CH 65

t made Harry even more furious, furious that Tom Riddle had done this to him, furious that Dumbledore had known what he was from the moment it happened and furious because of what it meant for him.

'I have to die,' he announced aloud in a very hollow tone. 'The diary is gone, when I am dead so will Tom Riddle be.'

Salazar scowled. 'I will not allow it,' he hissed, lapsing fully into Parseltongue. 'You are the Heir of Salazar Slytherin, not a sacrifice to be used by lesser wizards. We will find another way, or we will make one.'

'How many will have to die before we find one?' Harry asked, woodenly. His insides were twisted with despair and bitter resentment at how unfair things were.

'As many as necessary,' Salazar spat, still speaking in the tongue of snakes. 'We do not know how many of these horcruxes Riddle has made, your death may simply ensure his secret remains undiscovered.'

'I can't tell Dumbledore I know about them,' Harry realised. The old wizard must have known what Harry's fate was from the start. For whatever reason the headmaster had not told him. It did not matter that it could have been to keep him safe, happy or under the watchful eye Dumbledore, he had deserved to know something so important about himself. The headmaster should have told him, but he hadn't. Harry could no longer completely trust him.

'No,' the portrait agreed. 'You cannot. We can't predict his reaction once he knows you know. He may be searching for other horcruxes, or keeping you alive as long as he can, but the moment you become a liability he might kill you. Worse things have been done for the greater good.'

'I am not a match for Albus Dumbledore.' He wasn't even close to a match for the man most regarded as the world's greatest wizard. Harry knew only one who might be, Tom Riddle, and he was not a potential ally.

I will have to walk a path apart from either of them.

'I will think on this,' Salazar decided. 'Prop me up over the desk so that I can read the relevant parts of the notes. A solution may present itself.'

Harry lifted the painting off the wall above the door and leant it against the bookcase where it met the edge of the desk. From his new position Salazar could read all of the pages on the desk.

'Tempus,' Harry commanded, tapping his wand on his wrist.

It was a few minutes before eleven.

Katie.

Harry groaned. He had no idea what to do on a date. For a moment he considered not going and sparing her from being involved in whatever his life would throw at him next.

No, he decided. It is too cruel to her, I should give her the chance to make her own decisions, and if I am to die, I shall enjoy as much of my life as I can first.

The Marauder's map showed Katie was waiting for him at the entrance hall. It also showed Pettigrew by the quidditch pitch, but he put that out of his mind to focus on his date.

She had clearly put some effort into looking nice and for the first time Harry really noticed how cute she was. Katie had tomboyish appeal to her and even dressed up as she was you could see the sporty, scruffy chaser underneath.

Harry decided he was not adequately dressed and quickly ducked into a nearby archway to correct his appearance by transfiguring his creased robes into something more fitting. He attempted to fix his hair, but as always it proved futile.

'Harry.' She smiled when she saw him, a look of relief passing across her face. 'I was beginning to worry you weren't coming.'

'Well I am nervous,' he admitted, 'but not that much.' He was not nervous at all about his date, not anymore, it was the last thing he had to fear now.

She beamed and slipped her arm through his. It felt very strange to have someone so close, Katie was practically pressed against his side from thigh to shoulder, but it was a pleasant feeling.

'So where are we going?' Harry knew enough about dates to ask Katie what she wanted.

'Madam Puddifoots?' She seemed quite eager to go and held his arm more tightly while he tried to place the name.

'The place with all the pink?' Harry was sceptical. He didn't mind going if that was what Katie wanted, but fluffy pink and white lace didn't really seem her thing.

'Yes, do you mind?' There was a slight glint in Katie's eye, a warning.

'Not if that's what you want,' Harry said, trying to remember where the tea shop was. 'It doesn't really seem like your sort of place, though,' he added.

'Full marks, Harry,' Katie laughed. 'I wanted to see how you'd react, and you did very well, especially knowing me well enough to be sceptical.'

'So you don't want to go?' Harry was quite relieved. The tea shop had a reputation as being the stuff of nightmares in the boys dormitories.

'All girls like a little romance,' Katie smiled, 'but that's not my type. Let's go to the Shrieking Shack, we can meet up with Angelina, Alicia and the twins afterwards if you like?'

He nodded. It would take his mind off other things, walking would prevent him thinking as much as he could if he was sitting still, and seeing the Gryffindor Quidditch team would help with that as well. Harry had already decided that he would stick with his decision to treat Angelina and Alicia as if he had never met them. If the girls were willing he would befriend them all over again, but, unlike before, they would have to earn his trust. Harry had given it away all too freely when he first came to Hogwarts'. The sudden change in surroundings and promise of others like him had let him forget the reality of the wizarding world was only a little different from the muggle one.

Harry led the way to the Shrieking Shack, but only so far as having Katie's arm through his would allow.

'I love this place,' Katie beamed. 'Nobody ever dares come in, but it's so cool.' She looked around curiously, taking in the scratches and other marks that Harry remembered seeing at the end of last year. 'That's new,' she remarked, pointing to the dent Professor Lupin had left in the wall when Harry had disarmed him.

'Do you know the real story?' Harry asked. He was fairly sure that Professor Lupin wouldn't mind. Everyone knew his secret now, courtesy of Snape and Hermione, and telling a story was much preferable to just sitting around letting his mind run.

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