Xenophilius Lovegood was an odd man, Harry decided as he observed the oddly dressed man enter the Hospital Wing from the end of the corridor. Luna's father did not notice Harry, however, due to the combination of the necklace and his Cloak.
As the doors opened and closed behind the distraught father, Harry caught a glimpse of the goings on inside. Pomfrey was still busy working on Hagrid behind a privacy screen.
The minute Flitwick had come in gasping and panting and talking about Hagrid, they all had assumed the worst. However, the body that came floating behind was still alive, if grievously injured and near death.
As soon as he had seen the Care of Magical Creatures Professor come out, Rowle had made a fatal mistake. He had wrongly judged Hagrid to be a slow sort and had so come close to the half giant when he had drawn his wand. He had come too close.
With a speed and swiftness that belied his large size, Hagrid hurled the first thing he could get his hands on. The shovel was halfway towards Rowle by the time the one armed villain had finished uttering the last syllable of the Killing Curse.
The metal end of the shovel was made of a strong enough quality to deflect the curse as it disintegrated, spattering drops of molten metal all over the place. The curse itself collided with the front of Hagrid's house, creating a spectacular explosion that knocked the Death Eater off his feet. Hagrid, on the other hand, was still standing, albeit with a lovely sunburn on his face as the hair on the right side of his visage was burnt off. The most concerning bit was the large sliver of wood sticking out of the half giant's arm, which would have been lodged in his eye if not for said arm being raised reflexively at the last moment. Hagrid, however, did not notice all of this as he was reeling under the shock of the explosion.
Hagrid managed to regain his senses a few moments before the Death Eater. That was enough time for the half giant to notice his house in flames as the front was blasted off, revealing the interiors of the conical one roomed house ... and the still body of his beloved dog.
Rowle had only a moment to register the howl of rage coming from Hogwarts' groundskeeper before the son of Fridwulfa bore down on him, fists flying as the giant of a man visited grievous bodily harm on him.
Desperate, the Death Eater fired off a piercing curse that got Hagrid on the gut. It was to be his last curse as the enraged giant crushed his skull with a final rage filled blow.
By the time Flitwick happened upon them, Hagrid was lying a few feet from his still burning house in a steadily growing pool of blood. Next to him was the unrecognisable and thoroughly pummelled body of one Thorfinn Rowle, Slytherin, Hogwarts' batch of 1979, Death Eater and known mass murderer.
Not wasting any time, the Charms master levitated Hagrid and ran back to the Hospital Wing as fast as he could, with the half giant floating behind him oozing blood all the way.
Madam Pomfrey immediately put a privacy screen around the large man as she got to work.
This left Harry relatively free. With McGonagall gone to fetch Luna's father (who, he learned, had the rather unique name of Xenophilius) and the Weasleys, and the overbearing matron taking care of a critical case, Harry was left only with Flitwick, Remus and Fleur to deal with. With a few muttered reassurances that he was fine, just tired and needed to sleep, Harry pulled on his jeans, put his travelling cloak around his shoulders and slipped out of the Hospital Wing. Hearing approaching footsteps from the other end of the corridor outside the Hospital Wing, he put his Invisibility Cloak on. A moment later, he saw Professor McGonagall approaching with a rather eccentric looking wizard that could only be Luna's father walking next to her. Behind those two were Mr and Mrs Weasley.
Looking at Mr and Mrs Weasley reminded Harry of the shocking revelations that he had lifted from Dumbledore's mind.
It was all a lie.
A deep ache developed in Harry's chest at the thought. He watched the doors of the hospital wing close behind the small party. The one family that had shown him so much love and affection were only doing it because they were being paid to do so.
Suddenly all those experiences he had with Mr and Mrs Weasley ... Ron ... the twins ... Bill ... Ginny, lost their lustre, and became shallow, fake. Harry supposed that this was how a poor man felt when he realises that he had been given Leprechaun Gold.
Still in his invisibility cloak, Harry leaned against the wall, breathing deeply and desperately trying to get his emotions in check.
He remembered the first time he met the Weasleys. At first, he had thought that when loudly asking about the platform, Mrs Weasley was playing a game with Ginny and testing her knowledge as he had seen many parents do with their children. Now ... his mind started twisting things around, asking questions. Didn't that seem a bit rehearsed? As if Mrs Weasley was doing this on purpose? Did Hagrid genuinely forget to tell him about how to get on the platform or did Dumbledore see Hagrid's momentary slip up as a way to get the Weasleys in Harry's good books?
And while he was on the subject, why send Hagrid? Why not Professors Flitwick, or McGonagall? Professor Trelawney would have been a more logical choice! After all, Hagrid wasn't on the teaching staff then...
Harry looked up and glanced at his surroundings. Without his thinking about it, his feet had taken him to Gryffindor Tower till he was leaning against the wall in front of the entrance.
As he stared at the blank stretch of wall that normally showed the portrait of the Fat Lady, Harry came to the conclusion that he did not want to go there. He knew that beyond the wall were Ron and Hermione. Two people he had just found out were actually being paid to be his friends.
Did Ron really come to my compartment because everywhere else was full?
If he was asked that question a day or even a few hours back, he would have said yes instantly. Now...
Harry could not take it any longer. He stayed long enough to give the command to unseal all the dormitories after one minute. Once that was done, he all but fled.
Somewhere down the line, between his journey from the Hospital Wing to Gryffindor Tower and now to wherever he was headed, Harry's sight must have been affected for the walls and hallways were all suddenly blurred. While that would have been enough to be a cause for concern, Harry could not bring himself to care, as his feet just lead him along, without any input from his conscious mind.
Before he knew it, he was standing outside a door facing an all too familiar tapestry. Harry stared at the door with a dead expression. A thought materialised from the far corners of his mind, like a dusty whisper, that he did not have any recollection of having paced in front of the wall three times, nor of having thought of a place. But that thought dissipated like smoke. Reaching out an oddly trembling hand, Harry robotically opened the door and stepped inside.
Taking off his cloak, he observed his surroundings. Absently he noticed that he was in the same meadow setting as last year.
It was here, in the peace of his surroundings, when Harry realised that his face was wet. Reaching a hand up to his face, he realised that the source of the wetness was coming from his still blurry eyes.
It was then that he realised that he was crying.
Harry sank to his knees as the floodgates opened. Not only had he learned about the true extent of Dumbledore's treachery, and his friends' true natures, but he had also killed for the first time. Three people had met their ends by his hand. And those deaths had not been so clean. He could still see Alecto's head being chopped off...
Unable to bear it anymore, Harry leaned over, violently sick. Wiping his mouth and shivering, he watched with a detached air as the vomit vanished.
What really hurt was Luna's death, and Hagrid's critical condition. Harry could not help but feel responsible for both of that. If he hadn't locked the dorms down ... Luna may have been able to get in. How was she caught outside, anyway?
And Hagrid ... if he hadn't called the guardians back, and actually told them to finish Rowle off, Hagrid wouldn't be in such a bad shape. The image of the gentle man's burnt face and bleeding form was enough to make Harry nearly vomit a second time.
Harry did something that he had not done for years. He just curled up into a ball of misery and silently sobbed himself to sleep.
No sooner had he drifted off that he woke up again with a start. While he was asleep, the images of the past night plagued him. He kept seeing Yaxley's body as the Death Eater fell from his Cutting Curse. And if that wasn't enough, there was the rather gruesome ends the Carrow siblings had met.
What was worse, though, was looking at Luna's still face.
Forcing his glued eyelids open, he sat up clutching his lightly throbbing head. The mild headache, itching eyes, and a blocked nose coupled with a face that felt grubby was enough to make anyone feel miserable. That feeling was further enhanced in Harry's case by the despondency currently plaguing him.
Harry sank back down, curling back into a ball, feeling an all encompassing sense of lethargy.
I have no friends.
A tear escaped his eye and made its way down his cheek as the depressing thought filled his mind. This was far crueller than his early childhood. At least then he knew that he had no friends because of Dudley being an arse. But to give him a taste of true friendship only for him to find out that it had been a farce all along hurt him deeper than Sirius's death.
The abrupt appearance of an elf interrupted his thought process.
'The Deputy Head is wanting you, sir,' the elf babbled.
Harry gave the elf an irritated look. 'Very well,' he said curtly. 'Tell her I shall meet her later.'
'Professor is telling Tally that it is urgent, sir. She is wanting you now.' The elf said hesitantly.
Harry just closed his eyes as he clenched his jaw and fists. 'Fine,' he finally ground out, making an effort to keep his tone civil. 'Tell her I shall be there in a few minutes.'
Asking the room for a washbasin, Harry swilled his face. Putting on a shirt provided by the room, he wrapped his dirty cloak around his shoulders.
'I – is master alright?' the hesitant voice gave him pause.
Looking down, and sighing, he told the elf, 'I'm afraid not, Tally.'
'Can Tally help?' The elf looked pleased at being addressed to directly.
Harry smiled sadly. 'Unfortunately, Tally, I don't think so. But thanks for the offer anyway.'
Minerva McGonagall paced impatiently in the office of the Headmaster's office. Well, she supposed that this was her office now, seeing as she was the successor and Dumbledore was –.
She stopped and took deep breaths. She still could not believe that Dumbledore was dead. The man was always larger than life for her. She was privileged enough to have been taught by the great wizard when she was but a schoolgirl.
Minerva sighed. Remembering her school days reminded her of those from her generation that had been lost to You Know Who and his followers. Right now, only Augusta Longbottom remained. Her husband had died seven years ago, and she barely got to see her only daughter who was off in Peru teaching children magic (oh how much like her mum her precious little girl was!).
She wondered what her daughter would think about her new position. They always made sure to exchange the occasional Portkey Post, and would Floo Call once a month. Juno would as always insist that she pack her bags and come to Peru to live with her and her new husband. And Minerva would respond that she really was too old and set in her ways to go off gallivanting somewhere. Besides, she had her little lions to look after.
She shook her head. Here Albus was dead, and she was being scatterbrained, thinking of old schoolmates and travelling and other such nonsense!
Scowling, she sat down primly in a seat in front of the headmaster's desk. Right now, she could not bear sitting in her mentor's chair, despite it technically being hers now.
Filius and Pomona had gone off in search for ... him (she couldn't say "his body"). Pomona was up in the Astronomy Tower, to look for other clues and perhaps find Albus (in the wildest, faintest, chance that he was there). She, to Minerva, represented the wistful hope that Albus wasn't really dead, but had made everyone think that, while he was weakened and resting in the Astronomy Tower. It was a stupid dream, but it was all she, and they, had.
Filius on the other hand, represented reality. He would be searching the grounds, more specifically under the Astronomy Tower, where, according to Harry, Albus had fallen.
Thoughts of her House Captain had her head throbbing slightly.
The boy had managed to take over the school's ancient wards. Right now he had unprecedented power over the old castle and access to its many secrets. Technically, he was the new headmaster ... Dumbledore's successor.
The thought of a teenager being the headmaster of the millennia old school was at once amusing and worrying. She couldn't help the small amount of resentment either. She should be the next headmaster, not anybody else! That irrational thought amused her some more.
'What has you smiling so much?'
Badly startled, Minerva spun around. 'Pomona!' she gasped with a hand on her breast. 'I did not hear you come in.'
'Clearly,' the squat witch said dryly. Sobering up, she said sadly, 'I found nothing in the Astronomy Tower. I couldn't even find evidence that they had flown from Hogsmeade to the Tower.'
'That is puzzling,' Minerva replied thoughtfully.
They lapsed into a long silence, listening to the phoenix sing his mournful song in the background.
Pomona was the first to break the silence. 'So what was it that had you smiling so much? Do share the humour, its badly needed now.'
Minerva hummed as she looked at her colleague. 'Oh ... that. Well, it was revealed to me a few short hours back that Harry Potter had somehow taken control of the Hogwarts wards from Albus just before he died.'
'You can do that?' Pomona asked incredulously.
'Yes. He and Albus were the ones who sealed the students inside their dorms. Albus also apparently gave him full control of the wards so that they could get to the Tower faster. What was more, the boy somehow managed to be the first in centuries to find and trigger the castle's defences and use it against the Death Eaters.'
'Oh ... you do realise that this effectively makes him the headmaster, right?'
'I know,' Minerva said with a shudder. 'I was thinking about that when you came in.'
Pomona copied her shudder. 'Can you imagine? A teenage headmaster ... he's technically our employer. Think of the things he could do with that kind of power.'
Minerva snorted, feeling a smile tug at her lips despite the grim situation they were in. 'He probably would introduce a new class called "Quidditch Appreciation" or something.'
'I know Rolanda will be pleased.' Sprout said with a chuckle. 'He probably would also change the timings so that class begins in the afternoon. Then, curfew would be abolished and the uniforms would be scrapped entirely.'
Minerva snorted. 'Imagine the anarchy! Mr Weasley probably will end up being the Deputy Head. And then we'd have a new class; "Chess tactics"' she said with a flourish, with a sweep of her hand at the title. 'All the items on Filch's banned list will become legal if not a requirement for every student to have, an hour will be dedicated to food fights and pranks, and a limit will be enforced on the maximum number of times a student can visit the library and how long they can stay there.'
'Can you envisage the look on Miss Granger's face when they announce that last bit to the students in the Great Hall?'
The two Heads of Houses looked at each other for a moment before they both burst into laughter, leaning against each other for support.
It was this scene that Filius walked in on.
'What's this then?' The usually cheery Charms Professor asked curiously, albeit without any of his usual humour present.
Quickly gaining control of herself, Minerva explained what they had been talking about.
'Well, I disagree about the uniforms.' Filius said seriously as he perched on a chair. 'Mr Potter won't abolish that.' He continued mischievously. 'He'll just change it so that the robes are gone. Then he will shorten the skirt length.'
The three teachers spent some time quietly chuckling in amusement.
'I found him,' Flitwick finally said sadly. 'At the base of the Astronomy Tower ... I moved him to a private area.' He hated to bring the mood down, but it was inevitable ... Unavoidable.
Albus was a few years older than Filius. But he remembered the man well. It was Albus that gave Filius the idea about trying out for the duelling championship after the war with Grindlewald. Filius remembered the time immediately after that war. He had been full of lethargy, with no direction in life and nothing to do. Oh, there were jobs, no doubt about that. But nothing that appealed to him. He was frankly bored till Albus gave him his counsel.
Minerva closed her eyes in sorrow. 'And you spoke to Horace?'
'He will be up shortly. What about Mr Potter?'
Minerva made a small sound of frustration. 'The boy can't be found anywhere. Poppy is especially furious that the others let him leave, and he cannot be found in the Gryffindor dorms. Eventually I sent an elf to look for him.'
'I do not envy him.' Pomona said with a low chuckle. 'Remember what she did to McTavrish when he escaped from the Hospital Wing?'
Minerva's response was cut off by the arrival of a house-elf.
'Master will be arriving shortly, Madam.' The elf said with a low bow.
Minerva nodded once. 'Please send some tea up. Horace will be joining us shortly.'
'Yes, madam,' the elf popped away.
'Right, Teacher faces, everyone, we have a student to deal with.' Minerva said half jokingly.
Absently, she wondered at the tear streaked face and the watery eyes on the elf's face, but dismissed it. The elf was probably sad about Albus too. She knew she was.
She was also sure that she had imagined the adoration in the elf's voice as it spoke of Potter.
Tally was quick to burst into tears, unable to hold in her gratitude, as she profusely thanked Harry for taking care of the "Clothes Maker". Spending some time comforting her, Harry set off towards the Headmaster's office once the house-elf left. He had honestly forgotten all about the elves' problems with Hermione. But it had all turned out fine in the end. Between Harry outperforming her, her snooping around and no doubt trying to spy on him for Dumbledore, Granger did not have any time to devote to spew. That effectively meant that the bushy headed girl left the house-elves alone.
Naturally, the elves thought that this was all his doing.
Entering the headmaster's office, he found all three Heads of Houses present along with Professor Slughorn. Harry guessed that the portly man was there to represent Slytherin.
'Ah, Potter, finally.' Professor McGonagall said with an air of someone who was expecting him hours earlier.
'Professor,' Harry said neutrally. He really wanted to snap at her for dragging him all the way here in the middle of the night, but he desisted.
Harry sat there with a dead expression on his face as he listened to the professors discuss the fate of Hogwarts. Even though the night's activities had left him hungry, he could not find the energy to do anything more than occasionally nibble at the sandwich that he picked up from the tray placed there.
Currently he felt like Salazar Slytherin. Like him, Salazar had also been betrayed by someone he considered his best friends.
Five years or so after starting the school, friction had slowly started building up between Salazar and the other Founders. It had all started with one event: Rowena Ravenclaw's invention of The Book. Through an extremely complex series of spells, the extremely talented woman had enchanted a book to detect magic and pinpoint the name and location of the wizard or witch that performed the magic. Harry suspected that this was the more powerful and ancient variant of the modern day Trace.
Regardless, The Book had lead to an important discovery. There were wizards and witches out there who were born to Muggles.
The four of them had been astounded to learn of this. With them being either of magical descent or at the most (in Helga's case) of mixed descent, the four of them, like many of their brethren, thought that magic could only be passed down from ancestor to offspring.
However, they had mixed feelings about what to do with these "Muggleborn". Salazar was all for taking the children away from their birth parents (he still harboured a deep hatred for Muggles) and raising them to be magical. He reasoned that this would be beneficial to both the wizarding race and the child. The child would grow up where his gift would be nurtured and praised instead of reviled and shunned. And the wizarding world would have new blood, and hence a population boost.
However, Gryffindor objected to this strongly. He did not like the idea of separating children from their families. This, he said, was immoral and not how they should act. Instead, he would have them come to Hogwarts under the guise of a Muggle apprenticeship. In the end, the child would have a choice; stay in the magical world or seek his fortunes elsewhere.
This difference in opinion put a wedge between the two males. Slowly, over time, it grew even worse, till one day, Salazar found himself staring at three wands wielded by those he trusted. The duel that followed was furious. However, thanks to his advanced age, and the odds against him, Salazar found himself losing. Left with no choice, he summoned the last of his flagging strength to distract the three long enough to fake his own death. Fleeing to the bowels of the castle, in the Chamber of Secrets where he had stored his wealth, he spent a long time recovering his strength, occasionally getting news from the outside world. He had vowed to get back at those three one day.
Shaking himself from his reverie, Harry gave small cough, gaining the attention of the other teachers.
Placing his mangled sandwich down, he said softly. 'I know that the events of this night have been tragic. Snape certainly isn't going to be getting any awards for being the best teacher nor is he going to be getting recognition for being the best employee Hogwarts ever had.' Taking a deep breath, he continued in a deadpan. 'And Professor Dumbledore probably will qualify for the worst-decision-ever-made-by-an-employer award for hiring the crony of his worst enemy. Yes, it is sad and horrible not to mention tragic that the headmaster of the school has been murdered by one of his own teachers and that a student has died. But this is Hogwarts, dammit! This school has been around for a thousand years. It has weathered many a storm. It has been open despite many Dark Lords of the past. It has also withstood ten separate siege attempts by dark wizards and witches. It also survived the Dark Ages. It is not going to close just because of some twisted foul excuse of a wizard with delusions of grandeur. I will not allow it! None of us should allow it. Hogwarts will remain open! It should remain open! For closing it means that Voldemort wins.' By this time, his voice had grown louder as emotion was injected into it. 'So he killed our headmaster. So what? Are we going to just lie down? I say "no"!'
Breathing deeply, he looked at the shocked faces around him. 'Well, that's what I think, anyway,' he finally said. Picking up his tea cup, he drained the contents.
'Well said, Harry!' Professor Slughorn exclaimed. He had a passionate look on his face as he continued. 'I agree with him. Hogwarts has the strongest wards known to wizard kind. It also has a millennium of stored magic. We should not close it because of Tom Riddle.'
'I agree,' McGonagall replied.
'Wait a minute.' Harry said with a hint of suspicion looking at the teachers around him. 'You all know about Voldemort's name and true history?'
'Yes,' Slughorn replied. 'We, that is, Albus and I, have known who he really is for quite some time. After all, we have taught him. I suspect that Minerva, Pomona and Filius have been told this by Albus. And it is an open secret that he is a half-blood.'
'Wait, if you knew all this time, then why didn't you tell everyone?' Harry said with a bit of outrage and accusation in his voice. 'I mean, the man espouses pureblood values and is against who is not pure of blood and he is a half-blood himself!'
Slughorn chuckled humourlessly. 'To what end? What will that achieve? Will it make people less eager to follow him? You assume that people like the Malfoys, Lestranges, and Notts will suddenly decide not to follow him?' He gave an uncharacteristically derisive snort. 'Albus had tried that tactic a long time back. He made sure to mention it to as many people as he could during You Know Who's first rise. The thing is that nobody gave a damn. They did not care then, they do not care now, and they will not care if they were told the same thing tomorrow. There is a reason that people (with some rare exceptions) don't use his name. It is because he has built a reputation for himself. He did not become the most powerful and terrifying Dark Lord in recent history by sitting around sipping tea. The world knowing that he is a half-blood is not going to change the fact that he is a dangerous Dark Wizard who believes in the purity of blood. There was even a full exposé on him in the Prophet. You remember that Minerva?'
'Yes,' Professor McGonagall replied. 'I also remember that the reporter was killed in quite a gruesome fashion. The Dark Mark printed on his chest. Investigations showed that the man was alive when he was branded. The bones of his right hand were also removed slowly by a knife while he was still conscious.'
'In other words, Harry,' Professor Slughorn continued. 'Most people who remember the first war know. We all know about his ancestry. The thing is that over time, his supporters have either deluded themselves into thinking the article a pack of lies, or they don't care about his bloodline, or are too afraid to say anything. So really, between these three reasons, you won't find his lineage being discussed in pubs over a pint.'
The Potions master sat back as Harry digested this information. 'You see, Harry,' he finally said in a much gentler voice after some time. 'There is one thing you should know about the world. Be it Magical or Muggle: and that is that people don't care about hypocrites as long as those hypocrites are useful to them. His Death Eaters follow him either to get power, or because they agree with his ideals. His heritage is the last thing on their twisted minds. Of course there are those that are fanatical supporters. But convincing them that he is a half-blood is obviously a wasted effort.
'And if there is a person who opposes him because of his blood ...' Slughorn shrugged. 'Well, we all know what happens to his enemies.'
'Well, that was a very cynical world-view.' Professor Flitwick piped up. 'Unfortunately, it is not untrue.'
'We have digressed enough,' Professor McGonagall said. 'Let's get back to the point. Harry, you are currently holding the wards. I think it best if you hand them over.'
'I don't think that would be a good idea, Professor.' Harry said slowly. Seeing her about to furiously reply, he interrupted. 'No, hear me out, we don't know about Hogwarts' future. The Board of Governors could decide almost anything. With Professor Dumbledore gone, Voldemort could orchestrate a plan by which he can get a Death Eater to become the headmaster. If he could infiltrate Hogwarts despite the precautions taken ... imagine what else he has his fingers in. If nobody knows who holds the wards, it will be harder for people to affect a transfer.'
Minerva thought about this. If the Board was compromised (and it probably was), then she would have no recourse but to hand over the keys to whoever became the next headmaster. She was bound by a magical contract to do so. However, the Board had to directly ask the sitting headmaster (or the holder of the wards) to hand them over to an individual they had chosen as the next headmaster. They couldn't do it if they did not know who held it. And she certainly wasn't under any obligation to tell them who held the wards.
Before she could say anything, Pomona spoke up. 'I like your thinking, Mr Potter.' Looking around, she continued. 'I think we should go with this idea.'
Seeing Horace and Filius nod, Minerva spoke up. 'Very well, Harry can continue to hold the wards till the situation becomes more stable.' Giving the student a stern look, she continued. 'I trust that you won't abuse this power, and that you will hand the wards over when asked for it by me.'
'Yes, ma'am!' Harry said solemnly.
'Good, now if there is nothing else –'
'Actually, I do have one question,' Professor Flitwick interrupted. Looking at Harry, he asked. 'How did you get to the Astronomy Tower, Mr Potter?'
'Oh, we flew.' Harry replied.
'How did you do that? I did not see any brooms around the Tower.' Professor Sprout said suspiciously.
'Well ... you know how Professor Dumbledore has been giving me private tuition?' Harry asked Professors McGonagall and Flitwick. Seeing them nod, he continued, addressing Professor Sprout. 'I came up with an idea and with his help, managed to develop a way to achieve sustained flight without the aid of a magical object.'
In actuality, Harry had seen that research in one of Ravenclaw's journals. After that duel, Slytherin had been using his elves to squirrel away small things of the other three founders. He figured that he would be able to find some weakness by which he could strike back.
The research notes were hidden underneath the small cottage that Harry now knew was Salazar's childhood home. The Founder had placed preservation charms on the domicile as a memorial to his lost family.
Ravenclaw was a very smart witch. Some of her ideas and research were quite revolutionary even today. But Harry could not exactly say that he had got it from the founder. It would raise quite a lot of questions. Already, they were beginning to suspect...
'That ... is quite impressive, Mr Potter.' Professor McGonagall said. 'To do it in such a short time ... I always knew you had the potential!'
'Indeed, Harry,' Slughorn said affectionately. 'You are very much like your mother.'
'Could you show us the spell?' Flitwick asked in wonder.
'Not now, professor.' Harry said to the Charms Master. 'At least not right now ... I hope you understand...'
'You have a point,' Professor Flitwick said soberly. 'Now is not the time. Perhaps later...'
'Now, if you don't mind, I really have to go, professors.' Harry said tiredly. 'It has been a long night.'
'Indeed,' Professor McGonagall said sadly. 'It is a tragedy to lose Albus Dumbledore at this time in such a fashion. And what is worse is the passing of another student. And that too in the grounds...' she took a deep shuddering breath.
Harry bowed his head in sorrow. He had barely known the girl, but she held a special place in his heart.
'I – I sent messages to all four houses and told them to keep everyone inside till the entrances were sealed.' He said haltingly. 'I don't know how she got out ... if only ...'
'Don't blame yourself, Mr Potter,' Professor Sprout said soothingly. 'If you had not sealed the entrances, then more students might have died. Besides,' she added. 'You had done the sealing after curfew. She should not have been out. I wonder what she was doing out.'
'It wasn't her fault!' the sudden vehemence coming from the boy's mouth startled the teachers. 'Mr Potter!' Professor McGonagall admonished.
Breathing hard, Harry continued, marginally calmer. 'It isn't her fault. She wouldn't have been out if it wasn't for the other members in her house.' He sneered.
'What do you mean, Mr Potter?' Professor Flitwick said with a frown.
'Did you know that Luna was being bullied by half of Ravenclaw house?' Harry said to the diminutive Head of House.
'Those thieving ... people steal her things and hide them all over the castle.' Harry growled. 'She told me this last year.' His voice had taken a sorrowful tone by this time. 'She probably was outside trying to find them. Apparently it has been something she does at the end of every academic year.'
The teachers all looked appalled. 'I cannot believe this!' Professor Flitwick said finally. 'If what you are saying is true then ...' he trailed off. 'It looks like I shall be having a meeting with my students, and it isn't going to be a fun conference.' He said grimly.
Minerva looked out of the window and saw that dawn was approaching. With another jolt, she also realised that Fawkes had become silent. At that time, she knew without a doubt that the phoenix would never return. That he, like his master, was forever gone from Hogwarts.
'You may leave, Harry,' she finally said. 'Get some sleep.'
Watching the boy leave, she felt a pang of jealousy. At least he would get some immediate rest. Right now, she and the rest of the teachers had a lot of work to do. With a heavy sigh, Minerva got up and with a lot of trepidation, sat down in the chair behind the desk. Bowing her head, she collected her thoughts before resuming the meeting.
As the gargoyle jumped in front of the entrance, Harry sagged in on himself. The depression returned full force.
Dragging his feet, he headed towards the Room of Requirement.
'Harry?'
Hearing the soft voice, he looked up to see the concerned face of Daphne Greengrass. Seeing her was like a ray of sunshine breaking through the blackness of his thoughts as it questioned his earlier depressing views. As he remembered Neville, Susan and Hannah, his throat closed up. The light of realisation flooded Harry's mind, chasing the dark thoughts away, as he realised that yes, he did have friends. True friends: Friends who had not befriended him because of money promised by a conniving old man (and Harry doubted that Dumbledore would have managed to bribe them as well) but had befriended him of their own volition. While Harry was sure that he wouldn't have met Daphne if it had not been because of the contract, he also knew that she did not have to befriend him or get to know him. After all, theirs was a marriage contract. There was no stipulation that they had to be in love with each other. Yet, they had grown close.
'We've been looking all over for you. You won't believe the rumours I have been hearing! They say that Dumbledore is dead ...' she paused, noticing the unreadable look on his face. 'Harry? Are you alright?'
Harry did not say a thing. Instead, he just strode forward and put his arms around Daphne, eliciting a squeak from the thoroughly surprised girl.
Burying his face in her hair, he took a deep breath, taking in her smell. Pulling back slightly, he murmured, 'Merlin, you are so beautiful.' Leaning forward, he captured her lips in a searing kiss, pouring in all his need and desire.
The intensity behind the kiss took Daphne's breath away. She could barely breathe, not that it mattered to her right now, as her body responded to the wanton lust.
Harry finally ended the kiss. 'Come with me,' he said breathlessly. Dazed, Daphne let herself be dragged forward as she tried to process what had happened.
Harry was both hyper-aware and dulled of his surroundings. To him, the Room of Requirement was at the same time near but unbearably far. Reaching the place, he paced in front of the room three times, his mind too frenzied to come up with a coherent thought.
Soon enough, a door materialised, thanks to the room's functions of responding to needs more than wants.
Pulling a still dazed Daphne around, Harry initiated another searing kiss, parting her lips with his tongue and snogging what little sense the woman had managed to recover in that time period. The sight of his fiancé was the catalyst that triggered a reaction within Harry whereby the experiences he had gone through in the past night, the betrayals, the anger, the depression and the horrors all were converted into lust. He just wanted some physical comfort after all he had experienced a short while back.
Pulling back, he moved lower, expertly kissing, sucking and nibbling at her jaw and neck. His lessons, which seemed to have happened a lifetime back, coming to the forefront of his mind as he shortly had her leaning against the door, moaning.
With one hand firmly on her arse, Harry freed his other hand from her soft hair and fumbled with the knob of the door, his lips slowly traversing back to her mouth. Opening the door, the couple stumbled in. By this time, Daphne was also locked in throes of passion as she reciprocated in the best way she could. Her hands were entangled in his hair as she kissed him back with fervour. Needing more contact, she slipped her hands under his cloak, mildly surprised that she encountered bare flesh. She was sure that he had been wearing a shirt before.
Soon enough the back of her knees hit the edge of a bed. Tipping over, she landed on her back, still attached to her husband-to-be.
They did not realise that they had kicked off their shoes. Harry undid her top with expert fingers, revealing her bra. Moving his head lower, he started kissing a trial of fire down her neck as his hands went down her silky smooth stomach down to her skirt.
Moaning with pleasure, Daphne's fingers found the clasp of his cloak. With a slight amount of fumbling, she had that undone. Discarding that, her hands explored the muscles of his back, heading steadily downwards to the waistband of his pants, just peeking out of his jeans.
Caressing his hips, her hands found the buckle of his belt. Acting of their own volition, her phalanges undid the belt and unsnapped the jeans, letting them fall off as he tugged her skirt off.
Moaning at the loss of a layer of clothing, Harry pressed up against her, his hands now working on her brassiere.
Daphne gasped as she felt him press against her, unused to the hardness and the heat emanating that could be felt through their underwear.
It was when she felt her bra being undone that she regained her senses.
'Harry, please, stop,' she said softly. Her hands travelled upwards and onto his chest as she gave a gentle push.
Eyes still dark with lust, Harry looked down at her. Daphne shuddered in pleasure at the naked primal want she saw in his eyes. With a supreme effort, she brought herself under control and said. 'As much as I would love to continue, we can't. Not till we are married.'
Harry just looked at her, looking for all the world as if he would continue anyway. Privately, Daphne knew that if he did so, she would not resist him. But, much to her combined relief and disappointment, the lust disappeared from his eyes.
Daphne was surprised when his face crumpled. Before she knew it, he was apologising to her repeatedly as he gave great heaving sobs.
Her near nakedness forgotten, she brought her arms around him as she rocked him gently back and forth, making soothing sounds. She did not know what to make of his sudden shift in mood.
'Hey,' she finally said when she estimated that he had calmed somewhat. 'What happened out there, Harry? Why are you so upset?'
With his head nestled in her bosom, Harry regaled her with the tale of his expedition. Sniffling, he told her about how he had found out about Snape and the prophecy; how that information had shattered the small amount of trust towards Dumbledore he had built up again over the past few weeks. He then told her about his plan of finding out all the secrets the old man held. The betrayal and anger he felt when he realised that his friendship with Ron and Hermione was a lie. That the only reason they were with him was because they were being paid to be his friends. Finally he spoke of the mess of emotions he felt for killing three Death Eaters and the guilt that was consuming him for having caused Luna's death.
'I am such a monster,' he finally said. 'You must hate me so much for doing what I did. I'm so sorry –'
'Harry, no.' Daphne interrupted him softly but firmly. Taking his tear streaked face in her hands she looked at him in the eye. 'Stop this. You are not a monster. Yes, you killed them, but they chose to attack first. The fact that you feel terrible for having killed them proves that you are a good person. They would have felt nothing but happiness for killing. You do not. I know you. We all know you. You are one of the most caring people I have met. You are no monster.'
'Really?' he asked, looking and sounding very much like a young child.
'Yes, really,' she said patiently.
'But – but, I nearly r – ra...' he trailed off again.
'What, nearly had sex with me?'Daphne spoke over him, giving him a reassuring smile. 'Trust me, if that thrice dammed contract wasn't around, I would not have stopped you.' Giving him a lust filled look, she purred. 'You were so sexy then. I cannot wait for our first night together as husband and wife.'
Harry blushed as he gave out a weak watery chuckle. Smiling, Daphne said softly. 'You're tired. Rest for now. We can talk later.' Saying this, she drew Harry flush against her, pressing his face against her breast as she wrapped a long leg around him.
The last conscious act that Harry performed was to wandlessly cover their bodies with the blankets. Tired emotionally, physically and magically, he was quick to surrender consciousness.
Daphne was relatively well rested. Her exhaustion, while mild, was caused by sitting up with worry over her fiancé. Now that she had him safe in her arms, she too felt the pull of sleep. Closing her eyes, she reflected that this really was nice. Harry felt so warm against her. Getting a naughty thought, her hand slid downwards into his pants. But she was asleep before she could do more.
Harry awoke hours later and let out a sigh of contentment. Breathing in the sweet scent of Daphne's hair reminded him that he had friends. Friends he had made himself. Sure, they weren't as close as he was with Ron and Hermione, but he had time to work on that. A whole lifetime, in fact! He was going to be married to Daphne in a few months time. And judging by how close they had become over the year, Harry could only imagine how close they would be after they spent a year as husband and wife. Along with Neville, Daphne, Susan and Hannah, he thought of the others he had befriended. They weren't as close, but they were all right for a laugh and pretty good company if he was looking for a few mates to share a pint with.
Fuck them thought Harry. I don't need those two anymore.
With a contended smile Harry opened his eyes. His life looked sunnier now. Dumbledore was dead. He could no longer manipulate Harry anymore. Harry was free! Free!
Of course there was the rather large problem of Voldemort looming in the distance, but Harry was too happy right now to let that get him down. He was sure that a day or week or two from now he would not feel like this, but right now, Voldemort did not seem to be that big a problem.
It was when he moved that he became aware of his surroundings, more specifically, the body lying down next to him. They were still entwined around each other, only this time, Daphne's face was nuzzling his chest. Her leg was still wrapped around his hip, though. One of her hands was under his cheek and the other...
Harry felt his face flush red as he realised where her left hand was. Carefully lifting his head, he looked down. Sure enough, he could see her slender arm disappearing into his boxer-briefs. She was definitely groping his arse.
Immediately he felt his body react. Straining against his pants, he knew he was poking her.
He then took note of his own hands. His right arm was low on her hip while his left was wrapped under and around her, coming to rest on her left breast. Her left naked breast...
His heart rate quickened. Before he could think more, she shifted and said with eyes still closed. 'My, aren't we happy?' Giving a firm squeeze with her left hand, she withdrew it as she opened her eyes and looked at him with a mischievous smile on her face.
Clearing his throat, Harry gently extricated himself, sitting up in bed. Despite being around so many women in the past year, there was something about Daphne that made him feel nervous. Where had that quiet girl gone and what had this ... feisty woman ... done with her?
Daphne looked at him. She was slightly nervous at being this exposed, especially since it was the first time she was naked around a boy. But with the way Harry kept glancing at her was any indication, she had no need to be worried. She subtly looked down. The bulge in his groin was visible through the blanket. Unbidden, a range of fantasies flew through her mind, carefully constructed over the years.
Clearing his throat again, Harry said, 'I – uh need to go to the bathroom.'
'Why?'
Taken aback by the question, Harry looked at her with a weird expression. 'So I can take a piss?' he said half incredulously.
'Oh, I thought it was something else,' she said daringly, pointedly looking down.
'Oh, that,' Harry fought a blush down. 'Well, that happens quite often, you know.' He said gamely.
'It does?' She perked up at this new bit of information. Ever since hitting puberty, she had extensively and obsessively devoured books regarding the male anatomy. She had never heard about this before.
'Yes,' Harry could not believe he was having this conversation now. The open curiosity in her voice was quite endearing. If only she wasn't asking these kind of questions... 'You won't believe how often it happens. I don't even have to think about it at times.'
'Huh, fascinating.' Daphne said with a faraway look. Focusing on him she asked shyly. 'Can I watch?'
'W – Watch?' Harry said dumbly. 'Watch what?' His eyes suddenly went round as he understood. 'You want to watch me wee?' he asked a bit incredulously.
'Well, yes,' Daphne replied, fighting a blush of her own. 'I have always wondered how blokes do it. I know you do it standing up, but I want to see. Do you actually hold it like a hose?'
'How about we have this conversation later,' Harry said finally, getting his brain working again. He really did not know what to make of this request. Forget that, he did not know what to make of this side of Daphne.
'Promise?' Daphne said hopefully.
'Uh, sure,' Saying this, Harry quickly got up and headed to the loo. Closing the door behind him, he went to do his business. The task was made harder when he thought of Daphne's request and what she might do...
'Oh come on!' he whispered furiously looking down at his stubbornly stiff member. Seeing no solution, he called out. 'Daphne,'
Hearing her muffled reply, he continued. 'I'm going to take a shower. Shall I meet you in the Great Hall in a bit?'
'Sure, Harry.' Even through the door he could hear the amusement in her voice. 'Take your time.'
'Yeah, thanks,' he called back. 'Bloody woman,' he swore under his breath. Looking down, he said, 'Finally.'
When Harry stepped out of the bathroom, he glanced around to find the room empty. Pulling on his jeans, he dressed in another conjured shirt. Fully dressed, he bent down to pick up his cloak.
He paused when he felt one of the pockets of the now smelly garment. Reaching inside, he extracted a golden Snitch.
Instantly reminded of the other information he had learnt from the old man's mind, Harry frantically dug into his other cloak pocket. Finally he extracted the wand.
Placing the wand down for now, Harry brought the Snitch close to his mouth. Dumbledore had put a password that would be activated once the Snitch's flesh memory was activated. So bringing his lips to the Snitch, Harry thought.
I am about to die.
Of course, he really wasn't going to die now ... and if he had any say in it, it wouldn't be for a long time. Harry knew that death was inevitable. Nobody, not even Fawkes was immune to death. True the phoenix could come back to life, but he had to experience death first to be reborn.
The metal shell broke open. The black stone with its jagged crack running down the centre sat in the two halves of the Snitch. The Resurrection Stone had cracked down the vertical line of the Peverell Coat of Arms. The triangle and circle, though, were still discernible.
So this is the fabled Resurrection Stone Harry thought as he picked up the stone, now unencumbered by the crudely crafted metal band that once made the stone a part of an ugly ring.
Harry remembered the story of the Deathly Hallows which he had read many months back in the book Ollivander gave him. He knew of the Stone, the Cloak, and the Wand. But, he thought it to be a simple children's fairytale. Now, it seemed that this Stone was actually the Stone of Resurrection, Dumbledore's wand was actually the Elder Wand and Harry's own cloak was the Cloak of Invisibility...
He snorted. Dumbledore probably was holding onto some delusion left over from his childhood.
Cool green eyes looked at the wand on the floor. It didn't look very special. Harry was more than happy with his wand. Why would he need some all-powerful, unbeatable wand? Maybe to defeat Voldemort, but Harry had felt his own magic and his power. And he did not want some ancient crutch to enhance it. It would be him; his magic and his wand, all the way.
And the Stone ... initially he had wanted to use the Stone to bring his parents back. But then he reconsidered. After visiting Godric's Hollow, he was finally at peace with his parents deaths. Yes, it was tragic that they had died before he even got to know them. He truly missed them and felt a deep ache at the possibilities of what could have been. But why would he want to bring them back now?
To have a childhood? He was now legally an adult. In a few short months, he would be actually of age. Any chance of having a childhood had died long back. What could he possibly gain from having brought his parents back from the dead? He doubted that he would be able to be a son to them. At most, they would be friends.
To know that his parents loved him? The visit to Godric's Hollow had more than proved that they loved him. If not that, then speaking to echoes from Voldemort's wand in the graveyard two years back had, as had the fact that they had died to ensure that he lived. He also knew that Sirius loved him. After all, the man had made plans to blood adopt Harry.
No, the three of them were dead, and unlike the ghosts of Hogwarts, they were ready to move on to the afterlife. Bringing them back would be a petty and selfish thing to do, and Harry wasn't willing to be that way to the people who loved him so, and whom he loved in turn.
However, Harry would consider the Cloak to be the most useful. A device that could help protect his friends was something he cherished.
Almost contemptuously, Harry draped his Cloak around his shoulders, picked the Elder Wand up in his left hand and held the stone in his right fist.
When nothing happened, he snorted a second time. Master of Death, indeed. He thought with a sneer. Having an epiphany, Harry decided that he was not afraid of death. It wasn't a case of a teenager feeling invulnerable, for Harry knew better than anyone that death can come to anybody. Luna, he thought sadly, was a prime example. No, Harry was just unafraid of the concept of his life ending. Death, he reflected, was a part of life. Immortality was boring. And that made him different from a sixteen year old Albus Dumbledore and Tom Riddle.
Suddenly the Hallows started glowing. Harry watched, astonished, as the Stone, now glowing an ethereal white, sank into his right palm.
At the same time, he noticed the outline of his once invisible body now glowing as the Cloak became visible, generating a lot of heat. Before it could get uncomfortable, however, it too sank into Harry's skin.
The wand, on the other hand was a different matter.
Over the years, whenever it changed masters and its allegiance, the Elder Wand has always been able to assimilate the magic of the original wand of its new master before replacing it as the primary wand. After all, Death conquers all. What was more, the wizards that have won it always coveted it, meaning that they are willing, subconsciously or not, to give up their old wands in return for the Wand of Destiny. Eventually, the original wand of the master of the Elder Wand disappears, its magic sucked out by the ancient magical focus. The Wand would use the magic of the previous wand to attune itself to its new master's personality and magic, gaining experience from being used by its new wielder and adding some of its own to make it unbeatable till the next worthy individual came along.
It was the reason why the Elder Wand was so readily compatible with so many masters.
But here was a wizard that had won the wand without coveting the power that came with it. A master that was more than happy with his own current wand.
Over the past six years, Harry had managed to form a deep bond with his wand. The animals that formed the core had touched him deeply. Thus, for the first time, the Elder Wand encountered a strong bond between a master and his wand. It would be difficult to uproot and replace this bond.
But it did not stop the Death Stick. The magic of the Elder wood and Thestral reached out to suck the magic out of the holly wand, hoping to absorb the magic of the original wand.
But Harry's wand wasn't one to give up. It had fully imbibed Harry's stubbornness, defiance and courage within two years of choosing its master. It was this courage, after all that allowed it to best its brother, allowing it to take in Voldemort's deadly skill as well. Backed by the potent magic of two extremely powerful and ancient magical animals, the Holly wand was more than a match for the legendary Elder Wand.
Seeing such a stiff resistance, and recognising that it had been fully reunited by its other two Hallows by one of the descendants of its original creators, the Elder Wand halted the attack, and recognising an equal, started glowing as it became a rod of pure magic.
Harry watched, confused as the wand he held in his left hand glowed and leapt across, sinking itself into the skin of his right forearm. He wondered why that had happened.
His attention was then diverted to his left arm where inexplicably, his original wand, still attached to his left forearm by his wand holster was glowing in the same fashion as the Hallows.
Eyes widening, Harry had only a moment to register this when his world was filled with a bright white light as every cell in his body started burning.
Harry floated a few inches above the ground, his arms flung out, fingers splayed and mouth open in a silent scream. His eyes burned with a pure white light as a nimbus of magic surrounded him.
Eventually, it subsided and Harry dropped back to the ground, panting hard. Sitting back on his heels, he looked around. The after-image of the symbol of the Deathly Hallows danced in front of him, slowly fading as he blinked his eyes. He examined his arms. While they looked normal, he could feel them burn with magic. Gingerly, he flexed his fingers. He gave a start when he saw sparks dancing from the fingertips.
Clumsily picking up his cloak with twitching fingers, Harry made his way to the Gryffindor Tower.
He had a strong suspicion that he had become the Master of Death. He had no idea what that meant, but he was going to find out someday.