章節 43: Veils of Secrecy
Why had Harry been left with the Dursleys? Was it to keep him away from fame? To protect him from Death Eaters? Surely it'd be safer in a magical household who could cast defensive spells, right? And if Dumbledore hadn't wanted Harry to be famous, why had he told the whole world that Harry had been the one to defeat Voldemort in the first place? Hell, no one even knew for sure what had happened that night! Everything the magical world knew came from Dumbledore, and the more Harry thought about it, the more suspicious things seemed.
Harry growled in annoyance to himself and leaned back on the bench, letting the cold air take away some of the anger in him. As the anger left him, Harry was left with a soothing sensation in his chest.
Ever since visiting his parent's graves yesterday, things had felt different for the scrawny ten-year-old. Realizing his parents had loved him had been hard to accept. Even if Edward had been so sure of it, Harry had still been uncertain of the truth himself.
Yet kneeling in front of their tombstones, realizing they'd done everything for him, including die to protect him, it was as if he'd felt something warm wrapping around his entire body, all the way from his head to his toes. His scar had hurt for a moment, but then it'd faded, and it no longer itched like it had throughout his life. He wasn't sure why, and he hadn't mentioned it to Edward as he hadn't wanted to worry his friend, yet deep inside of him, Harry instinctively knew it was a good thing, and not harmful at all.
After a bit, Harry stood up and made his way back home. He didn't want to go back, but he knew that it wouldn't be long before he was free. He'd waited ten years. He could wait a few more months.
Dumbledore POV
Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, sighing heavily. He'd just gotten back from another Wizengamot meeting, and it'd been as tiresome as he'd come to expect. Why did they schedule the last session of the year right after Christmas? Everyone was too stuffed with Christmas feasts to do any actual governing.
He shook his head and shot a glance over at the assortment of odds and ends he'd collected over the years. His office was filled with all sorts of items, magical of course, that did all kinds of esoteric effects, ranging from pointless to useful. One silver bobble shaped like a thermometer measured the amount of ambient magic in a small patch of land ten miles from Stonehenge. Another one that looked like a tangled mess of copper wire and beads calculated the position and movement of Venus.
Yet the object he focused on this time was a spindle-shaped beryl, which spun in place on a small marble disc. It was an incredible item he had discovered in his youth. A Ward Stone Sensor, designed to anchor itself to Blood Wards and detect any fluctuations in the barrier it was attuned to. And the one it was currently connected to was the Blood Wards he'd set up around Number Four, Privet Drive.
Yesterday, the sensor had glowed. He wasn't sure how or why, but somehow, the barriers had become stronger. Strong enough that Privet Drive was acting like it was almost under a Fidelius. Only those who knew that Harry was living there would be able to find him. Otherwise, the house would basically be undetectable. This was good, in Dumbledore's opinion. The fewer people who knew where Harry was, the safer he'd be.
'Still, did Petunia have another child?' he wondered, curious. Mrs. Figg hadn't reported anything like that, but it was possible it simply wasn't obvious yet. That was the only reason he could think of for the Blood Wards growing stronger, since it was connected to the number of blood relatives related to Harry living with the boy.
After a bit more thought, he shrugged and looked away, attention turning to the bane of all men, paperwork. He had school forms to fill out, and he also had to start looking for a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. He'd seen enough of the damned 'curse' on the position to know that Mrs. Hatburn would be leaving them a week before the end of the school year. And, from how she'd had only a few 'accidents' so far, the curse's 'finale' would be painful and crippling. The fewer cases of bad luck the DADA teacher suffered throughout the time they spent teaching, the worse their fate at the end of the year. Lucky for Mrs. Hatburn, she'd had a nasty slip on some ice last week and broke both legs, so the odds of her dying on the job were lower now.
Thinking about the curse made Dumbledore's mind drift to the one who'd cast the damned thing. Voldemort. Someone who should have been a blessing he could have used to unify the wizarding world had only divided it further.
The Gaunts had been the last surviving descendants of Salazar Slytherin, and though they'd fallen far from grace, they still had many old secrets and of course, a number of unique magical talents, Parseltongue being the least among them. Groomed properly, the half-blood Tom Riddle Jr. could have been a bridge between the magical and muggle worlds, useful in keeping the blood purists and the muggleborn in line. It had been his plan to use Tom Riddle Jr. to oppose Grindelwald's magical purity ideology.
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