly desperate look.
`Well, I'm glad you are,' said Neville conversationally. `As long as you are, we're all ok.'
`How d'you work that out?'
`Well… you're the only one he couldn't kill. If he still hasn't figured out how then he'll never have total control. You beat him once and I reckon you could do it again.'
So that was it, Harry thought. He'd been stupid not to register it. After all, only a few people knew why Voldemort's spell had failed to kill Harry first time round, and why it wouldn't stop him killing him if he tried again. He, Harry, knew this, but the general populous didn't. He was, never forget, the 'boy who lived'. He could hear Hermione in his mind telling him about all the books he was in. People still read those books…still thought he was unique…still thought he was some kind of saviour.
Harry felt guilty about the way he'd spoken to Dumbledore. He had been angry and upset, something the Headmaster was probably growing used to by now. However, Harry felt increasingly guilty about the way he acted, and deeply concerned by the way Dumbledore looked.
`He seemed old,' Harry said to Hermione one afternoon as they teamed up to try and lose less spectacularly to Ron at wizards chess, which, by the way, they were failing to do.
`Tired I'd say, not old,' said Ron.
`Like maybe he'd had enough,' said Hermione thoughtfully, `not that I'd blame him.'
`Thanks for making me feel better, love!' smirked Harry.
`No, I didn't mean that!' cried Hermione looked horrified.
`I know, relax woman!'
`Maybe you should go and talk to him,' suggested Ron. `You know, just to clear the air.'
`Yeah, I might. I've got Occlumency tomorrow, I'll chat to him then.'
But when Harry was walking towards the Headmaster's office he wondered just what he could say. He felt that, "sorry for acting like an immature git," was a bit inappropriate, and that, "sorry for throwing my latest rattle out of my pram, can I have another please?" was a little too petulant for his own good.
So when Dumbledore invited Harry to have a seat so they could discuss the events it seemed like he was going to make the first move.
`I'm sorry I've had to cancel our last two scheduled lessons,' said Dumbledore. `And for asking you to take my Defence classes. I've been away you see.'
`Oh? Doing anything important?' Harry asked.
`Drawing a line,' said Dumbledore shrewdly.
Harry looked at the old man's face, it shone of renewed vigour.
`You see,' continued Dumbledore, `I came to realise after out little discussion a few weeks ago that you were entirely right. Well…not entirely, but mostly. I will not agree that killing is the best way, but that is my opinion. My mistake here, you see, is being too selfish. I have let my own personal views influence what has been done. As Chief Warlock I have certain influences and have used these to restrict revenge attacks with the hope of staving off open war. Its only recently I have come to understand that open war is upon us, whether I like it or not.
`I have realised that while I have been teaching Defence here I have become embroiled in Defence out there, in the real war. We have, as you said, retreated too long and too far. There are those for whom redemption is beyond our reach. And there are those on our side willing and able to fight the evil fire with some of our own. And this we are doing.'
`What-'
`I cannot and shall not reveal these things to you. They are plans now in motion. Strikes will be made. Its time we made a few forward moves in this chess game. The faces we are losing are not random and meaningless to me. They are my friends too. If the enemy believes us to be weak, he is mistaken. If he wishes to draw us out, his wish will be granted. If he wants to fight, then we shall blow him out of the stars. Our line is drawn, Harry, and then enemy will never cross it.'
Harry felt himself shiver with the power of Dumbledore's words and his voice. It was serious and deadly and full of fire and threat. Harry knew without doubt that the time for action had arrived.
`Today we shall not learn Occlumency,' said Dumbledore. `Today I want to take you somewhere, show you something that I think will be of interest to you.'
`What is it?'
`If you'll take this portkey with me I can show it to you.'
Harry placed a hand on the rusty kettle Dumbledore held out and the Headmaster muttered 'portus!' at it. Harry found himself hitting the floor of the Ministry of Magic. Dumbledore led the way across the empty reception area to the lifts. Dumbledore pressed the button and Harry felt the lift going down.
`Department of Mysteries,' said the cool female voice of the lift.
The Department of Mysteries, Harry thought. What could Dumbledore want to show him here? The Headmaster said nothing, though, as he marched across and through the black door into the circular room of more doors. Here, Harry could hear, as if it were an echo, the voice of himself and the other DA members from a year ago, desperately trying to seal the doors from the Death Eaters. He remembered thinking Hermione had died…he shivered violently.
Dumbledore walked through a door and into a room of mist and shadows. It was icily cold and was making a eerie, low pitched hissing sound. Harry could see random, shapeless forms through the gloom wandering around.
`What is this place?' Harry whispered quietly.
`It is a very interesting room,' said Dumbledore casually, `where the wizards who work here study the greatest secret of life.'
`Really? And what is that secret?'
`Why…its death, Harry.'
`What?'
`The wizards who built this place found it was tuned in to psychic vibrations. In short, they could attract souls here.'
Harry froze, feeling frightened and thrilled about what eh expected to happen.
`People who have passed over can be reached here for a short while. They can advise us and guide us, or just comfort us when they die. I'd like you to re-meet some people.'
Harry turned slowly around to find himself facing four figures, each one smoky but solid just like the figures that had emerged from his wand when he fought Voldemort after the Triwizard Tournament. The first Person was Sirius, his appearance clean and handsome as though he had never seen Azkaban. Next to him was Lupin, his robes looking brand new and his face full and joyous.
The next figure had left the others and walked to him, smiling at him, smoky tears running down her face. Harry gulped and managed to force out the words.
`Hi…mum.'
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