Finding Heather

Year 5 Chapter 17

Author's Notes: Ok I just want to put here that if I could really change things, no one in this series would die except for Voldemort, his followers, and Fudge. However, I'm writing this story following as closely to canon as I can with only a few minor exceptions. So, I'm sorry for not saving anyone who is supposed to be killed, but here we go.

Chapter Seventeen

When Harry slammed into the floor of the headmaster's office, he simply lay there for a minute, exhaustion, grief, and anger filling him in equal measure. The room, which had been sealed since Dumbledore had left all those months ago, seemed to have repaired itself, with the tables righted and their small tinkling objects fixed. When Harry finally garnered the will to raise himself up, he found that the door was locked, keeping him from leaving. The sun was rising outside the window, and he collapsed into one of the chairs in front of the desk, trying to get a handle on everything he was feeling.

It had been a trap, and he had walked right into it. Voldemort had wanted him to go and showed him the only thing that would have gotten him to leave Hogwarts, his godfather. The only adult who knew and loved Heather, who Harry would do anything for. And now he was gone. He, and Harry's friends, had paid the price for his stupidity. With a surge of hatred Harry remembered holding his wand on Bellatrix Lestrange, Sirius's cousin, and murderer, trying to find the will to kill her as she lay on the floor of the Ministry Atrium.

Wish a roar and a flash of green Dumbledore stepped out of the fireplace, looking far older than Harry had ever seen him. From his pocket he pulled a small Fawkes and set him on his perch, gently stroking his head.

"You should know Harry, that you're friends will be alright, and the Minister of Magic himself saw Voldemort tonight. Even now word of his return is spreading. The people know you were right." Dumbledore said, sitting down behind his desk and looking at Harry kindly.

Deep within his chest the feeling of wanting to strike the old man returned. Angrily, Harry walked to the door and tried to open it again. He didn't want to hear anything Dumbledore had to say. He'd been ignoring Harry for a year, and now wanted to talk? No, Harry wasn't going to listen.

"Let me out" he growled; anger barely being held back.

"No" Dumbledore said gently.

"LET ME OUT!" Harry roared, causing many of the portraits on the wall to murmur with disapproval.

"No Harry, I won't. Not until you've listened to what I have to say. You aren't nearly as angry with me as you should be, and you deserve to hear the truth."

Despite himself, Harry remained quiet, waiting for the next words Dumbledore would speak.

"I know you are close to attacking me, Harry. And I cannot blame you for that. You could even say I deserve it. Because Sirius's death is my fault.

"What?" asked Harry incredulously.

"Please, sit down and I'll tell you everything." Dumbledore said, still in his calm and measured tone.

Blankly, Harry walked back to the chair and felt his knees give way, dropping him into it. Dumbledore began to speak, telling Harry about his scar, and the connection with Voldemort's mind. Dumbledore had known that Harry had sensed Voldemort in his mind at Christmas and had feared the day that Voldemort would try and use Harry to get to him. That was why he had distanced himself all year, so as to protect both of them.

"That is why I had you study Occlumency with Professor Snape, Harry. Any why I did not instruct you in the subject myself."

"I'd wondered about that" murmured Harry. He was still raging inside and halfway didn't want to keep listening, but Dumbledore had caught his attention and was holding tight to it.