Harry Potter and the Final Chapter

The Cruz of the Problem

Early the next morning, just after seven-thirty, Harry and Albus flooed to the Ministry. That morning, Harry didn't do something he had done every day for five years. He forgot to check the book to see if any new text had appeared. He had been awake most of the night trying to figure out what to say to Albus, and he forgot about the book completely in the morning.

Harry and Albus left the Ministry and walked toward the Wizarding Museum of London. On the way, Harry tried to bring up the subject of Carly though he still wasn't sure what to say.

"So, Al, I noticed you and Carly haven't been talking much lately," said Harry. "Is everything all right between you two?"

"Fine," said Albus. His tone was flat and emotionless.

"Anything you want to talk about?" asked Harry. "There is nothing you can't talk to me about."

"No," said Albus in the same tone.

Albus knew his father was trying to find out what was going on between him and Carly, but Albus didn't want to talk about it. Albus was so angry with himself for reacting the way he did, and he couldn't tell anyone what happened. He knew he had to get up the courage to talk to Carly, but he was sure she could never forgive him for running away from her like he did. He could never forgive himself for it.

Harry wasn't sure where to begin, so he thought he would wait until after the museum and try again. Harry knew he was really just stalling for time to think of what to say.

The Wizarding Museum of London was fairly nondescript to Muggle eyes, enchanted to look like an abandoned warehouse. To magical eyes, however, it was a beautiful cathedral like building, housing countless treasures of the Wizarding world.

As happened anywhere that Harry went, many people pointed and stopped to watch him as he passed. Harry and Albus made there way to the Curator's Office, and Harry knocked on the door.

"Come in," called a female voice from the other side of the door.

Harry and Albus entered the office.

"Harry," said Susan with a smile, "I haven't seen you in years, how are you?" Susan stood from behind her desk and greeted Harry with a hug. "It's so great to see you Harry."

"You too, Susan," said Harry with a smile. "Susan, this is my son Al."

"Pleased to meet you," said Albus, sticking out his hand for her to shake it.

Susan shook Albus's hand. "My you look just like your father when he was in school. I can almost picture you teaching us at the D.A. meetings, Al."

"You were a member of Dumbledore's Army?" asked Albus. He was sure his father had mentioned it once, but he had forgotten.

"Yes, I was...I am," said Susan with a grin. "Once a member, always a member...Zacharias Smith being the possible exception. Your father taught me, and so many others, how to defend ourselves. We owe him a great deal...many of us owe him our lives."

"I wouldn't really go that far," said Harry embarrassedly. "I just showed you how to do the spells. You all had to learn them, you had the hard job."

"He is a really great teacher," said Albus with a smile.

"And he's far too modest," said Susan.

"Yeah, he is," said Albus with a grin.

"Well, I'm sure you're anxious to examine the books," said Susan changing the subject since Harry was starting to blush. "Let me get them, I'll be right back. Please have a seat at the table."

Susan left her office via a side door. Albus and Harry sat at a large polished wood conference table on one side of the office.

Albus examined the room. There were filing cabinets along one wall, with many papers in need of filing on top of them. The desk was simple, and covered with papers. It was obvious a lot of paperwork was done in here. The only decorative item in the office was a painting above the fireplace. It was not a portrait whose occupant could move, but an actual painting. It appeared to show a wizard with a flowing white beard being attacked by a cloaked figure with a sword. Albus thought it was odd, the sword looked like it was the centerpiece of the painting, as if the two wizards were less important. The sword itself was quite odd. It was painted as if it was made of black metal, and seemed to have some kind of gem set into the handle. The gem almost seemed to shine right out of the painting.