Chapter 30 - The Past Resurfaces

Monday morning dawned all too soon for Harry. After his morning run, he made his decision. By the time he made his way to the Great Hall, he reaffirmed that decision. The headmaster would be back from whatever mission he had gone for by now, at least that is what Dumbledore had mentioned. Harry would meet the headmaster for his regular lesson and then tell him everything about the Horcruxes. It was obvious that the headmaster had no designs to end Harry's life. So all that was keeping the two of them apart was what the headmaster had done to Harry in the past, mainly by placing Harry in an abusive home and then not doing anything when he knew of the abuse (Harry still maintained that Dumbledore knew from the beginning). It wasn't something he would ever forgive him for, and Harry was sure that he would hate him for it till the day he died. However, this was war. There was a great enemy out there that was out to get Harry and subjugate the wizarding world. So in the interest of his survival, it would behove Harry to set aside this grudge and work with the headmaster.

Once the war was over and the dust had settled, however, Harry fully intended to have nothing to do with the man, no matter what was offered to him; be it a proposal to learn some of the most obscure magical subjects thought to have been long lost to man or be it an invitation to teach in the school. He. Was. Done.

The only time he would even go near Dumbledore after the war would be if he had little to no choice. That was a decision Harry was sure of. As much as the thought pained him, he wasn't going to step inside Hogwarts as long as Dumbledore was there as headmaster.

Though he doubted he would need to wait that long. The headmaster was pretty old anyway. He would have to die sometime

As he loaded his plate, Harry observed the staff table. All the other teachers were there save for Professor Dumbledore.

Harry frowned; normally the headmaster was one of the first people to arrive. The fact that he wasn't there obviously meant that the headmaster had yet to return from whatever quest he had set out to do. Harry really hoped that he had not gone after one of the Horcruxes.

From what he knew of the locations of each of the Horcruxes, the most likely one that Dumbledore would be searching for would be the Locket.

Harry had spoken to Kreacher in April. He had noticed a peculiar expression on the elf's face when he was examining the locket that was in Number 12. Curious, he ordered the elf to tell him what the elf was thinking.

The resulting story had Harry shocked and intrigued at the time. Apparently, Voldemort had not given the locket to Regulus as Harry had initially thought. No, Sirius's little brother had actually stolen the locket ... from right under the Dark Lord's nonexistent nose. And it seemed that Voldemort had no idea about the theft! If he had, then Harry was sure that he would have acted by now.

It looked like the Black family had produced more than one brave son.

Afterwards, more out of curiosity than anything else, Harry had interrogated Kreacher at length about the security surrounding the cave where the Locket was initially hidden. From what he found out from the elf, and his own subsequent research, getting out of the cave alive with the Locket would be very difficult indeed.

Harry dearly hoped that the headmaster had not set off to try to retrieve something that did not need retrieving.

Suddenly with a flash of fire, a small scroll of parchment accompanied by a box dropped in front of Harry's breakfast plate, startling the boy.

Recovering from his shock, Harry picked up the scroll and placed it in his pocket, ignoring the stares throughout the Great Hall. Hastily finishing his breakfast, Harry left the hall with the unopened parcel and ducked into an empty classroom. Unrolling the parchment, he saw that it was a letter from the headmaster telling him that while he had returned to Hogwarts, he would not be able to hold their regular meeting and would only be able to meet Harry on Saturday evening. Until then, the headmaster had given Harry a few more charmed and warded objects that he had prepared beforehand for Harry to sense and reveal.

There were also instructions for Harry to practise developing that sense till he could tell, just by being close to an object, whether it was cursed or not.

The week seemed to fly by for Harry, waiting as he was on tenterhooks for Draco to finally finish his task as well as dreading the time when he would have to come clean with the headmaster. Before he knew it, it was Saturday evening and Harry was headed towards Dumbledore's office for the fateful meeting. Harry was equally looking forward to, and dreading the impending encounter he was going to have with Dumbledore.

It was not easy admitting that one was wrong, but it seemed that Harry had no other choice but to admit the fact that he may have been wrong about the headmaster's designs. Indeed, a small part of Harry still voiced objections. The voice, sounding a lot like Daphne, kept telling him about the ways Dumbledore had manipulated him, it kept pointing out the evidences to the theory that Dumbledore saw Harry as nothing more than a pawn, something to be sacrificed. The voice was still whispering that it would be a mistake to trust the headmaster so readily, that the past few weeks were all a front. No matter what Harry did, that voice was still there, urgently whispering away. Thankfully it was getting weaker as well.

Draco let out a slow and relieved breath as he sank down to the floor in front of the cabinet. The runes were carved in perfectly, and there were no conflicts. He had checked and double checked. Now there was nothing for it but to cast the activation charm.

Taking a deep breath and hoping that he had not missed any errors that he had made in the carving, Draco started casting, concentrating on the words that he had to say and the wand movements he had to make while ruthlessly pushing away any doubts creeping in about the places that he may not have checked. He could not afford to let any hesitation creep into his voice as he incanted the long winded spell, as intent was just as necessary to complete the spell as were the words.

Finally with the last syllable enunciated, and the final wand movement completed, Draco felt the magic rush out from his body, through his wand and settle on the cabinet. He watched, fascinated, as the runes lit up, one by one, in an ethereal blue for a moment before disappearing altogether.

Draco held his breath and stood in front of the cabinet, ready to bolt if the cabinet blew up in his face. It occurred to him for a moment that he should really think of finding something to hide behind, just in case.

But after a near minute of nothing happening, Draco relaxed his taut body, letting out a gusty sigh of relief. It looked like it had worked. But before he could dare to get his hopes up, he needed to test it first.

And that was where the rat sitting next to him came into play. Taking out a Sickle, Draco tapped his wand, changing the seemingly random numbers and letters etched on the side to spell a message.

Hgwrts cbnt rdy

Borgin felt his coin heat up. Glancing at it, he replied.

Gr8 stndng by

Draco grimaced at the message. He really hated butchering the English language in such a way, but there were only so many letters and numbers that could be etched onto the side. There was no room for punctuation marks, and vowels had to be entirely sacrificed to make room for the numbers. So making sense of the consonants was very challenging and took some getting used to. It was a good thing that Draco knew Borgin and his style of messaging. Being acquainted with the shop owner's "handwriting" of sorts, help make the task easier.

Taking the rat next to him out of its cage, Draco carefully placed the squirming animal in the cabinet. He had nicked it from the Transfiguration classroom, as he did not know if the cabinet was supposed to work the same way for conjured animals.

Closing the doors, Draco waited with bated breath. The squeaking had immediately stopped as soon as the doors had shut. But it did not mean that the rat had made the journey successfully. Draco anxiously waited for confirmation, burning a hole into his Sickle with his eyes.

Suddenly it started heating up as the letters changed.

1 ntct rt fnd blk

Draco squinted at the message. If he wasn't mistaken, Borgin had asked if the rat that had suddenly appeared in the cabinet's twin in Knockturn was a black one while mentioning that it was intact. To this he crafted his reply.

Ys

Gd Sndng bk Rcv

As soon as Draco saw the message, he heard squeaking from his end. Elated, he opened the doors to find the same rat that he had initially shut inside the cabinet.

Picking it up, Draco examined the squealing rodent minutely. The animal was alive, and all four of its flailing limbs seemed to be in place. So the cabinet was working!

Feeling his heart about to burst with joy, Draco messaged Borgin.

Rt ntct

There was a pause.

Cngrts

A wide silly grin breaking out, Draco pulled out the enchanted mirror.

'Harry Potter.'

Harry had just stepped out of the Gryffindor common room when he felt his mirror vibrate. Hastily ducking into an alcove that was fairly hidden from view, he hurriedly cast a few silencing wards before donning his cloak. Once invisible, he answered the mirror.

'Harry! It's ready!' Draco's voice, barely restraining his excitement came from the other end.

'Good, that's good,' said Harry with a fake smile plastered on his face. 'Listen, I have to meet the old man soon. Once I speak to him, we can plan something out. Till then, wait in your common room, got it?'

It was a combination of Draco being ecstatic at his success and the camaraderie that the two had developed over the time that lead to Draco not objecting to Harry's order, something that would have had him scowling only months before.

Nodding, Harry, cut the connexion.

Draco pocketed the mirror. Unable to contain himself anymore, Draco started whooping with joy as he threw all the notes he had accumulated over the year up in the air in celebration. His elation was so great, that he couldn't help but dance a little as the loose leaves floated around him, whooping even more.

His celebrations, however, were interrupted in a heart stopping moment when he heard the door suddenly and rather unexpectedly open. 'Who is there?' called out a voice belonging to an adult woman.

Sybill Trelawney was not having a great time. At first, things were rather dandy with her having a nice cushy job teaching children to open their inner eye. Nothing was more satisfying than being paid to do the one thing you loved. And Sybill loved Divination.

The art was rather arcane, and not many people had the aptitude for it and so scorned it openly (a certain stern Transfiguration mistress came to mind here) but the benefits were more than worth it! To be able to tell the future before it happened ... to be able to prevent events from happening, or to manipulate the future to one's own gains. The thought always caused a shiver of pure unadulterated pleasure to run down her spine.

It was better than sex, in her opinion.

But things had taken a nasty turn for the worse last year when that accursed woman had come into the castle.

Sybill remembered having done a reading the summer before, and had not understood the portents the crystal ball had tried to show her. She had spent a week agonising over the meaning of the vision of a frog swallowing a dragonfly before giving it up as hopeless.

Sometimes Apollo tended to mess with his oracles.

It was only when she saw Dolores that Sybill realised what it could possibly mean. And it was only after she was sacked did she realise whom the dragonfly represented (much to her irritation).

And to make matters worse, Dumbledore, the one person she had respected had actually gone and hired a centaur of all things to teach the children how to unravel the mysteries of the future!

Didn't he know that they were once human oracles cursed by Apollo because they had chosen to abandon him for Poseidon? It was quite a fitting punishment. They and their offspring will be one with the subjects of the Lord of Horses for all eternity.

Now while Sybill really had no problems with magical creatures, she was naturally, as a servant of Apollo, against such abominations.

Of course, Minerva disagreed.

'Stupid Minerva,' Sybill muttered imprecations under her breath.

But it didn't change the fact that the, the nag was still around. Despite her protests and explanations, the thing was still corrupting the minds of all those poor children.

It made her blood boil. If it wasn't for the unfortunate innocent children still needing proper direction, Sybill would have left long ago!

As it is, she had taken to asking for direction from Apollo himself. To do so, she had to enter a state of bliss.

Unfortunately, her abilities in meditation weren't as great as the Oracles of Delphi (or as she liked to think of them, The Sanctimonious Bitches of Delphi Who Thought They Were Above Her). On top of that, she felt that her time was running short. So Sybill turned to shortcuts: by imbibing herbs and similar potions to enter her state of nirvana.

One of these potions was a delightful Muggle invention called "cooking sherry". Not only did it taste good, and while it wasn't as potent as some of the magical herbs and mushrooms, it did the job of getting her close to a higher state. It truly was ambrosia.

Of course, there was a downside to imbibing so much of this wonderful potion. For one, imbibing it showed in her breath and body odour. It had not taken long for the headmaster to threaten to take action against her for what he termed as "drinking on the job".

She never thought that the wise and venerable headmaster capable of being so ... crass. Really, how dare he pretend that she was nothing but some drunken tramp on the street!

The inner eye was above such things such as drinking for pleasure!

While leaving Hogwarts was beginning to sound like a better idea day after day, Sybill did not have any desire to see the inside of a cell, Ministry or Azkaban. She also had the children to think about. So she had to be careful. She would only imbibe when she had sufficient free time. Something that she had in abundance, thanks to that horse.

Of course there was the problem of destroying the remnants of the potion. The bottles the wonderful ambrosia came in (which, by the way held a lot of potion, unlike Snape's phials) were cumbersome, and Sybill would not let the house-elves clean this up for she feared that they would then report it to the headmaster.

She couldn't Vanish the bottles either. She rather liked the labels. Besides, she did not know the Vanishing Charm. Such thing was for those fools stuck in the present.

So she had consulted The Cards. They had led her to this wonderful room where she could hide her things.

Sybill grumbled to herself as she headed towards the hidden room. She really hated all this cloak and dagger business. All of this would not have happened if it wasn't for that Umbridge woman. Sybill chuckled to herself. The arrogant woman should have listened to her warning. Now it was too late.

Too bad she could not go and gloat in her face. She had so wanted to, but The Cards had warned her against such an action. And The Cards cannot be denied. She patted her pocket where she kept the cards.

Pacing three times and thinking of what she wanted, she opened the door that appeared.

She was surprised when she heard the sound of a person celebrating enthusiastically within the room. The cards hadn't shown her that!

'Who is there?' she called out curiously. She had no idea that somebody else had found this magical room.

Draco's heart finally restarted, going at double the rate. Adrenalin soon flooded his system as he heard a person shuffle inside the room slowly. That sounded like a professor! He wasn't sure who, but he was definitely certain that it was a member of the teaching staff!

Bugger! He thought angrily. It figures that now of all times somebody would manage to find the room! Not for the first time did Draco wish that it was possible to place wards on the door of the room. Merlin knows how much he tried with no result.

Thinking quickly, Draco plunged his hands in his pockets. He almost cried out in relief when he felt the packet of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder.

Hastily, he poured some of the powder out in his non-wand hand as he gripped his wand tightly. From the sounds the professor was making, her gait was rather unsteady. Perhaps it was because she could not pinpoint Draco's exact location. So it meant that Draco had the element of surprise.

He could not be seen. If he was seen, then Dumbledore would know and the game would be up. That could not happen. Not at this point when everything was in place!

Silently and swiftly, Draco hurried towards the professor. It was not hard to locate her as she was still calling out loudly while making quite a ruckus.

Leaning against a corner, Draco pointed his wand at the wall facing him and wordlessly incanted a reflecting charm. The reflection showed the back of a woman with an obscene amount of shawls draped around her body. Instantly Draco recognised her as the batty Divination teacher. Draco had heard about Sybill Trelawney and could make only two conclusions about her. Either she did not have the gift of her ancestor, Cassandra, or she was a charlatan pretending to be related to the celebrated seer.

Draco memorised the layout before he cancelled the charm. As he prepared to launch his assault, he caught a whiff of alcohol, and realised that the woman's speech was a bit slurred as she muttered to herself. Clearly the woman had been drinking. The empty bottles in her arms proved that beyond a doubt. Taking care of her would not be a problem.

Not wasting any time, Draco spun out of his hiding place and flung the powder at her. Instantly the world became dark. Knowing that the door was straight behind the woman, he cast the banishing charm at the now screeching and no doubt flailing woman, ejecting her from the room. And judging from the crash, those bottles had followed suit.

On the way to the headmaster's office, Harry heard a scream and a crash.

The noise was coming from a corridor nearby. Concerned, Harry sprinted towards it, his wand at the ready, hurtled around another corner, and saw Professor Trelawney sprawled upon the floor her head covered in one of her many shawls, several sherry bottles lying be side her, one broken.

'Professor —'

Harry hurried forward and helped Professor Trelawney to her feet, managing to hide the grin from his face at the undignified sight of the Divinations professor. Some of her glittering beads had become entangled with her glasses. She hiccupped loudly, patted her hair, and pulled herself up on Harry's helping arm.

'What happened, Professor?'

'You may well ask!' Trelawney said shrilly. 'I was strolling along, brood ing upon certain dark portents I happen to have glimpsed …'

But Harry was not paying much attention. He had just noticed where they were standing: There on the right was the tapestry of dancing trolls, and on the left, that smoothly impenetrable stretch of stone wall that concealed a certain room. Harry had a good idea as to what had happened. There was a way he could use this to his advantage.

'Professor, were you trying to get into the Room of Require ment?'

'… Omens I have been vouchsafed — what?' She sud denly looked shifty.

'The Room of Requirement,' repeated Harry mentally rolling his eyes. He was not interested in her drinking habits. 'Were you trying to get in there?'

'I — well — I didn't know students knew about —'

'Not all of them do,' said Harry quickly, trying to hurry the topic along. Waving his wand and depositing the empty sherry bottles in her arms, he gently chivvied the professor forward and away from the room, telling himself that he was doing this to allay any suspicion that might come to this room. For good measure he shot a silent look towards where he knew the door would appear as if to say you owe me. 'But what happened? You screamed. … It sounded as though you were hurt. …'

'I — well,' said Professor Trelawney, drawing her shawls around her defensively and staring down at him with her vastly magnified eyes. 'I wished to — ah — deposit certain — um — personal items in the room. …' And she muttered something about 'nasty accusa tions.'

'Right,' said Harry, glancing down at the sherry bottles and catching himself halfway through rolling his eyes. 'But you couldn't get in and hide them?'

He knew that the woman had managed to enter. After all, she was thrown out of someplace. And there weren't any rooms here. But he needed her to say the right words, so that he could do something about Draco and his task.

'Oh, I got in all right,' said Professor Trelawney, glaring at the wall. 'But there was somebody already in there.'

'Somebody in —? Who?' demanded Harry. 'Who was in there?' Please say Malfoy, please say Malfoy, he thought desperately.

'I have no idea,' said Professor Trelawney. Damn thought Harry. He quickly turned his attention on the woman. She looked slightly taken aback at the urgency in Harry's voice. 'I walked into the room and I heard a voice, which has never happened before in all my years of hiding — of using the room, I mean.'

'A voice? Saying what?'

'I don't know that it was saying anything,' said Professor Trelawney. 'It was … whooping.'

'Whooping?'

'Gleefully,' she said solemnly, nodding.

Harry stared at her. Mentally he was trying to imagine Draco Malfoy of all people whooping in glee.

'Was it male or female?' He had to tread very carefully here. So far his magic had not reacted, meaning that he had not done anything against the Vow. But he wasn't out of the woods yet.

'I would hazard a guess at male,' said Professor Trelawney.

'And it sounded happy?'

'Very happy,' said Professor Trelawney sniffily.

'As though it was celebrating?'

'Most definitely.'

'And then — ?'

'And then I called out "Who's there?"'

Harry's eye twitched. Of all the stupid – 'You couldn't have found out who it was without asking?'

'The Inner Eye,' said Professor Trelawney with dignity, straight ening her shawls and many strands of glittering beads, 'was fixed upon matters well outside the mundane realms of whooping voices.'

'Right,' said Harry hastily; he had heard about Professor Trelawney's Inner Eye all too often before. 'And did the voice say who was there?' Like Draco was that stupid. Come to think of it actually, that was a possibility.

'No, it did not,' she said. 'Everything went pitch-black and the next thing I knew, I was being hurled headfirst out of the room!'

'And you didn't see that coming?' said Harry, unable to help himself.

'No, I did not, as I say, it was pitch —' She stopped and glared at him suspiciously.

'I think you'd better tell Professor Dumbledore,' said Harry. 'He ought to know Malfoy's celebrating —' he stopped in midsentence as his magic gave a rather violent jerk. 'I mean, that someone threw you out of the room.' He started sweating. He had come close there! So far, as long as he said nothing regarding the task, he was clear. He had to remember that.

Of course, that did not mean that Trelawney couldn't do his job for him. Harry wasn't violating the Vow here. The Vow was specific. He had to help Draco, which he had done. He also could not say anything about the task without Draco's permission. And that's where Trelawney came in. Now all he had to do was get her to talk and make Dumbledore suspicious enough to be prepared when Malfoy came. True, this would potentially hinder Draco's task, but Harry had not sworn to help and not hinder. He was only sworn to help. At least that was the angle he was going for. He hoped it worked. Otherwise Voldemort would have one less task to do.

To his surprise, Professor Trelawney drew herself up at this sug gestion, looking haughty.

'The headmaster has intimated that he would prefer fewer visits from me,' she said coldly. 'I am not one to press my company upon those who do not value it. If Dumbledore chooses to ignore the warnings The Cards show —' Her bony hand closed suddenly around Harry's wrist. 'Again and again, no matter how I lay them out —' And she pulled a Card dramatically from underneath her shawls. '— the lightning-struck tower,' she whispered. 'Calamity. Disaster. Coming nearer all the time …'

'Right,' said Harry again. 'Well … I still think you should tell Dumbledore about this voice, and everything going dark and being thrown out of the room. …'

'You think so?' Professor Trelawney seemed to consider the matter for a moment, but Harry could tell that she liked the idea of retelling her little adventure.

'I'm going to see him right now,' said Harry. 'I've got a meeting with him. We could go together.'

'Oh, well, in that case,' said Professor Trelawney with a smile. She dumped her sherry bottles unceremoniously in a large blue-and-white vase standing in a nearby niche.

'I miss having you in my classes, Harry,' she said soulfully as they set off together. 'You were never much of a Seer … but you were a wonderful Object …'

Harry did not reply; he had loathed being the Object of Profes sor Trelawney's continual predictions of doom.

'I am afraid,' she went on, 'that the nag — I'm sorry, the cen taur — knows nothing of cartomancy. I asked him — one Seer to another — had he not, too, sensed the distant vibrations of com ing catastrophe? But he seemed to find me almost comical. Yes, comical!'

Her voice rose rather hysterically before tapering off into mutterings of 'heretics.' Harry wrinkled his nose as he caught a powerful whiff of sherry even though the bottles had been left behind. The woman was two steps from being completely pissed!

'Perhaps the horse has heard people say that I have not inherited my great-great-grandmother's gift. Those rumours have been bandied about by the jealous for years. You know what I say to such people, Harry? Would Dumbledore have let me teach at this great school, put so much trust in me all these years, had I not proved myself to him?'

Harry mumbled something indistinct.

'I well remember my first interview with Dumbledore,' went on Professor Trelawney, in throaty tones. 'He was deeply im pressed, of course, deeply impressed. … I was staying at the Hog's Head, which I do not advise, incidentally — bedbugs, dear boy — but funds were low. Dumbledore did me the courtesy of calling upon me in my room. He questioned me. … I must confess that, at first, I thought he seemed ill-disposed towards Divination … and I remember I was starting to feel a little odd, I had not eaten much that day … but then …'

And now Harry was paying attention properly for the first time, for he knew what had happened then: Professor Trelawney had made the prophecy that had altered the course of his whole life, the prophecy about him and Voldemort. Did she remember the night in question? Had she seen the scum who had told Voldemort the prophecy and got him, Neville and their parents targeted?

'… but then we were rudely interrupted by Severus Snape!'

'What?'

'Yes, there was a commotion outside the door and it flew open, and there was that rather uncouth barman standing with Snape, who was waffling about having come the wrong way up the stairs, although I'm afraid that I myself rather thought he had been ap prehended eavesdropping on my interview with Dumbledore — you see, he himself was seeking a job at the time, and no doubt hoped to pick up tips! Well, after that, you know, Dumbledore seemed much more disposed to give me a job, and I could not help thinking, Harry, that it was because he appreciated the stark con trast between my own unassuming manners and quiet talent, com pared to the pushing, thrusting young man who was prepared to listen at keyholes — Harry, dear?'

She looked back over her shoulder, having only just realized that Harry was no longer with her; he had stopped walking and they were now ten feet from each other.

'Harry?' she repeated uncertainly.

Perhaps his face was white to make her look so concerned and frightened. Harry was standing stock-still as waves of shock crashed over him, wave after wave, obliterating everything except the information that had been kept from him for so long. …

It was Snape who had overheard the prophecy. It was Snape who had carried the news of the prophecy to Voldemort. Snape and Peter Pettigrew together had sent Voldemort hunting after Lily and James and their son. …

Nothing else mattered to Harry just now.

'Harry?' said Professor Trelawney again. 'Harry — I thought we were going to see the headmaster together?'

'You stay here,' said Harry through numb lips.

'But dear … I was going to tell him how I was assaulted in the Room of —'

'You stay here!' Harry repeated angrily.

A few days after he had told Neville, Susan and Daphne about the prophecy, Harry had spoken to Neville privately. He had told the other boy about the fact that the prophecy could have very well meant Neville. Harry had also mentioned that it was more because of the prophecy than anything that had lead Bellatrix and the rest to attack the Longbottoms after Voldemort's downfall.

Needless to say, the other boy's hatred for Bellatrix had gone down some. It was now replaced by the nameless Death Eater scum that had initially pointed Voldemort's nonexistent nose towards their families.

Except now, Harry knew the name. And he had a face as well.

It was Snape. It had always been Snape. Snape, the greasy haired dungeon bat. Snape, the Potions master, the biased Death Eater Head of Slytherin house.

Snape, the same Snape for whom Dumbledore had vouchsafed was on their side and not Voldemort's.

It was that thought that froze Harry mid-stride at the beginning of the corridor that led to the headmaster's office. Dumbledore knew what Snape had to have done. Harry was sure of it.

And just when Harry was thinking that Dumbledore held no more secrets of his life from him...

Harry remembered every single insult Snape had thrown his way, from the first Potions class all the way to today. The fact that the same man was responsible for his parents' death was too much to bear. That Dumbledore knew about this and willingly let Snape do what he did regardless, even going so far as to force the two to work together was what made Harry finally snap.

He wanted to storm up that office and rage at the man who allowed this. How could Dumbledore let that murderer teach here at Hogwarts? How could he let such a man run free among normal law abiding citizens, teach children, blatantly favour students from his house, and let him bully other students? How dare he force Harry to work with that bastard?

But Harry mastered his anger. The hot waves of fury were smothered by the cool of magic as Occlumency soothed his frenzied mind till Harry was thinking clearly. They then tempered the rage till it was a blizzard more dangerous than the fire.

The moment Harry stepped on the moving stairs, he made a split decision. He was not going to tell the old man anything about the Horcruxes. The headmaster clearly held more secrets, so why should Harry divulge any of his? After all, it wasn't as if Dumbledore had told Harry outright the truth of his life until forced to. So why should Harry willingly give any of his secrets?

There was also the possibility that the headmaster held more secrets regarding Harry's life. And Harry knew just the method to find them.

His mind made up, and a cold smile on his face, Harry knocked on the door.

Once he was sure that the coast was clear, Draco practically skipped back to the Slytherin common room. His mission was in the final stages of completion! Now all he had to do was mount the attack. The problem was when. Should he do it when Dumbledore is in the castle, or when he leaves, like he regularly does? Both options had advantages and disadvantages. With Dumbledore in the castle, it would be hard for the Death Eaters to fight him as the element of surprise would be lost and the wizard would be more than prepared to fight them off. The old man was too powerful and skilled.

If the man left then the Death Eaters could at least prepare in advance. However, at the same time, there was a chance that the old man might not return on the same day. So the advantage might be lost there. Hogwarts was Dumbledore's home turf. The Death Eaters were basically going behind enemy lines, and Draco knew that one does not stay there for too long.

Perhaps Harry could help him with this...

Thinking thus, Draco cast some privacy charms and took out the mirror.

'Harry Potter.'

After a few minutes of silence, and looking at the black surface of the mirror, Harry's face swam into view. 'Yeah?' he said.

'So what was that meeting with the beak all about, Harry?'

The other boy was silent for awhile before speaking. 'Do it tonight. The headmaster and I shall be leaving in a few short minutes. We shall be arriving in about an hour or so. Plan accordingly. Now, I have to go. Good luck' with that, the connexion went dead.

'Good luck to you too, Harry.' Draco said in a moment of sentimentality. Pocketing the mirror, he stood up. It was time. Dispelling the wards, Draco left for his dorms. He had some preparations to do.

He never noticed the hook nosed figure standing in a darkened corner. And he definitely would not have, seeing as the figure was hiding under a Disillusionment Charm.

'It shall happen tonight.'

Albus did not show any visible reaction to those words. 'You are certain?' he said.

'Yes. I saw him making plans. I do not know with what, or exactly what he said, as he had put up wards, but I do know that it is going to happen tonight. The boy is too excited and he is up in his room, preparing.'

'Well, this complicates things.' Albus said with a furrow of his brow. 'Harry and I shall be going out on an expedition tonight.' He leant back and gazed out of the window, thinking. 'Well, there is nothing to it. We shall cross that bridge when we get to it.' He sighed again.

The man standing in front of him seemed to hesitate. 'You sure you want to take this route? Surely there is a cure. Just give me some time.'

Albus chuckled in response. 'Time, my friend, is something I do not have anymore.' He held up his wand arm, pushing back the sleeve all the way to his shoulder. The portraits watching him hissed as they saw the blackened appendage.

'Soon, the curse shall reach my heart,' Albus said dispassionately. 'It shall slowly wither it away, guaranteeing that I have a week of painful existence left before I depart. No, it must be done this way. At least, I can control how I die. That is something few can claim to do.'

The other man was silent before he nodded. Placing a phial on Albus' desk, he said, 'To last the night.'

'Thank you,' Albus said. Downing the contents, he stood up and moved to the window, gazing out into the early summer sky. The sun was setting, bathing everything in a blood red. It was beautiful in a way. 'It's a good day to die,' Albus said absently. The evening sky was clear, hinting at a clear summer's day tomorrow. He hoped his funeral would happen then. He could picture it now. His casket being lowered as the birds sang under a periwinkle blue sky. The imagined beauty brought tears to his eyes. Shaking his head, he focused back on the present. He supposed that it was rather morbid that he was thinking about his funeral, but he was going to be dead before the sun rose anyway. So he really did not care.

'I trust you know what to do later on?' He told Severus Snape, his trusted spy.

'Indeed, I remember the change in Potter's condition. I have made my preparations.' The man said in his usual clipped tones.

'Very well,' Albus sighed. 'I guess that it is goodbye then, old friend.'

'Goodbye, Albus.' Severus replied quasi-emotionally. Opening the door, he swiftly strode out.

'Goodbye, my boy.' Albus said into the empty room.

He had little to no time now. Quickly, he strode to the glass cabinet where Gryffindor's sword was stored. While he knew it rightfully belonged to Harry, he did not know if the Ministry would allow the boy to keep the artefact. There was a possibility that Harry did not know of his heritage, and if the rumours were true, then Rufus and Amelia were working very closely. They might confiscate that sword just to spite Harry or get him to work for them. On top of that, Albus was sure that Tom had his agents placed within the Ministry despite the Minister's best efforts. So the sword could not fall into the wrong hands.

Lifting the Disillusionment Charm, Albus opened his portrait and placed the sword within. Closing the portrait, he was about to put the charm back up when he realised that there was no point in doing it.

Every headmaster ever since the sixteenth century had a portrait made of theirs which they placed under a Disillusionment Charm. Once the headmaster left, the Charm would then be lifted so the portrait could advise the next headmaster.

Albus knew that this was his last night here. So that charm would anyway disappear after his death. There really was no point in casting the charm.

Turning to his desk, Albus checked his documents. His will was ready. He truly hoped that Harry would be able to forgive him eventually. Especially for failing to tell him about his heritage (something that Albus had honestly forgotten to mention). Hopefully the small bequests he had left the boy would make up for it.

Once that was done, Albus turned to the Pensieve. He had included a few phials of vital information in the form of memories. One of them was the memory of him telling Harry all the information about his heritage. It was in all probability too late, but it was better late than never.

Once that was done, his eyes fell on the Snitch. He had completely forgotten to take the ring out. And there was no time to do that. Oh well, he shrugged. He was planning on destroying the power of the Elder Wand anyway. There was no harm in Harry finding the second Hallow. Perhaps he would find it, perhaps he wouldn't ... at the least it would be thrown or destroyed and at the most it would be used as a memento. The story of the Hallows was quite obscure and had few followers anyway.

With that, Albus picked up his travelling cloak, glanced once around his office and left for the last time.

In his hurry he had forgotten something vital. Something that he wished he had taken with him.

Pocketing his mirror, Harry hurried towards the dorms. Picking up his regular travelling cloak, he was about to don his Invisibility Cloak when he realised something. Hurriedly he went to the common room. Collecting Neville, Ron, and Hermione after locating them in opposite parts of the room, he led them to the sixth-year dorms.

'Listen,' he said in a hushed and urgent whisper. 'Dumbledore and I are going out for a short while to retrieve a certain artefact,' he gave them a meaningful look. While he knew that Neville did not get along well with Ron and Hermione, there really wasn't any time to brief them separately. Besides, they needed to work together here.

Once he was sure they had understood what he meant, he continued. 'Somehow my gut is telling me that something big is going to happen. So I want you on alert just in case things go pear shaped. Make sure nobody gets in or out of the dorms. Neville, alert Susan and Terry, you know the charm. I will do the same for Daphne.'

Seeing them nod mutely, Harry nodded. 'Good,' he said. 'Now I have to go.' The three of them could only watch dumbly, unable to articulate the questions that were burning in their minds as Harry disappeared in his cloak and slipped out.

Once Harry was outside the Common room, he turned around to the Fat Lady. 'Madam,' he said.

'My Lord?' the painting replied.

'I have a feeling that something big is going to be happening soon. Keep the tower under lockdown. Do not let anyone but I, or Professor McGonagall enter.'

'Yes, my lord.' With that the painting sank into the wall as a section of the wall covered it. Where the portrait once stood now was a blank stretch of wall with the Gryffindor lion inset.

That done, Harry sent off a Patronus message towards Daphne telling her to warn the junior and senior prefects to keep everybody in. Not that they would have much of a choice, seeing as the entrance would soon be sealed. As soon as his stag cantered off, he noticed another streak of silver follow it, splitting off in two different directions. Knowing that Susan and Terry would be informed, Harry then had the house ghosts stand vigil over the dorms.

Once the ghosts had floated off, he put his palm on the Gryffindor lion. 'Seal' he hissed, visualising the entrances to the Ravenclaw, Slytherin and Hufflepuff dorms. A tingling in his magic along with the fading of the lion was all the confirmation given to him that it had worked.

The eagle knocker and door to the Ravenclaw tower along with the painting guarding the Hufflepuff dorms were covered by a hidden section of the wall, while the Slytherin entrance glowed briefly. None of them would open until Harry unsealed them himself.

Harry doubted that any of the teachers would know about what had happened. The protections that were placed by Slytherin himself did not do anything to the wards. They just made the entrances harder to find. The walls were also charmed resistant to magic, so blasting the entrances open would not be easy.

Harry then quickstepped it to the main entrance where he knew Dumbledore was waiting.

Draco was waiting in the Room of Requirement when he felt the Galleon heat up.

Bringing it up close, he saw the message from Rosmerta.

D hs lft

This was it! Now he had to act.

Quickly he took out his Sickle.

30 min

'It will not be necessary for us to enter,' muttered Dumbledore, glancing around. 'As long as nobody sees us go … now place your hand upon my arm, Harry. There is no need to grip too hard, I am merely guiding you. On the count of three … One … two … three …'

Harry turned, squeezing through space and time, leaving behind the sights and smells of Hogsmeade, feeling Dumbledore's arm. Soon enough, he was standing in cool darkness, breathing in fresh, salty air and hearing rushing waves.

A light, chilly breeze ruffled his hair as he looked out at moon lit sea and star-strewn sky. He was standing upon a high outcrop of dark rock, water foaming and churning below him. He glanced over his shoulder. A towering cliff stood behind them, a sheer drop, black and faceless. A few large chunks of rock, such as the one upon which Harry and Dumbledore were standing, looked as though they had broken away from the cliff face at some point in the past. It was a bleak, harsh view, the sea and the rock unrelieved by any tree or sweep of grass or sand.

'What do you think?' asked Dumbledore. He might have been asking Harry's opinion on whether it was a good site for a picnic.

'They brought the kids from the orphanage here?' asked Harry, who could not imagine a less cosy spot for a day trip. Seeing nobody around, Harry took off his invisibility cloak and pocketed it.

'Not here, precisely,' said Dumbledore. 'There is a village of sorts about halfway along the cliffs behind us. I believe the orphans were taken there for a little sea air and a view of the waves. No, I think it was only ever Tom Riddle and his youthful victims who visited this spot. No Muggle could reach this rock unless they were uncommonly good mountaineers, and boats cannot approach the cliffs, the waters around them are too dangerous. I imagine that Riddle climbed down; magic would have served better than ropes. And he brought two small children with him, probably for the pleasure of terrorizing them. I think the journey alone would have done it, don't you?'

Harry looked up at the cliff again and felt goose bumps.

'But his final destination — and ours — lies a little farther on. Come.'

Dumbledore beckoned Harry to the very edge of the rock where a series of jagged niches made footholds leading down to boulders that lay half-submerged in water and closer to the cliff. It was a treacherous descent and Dumbledore, hampered slightly by his withered hand, moved slowly. The lower rocks were slippery with seawater. Harry could feel flecks of cold salt spray hitting his face.

'Lumos,' said Dumbledore, as he reached the boulder closest to the cliff face. A thousand flecks of golden light sparkled upon the dark surface of the water a few feet below where he crouched; the black wall of rock beside him was illuminated too.

'You see?' said Dumbledore quietly, holding his wand a little higher. Harry saw a fissure in the cliff into which dark water was swirling.

'You will not object to getting a little wet?'

'No,' said Harry, while thinking yes. The water looked to be really cold. And it hit Harry that he had not swum much, aside from the swimming he had done in the large Prefects bath. And here he was, about to dive into open sea.

'Then let us take the plunge.'

And with the sudden agility of a much younger man, Dumbledore slid from the boulder, landed in the sea, and began to swim, with a perfect breaststroke, toward the dark slit in the rock face, his lit wand held in his teeth. Giving the water a look of trepidation, Harry followed.

The water was icy; Harry's waterlogged clothes billowed around him and weighed him down. Taking deep breaths that filled his nostrils with the tang of salt and seaweed, he struck out for the shimmering, shrinking light now moving deeper into the cliff. He forced himself not to panic. This is just like the bath, only a lot colder and the water is rank he told himself. Not to mention stinging, he thought as some of the water splashed into his eye. With dogged determination, he plunged ahead.

The fissure soon opened into a dark tunnel that Harry could tell would be filled with water at high tide. The slimy walls were barely three feet apart and glimmered like wet tar in the passing light of Dumbledore's wand. A little way in, the passageway curved to the left, and Harry saw that it extended far into the cliff. He continued to swim inexpertly in Dumbledore's wake, his head getting periodically submerged and the tips of his benumbed fingers brushing the rough, wet rock.

Then he saw Dumbledore rising out of the water ahead, his sil ver hair and dark robes gleaming. When Harry reached the spot he found steps that led into a large cave. He clambered up them, water streaming from his soaking clothes, and emerged, shivering uncontrollably, into the still and freezing air. He blinked furiously as he tried to get rid of the sting of the saltwater.

Dumbledore was standing in the middle of the cave, his wand held high as he turned slowly on the spot, examining the walls and ceiling.

'Yes, this is the place,' said Dumbledore. It confirmed the scans he had initially made.

'How can you tell?' Harry spoke in a whisper.

To this Dumbledore just raised an eyebrow. 'Surely you can tell me the answer to that question Harry? In fact, I think you should lead the investigation of the place.'

Nodding, Harry took out his wand and stepped forward, the waterproof charms on his clothes were working overtime trying to drain the water till they were fully dry, while the heating charm in his cloak started to work its magic to bring his body temperature up. All Harry had to do was dry his hands, face and hair.

Lighting his wand, he closed his eyes and extended his senses as he turned on the spot. Suddenly he could feel the magic. It was faint though as if it came from a place beyond.

'I think that this is an antechamber,' Dumbledore nodded as his student said these words, having reached the same conclusion himself.

'Where do you think is the entrance?' Albus asked.

In response, Harry ran his fingers along the wall, walking from the entrance and approaching the back of the cave.

'I think ... it's here?' he said uncertainly after a few minutes pointing at a spot right in front of him.

Albus moved forward peering at the place that Harry had indicated. Drawing his wand, he examined the wall for a minute. Then he finally pointed the wand at the rock. For a moment, an arched outline appeared there, blazing white as though there was a powerful light behind the crack. 'Indeed, can you tell me what is required to get through?' he said as it disappeared quickly.

Harry closed his eyes again. 'No, there isn't anything that feels that way, however, there is something else. A ward ...' he concentrated further, staring at it for two solid minutes. 'It wants payment ... but what kind, I am not certain.'

'Very good, Harry,' Albus said approvingly. 'I am quite impressed that you have managed to come this far. Most others would not be able to tell this much in so little time. However, as much as I would like to continue letting you finally figure out the requirement of the ward, we really must be moving on. So if you will excuse me...' with that he stepped forward and examined the concealed entrance for what seemed to be a long time but was in reality, half a minute.

Finally Albus snorted, 'How crude.' He said, sounding disappointed. 'To enter into the chamber beyond, one must use blood as payment.'

'Blood?' Harry said, with an eyebrow raised as he watched the headmaster plunge his good hand into his robes and withdraw a sliver knife.

'I said it was crude,' Dumbledore said as he exposed the forearm of his injured hand. He sounded disdainful, even disappointed that Voldemort had used such a simple method 'The idea, as I am sure you will have gathered, is that your enemy must weaken him- or herself to enter. Once again, Lord Voldemort fails to grasp that there are much more terrible things than physical injury.'

Slashing his arm, Albus reflected that it really was rather disappointingly simplistic of Tom. Really, he had expected something a bit more fiendish, something that would require at least five minutes worth of examination from him at the least. Instead, it took a sixteen year old who was barely trained in sensing magic to figure out half the puzzle in two minutes and it took Albus half a minute to find out the other half of the riddle. Two and a half minutes totally. Half the time Albus was expecting.

And the requirement, Albus scoffed internally as he healed the deep cut he made on his arm. He himself would not have used something so base and easily replaceable. With magic, it was more than easy to repair any physical injury he had made, and blood could easily be replenished with potions. Personally, if it were up to him, he would have put up an intent based ward. Only somebody who intended to guard the Horcrux or had his permission to enter would be granted access.

Unless the blood was there to detect the identity of the potential thief, should said thief manage to fool the other traps set within... That bore thinking about.

'Ah, that seems to have done the trick, doesn't it?' he said as the blazing silver outline of an arch had appeared in the wall once more, and this time it did not fade away: The blood-spattered rock within it simply vanished, leaving an opening into what seemed to be total darkness.

'After me, I think,' saying that Albus lit his wand again and ducked into the chamber.

An eerie sight met their eyes: They were standing on the edge of a great black lake, so vast that Harry could not make out the dis tant banks, in a cavern so high that the ceiling too was out of sight. A misty greenish light shone far away in what looked like the mid dle of the lake; it was reflected in the completely still water below. The greenish glow and the light from the two wands were the only things that broke the otherwise velvety blackness, though their rays did not penetrate as far as Harry would have expected. The dark ness was somehow denser than normal darkness.

'Let us walk,' said Dumbledore quietly. 'Be very careful not to step into the water. Stay close to me.'

He set off around the edge of the lake, and Harry followed close behind him. Their footsteps made echoing, slapping sounds on the narrow rim of rock that surrounded the water. Only, Harry knew that it was not water that the lake contained. Kreacher had described how the lake seemed to have water that was unnaturally still. Thinking this odd, Harry reckoned that it was a potion that was currently taking the place of water in the lake. While this might have been natural salt water lake once upon a time, Voldemort had evidently long since drained the water body and filled it up with a potion that looked like water. There were quite a few potions that looked and felt like water.

The two of them walked on, but the view did not vary: on one side of them, the rough cavern wall, on the other, the boundless expanse of smooth, glassy blackness, in the very middle of which was that mysterious greenish glow. Kreacher's description of the place did not account for how oppressive the place was. It did not do justice to the unnerving silence either. This nicely distracted Harry from thinking of the shocking revelations he had learnt just a few scant minutes before. For the first time Harry wondered if coming here to learn the full truth was a rash decision.

Harry watched as Dumbledore found and raised the boat that Kreacher had described. Harry looked askance at the construct that was built to take them across the lake and to the island. He was expecting something a little sturdier. This boat did not look capable of ferrying anything across, much less two humans.

'Voldemort will not have cared about the weight, but about the amount of magical power that crossed his lake. I rather think an enchantment will have been placed upon this boat so that only one wizard at a time will be able to sail in it.' Dumbledore said when Harry articulated his concerns.

'But then — ?'

'I do not think you will count, Harry: You are underage and unqualified. Voldemort would never have expected a sixteen-year-old to reach this place: I think it unlikely that your powers will register compared to mine.'

'But I actually am an adult.'

Dumbledore chuckled, 'Yes, you are considered an adult, Harry, legally speaking. Magically speaking however, you are still underage. You have not reached magical maturity yet. That will happen at seventeen, and it will settle down by the time you are twenty one.'

Albus smiled wistfully. He remembered his own youth. The time period between fifteen and seventeen especially was spent in a haze of hormones and a blaze of passion. He was still surprised that he managed to pass school much less do so with such high marks.

A clearing of a throat brought him to the present. Looking around, he saw Harry standing behind him with a pointed look.

'Ah, forgive me. I was lost in my memories.' Albus said. 'Now, you first this time, and be careful not to touch the water.'

Dumbledore stood aside and Harry climbed carefully into the boat. Dumbledore stepped in too, coiling the chain onto the floor. They were crammed in together; Harry could not comfortably sit, but crouched, his knees jutting over the edge of the boat, which be gan to move at once. There was no sound other than the silken rus tle of the boat's prow cleaving the water; it moved without their help, as though an invisible rope was pulling it onward towards the light in the centre. Soon they could no longer see the walls of the cavern; they might have been at sea except that there were no waves.

Harry looked down and saw the reflected gold of his wandlight sparkling and glittering on the black potion as they passed. The boat was carving deep ripples upon the glassy surface, grooves in the dark mirror.

Harry had no idea why Dumbledore called the potion in the lake water. The unnatural way that the lake stayed still was enough indication that the liquid inside was anything but water.

As he looked absently at the surface of the lake, he saw it, marble white, floating inches below the surface.

Harry let out an audible gasp. While he knew that the lake was filled with dead bodies underneath, it was still shocking to see one of the aforementioned corpses floating just below the surface.

He had no sooner thought this when his wand came on a fresh patch of the lake. This time, instead of a hand, he saw a dead man lying face-up inches beneath the surface, his open eyes misted as though with cobwebs, his hair and his robes swirling around him like smoke.

'Mother –' he cursed. Taking a deep breath, he looked forward at the greenish glow, trying not to look at the surface of the lake or sick up. Unfortunately, his eyes betrayed him as they kept straying to the surface of the lake, giving him visions of men, women and children all floating there. Their eyes misted over and their skin chalk white as their clothes and hair danced around them.

The whole tableau was like a scene right out of a horror book. Only, Harry was sure that none of the Muggle authors could possibly come up with something so horrifying.

'There is nothing to be feared from a body, Harry, any more than there is anything to be feared from the darkness. Lord Voldemort, who of course secretly fears both, disagrees. But once again he reveals his own lack of wisdom. It is the unknown we fear when we look upon death and darkness, nothing more.' Dumbledore said placidly, noting the boy's obvious discomfort.

Harry glanced at Dumbledore incredulously. He did not care what the headmaster said, this was freaking scary! Kreacher had told him that as soon as the surface was disturbed by something that wasn't the boat, the Inferi below him would awaken and attack. While Harry knew the theory of fighting an Inferius, facing reanimated corpses as they came after you was another matter altogether.

He could not pretend now that he was not scared. The great black lake, teeming with the dead … It seemed hours and hours ago that he had met Professor Trelawney, that he had given orders to seal the castle. … He suddenly wished he had said a better good-bye to his friends … and he hadn't seen Daphne at all.

What was he thinking coming to this place? Harry took deep breaths. There was nothing to be scared of, he told himself silently. As long as he did not touch the surface of the lake, he was fine. The Inferi would not awaken till then.

'Nearly there.' Harry's eye twitched at Dumbledore's cheerful voice. The way the man was acting, it was as if the two of them were on a picnic!

Within minutes, the boat had come to a halt, bumping gently into something that Harry could not see at first, but when he raised his illuminated wand he saw that they had reached a small island of smooth rock in the centre of the lake.

'Careful not to touch the water,' said Dumbledore again as Harry climbed out of the boat.

The island was no larger than Dumbledore's office, an expanse of flat dark stone on which stood nothing but the source of that greenish light, which looked much brighter when viewed close to. Harry squinted at it; at first, he thought it was a lamp of some kind, but then he saw that the light was coming from a stone basin rather like the Pensieve, which was set on top of a pedestal.

Dumbledore approached the basin and Harry followed. Side by side, they looked down into it. The basin was full of an emerald liq uid emitting that phosphorescent glow.

'What is this?' Harry asked nervously.

Albus examined the potion sitting in front of him, stumped. While he had reasonably high marks in his O.W.L.s, and N.E.W.T.s and had also done quite a bit of work on Alchemy, he did not have every potion memorised. After all, he wasn't a Potions master. Identifying a potion like that by sight would be better left to someone like Severus. Albus was also reasonably sure that the "water" in the lake was a potion, but couldn't really say for sure either.

'I have no idea,' he finally admitted, 'something more worrisome than blood and dead bodies, however.' He pushed back the sleeve of his robe over his black ened hand, and stretched out the tips of his burned fingers towards the surface of the potion.

'Sir, no, don't touch — !'

'I cannot touch it,' said Albus, smiling faintly at the boy's concern. 'See? I can not approach any nearer than this. You try.'

As Albus watched Harry encounter the ward that prevented the basin from being touched by hand, he mentally gave Tom marks for putting up such a barrier. Really, that initial ward was so pedestrian, it was almost insulting! He half expected that Voldemort had forgotten to bar a person from simply plunging his hand into the basin and removing the object.

Sniffing, Albus took out his wand and waved it around in a complicated pattern. It was an advanced revealing charm, as obscure as the potion Tom used. Well little Tommy, two can play at this game! He said to himself gleefully. He hadn't felt this alive for quite some time now! Which was quite ironic as he was about to die in a few short hours.

Peering into the potion, Albus mentally gave Tom more marks. At least the boy had the common sense to place wards against the potion preventing it from being parted, vanished, conjured, transfigured or tampered with magically in any way. And the semi-permeable ward that had been placed to let in nothing but crystal was tied into the potion itself.

Sharing his findings with Harry, he finished by saying, 'I can only conclude that this potion must be drunk.' At that moment, he caught the goblet that he had absently conjured.

'What? But won't it kill you?' Harry finally said. While he wanted the man to drink the potion, he felt that it would be in his best interest to pretend concern.

'No, knowing Voldemort, I doubt he would want to immediately kill any person who enters this cavern. He would want to keep them alive long enough to find out how they managed to penetrate so far through his defences and, most importantly of all, why they were so intent upon emptying the basin. Do not forget that Lord Voldemort believes that he alone knows about his Horcruxes.'

'Undoubtedly,' he said, finally, 'this potion must act in a way that will prevent me taking the Horcrux. It might paralyze me, cause me to forget what I am here for, create so much pain I am distracted, or render me incapable in some other way. This being the case, Harry, it will be your job to make sure I keep drinking, even if you have to tip the potion into my protesting mouth. You understand?'

Harry hesitated for a moment as he looked into the blue eyes of the headmaster which were green in the reflected light. Now was his last chance to come clean. Eventually, however, hardening his resolve, he nodded in acquiescence.

Seeing the boy nod, Albus nodded in response. He did not relish having to give the boy this kind of a task. But it had to be done.

Without wasting any time, he plunged the goblet into the basin filling it with the potion. 'Your good health, Harry.' Saying this, he drained the contents, he was eager to see what this potion was all about.

Harry watched as Dumbledore drank the first three goblets full of the potion, plunging the goblet into the basin blindly only to drain it in one gulp.

Suddenly, halfway through the fourth goblet, Dumbledore collapsed over the basin. His eyes closed and face twitching as if he was in the throes of a terrible dream.

Harry noticed his grip on the goblet slackening, so he rushed forward to steady it.

From then on, it was up to Harry to feed the potion to Dumbledore. He tried to ignore the frightened voice and pleas of mercy from the headmaster as he fed him goblet after goblet of the potion. But it was getting harder and harder.

'It will be all right professor.' Harry said as he tipped in the goblet for the fourth time into Dumbledore's mouth. He supported Dumbledore's shoulders and again, Dumbledore drained the glass; then Harry was on his feet once more, refilling the goblet as Dumbledore began to scream in more anguish than ever, 'I want to die!' shouted the headmaster in a voice that terrified Harry as he had never heard the headmaster sound so afraid in his life. 'I want to die! Make it stop, make it stop, I want to die!'

Hands shaking, Harry supported Dumbledore again as he drained another goblet full of the potion into the old man's mouth. How was it easier to torture Mundungus? He wondered. It wasn't so hard, and he did not feel sick doing it that time.

Harry knew what this potion would do. When speaking to Kreacher, Harry had questioned the elf extensively about the colour of the potion and what the symptoms of drinking it were. Armed with that knowledge, Harry had dug through the books in the Black family library. He theorised that the potion was of a dark nature and where better to look for such a potion than from one of the premier Dark families in Britain?

It took some searching, but Harry found it in an obscure tome written in old English with no title on the cover.

What he was feeding Dumbledore was the Elixir of Nightmares, an extremely complicated and obscure potion that required some really rare ingredients. Drinking this potion induced waking nightmares. This had the effect of breaking the concentration of an Occlumens, making it easy for a Legilimens to root through the person's mind.

The potion was such that it made the drinker want to drink more, like a drug addict. This was more than evident when Harry saw how the headmaster would obediently drain every last drop before screaming in agony.

After drinking it thirteen times, the nightmares would stop, replaced instead by a burning thirst that could not be sated by water. And that was where Voldemort's diabolical genius could be seen. Using the fact that it looked a lot like water to his advantage, Voldemort had cleverly filled the entire lake up with The Draught of Living Death. Even a potions master would be hard pressed to identify the potion due to the low light and the macabre sight of the dead bodies floating below the surface.

Harry was certain that the lake contained this potion as it was the only known antidote for The Elixir. The effects of The Draught would be somewhat negated in this case, however, it would leave the drinker drowsy and disoriented for a while. So a person could theoretically escape from the cavern and, if they were strong enough, seek help. And that was where Inferi came in. As soon as the lake surface was disturbed, the animated corpses would then proceed to drag the victim underneath the surface. Unable to do much, the victim would then be forced to breathe in more of The Draught making them fall into a deep slumber, not suffocating thanks to The Draught. They would basically be in the same state as unborn babies.

Voldemort would then come by to interrogate the prisoner. Being in Draught induced sleep would have not made it possible for the victim to even think of mounting a mental defence, so when they woke up, using Legilimency on them would be practically a walk in the park.

Somewhere in the lake was Regulus Black's body. Harry doubted that he had survived this long. The potion did not do anything to preserve the body. Regulus had most likely died in his sleep, dying of starvation and completely unaware of the world around him.

After he drank the thirteenth time, Dumbledore rolled over onto his face with a great rattling gasp.

Finally with the distasteful job done, Harry rolled the headmaster onto his back. Now was the time for him to get his answers. He reached out to open the headmaster's eyelids so he could perform Legilimency.

Suddenly Dumbledore's eyelids flickered, stopping Harry in his tracks.

Harry could not believe it. The man must really be resilient to be able to throw off the effects of such a potion so quickly. Then again, he was quite well-versed in the mind arts.

'Water,' Dumbledore croaked.

'Alright,' said Harry. He picked up the crystal goblet, doing his best to look natural. He did not know how aware Dumbledore was or how fast his reaction would be.

Pointing his wand at the goblet, Harry gave of the illusion that he was about to cast Aguamenti on it. At the last minute, when he saw the headmaster look up at the ceiling, Harry quickly pointed the wand at the headmaster.

'Expelliarmus!'

Immediately Dumbledore's wand leapt out of his robe pocket and flew into Harry's hand. Not noticing the warmth that emanated from the wand, Harry nervously stepped forward to the downed headmaster.

'I'm sorry, professor,' Harry said, his voice cracking a bit. Taking a deep breath, he continued. 'But you have kept too many secrets from me.' Hardening his resolve, he pointed his wand at the aged wizard, looking into the unseeing eyes that still could not comprehend the betrayal.

'Legilimens'

Harry was instantly assaulted with sights and sounds as he dived into the headmaster's mind.

Randomly, a thought from the headmaster came in front of him.

Deathly Hallows? Harry asked himself as he examined the thought, what are they?

As if in response to his question, Harry was assaulted with images of the Gaunt ring, a wand he recognised as the one he was now holding and Harry's own Cloak. Surrounding all this was the title of the book he had received from Ollivander as a gift.

Harry puzzled over this, but then mentally shook his head, he was getting distracted.

He concentrated on his name.

At once, more memories came to the forefront of his mind, flashing by quickly. He saw a green eyed baby being bounced on his mother's lap as the red headed woman and his black haired father spoke to the old man opposite them.

Then he saw the same baby, asleep this time as the old man placed him on the doorstep of a house.

This wasn't working. Harry pulled away from these memories and concentrated on things about him that the headmaster had not told him.

It was there that he hit gold.

A woman with big glasses and a bevy of beads and shawls was speaking in a rasping voice to the visibly younger version of the old man...

The old man was sealing a ring in a Snitch ... and Harry knew that it would be activated when he pressed his lips to it and said "I am going to die"

How was that important Harry wondered.

As if in response, the next thought leapt out at him.

'...Part of Lord Voldemort lives inside Harry, and it is that which gives him the power of speech with snakes, and a connexion with Lord Voldemort's mind that he has never understood. And while that fragment of soul, unmissed by Voldemort, remains attached to and protected by Harry, Lord Voldemort cannot die...'

So he knew all along Harry thought disbelievingly. I wonder what other secrets he holds regarding me.

A bushy haired girl and a tall lanky red headed boy were speaking to the headmaster in his office...

Hang on thought Harry. He concentrated on the last memory.

Instantly the memory came back, this time it was much clearer and sharper.

The fire burned an emerald green and two individuals stepped out of it, one after another, causing the owner of the office to look up from his paperwork.

'Ah, Miss Granger, Mr Weasley,' the old man said as the two of them had dusted themselves off. 'Please have a seat.'

Once the two teenagers were seated, the headmaster brought his fingers together and regarded the two.

'So, I take it that you have agreed?'

'Yes Professor,' said the girl.

'Good, good,' the headmaster said. 'Then as agreed, I shall have the sum transferred. You will get your new vault keys from Gringotts.'

'Yes, Professor,' the girl repeated as the boy burst out excitedly with. 'We get our own vaults?'

'That's just one vault, Mr Weasley.' Dumbledore said kindly. It shall be shared between the two of you. Now I trust that you know to keep the existence of this vault a secret?'

Seeing them nod, he continued. 'Good, I imagine that people won't be pleased. Harry for one might not be happy to know that I am paying his two best friends – '

The memory faded away at this point.

He was Paying them? Were the thoughts that went through Harry's head.

Almost dreading it, he thought. Who else

At once, new memories came to light. Harry watched with stunned disbelief as Dumbledore spoke to Mr and Mrs Weasley about money. He could see himself as a twelve year old playing with the twins up in the sky through the kitchen window.

They were being paid to look after me?

The disbelief turned into anger.

They were all being paid to be my friends! All of that was a Lie? These were the thoughts running through Harry's mind as he played both memories again and again.

While Harry was performing Legilimency on the headmaster, Dumbledore had finally managed to regain his mental faculties. The last two memories he had seen before managing to eject Harry from his mind was the meeting between him and the two Weasley parents and the one before that between him and Harry's two best friends. At first he tried to show Harry the memory of Ron and Hermione returning the money (he had not told them, but he had willed that money to them later on). But then he realised with a sinking feeling that he had left that memory behind in the Pensieve. While he still remembered that event, he could not show it since it had been magically removed, and not copied. So Albus had no choice but to simply eject the boy and explain things.

A part of him was angry at this blatant invasion of privacy, but a greater part of him recognised that he needed to first explain the circumstances behind both the memories before going off on the boy for his disregard of people's feelings.

'Harry,' he said weakly, trying to get the attention of the boy who was staring at the lake. He had to work quickly to convince the boy.

'Harry, you have to understand –'

'No,' the boy said, his voice tinged with a lot of anger and a hint of betrayal. Breathing hard, he finally looked at Dumbledore, his eyes were glowing an eerie green in the dark.

'I understand plenty, Dumbledore!' he said with a sneer and a lot of hatred at the name.

'You've been playing with my life ever since that night on Halloween, haven't you? HAVEN'T YOU?' he shouted.

'Everything was a lie,' he whispered a tear running down a cheek. 'Ron and Hermione were never my friends were they? I know that you were paying the Weasleys money before my second year. So when did you start? Did you tell Molly Weasley to guide me to the platform? When did you start paying Ron and Hermione? Was it from first year also?' he was panting hard.

'First I find out that you kept me ignorant of the prophecy,' Harry said quickly, before the headmaster could open his mouth. 'I didn't mind that, I may have done the same in your shoes. Then I find out that you knew all along about my home life. I don't know why, but for some reason, I forgave you. I also did not mind when I found out that you did not fulfil your obligations as my magical guardian. It took me some time, but in the end, I had no problems in you keeping me ignorant of my heritage. But then,' his expression started turning ugly. 'Then I find out that you not only knew of the identity of the bastard that overheard that prophecy and had my parents targeted, but you had actively employed that man to "teach" me. And if that wasn't enough, you let him torment me from the beginning!' he fairly screamed out the last word.

Albus was about to interrupt when Harry spoke of Snape's past. He was shocked. How had the boy found out?

'H-how did you – '

'Trelawney told me!' Harry said coldly. 'Just a few hours back in fact.'

'Harry, Professor – '

'I DON'T WANT TO HEAR ANOTHER WORD FROM YOU!' Harry screamed at the top of his lungs.

'You put that bastard in school! Day in and day out, year after year, I had to hear the utter filth coming from that foul man's mouth. I was forced to sit there, powerless and listen as he disparaged my father, the same father who I never knew as he had died before I could remember him. The same father whose death he is RESPONSIBLE FOR!'

'AND NOW I FIND OUT THAT YOU HAD THOSE TWO PRETEND TO BE MY FRIENDS!' in response to his anger, Harry's magic lashed out and destroyed the basin and the pedestal it was standing on.

'I bet you all had a nice big laugh looking at the poor downtrodden abused orphan as you played him like a fucking fiddle, didn't you? DIDN'T YOU?' By this time Harry was pacing back and forth, the wands he was clenching were spitting out angry sparks. Albus was surprised that the Inferi had not risen up yet.

'Harry, calm down – '

'SHUT. UP!' screamed Harry as he slashed the wand in his right hand.

In his anger, his magic responded to his command even though he did not utter any incantation and Dumbledore found his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.

Harry, meanwhile, had managed to rein in his temper. He started laughing coldly.

'Well, guess what, old man. Your time has come.' And with a terrible and foreboding smile on his face, Harry extended both wands towards the old man, mentally yelling Sajjeta and pouring all his emotion into the spell.

Dumbledore barely had time to scream before he went limp. The potion had taken quite a toll on him and so he was not able to withstand the assault that came from the magical lightning that sprung forth from both the wands. Add in his previous injury from the ring, and it was a miracle that he had time to scream before being knocked unconscious.

Harry looked at the unconscious form of his headmaster, the man whom he had looked up to for so long. He felt his eyes prickle. The betrayal was like a solid blow to him. It was so oppressive that the atmosphere in the cavern paled in comparison. Harry sank to his knees as the tidal wave of emotion hit him. He started breathing hard, trying to hold back the sobs that threatened to break out. He clenched his hands so tight that he began to feel the creak of wood from the two wands he was holding. His jaw was closed so tight that his teeth hurt.

He couldn't believe that he was actually planning on laying all his cards on the table just a few hours before. The old man also knew about Harry's scar. Harry had not missed that memory where he was instructing Snape, Snape!, of all people to tell him that he had to die.

Finally he brutally slammed his Occlumency shields down. Now was not the time to wallow. Looking up, Harry wiped the angry tears from his eyes. He levitated the headmaster's unconscious body with a flick of his wand. The rise and fall of the old man's chest told him that Dumbledore was still alive. Not for much longer, was the savage thought in his head. Getting into the boat, he grimly made his way to the other side of the shore, the headmaster bobbing along behind him.

As soon as he got to the sealed entrance, Harry lowered the headmaster's body roughly and pointing both wands at the entrance yelled 'Bombarda!'

The section of rock was vaporised in a flash of light and sound. There wasn't anything remaining of the rock to signify that it had been blown open.

Lifting the body again with his left hand and uncaring of the spots in his eyes or the ringing in his ears, Harry walked out into the antechamber which was now full of freezing water.

He looked back at the mess he had created. The broken pedestal no longer emitted the green light. The cavern was now illuminated by the meagre moonlight now coming into the cavern thanks to the blasting spell. Dust was raining down from the ceiling as well.

The surface of the lake suddenly started to churn as the Inferi underneath were obviously disturbed by the falling dust.

Harry did not even give them a chance to do much. As soon as he saw the first corpse emerge, he pointed both wands at the lake, uncaring of the potential damage he was about to cause.

The shambling corpses had barely a minute of warning before Harry's wands spewed out fire with a loud roar.

Not staying to watch the Fiendfyre Curse do its job, Harry Disapparated away with Dumbledore's unconscious form.