What Lies Ahead

Fourteen

The final week of term was usually a time of excitement that every student looked forward to. The days after exams were spent outside on the lawns relaxing in the summer sun. Nights were long, stretching almost until dawn,  joking and laughing with friends. It was when they savored their remaining time together before boarding the train back home. 

This year was no different for some. The mandrake potion had been a success and those who had been petrified were making a full recovery. Anticipation ran rampant through the corridors as friends waited impatiently to be reunited, but for one group the excitement was over shadowed by a somber reality.

Harry had been stuck in the Headmaster's office for over a week and despite his pleading had not been allowed to rejoin his classmates. Professor Dumbledore had also been absent since their meeting with the Minister. He had left no reason other then that he would explain everything on his return. It gauled Harry to not have any idea what was going on around him. 

Laughter floated up through the open window and his fingers tightened around the copy of the Daily Prophet he had been lazily scanning. He had made it a habit to look over every paper in hopes that he might come across some sign of Voldemort's movements. So far his efforts had been in vain. 

Crumbling up the thin paper, he tossed it across the room in frustration. He rose to his feet and began to pace the office as his thoughts whirled with ludicrous ideas of what Voldemort was doing. Not knowing was the root of his anger but it was greatly increased by the simple fact that Dumbledore didn't seem to trust him. Why else was he being kept hidden away? 

Another round of laughter interrupted his brooding, and something inside him snapped.  Turning wildly to the door, he seized the handle and began to twist frantically.  If Dumbledore wanted him, then he could damn well come find him. Unfortunately, the handle didn't budge. For a long moment he stared down at the brass knob, to shocked to comprehend; then,  the floodgates holding back his anger broke unleashing a wave of pure rage.

He hammered his fist painfully against the unforgiving wood, unsure what he hoped to accomplish. When it was clear he would not be able to break it down, he spun on his heel and marched back towards the desk. A mixture of anger and betrayal churned inside him, feeding his burning desire to destroy everything around him.

He took several deep breaths as he reached the edge of the desk, hoping to still the beast clawing at his chest. Professor Dumbledore had a reason for all of this, he assured himself; but deep inside him a small voice of doubt resonated up to shake his confidence.  Grabbing a small glass ball from the Headmaster's desk, he hurled it towards the door with an angry cry.

The ball struck the wall just as the office door was pushed open. Professor Dumbledore stood in the frame, eyebrows raised as glass fragments ricocheted around him.  He blinked and then casually stepped into the room as if unaware that he had nearly missed being hit in the head. 

Harry's face went from angry, to shock, to embarrassment all in quick secession. His eyes followed Dumbledore as he shed his traveling cloak to a nearby hanger and then seated himself behind his desk. Opening his mouth, he was prepared to offer up some sort of apology,  but the Headmaster waved him off and instead motioned for him to take a seat. 

"Being cooped up in this office day after day isn't easy," he said with a twinkle in his blue eyes. "And I am sure that my lack of explanation has made it that more difficult." 

"The truth is," Dumbledore continued with a weary expression. "I have been hesitant to share my theories with you because that is all I have, theories.  I have found no sufficient evidence to reinforce any of my speculations. However,  I promised you answers and I am a man of my word."