The Ministry's Mascot

Disclaimer: Nothing you recognize belongs to me. Just borrowed. Will be returned. Snape is welcome to stay, though.

A big Thank You goes to my beta-reader, Maggie, and my beta-reader and brit-picker, Melusin, who both are always encouraging, helpful, and thorough.

A/N: After DH, this story is now completely AU. It will be finished, although perhaps not as fast as I wanted. I need time and several re-reads to include some of the new magic in the future chapters. I made an effort to make this plausible with the Pro-Prologue to this story called 'Reality Check', which is posted separately on this archive. However, I will not include many new canon elements, especially not the characterisations. This will be the last time for me to write about a twinkling Dumbledore, a clever Minerva and a wizarding world that actually tries to fight against an enemy instead of letting itself be overpowered. I was horribly disappointed in DH, and this will show, I'm afraid. A few chapters ago, I promised not to let myself be distracted by challenges and exchanges until this story here is finished. I'm sorry, but I can't keep that promise, not after DH. Severus needs all the help he can get and all the stories we can write for and about him. So I will be distracted from time to time. But this story here is outlined to the end, more than half-written and will be finished, whether someone reads it or not. So there. I hope you stay with me. ;)

Chapter 4 – The Ministry's Mascot

Harry didn't want to make a scene. That's why he let himself be dragged to the dance floor despite being angry and confused. But then Ginny started to explain.

"Harry, do you trust Viktor Krum?"

Harry scowled. "You're not asking for my blessing to go out with Viktor Krum, are you?"

Obviously she didn't take his mood seriously because she grinned. "In a way. You know, Harry, I just can't accept being dumped by you like that..."

He gaped. "What do you mean? Are you trying to get back at me with all this flirting?"

Her grin changed into a smile. "Of course not. I want to be with you, and I think you know that. I understand that you want to protect me, but I want to be with you nonetheless. I don't need protection. No more than Ron and Hermione, anyway. Everyone knows that they are your best friends."

Harry closed his eyes and sighed softly. This would be difficult. He'd never really wanted to break up, but he was certain that he had done the right thing. "It's different. I couldn't go on if something happened to you..."

"Oh, Harry..." She stared at him with a determined gleam in her eyes and moved a bit closer in his arms, but not too close. "You know, when I was talking to Viktor, I had an idea––but this will only work if you think he is trustworthy."

"Why? What is this idea?"

"Viktor is constantly being urged by his parents to find a wife, and he is annoyed with all the Quidditch groupies following him around. It would be advantageous for him if it looked like he had a girlfriend... I could be that girlfriend," Ginny said. "Only as a pretence," she added quickly when she saw Harry's eyes narrow. "If everyone thought that I was with Viktor, no one would connect me to you, no one would want to harm me because of you... And we still could be together. You see, it all depends on how much you trust Viktor."

Harry stared at her wide-eyed. "Err... I don't know what to say..." He sighed and squeezed her hand firmly, but still maintained the modest distance while they were dancing, trying to pull himself together. "I am certain that Viktor is on our side. Wouldn't Dumbledore or Minerva have warned Hermione, or her parents, if he weren't? Viktor is still her friend; he' s not afraid to be seen with a Muggle-born witch... He was a Tri-Wizard champion... It wasn't his fault that Karkaroff––No, Viktor is decent. I think we can trust him. But what will you tell him?

"If he agrees with the deception, he and I can meet in public from time to time. We can write letters and show them around... Talk about each other... And if Viktor finds a girl he really likes, we simply break up. The attention will have moved away from you and me by then."

"That could actually work," Harry said.

"Then I will talk to Viktor, Harry." Ginny's face lit up. "He's been teasing me about the flirting all afternoon; he thinks I want to make you jealous. But he did play along nicely, so I think it will be possible."

"Do that, Ginny, but try not to look so happy while you dance with me."

"Look who's talking." Ginny grinned. "You're not exactly unhappy-looking at the moment, either." And with those words, she went off to find Viktor Krum.

He watched how she approached Viktor, touched him on the arm and leaned in to him closely. They laughed, and Harry smiled to himself. He would meet Ginny in the Room of Requirement when they were back at school. It would be difficult, but still a lot better than not being with her at all. Much better. Harry smiled again and looked around to find Hermione and Ron. He felt a tap on his shoulder.

Rufus Scrimgeour, the current Minister of Magic, certainly was a shrewd man. Harry suspected that Scrimgeour had noticed Harry's happy and relaxed face and decided now was the perfect opportunity to approach him.

"A word, Harry, if you please."

"Minister." Harry's greeting was polite, but without enthusiasm.

"I wonder if you've thought about what we discussed the last time we met, Harry. You've had a little time to calm down after Albus' death and think about my offer. What do you say?"

"I can't remember that there was the option of re-negotiation," Harry grumbled. "Negotiation wasn't mentioned at all, as I recall the conversation."

"Things have changed, Harry. Dumbledore isn't around any more––as sad as it is." He added the last part quickly when he saw Harry's angry glare. "You're on your own, the Chosen One or not, and if there is something the Ministry can do for you, I may be able to pull a few strings..."

"All right," Harry snarled. "How about Stan Shunpike? Is he still in prison?"

The Minister nodded.

"Release him. He isn't a Death Eater. You know it, and your Aurors know it. He's just a stupid kid who can't keep his mouth shut. He just wanted to feel important. He didn't do anything."

"I've told you already, I'm not so sure about his innocence. Youth isn't a deterrent for Death Eaters, just think about Barty Crouch... They recruit everyone who is willing... and some who are unwilling..."

"Not Stan, no way. He's just a silly kid. Release him, and we can talk. You just want a scapegoat. Why don't you go after the ones who are really guilty?"

Scrimgeour studied the dance floor as if he had never seen people dance before. "You're asking me to release a potential Death Eater, Harry. Quite frankly, I can't see how I could justify taking that risk..." He paused when Harry snorted. "Dumbledore was wrong about Snape; what makes you think he was right about Shunpike?"

"My goodness, Minister. Surely you have taken the Knight Bus at some time or other? You know Stan Shunpike – everyone does, don't they? I don't know how anyone could take Stan for a Death Eater... or compare him to Snape, for that matter."

"But that's exactly the problem, Harry, isn't it? You can't tell from their behaviour or looks. People are always surprised when someone in their midst turns out to be a bad apple. Just ask Alastor Moody; he has seen it happen more than once."

"Have it your way, then." Harry sighed in frustration and turned to walk away.

"Wait," Scrimgeour put a hand on Harry's arm. Harry shuddered and shook it off. "There may be the option to release him on probation. He can prove what he's worth––one way, or the other. If I can manage it, he will be freed."

"Okay." Harry pursed his lips and glanced at Scrimgeour from the side. "That seems fair enough. Now, on to the next part on the agenda..."

"My patience isn't endless, Harry," Scrimgeour said sternly.

"These things mean a lot to me," Harry replied with a wry smile. "If they aren't resolved, I cannot cooperate."

"I will not be coerced."

"I'm not trying to coerce you, Minister. I'm offering you a deal. I have something you want, and you have something I want. If we can agree on the price, we can do business, and you don't need to pretend that you're doing me a favour."

"Is that what they're teaching you at Hogwarts these days?"

"No, this is called common sense. And haggling out a deal... well, I hate to say it, but I learned that from my Uncle Vernon..."

"Get on with it, Harry. What else do you want?"

"I want to use some of the Ministry's resources when I'm there playing mascot. I want to talk to Aurors, visit the library or the archives... And this brings me directly to my third––and final––condition."

"Go on, I'm listening," Scrimgeour said angrily.

"I don't want to see Dolores Umbridge, either at Hogwarts or anywhere near me. She should be removed from any position of power, but knowing the Ministry...." He paused for a moment. "There's no hope of that. So keep her out of my sight or the deal is off. Get Percy Weasley out of my sight, too. I will not cooperate with the Ministry if I have to deal with that self–righteous, bumbling idiot. So, do we have a deal?"

"We haven't negotiated your contribution yet, Harry."

"What would that be, having my photograph taken in front of the Ministry building?"

"Yes, something like that. And that's not a bad idea. A public appearance every once in a while. Let's say once a month. But that's not enough, not with all those demands. I want a real cooperation, not just a pretence. You will talk to me and answer my questions."

"There are some questions that I will never answer, Minister. So if you're thinking of forcing me... think again."

"They will be general questions, Harry. I may even ask you for advice, sometimes. You know He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named on a personal level; you may know some things the Ministry does not, and we could use this to our advantage when helping people to protect themselves. You, on the other hand, can get some insight into how the Ministry is working. You may even come to understand that the only place where things can be moved is the place where the power is."

"I think I know enough of how the Ministry works not to be interested. But I can accept your conditions," Harry said. "There are a few things I think the Ministry should do, and if you actually want to hear it, so much the better. "

"Things like what?" Scrimgeour asked, a hopeful gleam in his golden eyes.

"Things I will mention once I have proof of Stan's release." Harry grinned evilly.

"All right then, Harry, we will keep in contact by Owl Post for the time being." He spun on his heel and walked away.

Harry stared at the Minister's back, not quite certain if he hadn't just made a huge mistake. When Scrimgeour was trying to be reasonable, he was almost likeable. There was nothing of the demanding, would-be intimidation of last Christmas. The Minister must need him desperately for his propaganda campaign if he was willing to give in to the demands of a mere schoolboy. Now where were Hermione and Ron? He couldn't wait to tell them about all this. He looked around and saw them on the dance floor. He waved to them, and when they joined him, he told them about Ginny and the Minister.

Seven days later, they stood at the road close to the Burrow and waited for the Knight Bus to take them to Hogwarts. All three of them were tired; they had celebrated Harry's birthday the previous evening. Harry was seventeen-years old now; he was an adult and independent in the wizarding world.

A few days earlier, they had paid a visit to Godric's Hollow, the village where he had lived as a baby and where his parents had been murdered. After finding their graves in the small graveyard and spending some time there, they had moved on to the house. Harry had expected to find a ruin, but was pleasantly surprised to see a small but inviting house waiting for him. While it showed signs of neglect with grimy, blind windows, weeds growing on the front porch, and vines and bushes threatening to strangle the small building, it still revealed a certain amount of care. Someone must have looked after it from time to time, and someone must have rebuilt it after it had been half-destroyed on the night of Voldemort's attack. The attack, and the subsequent destruction of the house, seemed to have lifted the Fidelius Charm since Hermione and Ron had no problems seeing Harry anywhere in the house. The furniture and every possible personal keepsake had been taken away, and Harry wondered where his parents' things, apart from his mother's trunk, were. They certainly weren't in his vault at Gringotts, and Dumbledore had never mentioned them. But then, Harry had never asked. Not for the first time, Harry berated himself for having been too self-centred to ask details about his parents' lives while he had the chance to talk to people who had known them well. Now two of those people were dead, and he couldn't think of many more who would remember such details about them. Maybe Hagrid would know, or even Professor McGonagall. Or perhaps Remus Lupin, although Hermione thought it unlikely. She argued that he had been suspected of being the traitor at that time and wouldn't have been cleared until Wormtail's faked death. But it wouldn't hurt to ask Remus, Harry thought; he was the last thing close to a fatherly friend he had left.

Harry was brought back to reality by a loud bang. The Knight Bus had arrived. All three of them grinned expectantly when they saw Stan Shunpike get out of the bus. They were waiting for his usual welcoming sermon, but it didn't come. Stan shuffled listlessly towards them, grabbed their luggage, and stowed it away. His question for their destination came as a barely audible whisper, and he looked around with a dazed expression. Hermione watched him worriedly, and after the bus had continued its journey with another loud bang, she gripped the handrails, trying not to fall down as she walked to the front to talk to Ernie Prang, the bus driver.

Harry and Ron tried to start a conversation with Stan, but he merely gaped at them and jerked his head, glancing fearfully over his shoulders.

When Hermione came back, she looked sad. "Ernie told me that his time in prison has affected Stan badly." She looked compassionately at the young man who stared at the ceiling. "He is confused and depressed."

"Couldn't he get help from a Healer?" Harry asked.

"At St. Mungo's they just gave him a big chunk of chocolate and sent him away," Hermione replied, looking angry and resolved. "We need to do something. We'll ask Madam Pomfrey to look after him. She'll be more compassionate than the Healers at St. Mungo's."

"Good idea," Harry agreed.

A few violent turns later, they arrived at Hogsmeade. Stan just sat there, not realising that he had work to do. Ernie left his seat behind the steering wheel and helped them get their luggage.

"There aren't many people taking the bus these days," he said. "Most wizards stay at home. I have time to help Stan a bit when he doesn't feel well." He put a hand on Stan's shoulder and squeezed it lightly.

"When school starts, I will talk to Madam Pomfrey," Hermione promised. "I'm quite certain that..." But she couldn't complete her sentence. Something scarlet-golden had appeared with a soft pop and a flash, and all four of them goggled at the sight before them.

Fawkes the phoenix, Albus Dumbledore's familiar, had Apparated and now sat on Stan Shunpike's chest, leaning his head towards Stan's heart. A few phoenix tears fell on Stan's shirt, and after a few moments, Stan took a deep breath and smiled. Fawkes blinked and Apparated to the next tree where he started to sing.

Once again, the beauty of the phoenix song worked its magic. It was like a constant stream of well being, entering through the ears and gliding along the nerves. It was rolling around in one's stomach, massaging tense muscles, and enveloping a frightened, worried heart with a comforting embrace. When the song ended, Fawkes came to Harry and settled on his shoulder, ruffling Harry's hair affectionately while Harry stood very still and gently stroked the phoenix's wings and tail feathers. After a while, Fawkes Disapparated again, and they all looked at each other and smiled. Words weren't necessary.

Suddenly, Stan found his voice again.

"Look who's 'ere, Ern. If it ain't 'arry Potter. And this red head, isn't that his friend, the Weasley boy? Oy, 'arry, wotcher up to?"

Ernie Prang smiled. "Well, that bird sure does a good job!"

Hermione smiled back at him, an awed expression still on her face. "I wonder how he found us. How wonderful that he is still around here somewhere..."

"Looks like Stan is cured," Ron said when Stan gave him a suspicious look and double-checked the luggage Ron wanted to pick up.

"Won't be necessary to see Madam Pomfrey, then," Ernie confirmed.

"But if he has a relapse, promise to come here, Ernie," Hermione said. "Madam Pomfrey will want to help him."

"Don't you worry, Missy. I'll look after old Stan. And if he gets bad again, we will come." They all shook hands, and then Harry, Ron and Hermione picked up their luggage and trotted off towards Hogwarts.

They slowly walked up the lane from Hogsmeade to Hogwarts, enjoying the sight, knowing that this would be the last time that they would return to school. The view of the lake and the castle filled their hearts with a fond sadness; they tried to take in as many details as possible, uncertain what the future would bring.

The Headmistress greeted them at the gates. "I am so glad that you chose to come here, all three of you." She smiled. "Come, Gryffindor Tower is open to you. You can set your own password with the Fat Lady until school starts. Some teachers are around already, given the special circumstances. I opened the school to anyone who wanted to come back early. Meals will be served in the Great Hall; we'll all sit at one table. Now go and get settled. After dinner, I would like to see all three of you in my office." She nodded at them and briskly walked away.

It didn't take Harry and Ron long to settle down in their empty dormitory. Harry was wondering briefly how many of their classmates would be coming back when Hermione interrupted by knocking at the door and asking if they were ready. She felt rather alone in her deserted dormitory and didn't want to spend more time there than was necessary for sleeping. Together, they went down to dinner.

The setting of the Great Hall resembled the seating arrangements at Christmas; only the decorations were missing. Hermione, Ron, and Harry were the only students at the table, but they saw with surprise that Horace Slughorn and Perry Price were already at school, likewise were Professor Flitwick and Madam Pomfrey. Madam Pince and Argus Filch never left the school, not even in summer; they, too, sat down at one end of the table and looked at the three friends critically.

The last person to enter the Great Hall was Sibyll Trelawney, who slunk into the room, adorned with shawls and bead necklaces that tinkled with every move. She stared at them through her huge glasses and gave them a friendly wave. Then she sat down besides Perry Price and talked to him animatedly.

"I wonder what that old fraud has to discuss with Professor Price," Hermione mused.

Ron watched the two teachers with a frown and then stated in amazement, "But, he's flirting with her!"

They stared. And Ron was right. Price was smiling, talking and pouring wine for Trelawney while whispering with her. At one point, he even took her hand and kissed it.

"That's disgusting!" Hermione whispered.

"Why?" Harry asked. "Why shouldn't they flirt with each other? Just because they're teachers doesn't mean that they can't have a little fun."

"But Trelawney?" Hermione shuddered. "What does he see in that old fraud?"

"Oh, come now. We know that you don't like her, but she's not that bad, really," Ron whispered. "She can't be much older than Price, and she's not all that bad looking for her age."

"Ron!" Hermione was completely bewildered. "You can't be serious."

Harry grinned. "Price is a bit of a flirt. McGonagall told me at the wedding," he whispered to Hermione and Ron. "Apparently, he flirts with every female that comes his way, except those off-limits, like students or married women. She says she's known him for a long time, and he's always been like that."

"And there's me thinking he was an intelligent man...." Hermione lifted her nose haughtily.

"Are you jealous because he doesn't flirt with you?" Ron teased. "Do you have a crush on him, like you had on Lockhart? Do tell..." He winked.

"Don't be silly," she said angrily. "I merely find him interesting... but Trelawney?"

"I don't see what difference it should make," Harry said reasonably. "This is their private affair, and as long as Price is teaching us what we need, I have no problem with it.

Hermione sighed and looked pained. But she didn't say anything.

When they had reached dessert, Peregrin Price leaned over the table, winked at them and said, "I didn't think we'd meet so soon again. Perhaps we can spend some of the remaining time together; Minerva told me she would like me to give you some extra lessons in strategic warfare."

"Strategic warfare?" Hermione was surprised. "Things that go beyond what you will teach us in DADA classes, you mean?"

"Correct," Price said. He glanced around and lowered his voice. "We're in a war, and people are ill prepared to fight. They aren't necessarily lacking defensive skills, but they often don't know how to use the skills they have. We're a bunch of individualists. What we need is a skilled leader. Someone who has a plan, a strategy."

Harry frowned. He wondered if Price knew about Voldemort's curse on the DADA teacher position. It suddenly dawned on him that the curse had been more than just revenge. With year after year of incompetent Defence teachers––and Harry's year alone had encountered several at Hogwarts––it was no wonder that most witches and wizards in Britain didn't know how to defend themselves and needed help from Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes even for basic spells. He asked himself if the twins and their imaginative use of magic would be a factor in Price's strategy.

"So, do you have a plan?" Harry leaned over interestedly. "Will you share it...?" He turned his head and lowered his voice to a whisper. "Will you tell the Order about it?"

"I'm not the leader type, but Uncle Albus was one. One of the best. However, I do have a few ideas, some suggestions, but the Order won't accept anything coming from me easily," Price said pensively. "I'm a stranger to most. They will have a hard time getting used to me, so they won't be inclined to listen to what I have to say...." He paused and stared at them critically. "In fact, I don't think anyone listened to anybody else at that last Order meeting. But I will teach you what I know, if you like," he offered and smiled at the three eager faces staring at him. "Most of my knowledge is based on what Uncle Albus taught me, anyway."

They agreed excitedly, and Hermione was just asking him about his work in Crete again when it happened.

Sibyll Trelawney had been watching the exchange with barely concealed displeasure. It wasn't often that she had the undivided attention of an attractive man, and she wasn't inclined to share this attention. On the other hand, Ron and Harry were her former students, and she was rather fond of them, especially of Harry with his tragic destiny. A young man whose premature death she had foreseen so often couldn't be denied. So she ground her teeth, sipped at her wine and waited. Most of the other teachers had finished their meal and left the Great Hall, but Perry was still talking to the students. However, she noted with satisfaction that his attention was still on her since he chivalrously refilled her goblet whenever it was empty. She had taken another sip when sleep overcame her.

Ron nudged Hermione in the ribs when he heard the rasping sound coming from Trelawney's mouth. Hermione stared at her wide-eyed, Harry with rapt attention. And then Sibyll began to speak.

"When the shadow man and the dead woman unite,

When the shadow man and the dead woman unite."

When she came to again, she looked around confusedly and found the remaining staff and students staring at her.

"What?"

"You've just made another prophecy, or something, Sibyll," Professor McGonagall said, a hint of contempt in her voice.

Peregrin Price gave Trelawney his full attention again, his eyes thoughtful, his index finger absentmindedly stroking his lower lip and then tapping it reflectively.

"What was that all about?" Ron whispered.

"The shadow man and the dead woman are alchemical symbols, if I remember correctly. I think I read something about them a long time ago... something about purification, the hero's journey... the esoteric doctrine of the elements..."

Harry saw that Perry Price glanced in their direction, staring thoughtfully at Hermione for a while until he blinked a few times and focussed on Trelawney again.

"Shall I escort you to your room, Sibyll?" he offered and led the Divination teacher out of the Great Hall.

Harry and his friends discussed Sibyll Trelawney's latest vision in full detail when they were back in the Gryffindor common room. "If we only knew who this shadow man and dead woman are," Ron said.

"They're symbols, Ron. I've told you that already," Hermione said impatiently. "I think they stand for fire and water, which would be two of the four elements."

"You don't say," Ron mumbled, and Hermione giggled and stuck her tongue out.

"So, fire and water," Harry interrupted their banter. "What does that mean? Do we have to form an alliance with Slytherin, then?"

"That would tie in with the song of the Sorting Hat from, when was it, two years ago?" Ron slowly warmed to the theme.

"Only in part," Hermione corrected. "The Sorting Hat wanted the houses to unite and fight together. Which they did, in a way, if you look at the DA."

"There wasn't a single Slytherin in the DA. That can't have been it."

"And if the prophecy is to be taken literally? A man and a woman have to unite, fall in love?" Ron blushed slightly, but went on with his speculation. "It does say from hatred to love, doesn't it? A Gryffindor and a Slytherin falling in love with each other, perhaps?"

"Like your mother and Snape..." Hermione looked shocked.

"They weren't in love," Harry snarled.

"They must have liked each other as we do, Harry. They were best friends."

Harry had to smile at this. "But what would that tell us? So they were friends. She's dead, all right. He's a shadow man; that fits as well..."

"Perhaps she was the heart, and he was the mind?" Ron asked.

"Or the other way round," Hermione huffed.

"Oh, come now," Ron said, grinning, "surely you're not suggesting that Snape was the heart ..."

"Err, right," Hermione conceded with a sheepish grin. "Anyway, they didn't vanquish the Dark Lord, 'body and soul', so maybe it's not only about them. And 'the Chosen One's endless night'? You're the Chosen One, Harry. Perhaps the endless night means that you are in the dark about something?" She looked over her shoulder and lowered her voice, although no one was around. "The Horcruxes, perhaps?"

"Yeah, perhaps." He looked sullen. Harry couldn't stand the thought of a connection between his mother and Snape. And now this connection might be meaningful and necessary? He didn't like this one bit.

"Perhaps it merely means that we should look twice at Slytherins and maybe make friends with some of them?" Ron mused. "You said yourself that Malfoy wasn't all that bad, after all, Harry. And now he's dead. Maybe some of them don't want to go to He ... err ... Voldemort?"

"That's as good a guess as any other, I think." Hermione said. But I don't think we should waste too much time with a prophecy. And from Trelawney... All she does is give cryptic warnings. No one can decipher them, so they don't help anyone, and in Harry's case they're an added danger. Haven't we more important things to do?"

"Yes, like going to McGonagall's office," Harry suddenly remembered, and they shot to their feet and ran to the portrait hole.

"It's good to have you here, all three of you." Minerva McGonagall beamed when they came to her office. The gargoyle had been expecting them and revealed the hidden staircase as soon as they approached the alcove.

"Do you want tea, or some elf-made wine perhaps? I also have some mead, or Butterbeer... But I do draw the line at offering Firewhisky to students." She smiled mischievously and poured a glass for herself.

Harry found it strange to be treated like an adult by a teacher, especially Professor McGonagall, who had known them since they were eleven years old.

"I'd like some wine, thank you," Hermione said, and Ron asked for the same.

"Tea, if you don't mind, Professor," Harry said. "What did you want to talk to us about?"

Minerva McGonagall smiled gently. "I wanted to show you where the Order resides and how to get there. We will have an Order meeting in three days, and I want to give you full membership then."

"Are you the new head of the Order then, Professor?" Hermione asked.

"Only Interim Head, if you can call it that. We aren't certain if and how the Order can continue... And please, do call me Minerva, all of you, when we're in private." She looked at each of them in turn.

"Err... So will the Order accept us?" Harry asked doubtfully. He still remembered the fuss Molly Weasley had made when Sirius had told them too many details about Order meetings.

"Yes, it will. You can count on that," Minerva McGonagall said grimly. "I know what you're thinking, Harry, and yes, Molly is still against it." She glanced apologetically at Ron, who looked embarrassed. "Molly is a very kind woman, and she cares deeply about you, all of you." Harry and Hermione nodded and Ron blushed, although he did look a bit happier now. "She feels like she has to protect you, but she needs to accept that you are grown-ups now, as sad as it is. Albus tried to give you something resembling a normal childhood, Harry, but maybe that was a mistake. Maybe he should have told you about your difficult burden earlier. I really don't know...."

Harry swallowed, his throat suddenly felt tight. "He taught me to love, Minerva." The first name of his professor and former Head of House rolled surprisingly smoothly from his tongue. "If he had made me a weapon early on, trained me for my destiny without giving me the opportunity to make friends, to learn to love the wizarding world...."

Harry paused. All of a sudden, he felt an odd understanding for Voldemort. He had seen the boy Tom Riddle, who hadn't known any love in his life until he forced himself on other people. A boy who was ambitious and never learned about his limits. A boy who abused the powers he found himself with. Not for the first time, Harry thought that he might have developed like that if he had found out about his powers earlier. But the Dursleys had kept him so subdued... He shuddered. Should he be thankful that they had taught him modesty? He did learn some kind of discipline while living with them after all... but that was certainly giving them too much credit. They hadn't done all that to do him, Harry, a favour. Their reasons for treating him as they did were purely selfish ones, and he owed them very little thanks.

"I know what I have to do, and I am grateful for the time I had at Hogwarts. Hogwarts always felt like a true home to me, no little thanks to you, Minerva." He smiled at her and saw that her eyes widened briefly and then misted over.

"Oh, Harry, it is heart-warming to see you so grown up. I am so proud of you." She searched for a handkerchief and blew her nose noisily. "Anyway, it's late, and perhaps we should wait until tomorrow for our visit to the new headquarters. But let me just tell you, it's in the Chamber of Secrets." She winked at them.

"How did you get there?" Hermione blurted out.

"After Harry's ordeal with Tom and the basilisk, Albus closed the door to the girl's bathroom and created a few new doors that lead to the dungeons and to the lake. You don't need to speak Parseltongue these days to access the chamber. But that fact isn't generally known, and no one will suspect anything. You can float in and out with an enchanted boat. The Anti-Apparition spells end somewhat around the middle of the lake. Order members can just float out secretly and then Disapparate. The boats will return to their place on their own."

"Won't people notice boats floating on the lake?" Hermione asked sceptically.

"Not when they're under a Disillusionment Charm, Hermione." McGonagall smiled mildly.

"Oh...." Hermione still didn't seem convinced. "And Snape, doesn't he know about the new doors?"

"The chamber is under a Fidelius Charm. You will see for yourself, but now you should go to bed... Oh, one more thing... I talked to Madame Pince. The library is open all summer, as always, so you all can use it. You, Hermione, may access the Restricted Section, but only you. You must have quite a reputation with Madame Pince."

"Well... We both love books, I'd say." Hermione looked delighted. "The Restricted Section? Thank you, err... Minerva."

"Before we go, may I ask you for a favour?" Harry interrupted.

"Anything I can give you, Harry. What is it?"

"Could I talk to Professor Dumbledore's portrait, please?" Harry's face was tense with anticipation.

"I'm afraid that won't be possible," McGonagall said sadly. When she saw the stormy expression on Harry's face, she quickly added, "He hasn't spoken to anyone. He just sleeps. He hasn't opened his mouth once in the miniature portrait I have here." She showed them a locket, not unlike the one they were searching for.

"Perhaps he'll want to talk to me?" Harry blushed, realising how conceited that sounded, but he had to try; he needed to talk to Dumbledore, or what remained of him in this world.

Minerva McGonagall blinked in surprise. "You can try, Harry. His portrait is over there, last in the line of former Headmasters." She sighed when he stood up to go there and poured herself another glass of Firewhisky. Ron and Hermione remained where they were, staring at their hands in embarrassed silence.

Harry stood in front of the portrait and studied the painting of his former mentor and friend. Like all the portraits at Hogwarts, it was so detailed that it could have been a photograph. Dumbledore looked peaceful. He sat in an armchair, his head against the backrest, eyes closed; deep breaths were dilating his nostrils and blowing a wisp of white hair in the air in a steady rhythm.

"Professor Dumbledore?" Harry whispered, not daring to speak loudly. There was no response. Harry cleared his throat and tried again, a bit louder. "Professor Dumbledore? It's Harry..." The old man didn't move, not even the rhythm of his breathing changed. Nothing indicated that he had heard him. "Why won't you talk to me?" Harry whispered again. "I need you so desperately..." He stared at the painting, willing Dumbledore to react, but in vain. Finally, he gave up and dejectedly slunk back to the others.

Professor McGonagall smiled sadly. "He will talk when the time is right, Harry. We all need him; we all miss him. And don't forget, talking to his portrait doesn't bring him back. It is only a shadow of him, an imprint he left behind. We have to continue without him. Without his advice...."

Harry swallowed and nodded. "Thank you for the tea, Minerva. I think I'd better go to bed now." Hermione and Ron had emptied their glasses, thanked the Headmistress, and together they went back to Gryffindor Tower.

"That was a bit disappointing," Hermione said.

"A bit?" Harry glared at her. "I don't know where to start! I had relied on getting advice from Dumbledore. This is a major setback." His voice was rough, and he made an effort not to shout.

"We have other means of continuing with the search, Harry. And you will have to rely on yourself in the end, anyway. You always did, even as a child." She shook her head in wonder. "When we went past Fluffy, down that trapdoor... Don't you remember? Ron and I helped you, but in the end it was you and Voldemort. Dumbledore wasn't there; we weren't there. It was just you, your mother's protection, and him. And you came out of it alive, and Voldemort was defeated. Harry, you faced him as an eleven-year-old boy. Just think how much you've learned in the meantime. You are on your own, but you are prepared. And we are here to help you as long as we can..."

Her eyes shone, her face was flushed, and Harry thought she looked beautiful. In that moment, he loved her deeply for the person and friend she was already, and the woman she was slowly becoming. She was more trusted than a sister and almost as beloved as a lover, though that love was pure, unique and completely free of any sexual undercurrent. For a moment Harry marvelled about his own thoughts, and then he shook himself. Of course he cared for Hermione, just as he cared for Ron. They were his best friends, weren't they? This was different from his feelings for Ginny, but he had known that all along anyway, hadn't he? He took a deep breath and tried to concentrate his thoughts on the problem at hand again.

"You have a lot of faith in me, Hermione. I wish you'd remember that next time you boss me around for not doing my homework on time."

Hermione laughed. "You've been so serious tonight, Harry, so... err... grown-up." She winced. "I can't believe I said that..." All three of them laughed.

"Anyway," Ron finally said when they had caught their breath again, "what everyone is trying to tell you, you dunce, is that you're a power to be reckoned with. I bet that, err... Voldemort has realised this as well, so there's no reason to let your head swell, really."

That had them laughing again, and they were still chuckling when they finally went to bed.