The Forgotten Twin

Chapter 2

He smiled at Harry to show he was not being snubbed, and that he had permission to keep asking questions.

"Sir — I got a Ministry of Magic leaflet by owl, about security measures we should all take against the Death Eaters...."

"Yes, I received one myself," said Dumbledore, still smiling. "Did you find it useful?"

"Not really."

"No, I thought not. You have not asked me, for instance, what is my favorite flavor of jam, to check that I am indeed Professor Dumbledore and not an impostor."

"I didn't ..." Harry began. He probably didn't know if he was being reprimanded, but Dumbledore wouldn't do that to him.

"For future reference, Harry, it is raspberry ... although of course, if I were a Death Eater, I would have been sure to research my own jam preferences before impersonating myself."

Exactly why the whole thing was pointless.

"Er ... right," said Harry. "Well, on that leaflet, it said something about Inferi. What exactly are they? The leaflet wasn't very clear."

"They are corpses," said Dumbledore calmly. "Dead bodies that have been bewitched to do a Dark wizard's bidding. Inferi have not been seen for a long time, however, not since Voldemort was last powerful. ... He killed enough people to make an army of them, of course. This is the place, Harry, just here. ..."

Delilah sighed. Just as the conversation was getting interesting....

They were nearing a small, neat stone house set in its own garden. As they reached the front gate, Dumbledore stopped dead and Harry walked into him, but Delilah managed to stop before she ran into Harry.

"Oh dear. Oh dear, dear, dear."

Delilah followed his gaze up the carefully tended front path and felt her heart sink. The front door was hanging off its hinges. Dumbledore glanced up and down the street. It seemed quite deserted.

"Wand out and follow me, Harry," he said quietly.

He opened the gate and walked swiftly and silently up the garden path, Harry at his heels, Delilah watching their backs, then pushed the front door very slowly, his wand raised and at the ready.

"Lumos."

Dumbledore's wand tip ignited, casting its light up a narrow hallway. To the left, another door stood open.

Holding his illuminated wand aloft, Dumbledore walked into the sitting room with Harry and Delilah following behind.

A scene of total devastation met their eyes. A grandfather clock lay splintered at their feet, its face cracked, its pendulum lying a little farther away like a dropped sword. A piano was on its side, its keys strewn across the floor. The wreckage of a fallen chandelier glittered nearby. Cushions lay deflated, feathers oozing from slashes in their sides; fragments of glass and china lay like powder over everything.

Dumbledore raised his wand even higher, so that its light was thrown upon the walls, where something darkly red and glutinous was spattered over the wallpaper. Harry gave a small intake of breath that made Dumbledore look around.

"Not pretty, is it?" he said heavily. "Yes, something horrible has happened here."

Dumbledore moved carefully into the middle of the room, scrutinizing the wreckage at his feet. Delilah followed, gazing around, hoping not to find any remains hidden behind the wreck of the piano or the overturned sofa, but there was no sign of any.

"Maybe there was a fight and — and they dragged him off, Professor?" Harry suggested.

"I don't think so," said Dumbledore quietly, peering behind an overstuffed armchair lying on its side.