Chapter Seven – Secrets
Harry and Lupin left Professor Trelawney snoring softly in the grass. They headed back across the grounds to the castle in silence. Harry was thinking about the surprising visit with his godfather. The vestiges of guilt that had remained with him ever since Sirius had fallen through the veil had disappeared like the mist on the lake. Sirius did not blame him. Sirius still loved him. Harry’s heart felt lighter than it had in months. He glanced at Professor Lupin. “Remus? Are you okay?”
Remus let out a long sigh. “Yes, Harry,” he answered. “I am okay. I still can’t believe that we could actually talk to Sirius again. He sounded well, didn’t he?”
Harry agreed. “He sounded just like Padfoot.”
Remus grinned. “Yes. Exactly like Padfoot. Harry, I think I should get an owl to Dumbledore about this. What about you going up to your dormitory for a rest? I did promise Madame Pomfrey I wouldn’t overtire you.”
Harry had wanted to go over to the Quidditch pitch and tell Ron and the others what had just happened, but he was tired, and agreed. Lupin walked him up to the Gryffindor tower and saw him safely inside the portrait hole before going up to the owlery. Harry crossed the deserted common room and climbed the stairs to his room, still thinking about Sirius. As he lay down on his four-poster, something on his night table caught his eye.
It was a small, flat parcel. Harry remembered that Hedwig had delivered it from the Dursleys on Christmas, before he went to the Hospital wing. He hadn’t thought much of it then, and still didn’t, but decided to open it anyway. It was very light – too light for the threat of socks. He pulled off the paper and opened the box.
Inside he found the last thing he ever expected to receive from the Dursleys. Waving up at him from a photograph was his mother, and Aunt Petunia - both smiling happily with their arms around each other.
Harry was astounded. He lifted the picture carefully from the box. Underneath he found a second photograph – this one a Muggle photo of an elderly couple sitting together on a park bench, holding hands and smiling. Who were they? Harry turned the picture over and saw handwriting he did not recognize – “Robert and Christine Evans, 50th anniversary.”
Harry turned the picture over and looked at it again. Yes, he could just make out streaks of red in the woman’s gray hair, and thought he could see green eyes on the man. Could it be - Harry’s grandparents?
He turned his attention back to the other photograph, where the two Evans sisters were still smiling and waving. Aunt Petunia in a wizard photo? Who could have taken it? he thought. He rummaged through the box again, looking for a note of some kind. He found one, written on pale green paper in a feminine hand. It was from Aunt Petunia.
Dear Harry,
I know you will be surprised to receive this. I have saved this picture for a long time, and thought you might now like to have it. It was taken during the summer holidays when Lily and I were 15 and 16 years old. The other photograph is of my parents, your grandparents. Please do not let Vernon know I have given these to you. Happy Christmas.
Sincerely,
Petunia Dursley
Harry stared at the note. Should he write back? No, Uncle Vernon would notice if an owl came swooping through the kitchen window. He couldn’t imagine why Aunt Petunia had given him these photographs. Did she realize how precious they would be to him? And what had happened to make her so angry with his mother for all those years if they had once been such good friends? Harry had been so startled last year to hear that Aunt Petunia knew about Azkaban, and what Dementors were. What else did she know about the wizarding world? Well, about moving pictures, obviously. He wondered if Professor Dumbledore might tell him more about his aunt. Or maybe Lupin would know; he seemed to have known his mother well, maybe he knew about her sister, too. Harry had never thought to ask him.
Harry lay down on his bed and contemplated the mysterious arrival of the photographs. He couldn’t wait to show them to Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. They should be back soon….
The curtained room was dark, with only a few candles flickering on the desk for light. Standing before him was a hooded figure of slight build. Harry asked in a high, cold voice, “Well? Is it done?” He was not happy.
“My Lord,” drawled a familiar voice, “it … didn’t go according to plan. He lives, my Lord.” The voice was shaking
Harry was silent in his fury. “How can that be? Tell me, my young disciple.”
“Please, my Lord – it wasn’t my fault. They found an antidote to the poison.”
“There is no antidote! This is not possible. You have failed me.”
“No!” The drawling voice was panicked now, and the young man before him dropped to his knee. “No, Master, it wasn’t me! He found an antidote!”
Harry’s eyes narrowed. “Whom?”
“It was …it was Professor Snape,” said the figure, bowing his head and sinking to the floor. “Professor Snape.”
“NOOOO!” screamed Harry. His scar burned with fire as his head split apart. He forced himself, through the blinding pain, to remember what he had been practicing with Dumbledore, to remember his occlumency. He took several deep, gulping breaths, and tried to force his mind closed, force the image of Voldemort out of it, force away the hatred. The pain subsided somewhat. Harry tried to stand. He had to get to Dumbledore; he had to find Snape.
Harry stumbled out onto the landing just as Ron and Ginny came into the common room. Ginny took one look at him and flew up the staircase, Ron right behind her. “Harry! Harry, what happened? Ron, he’s white as a ghost! Get Madame Pomfrey!”
“No,” Harry managed. “Snape – get Snape.”
Ron stared. “Snape? Blimey – he’s lost his mind!”
Harry calmed with Ginny’s cool hands on his forehead. “No, Ron! Voldemort’s going to kill him. He’s been found out. We have to warn him! Do you know where he is? Was he at breakfast?”
“No,” Ginny answered. “We haven’t seen him since last night.”
“Should we get Dumbledore?” asked Ron as he pulled Harry’s arm over his shoulder.
Harry remembered that the headmaster was gone. He wondered if Remus had been able to reach him by owl. The pain in his head was lessening, but he still felt weak, and was glad for Ron’s shoulder. He tried to think clearly.
“Go for Lupin – Ginny, you go, you’re the fastest. He was going up to the owlery. Ron and I will go look for Snape.”
Ron swallowed. “We will?”
“Harry – be careful!” Ginny hugged him tightly and was off like a rocket.
“Yeah, I’ll be careful too, shall I?” called Ron after her.
Harry leaned on Ron. “C’mon. We’ve got to get to Snape before Voldemort does.”
“Right,” said Ron, and they started down the stairs. They met Hermione, loaded down with books, coming through the portrait hole.
She jumped back, startled. “Ron! Harry! What’s wrong? Harry, are you okay? You don’t look at all well….”
Harry cut her off. “Hermione, we’ve got to find Snape. Have you seen him?”
“No, he’s not here. I heard him tell Professor McGonagal he had to go into Hogsmeade to meet Draco and his mother. Draco has to re-take his potions mid-term.”
Harry and Ron looked at each other. “Get the cloak,” said Harry. Ron raced upstairs, with Hermione sputtering beside the Fat Lady.
“The cloak! Harry, what are you talking about? You’re in no condition to go anywhere! What’s going on?”
Ron returned with Harry’s invisibility cloak. “Hermione, I saw Voldemort. He’s going to kill Snape. Dumbledore’s not here and we don’t have any time to waste!”
“You saw him? Harry… are you sure?” Hermione looked skeptical.
“Hermione, I know what you’re thinking, but I know this was different than when I saw Sirius. It’s something Dumbledore taught me; I can’t explain it. And even if I could, I wouldn’t have time.” Harry wrapped the cloak around himself and Ron. Hermione yanked it off again. She looked formidable. “Ron,” she began.
“It’s no good, Hermione. I’m going with Harry. Try to contact Dumbledore; we don’t know where he is.” Ron threw his arm around Hermione and kissed her hard. She looked stunned. Harry looked away. “We’ll be alright,” Ron told her.
“Oh, no, you don’t, Ronald Weasley.” She stepped close to Ron and threw the cloak around all three of them. “Let’s go,” she said.
There was no time to argue. Moving as quickly as they could under the cloak, they made their way to the hump-backed witch, tapped her hump, and entered the tunnel that would take them to Hogsmeade.
Harry’s scar was now just aching dully, and the cool underground air refreshed him enough that he no longer needed to lean on Ron. They jogged through the tunnel, and Harry told Ron and Hermione what he had seen in his vision.
“So you saw Draco bowing to Lord Voldemort?” Hermione puffed between Harry and Ron.
“Yeah,” he answered. “He was the one who poisoned me.”
Hermione went red. “I know.”
Harry nearly stumbled on the uneven floor of the tunnel. “You knew? You knew Draco Malfoy poisoned me and you didn’t bother to mention it?”
“Please don’t be angry, Harry. I really wanted to tell you, but you were unconscious, remember? And last night when you woke up, Professor Dumbledore told me not to say anything. I’ve .…I’ve been following Draco.”
Ron stopped dead. “WHAT? You’ve been following Malfoy? How come I didn’t know anything about this? Hermione, what’s going on?”
Hermione looked near tears. “I’ve been working on a special project. Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagal have been helping me.”
“’Mione, what are you talking about?” asked an exasperated Harry. “We don’t have time for this right now!”
“Maybe I’d just better show you.” Hermione stepped back, and closed her eyes, a look of intense concentration on her face. She seemed to be shrinking, and her brown hair was growing, until it covered her whole body. A fraction of a second later, a brown rabbit with bright eyes and a bushy brown cottontail sat before them on the dirt.
“You’re an Animagus?” cried Ron. “Oh, swell! What else about you don’t I know, Hermione?”
Hermione the rabbit twitched her nose, and sat up on her haunches. She jerked her head towards Hogsmeade.
“She’s right; we’ve got to get going. Hermione, you may as well stay that way for now, okay?” Harry was as amazed as Ron, but knew they had already lost precious time. They hurried on towards the village.
They quietly entered the cellar of Honeydukes, Harry and Ron hidden under the invisibility cloak, Hermione hopping softly behind them. They left the shop without being noticed and made for the train station, where Snape would likely be meeting the Malfoys.
“Looks like the train just got in, must’ve been late,” whispered Ron. “But it’s too crowded; I don’t see Snape.”
“Hermione,” said Harry in an undertone. “Can you get closer to the platform?”
She hopped towards the area where the passengers were disembarking, scanning the crowd. Suddenly, she sat up on her hind legs, her long ears flicking back and forth. She sniffed the air, then rushed up onto the platform.
“She’s spotted him! Good girl, Hermione, now don’t lose him!” exclaimed Harry under his breath.
Harry and Ron flattened themselves against the station wall as the crowd of passengers came their way, most of them Hogsmeade residents returning from holiday, Harry supposed. Then he saw Professor Snape walking past, followed by Draco’s mother. She looked more severe than Harry remembered, but still wore an expression of distaste. Professor Snape was carrying Mrs. Malfoy’s bag, a little brown rabbit unnoticed at his heels. They caught a glimpse of Draco, his head uncovered this time, following Snape with a doleful step. Harry opened his mind to Snape, hoping he would capture Harry’s thoughts. The professor stopped and looked around. “Pardon me, Mrs. Malfoy, I didn’t quite catch that?”
“I didn’t say anything, Professor,” said Draco’s mother, looking startled.
“Hmmm….I beg your pardon.” Snape glanced around again. Harry tried harder to get his attention. He allowed the memory of the vision he’d had earlier to again fill his thoughts. They’re going to kill you….Voldemort sent them to kill you! Harry let down all the walls of his mind to Snape. Suddenly, he felt Snape reply.
I know.