Nymphadora Tonks closed her eyes tightly after completing that report. It had been more difficult than usual, as she was not completely focused. She had felt lonely since her thirteenth birthday, especially when she saw that the others had not returned. She had come to think that something had gone wrong with the ritual they had performed, that there wasn't enough magic to bring all four of them back.
Feeling Salazar in the alley had been a surprise she was no longer expecting. She hadn't had the courage at that moment to look for him and talk to him, still remembering how everything had ended between them in the past. In her previous life, she hadn't been a warrior, despite being an excellent duellist; she had leaned more towards healing. In this new life, however, she had devoted herself to the Auror Department and was now in her final year of training. To pass this year, she had to complete a placement under a higher-ranking Auror. Moody had trained her at the academy, and she had hoped he would be the one to supervise her in this last step.
But no, the Head Auror, Scrimgeour, had decided to do away with Moody because "he was very old and paranoid." Tonks snorted in annoyance. She knew what was really happening with Scrimgeour was that he was jealous because Moody was so much better than him, even with his eyes closed. The idea made her smile. She figured Scrimgeour had pushed for the famous Auror's early retirement just to get someone out of his way who could surpass him politically.
"Are you sleeping?"
"No, Kingsley," she answered, opening her eyes and looking at the door. On the threshold stood the Auror under whom she had to conclude her placement. Kingsley Shacklebolt was a nice bloke, different from what the people in the Ministry were usually like. Someone she was beginning to consider a friend. "I was just meditating. You should try it. It's very healthy."
"It doesn't work, Nymphadora."
"Don't call me that, you know I don't like it," she protested.
"Scrimgeour wants to see us."
She hadn't expected that. Tonks knew that "the boss" gave orders to Aurors, never to trainees, so the situation was very strange. She hoped it had no relation to Sirius Black. As soon as the news of his escape had spread, she had confided in Kingsley that she was related to him; her mother was a cousin of the fugitive. She knew that not reporting the situation would have been a mistake. In any case, it was a mystery how he had escaped. No signs of dark magic had been found, which baffled everyone.
As they waited outside Scrimgeour's office—for he was meeting with the Minister for Magic—Tonks plunged back into her thoughts. She remembered well what she had done when she first woke up. She knew that the ritual they had followed was specific to resurfacing in their own bloodlines, so she had been curious to know who her parents were. She knew her current family history. Her mother was a Black who had given up everything for love, something admirable and honourable. As soon as she could, she hid in the castle and sought the answer she was looking for. The inheritance that had allowed her to re-emerge was through her father, a wizard of Muggle origin. This was proof of what one of her friends had always maintained: "magic was kept in the blood." It didn't vanish, it only hid to resurface.
She wondered what they would do with that information. There were many things about how history had gone wrong that she didn't like. Now, after some time, she could believe that these things would soon be solved. It was all the result of the feeling she had had a few days ago in the alley. She was no longer alone, although the situation had disturbed her enough to disappear at that moment.
"We have to go in. You're so odd today, Tonks."
"It's nothing."
Together they entered the office to confront their grumpy boss, closing the door behind them. It was going to be a very long day.
---
In mid-August, Harry was taking another walk down Diagon Alley when he noticed it. It was the second familiar essence he recognised; his friend was there, and he wasn't going to let him escape like the last one. With a casual gesture, he began to search, eventually pinpointing the source. It came from Neville. Neville Longbottom was his friend Godric.
He watched him from where he stood. Neville was with his grandmother, who was reproaching him for having "forgotten" his list of school supplies and many other things that would have utterly demoralised any normal thirteen-year-old. This explained Godric's behaviour over the previous two years and his profound inferiority complex. Harry hoped all that had been resolved. He could see Neville holding back, which surprised and amused him in equal measure—it was something he had not done before. After a few moments, he decided to approach.
"Hello, Neville, lovely to see you," Harry greeted with a smile on his lips. It was a charming smile, one that only those who knew him well understood the full meaning of. "This lovely woman must be your grandmother, right?"
"That's right, Harry."
"A pleasure to meet you, Mrs Longbottom."
"Harry Potter," she said, visibly pleased. "I'm delighted to meet you. Neville, you didn't tell me you were a friend of Mr Potter's."
"It hadn't come up, Grandmother," Neville replied with a shyness that Harry knew was feigned but that seemed to be enough for the old witch.
"Do you mind if I take Neville to do our shopping? I have my list of books; we can both use it. And I'm sure you have some other pressing business to attend to."
"Of course. I have some things to sort out at the bank. I'll wait for you both at the Leaky Cauldron."
"You lost it on purpose, didn't you?" Harry asked his friend once they were alone.
"I didn't exactly lose it, but since she expected me to..." Neville shrugged.
They shared a smile before entering the bookshop. Harry let Neville manage his own purchases while he delved into the history section. He had decided to research his own past. He wanted to know what had happened to tarnish his name so thoroughly. It was true that at the time, he had expressed his suspicion of Muggles and had proposed measures to ensure that students from Muggle families could not talk about the castle, both for the good of their school and for the good of those students. The idea that he would have wanted those students dead disgusted him.
He began by looking for the basics: information from a thousand years ago, information about the four of them. There wasn't much, as if it had either never been recorded or had been intentionally erased. On the other hand, he was certain that the fact that young people were less and less interested in history had something to do with it. That, and the Ministry's bans on certain texts that Hermione had mentioned last year.
"I have mine now. I thought it was Rowena who was interested in history," Neville said, approaching him.
"I want to know how they have misrepresented us all," Harry said in a whisper. "Especially how it came to be that the Chamber was supposedly my deadly weapon against Muggle students."
"What happened in the Chamber?" Neville asked, his voice low.
"I had to kill Rhea to save that girl." He felt a pang of regret now that he had regained his true being, now that he had awakened.
"I don't really know how you came up with that name," Neville mused.
"Mythology is interesting. Rhea took the risk of hiding Zeus so she could save her other children and indirectly supported them in their war against the Titans. It was an appropriate name for a hiding place."
"Let's get a drink. Then I'll need you to help me with something."
They left the bookshop and headed for the ice cream parlour. As they walked, they whispered and exchanged impressions about the subjects they had selected. Both had chosen the same electives. Neville told him which ones Dean and Seamus had selected. Harry mentioned that Hermione had taken them all, which was something he admired enormously. They took a seat at Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. The owner saw Harry and, as he had so many times that month, decided to treat him and his friend to their ice cream. Harry wasn't stupid; he knew it was due to his fame. It was something he didn't want to exploit but also didn't want to pass up entirely.
"I've already put up the privacy charms," Neville said once they were settled. "Now, tell me about the Chamber."
"As with the Philosopher's Stone, it all began out of curiosity. We first thought 'the Heir' was Draco Malfoy. We brewed Polyjuice Potion and sneaked into the Slytherin common room." Harry composed a wry smile. "Around February, we found a diary belonging to Tom Marvolo Riddle in the girls' lavatories."
"The same lavatories that were your personal laboratory?" Neville asked.
"Yes."
"It doesn't seem like a coincidence."
"Whether it was or not, it was almost better that it wasn't another student who found it. Apparently, Ginny Weasley threw it in there to get rid of it. That diary... at the time I didn't know, but now I'm certain it was a Horcrux."
"What makes you think that?" Neville's expression paled slightly with horror. That kind of magic was a sacrilege, the greatest of perversions.
"He could respond to what was written to him. He seemed to have a personality and memories. He showed me Hagrid and his acromantula as the incriminating parties. In the Chamber, he claimed to have gotten out of the diary by absorbing the energy of Ginny Weasley's soul. The spectre that was forming in the Chamber had the appearance of a young man of fifteen or sixteen."
"I see. Tom Riddle created a Horcrux as a student of the castle. That isn't a sign of a Dark wizard, but of a Dark Lord. However, we've only heard of Voldemort."
"Tom Marvolo Riddle. It's an anagram," Harry explained.
"Ah, go on."
"We deduced where the Chamber was, and when we found out that Lockhart was going down there, we innocently went to give him the information we had. He revealed himself to be a fraud and tried to erase our memories. At that moment, there was a collapse, and we were separated. I was left alone to face the basilisk." He frowned. He wasn't going into detail, leaving some things unsaid. Details he wanted to think about personally. "The Weasley girl was unconscious, and Riddle was forming. I spoke to him. He was a madman with delusions of grandeur. He called himself the Heir of Slytherin and summoned the basilisk, whom he ordered to kill me. He called me an enemy."
"That's what he must have used it for. You left her as a guardian in case enemies came."
"Now I regret not having made other specifications. The fact is, I had to kill her. Dumbledore's phoenix, Fawkes, came and dropped the Sorting Hat on me. The phoenix blinded the basilisk, and the Hat gave me your sword. The rest, I'll leave to your imagination. I destroyed the Horcrux, and the girl recovered. Physically, at least."
"The phoenixes only go to a third party when they show loyalty to their owners or when they are sent by the owners," Neville pointed out.
"I know. Even if I didn't know who I was at the time, I don't think what I said was a sign of loyalty to the headmaster or a way to take advantage of the fear that Riddle had, and still has, of him."
"What did you say to him?"
"I started to boast that thanks to him, Dumbledore had been kicked out, and I told him that he would never truly leave, that he wasn't as far away as Riddle thought."
"That's ambiguous."
Both remained silent while they finished their respective ice creams. The conversation they had was a bit complicated to have, but Harry knew he had to tell Neville, just as he would tell the girls when they met.
"He's alive. He's nothing more than a deformed spirit. I saw it when he tried to steal the Philosopher's Stone."
"If he made a Horcrux, that's normal," Neville said, his voice flat.
"He made more than one. I know this because at the moment he tried to kill me when I was fifteen months old, a fragment of his soul detached." Harry pointed to the scar on his forehead. "That indicates a great instability in his soul, in addition to having prepared the ritual beforehand. The way he was, I don't think he can do any more without completely disintegrating and scattering into millions of particles around the world."
"Blimey, how many do you think he made?"
"I don't know. Making one is already utter madness."
"Before you lift the privacy charm, how are we going to treat each other? By our original names or our current ones?"
"It depends on whether we're in private or in public, Godric," Harry said with a smile. "Admit it, it would be very strange if we called each other that at the table in the Great Hall."
"It would arouse suspicions."
Neville finally lifted the privacy charm. From outside, their conversation had been nothing more than a murmur, a string of words that were difficult to understand.
"My grandmother told me that it's been voted in the Wizengamot to put Dementors around the castle."
"Have they lost their minds? Surrounding a lot of children with creatures like that? What a brilliant idea," Harry said sarcastically.
"It's the Minister's idea, and well, many on the court just listen to him without questioning anything. My grandmother is upset, and Dumbledore... he's only agreed on the condition that they don't enter the grounds." Neville shook his head in disgust. "The guards of Azkaban by the castle. All because they think Sirius Black is going to show up at Hogwarts."
"And what would Black have missed at our school?" Harry asked.
"They won't tell me. But as soon as I find something out, I'll let you know. By the way, shall we meet up to go to the station together?"
"I can't. Ron has already decided that we'll go together. The Weasleys arrive tomorrow and are staying at the Leaky Cauldron."
"You're not one of those who just do what others decide."
"I know. But things are going to get weird enough without starting so early." Harry smiled. "Let's just say that the boy who studied the bare minimum and left everything to the last minute is going to disappear. And so is the one who acted without using his head."
"I understand, Salazar. Harry Potter is going to mature this year. I think we both will, which brings me to what I wanted to ask of you."
"Tell me."
"I can't take my original wand out of the bank until I come of age. And now I'm using my father's, Frank Longbottom's. According to my grandmother, this is how I honour my father's good name."
"What a load of rubbish. You need one that is compatible with you. Mine of holly and phoenix works very well for me, although it wasn't my first real wand—I got it before I woke up," Harry rambled for a moment before focusing. "Right then, we'll go to Ollivanders, buy a suitable wand for you, and three wand holsters."
"Why three? One for each of us should be enough."
"Firstly, because they might see us and your grandmother would be disappointed if the Saviour of the Wizarding World gets a holster for his wand and her grandson doesn't. You need to take care of your legacy, after all."
"I'll follow you. That would never have occurred to me."
Half an hour later, they entered the Leaky Cauldron with all their purchases made. Harry had made some additional ones to be sure he lacked nothing. They spoke to Mrs Longbottom and showed her the wand holsters as they had agreed upon when they left Ollivanders. They couldn't allow it to be known that their friend had acquired a wand that was truly compatible with him.
---
The night before he was due to leave for the castle, Harry had not been able to sleep well. First, there were the shouts coming from the next-door bedroom, where Ron and Percy Weasley were arguing about the annual prize badge and a stained photograph. Secondly, he kept thinking about something that had been mentioned during dinner: the Minister had lent Mr. Weasley some cars to take them all to the station the next day. From what Harry knew from Ron's comments over the previous years, his father was not held in very high regard at the Ministry, and he doubted that such vehicles would be granted to just anyone. Something was afoot. Thirdly, there were the nervous glances Mr. and Mrs. Weasley gave him whenever they mentioned Sirius Black at dinner. No, the circumstances had not been conducive to adequate sleep.
When the first rays of dawn appeared, Harry got up and dressed quickly. There was no point in staying in bed any longer if he wasn't going to sleep. He tried to fix his tangle of hair a little, so that at least he wouldn't look as if he had just got off a broom. His trunk had already been prepared the night before, so he only had to convince Hedwig to get into her cage before going down with all his luggage to the bar area of the Leaky Cauldron. Mr. Weasley was already there, eating breakfast and reading the newspaper.
"Harry! How early!"
"You know, Mr. Weasley, the excitement of starting a new term with new subjects and trips to the village."
"Third year can be exciting. That's when studies start to get serious."
Harry nodded, taking a seat beside Mr. Weasley and waiting for his usual breakfast to be served. He could see Mr. Weasley push the Daily Prophet away with a hesitant gesture, as if he weren't sure he should, and preferred Harry to see it first. It was a tense situation. Harry wanted to ask him about it, but he couldn't do it without first creating the right opportunity.
"There's something I'd like to tell you, Harry. Neither the Minister, nor Molly, nor Dumbledore would agree. I think you should know this, especially because it affects you indirectly."
"What is it about?" Harry frowned; he didn't like being kept in the dark about something he might be involved in. It felt like they wanted to keep him ignorant.
"Sirius Black escaped from Azkaban to come after you."
"He wants to kill me." It was a statement, not a question. However, there was something he didn't understand. If Black had been able to escape after twelve years, why hadn't he done it before? Why wait if the fact that he escaped indicated that he could have done so at the time? "Thanks for the warning, Mr. Weasley. I'll be careful."
"I knew you'd take it with more maturity than others give you credit for."
They couldn't say anything more on the subject. Mrs. Weasley appeared at once and joined them for breakfast. A short time later, Hermione appeared with her new cat, a small one of Kneazle descent; Harry absentmindedly scratched its ears, causing it to purr softly. The rest of the Weasleys took a little longer to get up. While they were getting organised and having breakfast, Salazar approached Tom and paid him the six Galleons that were missing from their deal at the beginning of the summer. He knew that Tom had kept his word about remaining discreet.
The journey from the Leaky Cauldron to King's Cross was quite comfortable. The Ministry's cars were limousines, in which several of them could fit comfortably without being cramped, unlike last summer with the Ford Anglia. They also had a large boot where they could leave their trunks without any problems. When Harry arrived at the station, he immediately got a luggage trolley and marched towards the barrier that separated the magical platform from the rest of the station. On his right was Mr. Weasley, and on his left was Percy, the new Gryffindor Head Boy. It was clear to him that they were keeping an eye on him.
"I'm going with Penelope," Percy said as soon as they crossed the barrier and met on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. The platform was completely crowded with watchful eyes.
Harry's skin prickled when he felt watched. He looked everywhere he could on the platform, but apparently, there was no one looking directly at him. When the twins arrived, they immediately went with Lee Jordan, probably to prepare their welcome prank for the current term. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny arrived panting.
"You've already run across, haven't you?"
"It's more fun that way, Harry," Ron observed.
"It was, until last year we crashed into the solidified barrier. From then on, I decided not to run towards any wall," Hermione retorted with a hint of a smile. "At least one of us seems to have gained some sanity."
"You ran, too," Ginny said.
"Not to be left behind. Let's find a compartment."
"Go on. I've agreed to meet with Luna."
He left the cart with the others and dragged his trunk along the platform until it was loaded onto the train. They found a compartment in which there was a sleeping man. Salazar examined him thoroughly for a few seconds, completely oblivious to the conversation taking place between Ron and Hermione regarding the man. He was pale and haggard, as if he were sick or had been ill. He had scars on his face and wore old, well-worn clothes that had been repaired several times. There was something about him that made Harry remain reserved, but both Ron and Hermione had already settled inside. Finding no reason to leave, Harry entered. He used the Levitation Charm to put his trunk on the overhead rack and joined the conversation about Hogsmeade.
"I'm telling you, Hermione, there's nothing interesting about the Shrieking Shack. Honeydukes, on the other hand, is the temple of sweets."
"Don't worry, Ronald Wonka; we will have time to see everything, and if necessary, I will give you a sweet from each. I'm also interested in the Shrieking Shack; what secrets could it hide?"
Ron looked puzzled at her comment, and Hermione laughed before clarifying the literary reference Harry had just used. Ron's face changed from bewilderment to annoyance. He was someone who did not like to read, much less if it was something that was not mandatory; for Ron, reading was a waste of time. Salazar, before waking up, had concealed his taste for reading in his desperation not to offend his friends. Now everything was different. Now he would be himself.
"I didn't think your aunt and uncle would sign the permission form for you," Ron said. "Not the kind that turns your room into a prison."
"I made a deal with them. They signed the form, and I disappeared for the rest of the summer."
"But Harry," Hermione objected. "That's dangerous. A child can't be without the guardianship of an adult. What if something happens to you?"
He did not respond. Not because he wanted to evade the question, but because the compartment door opened. On the threshold appeared Draco Malfoy, Vincent Crabbe, and Gregory Goyle. All three had a look of superiority. Salazar wondered how it was possible that Crabbe and Goyle were in his house. They were not cunning, and their greatest ambition seemed to be to serve whoever had power. He could only think of two options: they were so rotten that not even the Hufflepuff House would have straightened them out, or simply, as he had asked the hat during his own Sorting, it had listened to them. Too bad the Hat was subject to confidentiality, although on the other hand, that same oath now benefited him.
Draco Malfoy, on the other hand, had the qualities to become someone worthy of his House; he just had to stop behaving like a spoiled child who took refuge under his father's skirts and abandon his role as the school bully. If he focused on achieving his goals and thinking and acting for himself instead of what others wanted... the question was whether it was too late to change him. If Harry wanted to fix things in his House, it would have to be through the most influential people.
"What do you want?" he asked them in a calm tone, watching to make sure Ron didn't jump at them. Getting a reaction was what they were looking for.
"I won't forget that my father lost his seat on the board because of you, Potter."
"Everyone is responsible for their own actions," Harry replied without getting flustered. "Your father pushed his luck a lot last year, and that almost ended in at least one person's death. He is lucky that no one could link him to everything that happened."
"My father had nothing to do with the Chamber; he just took advantage of the circumstances."
"That's what he told you. However, I'm sure you're familiar with a certain pocket notebook with the name Tom Marvolo Riddle on it." He could sense the discomfort in the Slytherin student, as well as a slight expression of not wanting to believe the loose ends his own mind was tying up. "Riddle was the one who opened the Chamber and left a testament to it in his diary. A diary that your father passed on to an innocent student, knowing that no child would be suspicious of a magical object that answers you when you talk to it." Harry grimaced. "A diary capable of absorbing the life of anyone who touched it. It could even have been you. I remember you picked it up off the floor on Valentine's Day. Your father didn't mind the possibility of putting you in indirect danger."
"No... he can't, my father would never..."
"Your father's a murderer!" Ron shouted.
"Ron, don't worry." Harry looked at him with a serious expression; acting like that didn't help anything. He turned back to Draco.
"No!" Ron roared. "Your father's rubbish. One of You-Know-Who's cronies. A murderer who tried to kill my sister last year!"
"Shut up, Weasley!"
The shouts of both teenagers caused the man in the compartment to stir among the blankets. In fact, Salazar wondered if he had just woken up or if he had already been awake. He couldn't imagine anyone being completely motionless unless they were in a coma.
"Who's that?" Malfoy asked, looking at the man apprehensively.
"Apparently he's a professor," Hermione replied curtly.
The three Slytherin students left the compartment, but not before casting a look of contempt at Ron and Hermione. Draco only gave Harry a look that ranged from a calculating gesture to pure terror. Harry could tell how Ron was still angry and muttering expletives against Draco. Hermione just looked at Harry strangely. He could understand it; last term, he would have punched Malfoy right out of the compartment.
"Harry, what you did with Malfoy..."
"I know, Hermione."
"But do you think it was appropriate?"
"Time will tell."
"Was Daddy bothering you?" asked a voice that Salazar recognised well from the threshold of the door.
"Hello, Neville," Hermione greeted. "How was your summer?"
"Pretty quiet."
"I swear that as soon as I catch that bastard Malfoy, he'll wish he'd never been born," Ron muttered still angrily.
Hermione nudged Ron and pointed at the man; it was a silent warning. Godric gave Salazar a look, which he returned with a gesture. He would update him on everything later.
"Ron, violence is not the answer to problems."
"And what am I supposed to do, Neville? Bow my head and let him get away with it?"
"You can and should defend your honour, but never seek or use violence as an answer to everything."
"Violence begets more violence," Salazar said, clarifying what his friend was referring to. "Malfoy knows you'll react that way to him. Don't do it. Don't look for a fight."
"I'm not looking for a fight! His father almost killed my sister!"
"Yes, Ron. And as Harry said, if you hadn't realised he was going to take the diary, the one who would have ended up almost dead would have been you. It's his father, not him. Malfoy is just a child, like us," Hermione said. "Will you stay with us, Neville?"
"Of course. I was alone in a compartment. I'll go get my things."
Minutes later, Neville had settled into the compartment with them and began to play chess with Ron. While Hermione was reading one of the new books for the term, Salazar had decided to sleep a little, to make up for lost sleep. He woke up suddenly when the train stopped dead. He checked the time; he didn't think they had already reached Hogsmeade. It was half an hour before the time it usually arrived at the station, and the train shouldn't stop so abruptly anyway.
"What's going on?" he asked.
"Someone's getting on the train," Ron replied as the window and door froze over.
An intense, dry cold flooded the train, an unearthly cold that got inside the body and froze to the bone. At the same time, he felt something strange, as if all his happiness had been sucked out of him at once. He felt terrified and depressed and began to hear screams in his head; something was not right.
"Weren't the Dementors supposed to be just at the castle?" Neville asked.
"That's what my grandmother said."
"Dementors?" Ron asked. "Have they put Dementors at the castle?"
"What are they?" Hermione asked.
"The guards of Azkaban," Salazar said in a somber tone. "They shouldn't be here." He was angry, upset with the situation. They had boarded a train full of students, of children.
Salazar noticed how one of these beings was approaching the compartment they were in. He exchanged a glance with Godric. They were both struggling with the effects of the Dementor, just like Ron and Hermione. They reached for their wands as the door opened, ready to confront them. It was not necessary. The new professor, who had been sleeping since the beginning, suddenly got up and faced the Dementor.
"No one is hiding Sirius Black under his cloak. Get out," he ordered the Dementor. It ignored him and tried to pounce on those in the compartment. "Expecto Patronum." A silvery, wolf-like figure chased the Dementor away, driving it off the train.
The professor stared at the four of them, assessing whether or not they were alright. Then he took a chocolate bar from inside his robe and distributed it among them. Salazar took the piece of chocolate with a gesture of surprise. He put it in his mouth, noticing how the chocolate combated the effects of the Dementor. That had not existed in his time. It had not yet been discovered.
"I'll go and talk to the engineer. As soon as you feel better, put on your uniforms."
---
Albus Dumbledore found himself at odds with many things lately, especially the decisions coming from the Minister. He utterly disliked the Dementors being stationed at Hogwarts, viewing them as creatures with no control who would seize any opportunity to satiate their appetites. He had then been forced to allow two Aurors into Hogwarts at the Minister's request. He couldn't refuse; it would have been unpopular if a murderer was on the loose and sought to kill one of his students.
He had just finished a very brief conversation with the Minister on the Floo Network. Fudge had authorised the Dementors to search the train, a move that contradicted their initial agreement and had endangered several students. Fudge had argued it was for their protection, to which Dumbledore had put forward a simple counter-argument: two Aurors could have travelled on the train and watched over them.
It was one of his new teachers who had updated him via a message. The Dementors had not only searched the train but had tried to attack several students. Dumbledore sighed. It was fortunate that Lupin had decided to travel on the train with all of them; otherwise, there would be many things to regret. He looked up at the door of his office when he heard it ring. He knew who it was; the portraits had warned him.
"Come in."
The two Ministry Aurors assigned to Hogwarts arrived. Dumbledore observed them carefully from his seat. One was an Auror in their final year of training, on a sort of probationary period. An Auror in charge of another Auror to protect the school. If he had been given a choice, he would have requested Alastor Moody, a man he at least knew he could trust. Instead, he had Kingsley Shacklebolt and Nymphadora Tonks. He would have to keep them under control.
"Good afternoon."
"Good afternoon, Headmaster Dumbledore," Shacklebolt said.
"I will not deny that I am surprised that the Minister would consider assigning you to the protection of my students, but I would not like your presence here to disturb the normal life of the castle."
"Don't worry, Headmaster. We are only here to ensure the students' safety; we won't bother them," Shacklebolt replied.
"You will sleep in the empty area of the castle, in the old masters' rooms. Tonight at dinner I will announce that you are here. You won't need to enter any of the classes or wear any kind of uniform."
"Don't worry, Headmaster," Tonks said.
"I know the Minister will have informed you of Sirius Black's main objective, but staying close to him at all times can't be very productive. Young Harry Potter had better not have to worry about anything."
He looked at the two Aurors. Tonks seemed annoyed by that last statement. Moody had given him references for the young woman, and he remembered her from when she was at the castle: undisciplined but courageous. He tried to get into her mind, to see what she was thinking. He was immediately rebuffed. She was more skilled in Occlumency than he had expected from someone of her character. Few Aurors today became skilled in that art. He would have to watch her; after all, Black blood ran through her veins. He waited a few seconds, saying nothing. Practising Legilimency was illegal, and he could get into quite a bit of trouble if she reported him. Fawkes trilled, staring at the trainee Auror; Dumbledore could see how they shared a look. His phoenix did not look displeased but seemed to approve of her presence. This told him that she hadn't continued with the darkness that surrounded the Black family, which was a good thing.
"You will have your meals in the kitchens. Do you know where they are?"
"No," Shacklebolt said.
Albus Dumbledore was silent again. Shacklebolt had been a Ravenclaw who was very respectful of the rules but had a knack for going against the tide when it paid off. Tonks, a Hufflepuff, was flighty in her behaviour but had a brilliant academic record, especially from her third year. She didn't verbally answer his question, simply shaking her head.
"On the way to the Hufflepuff common room is a portrait of a fruit seller. You just have to tickle the pear to open the door. Miss Tonks knows what portrait I mean."
"I never saw it," Shacklebolt said, looking at his companion with a questioning expression.
"Ravenclaws don't usually frequent the cellars," Tonks remarked. "Do you think it's appropriate for us to go down before the students begin to arrive? If we have to be ghosts, it's better to start now."
"Well observed, Tonks. If you'll excuse us, Headmaster."
"Go ahead, and welcome to Hogwarts."