Chapter 651

In the circular room of the Headmaster’s office.

Dumbledore was sitting in a chair behind a long-legged desk and examining a wand with his head down. He looked a little tired, especially from Harry’s angle, and the wrinkles on his face looked as obvious as the brown eggshells left on a hard-boiled egg.

“Good evening, sir.” Harry broke the silence.

“Ah, good evening, Harry.” Dumbledore looked up from under his half-moon spectacles – which made the wrinkles on his forehead even more visible – and said with a grin, “Please sit down, Poppy told me you were discharged today and I thought it wouldn’t be a bad idea to move the lesson forward from next week.”

Harry didn’t know how to respond to that, so he gave a “hmm” and moved a chair to sit opposite Dumbledore.

“Poppy said you were fine, but I wanted to make sure personally – you’re not feeling any more discomfort, are you?”

“No,” Harry said hurriedly, ruffling the hair that was blocking his forehead where the scar had a thin scab of blood, “it hasn’t given me any trouble since I woke up, instead my nose has been itching and Madam Pomfrey kept careful records for two days until I later found the gnome cattail Ginny had left under the bed … I thought it was due to the Resurrection Stone.” He took the black gemstone ring off his finger and placed it on the table.

“I don’t need it anymore, sir.”

Dumbledore smiled and listened with interest.

“The time at the Hospital Wing certainly must have been quite rough … is that why your friend brought you a travelogue? I read a couple of pages, and it seems to record things from a very long time ago.”

“Well,” Harry said cautiously, “I found it from the library during Christmas break … Ron knew I was reading it lately and brought it over for me to pass some time.”

Dumbledore nodded with understanding.

“Whose wand is this, sir?” Harry couldn’t help but ask as he looked at the white wand that lay on the table, its entirety seemed to be made from the bones of some sort of creature and the grip end had been carved in the shape of a beast’s claw with irregular spikes attached.

“It’s made from yew wood, and its wand core is made from phoenix feather-” Dumbledore’s eyes turned to the side and Harry followed his gaze to where Fawkes is standing on a perch having a nap, a lightning bolt went off in Harry’s head, and he blurted out.

“Is this Voldemort’s wand?”

His voice was so loud that even Fawkes was startled awake, and he glanced at Harry angrily and hid his head in his wings. The portrait of the Headmaster hanging on the wall of the circular office peeked up to survey them.

“It’s Voldemort’s wand.” Dumbledore repeated, “It was one of the war spoils when Felix and I raided Voldemort’s hideout on Christmas Eve during your fourth year when he hadn’t yet resurrected and had to flee in desperation.”

Harry stared grudgingly at the yew wood wand that Voldemort had held to kill his parents and leave him an incurable scar …

“Harry, Harry!”

Harry snapped back to see Dumbledore putting the wand away in a drawer.

“I’m sorry, sir.” Harry whispered.

“There’s no need to say sorry, Harry.” Dumbledore paused briefly before saying in a formal tone, “I’m sure it’s clear to you why we’re sitting together on a weekend evening, and while I’d welcome a chat to relieve your boredom if you want, it is clear that we carry a more important mission.”

“Yes, I’m clear,” Harry said, “something to do with the soul fragment in my head, you said you found a solution.”

“Exactly, that’s right.” Dumbledore said, “You will find that my methods are slightly different from Felix’s, I need you to be more deeply involved, to know what you have to do, and for that we need-”

He held out his hand and the cupboard door behind Harry suddenly popped open and a shallow stone basin flew out of it, landing firmly on the tabletop between them.

“-a Pensieve.” He finished his sentence.

Harry stared dumbly at the Pensieve, not understanding the link, and he asked tentatively, “Are you asking me to look and learn something?” Like some kind of advanced magic, Harry guessed in his mind.

“Something to witness, to be precise.” Dumbledore said, wagging his finger at him, a small crystal vial about the thickness of his thumb appeared in the raised hand, he swung open the wooden stopper and poured the silver-coloured memories which swirled and floated like cotton wool inside the Pensieve.

“Whose memories are these, sir?” Harry asked curiously.

“Mine.” Dumbledore said briefly, “Let’s talk inside, I need to reserve enough time for discussion. You go first.”

Harry took a deep breath and dove head first into the memory in the Pensieve, as he continued to descend he found a solid sensation of touch coming from beneath his feet, his eyes opened and his gaze kept searching. From past experience, he knew that the owner of the memory must be nearby.

Then, he saw it.

In front of him, there is a small, grey, dusty village with low, dilapidated, time-worn houses and patches of green and brown colour everywhere around. But that wasn’t the point, he spotted a little boy with reddish-brown hair, about eight or nine years old, under a large tree, and he was staring very intently at his palm.

Harry took a few steps closer before realizing that he had mistaken and that the boy had a leaf floating in his hand. Harry was quite sure that the boy hadn’t recited any incantations, but the leaf kept changing colour.

“That’s me.” At that moment, Dumbledore appeared next to Harry and introduced his past self.

They watched in silence for a few minutes, the scene never changed, which caused a slight impatience in Harry’s mind, and thus he discovered the boy’s – or rather childhood Dumbledore’s – first virtue, patience.

The boy had obviously been here for a long time, which was evident from the pile of leaves of various colours at his side. But he hadn’t shown any sign of impatience, and now he had settled for the colour of the leaf between red and brown and constantly adjusted the subtle colour changes.

Harry suddenly realized that the boy was aiming to turn the leaves the same colour as his own hair.

“Albus! Albus – dinner time.”

Another little boy appeared. He looked two or three years younger than Albus, who was sitting under the tree, and the two were dressed in about the same style of clothes, but the latter one had gotten himself dirty and his hair, although also reddish-brown, just looked messy and unkempt.

“That’s my brother, Aberforth.” Dumbledore chimed in a timely manner.

Aberforth ran all the way over, panting and his face turning red, “Albus, dinner!” He shouted at the top of his lungs. “Just a moment – it will be finished in a moment.” Albus said, and after ten seconds or so he finally stopped, a small smile of satisfaction spread across his face.

The leaf finally matched the exact same colour as his hair now.

“Let’s go.” He said briskly.

“Ah, you’re practising magic in secret again!” Aberforth shouted as if he had just reacted, “I’m going to tell Mum and Dad, just wait until you get a lecture!”

“Then you won’t get the coloured leaf.”

“This is for me?”

Aberforth asked in surprise and was about to reach for it, but Albus evaded him.

“I’ve prepared several brightly coloured ones in pure colours, but – let Ariana pick first.” Albus said as he stood up, and together they walked along a dirt road towards the village.

“Let’s follow suit, Harry.” Dumbledore said softly, and Harry noticed that his voice had a slight unnatural tremor to it, “I’ll introduce you to my family …”

As they passed the signpost, Harry saw a rough piece of wood with the name of the village written on it: the Mould-on-the-Wold.

He couldn’t help but have a doubt: didn’t the Dumbledore family live in Godric’s Hollow? He had read about it in his mother’s letter to Sirius, there should be no mistake, did Dumbledore’s move there later?

He was about to ask the question but saw that Dumbledore’s eyes grew a little moist, so Harry fell silent. They followed the young brothers at the front in silence, and Harry couldn’t help but speculate on where they lived, and as he looked around, he spotted the one that best suited his aesthetic from the various small, grey, worn-out houses, and he swore that the exterior of the house showed many features of a wizard’s home in many areas.

He walked forward with certainty, but the brothers took a detour, and just as Harry suspected he had guessed wrong, he saw a beautiful back garden, blocked by a tight hedge.

“Ariana! We’re back!” Aberforth shouted.

Harry heard a rush of footsteps, and he couldn’t help but pick up his pace, almost alongside the two brothers from memory, and a rustling sound was heard as the tall, thick hedge was parted with a narrow gap and a pair of timid eyes appeared.

“Sir, this is-”

Harry turned back to find Dumbledore stopped far away, his face sporting a strange mixture of flinch and longing. A strange thought suddenly crossed Harry’s mind; perhaps Dumbledore had called him over on purpose because he was afraid to face the scene at hand alone.

…

Felix sitting in the Three Broomsticks Inn with a glass of iced lemonade on the table.

He had been here for a while already when the owner of the Inn, Mrs. Rosmerta, approached him and said through clenched teeth, “Mr. Hap, you can’t bring those guys here, I have a business to run!”

“But I paid for it, Madam Rosmerta.”

“That’s right … but they’re scaring away my other customers, and what if they try to bite me tonight? I haven’t slept well for days, and I’m not complaining … but today is so special, and I don’t have your skills in case they suddenly go berserk.”

“It does make things difficult for you, so why don’t we settle for doubling the amount we spent during this time, and – I’ll take them away later. As you said, they do seem to be a tad bit twitchy today.”

“Really?” Mrs. Rosmerta’s eyes lit up, and she looked relieved. “You should have done that a long time ago, but the double pay won’t be necessary, as long as you can come more often than usual, there are quite a few people who expect to see you here.” She covered her mouth and smiled.

“I don’t know when I’ve become so popular.” Felix said wryly.

“Just recently,” Mrs. Rosmerta said thoughtfully, “like Carlotta Pinkstone – yeah, I know that woman, she stayed here for a while but now I don’t know where she has gone …”

“I prefer that female Auror with the colour changing hair over her, the jokes she tells about witches, healers and veela are simply brilliant, if you can, please tell her if you come across her that her jokes are funny, she was sulking over it for what seemed like half an hour when I was too busy to listen … ”

Felix smiled and said, “I will.”

Mrs. Rosmerta wriggled her way out, and in a few moments a free glass of Firewhisky was served, but Felix didn’t get more than a few sips before people came down one by one from upstairs, men who looked as if they had been carved out of the same mould.

Wearing tattered and patched clothes, looking haggard, grim-faced, and glancing around nervously. They are the men Felix invited over, the werewolves. But when Felix waved at them, instead of relaxing, they grew more wary.

“All right, guys.” Felix snapped his fingers and a dozen heavy money bags slammed onto the table, “For the love of gold galleons, I demand that you form a line and follow me. I have set up a temporary shelter for you on the outskirts of Hogsmeade, where you will spend the next week.”

Felix walked out ahead of them.

The group of werewolves looked at each other, that man absolutely didn’t give them a chance to speak. After a few moments of stalemate, a tall, lanky man stepped forward and grabbed a money bag, and looked inside, the others noticing that his face seemed to be illuminated by a bright shining light.

Gulp!

The man gulped, tucked the bag into his arms, and walked out. The other werewolves followed in silence.

…

Just in time before the lights out, a dazed, even slightly panicked Harry returned, reciting the password twice as if sleepwalking, and as the portrait of the fat lady swung open, he headed straight in, only to be pulled by a hand.

“Harry, what’s wrong with you?” Hermione looked at him with a suspicious expression.

“Hermione? I’m fine.” Harry grunted.

“How can you be fine, we were just standing in the doorway the whole time, but you completely ignored us both, and Ron called you twice.” Hermione said softly and Ron nodded his head on the side to show that what she said was true.

“What exactly did Dumbledore teach you?” Ron asked sharply. “But whatever it was, I bet it was especially hard, you look a bit like Luna.” He said staring at the expression on Harry’s face.

Harry kept shaking his head, “He showed me some memories, well I can’t quite figure it out yet … Anyway, we’ll talk tomorrow, good night.” He said and tried to head inside again, he just wanted to lie in bed now and be alone.

But once again he was pulled back, this time by Ron — the fat lady looked less than pleased: “Are you going in or not!” — ” Well, not going, we’re going out to the yard.” Ron looked at a slightly puzzled Harry and squeezed his eyes at him, “It’s a full moon.”

“Full moon?” Harry dully mumbled, taking a moment to understand the meaning of the phrase.

“Yeah, I don’t suppose you’re planning on giving up on Animagus, are you? You can still get a free mandrake leaf,” Ron said and furrowed his brow, “but not me, I ran out of both, and I had to help Professor Sprout with a month’s labour … or buy it privately, but I thought that since it is readily available at school … Hermione because -”

“I felt the throbbing of the Animagus.” Hermione said briefly.

“Awesome!” Harry gave her a thumbs up.

“Are you mocking me? I know all about it.” Hermione glared at Harry aggressively. Harry noticed Ron fiddling quietly with his nails and muttered in a small voice, “Well – a funny thing happened while you were going to your lesson. Hermione was showing off to me, and I couldn’t hold back from-”

“I wasn’t showing off!” Hermione said pointedly, as she led the way towards the stairs.

Ron and Harry exchanged a knowing look.

“Maybe we should let Hermione hear your insight on character flaws too, Harry.” Ron said.

“I’m not going to ask for trouble.” Harry instantly said.

They made their way out into the yard, where Professor McGonagall and some of the students were already waiting. But Harry was keenly aware that a few lesser people had come today than the first time, “A few have given up.” Hermione whispered, turning her head to look around, “How come I can’t spot Professor Hap?”

This question was answered by Professor McGonagall, who had told them at the moment she was distributing the mandrake leaves to them.

“Your Professor Hap has taken a leave of absence, he has something important to deal with.”

“At this time of year?” Ernie Macmillan muttered in a small voice, “That doesn’t sound very plausible.”

“But it’s true.” Professor McGonagall said sternly, “I’d put more thought into the practice if I were you, Macmillan.”

After receiving the new Mandrake leaf and hearing an earful of cautions, the students dispersed and Hermione updated Professor McGonagall on her progress before they headed back to the castle.

On the way, Hermione brought up Dumbledore’s lesson again, and Harry was very glad he had a mandrake leaf in his mouth, it gave him an excuse to talk less, even though the leaf in his mouth didn’t quite affect him anymore.

He briefly chatted with Ron and Hermione before heading back to his dormitory. Ron and Hermione who were left behind looked at each other.

“Did the lesson didn’t go well for him?” Ron asked worriedly.

“Maybe Dumbledore showed Harry some shocking memory that he found hard to accept for a while …” Hermione whispered, “Although I can’t guess how it will help Harry with his scar, I’m sure Dumbledore has his own reasons. We can ask more carefully tomorrow.”

In the dormitory, Harry lay in bed, feeling a part of his heart crumble.

At first, everything had been fine, he and Dumbledore had spent a realistic half hour watching the former Dumbledore family eat dinner and exchange gifts, the atmosphere was overall pleasant and enviable, followed by the next memory where their situation had taken a sharp turn for the worse, not only had they moved house, the smiles were gone from their faces, the youngest Ariana had become withdrawn and jumpy, Aberforth always clenched his fists when no one was around, his eyes burning with flames of anger; Albus has gotten quieter, with just a glint of grief in his eyes as he looked at his sister …

And to top it all off, the pillar of their home was missing from their life.

“… When Ariana was six years old, she was doing magic in the garden when three Muggle boys saw the scene through a hedge, at the time the foolish idea of a witch hunt was still spreading through the poor countryside, and they were horrified but also fuelled with savage courage to attack her. Since then, Ariana was severely traumatized and could no longer control her magic, my father was furious and went to settle the score with the muggles and gave them a good beating before … he was put in Azkaban and we, alas, chose to leave that sad place, and no one could have foreseen an even greater tragedy that awaited us …”

The first lesson ended with the young Albus receiving a letter of acceptance to Hogwarts.

Dumbledore hadn’t asked Harry to keep it a secret, which seemed to mean he could tell Ron and Hermione, but he had decided only to say something irrelevant as if it was his duty to keep Headmaster Dumbledore’s past a secret as it was a sacrilege to his great character to let anyone know of the tragedy that had befallen him.

He wasn’t sure why he felt this way, or why Dumbledore had allowed him to see that; as far as Harry could see, Dumbledore seemed to have displayed his bloody past in a grim way to his own student.

He stared at the full moon outside the window and seemed to hear wolves howling. Of course, Harry had no idea that a dozen werewolves are undergoing a mass transformation in the distant outskirts of Hogsmeade.

—————

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