𝐑𝐄𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒-ℍ𝕒𝕣𝕣𝕪 ℙ𝕠𝕥𝕥𝕖𝕣❥

𝐇𝐁𝐏 𝟕

Emily waited until she was quite sure she had gone, then hurried off again until they reached the spot in the seventh-floor corridor where a single gargoyle stood against the wall.

"Acid Pops," said Harry.

The gargoyle leapt aside; the wall behind it slid apart, and a moving spiral stone staircase was revealed, on to which Harry and Emily stepped, so that they were carried in smooth circles up to the door with the brass knocker that led to Dumbledore's office.

Harry knocked.

"Come in," said Dumbledore's voice.

"Good evening, sir," said Emily, walking into the Headmaster's office hoping Dumbledore would be pleased she had come.

"Ah, good evening, Emily. I had a feeling you would visit. Sit down," said Dumbledore, smiling. "I hope you've had an enjoyable first week back at school?"

"Yes thanks, sir," said Harry.

"You must have been busy, a detention under your belt already!"

"Er ..." began Harry awkwardly, but Dumbledore did not look too stern.

"I have arranged with Professor Snape that you will do your detention next Saturday instead."

"Right," said Harry, who had more pressing matters on his mind than Snape's detention.

Emily now looked around surreptitiously for some indication of what Dumbledore was planning to do with Harry that evening.

The circular office looked just as it always did: the delicate silver instruments stood on spindle- legged tables, puffing smoke and whirring; portraits of previous headmasters and headmistresses dozed in their frames; and Dumbledore's magnificent phoenix, Fawkes, stood on his perch behind the door, watching Emily and Harry with bright interest.

And, to Emily's relief, It did not even look as though Dumbledore had cleared a space for duelling practice.

"So, Harry," said Dumbledore, in a businesslike voice. "You have been wondering, I am sure, what I have planned for you during these – for want of a better word – lessons?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, I have decided that it is time, now that you know what prompted Lord Voldemort to try and kill you fifteen years ago, for you to be given certain information."

There was a pause.

Emily shook as she heard the word "kill", she hated it. That word was like a start to flashbacks she did not want to relive.

"You said, at the end of last term, you were going to tell me everything," said Harry. It was hard to keep a note of accusation from his voice. "Sir,"
he added.

"And so I did," said Dumbledore placidly. "I told you everything I know. From this point forth, we shall be leaving the firm foundation of fact and journeying together through the murky marshes of memory into thickets of wildest guesswork. From hereon in, Harry, I may be as woefully wrong as Humphrey Belcher, who believed the time was ripe for a cheese cauldron."

"But you think you're right?" Emily joined in.

"Naturally I do, but as I have already proven to you, I make mistakes like the next man. In fact, being – forgive me – rather cleverer than most men, my mistakes tend to be correspondingly huger."

"Sir," said Harry tentatively, "does what you're going to tell me have anything to do with the prophecy? Will it help me ... survive?"

"It has a very great deal to do with the prophecy," said Dumbledore, as casually as if Harry had asked him about the next day's weather, "and I certainly hope that it will help you to survive."