A Mystery in the Making

Potions had remained tolerable. Some of the assigned potions had Harry confused, but they all worked, more or less. The Professor was better at calling out what might possibly go wrong, before they started chopping, mincing, crushing, or slicing.

The female Professor Flamel was still not assigned to a class. So how was she spending her time? Harry wondered if she had an invisibility cloak and stood in the back of every one of Snape's classes. Maybe it was the reason he was improved from the year before.

Harry found something wonderful on the front page of the next Prophet. He found the first wide perspective photograph of Charlus and Dorea Potter and Godric's Hall. Harry could see the whole things. It looked to be three stories, but no, it had some extra windows. It had to be at least five stories, but it was made to look a bit more modest.

He duplicated the photo and marked down the day and year of the Prophet that had supplied it. This one he might like to get from the newspaper office, a real copy.

Harry smiled. He was looking forward to the end of the year most of all. He was ready for an adventure. He appreciated a quiet school year, of course, but he was enjoying making plans for the summer. What would he find of Godric's Hall? What would it look like now so many years later, two wars later. Was it intact at all? Were the protections still working? Harry just had to hope he would find something.

The picture was lovely. The home was so inviting, light colored stone with white stone lintels over the broad, tall main windows. A dark roof, maybe slate? The forecourt was covered in crushed stone and there were trees on the grounds and possibly a set of gardens to the right side. It was a palace by Harry's standards.

How many Potters had lived in this place? How many had been born there? How many meals had they eaten here – and how much magic had they learned?

Harry had to caution himself. He could not find all the answers he was looking for. But if he found even some of them... It would be worth everything.

He thought of stopping for the afternoon. He had had a good haul. But there were two hours until the library closed and perhaps he'd find something even better. Harry picked up another copy and began to scan headlines and turn pages.

Because 'maybe' was the word of the day.

...

The day before the Hogwarts Express returned was one Harry wouldn't soon forget. Peeves left him alone, but he was assaulted by a different spirit entirely.

"Harry, my boy. I wonder if you could visit me in my office..."

Harry knew the face if not the voice. He hadn't known that this person had become a ghost, however. "Professor Dumbledore?"

"Now, please."

"Professor, you don't have an office."

"Of course I do..."

"The Headmaster's Office is Professor Flamel's now."

"Nicholas? I'm sure I would have remembered asking him to fill in. Harry, please, there is much we need to talk about."

Harry decided being stalked by both a poltergeist and an amnesiac ghost was very irritating.

"Professor, you died."

"Nonsense, my boy. I am as hale as I was at fifty."

Harry put his hand through the Professor's ghostly arm.

"Well, how did that happen?" the ghost asked and was silent a while.

Harry should have escaped then. He didn't.

"Maybe we should find Professor Flamel?" Harry wondered.

"In good time." The ghost scrunched up its face. "Actually, I will ask that you not inform Nicholas that I have returned."

"Why?"

"I returned for a reason. Unfinished business. Nicholas has his own worries. These matters I stayed for are my own..."

So why had he sought out Harry...

Stupid, troublemaking ghost. Harry was young, not stupid. The ghost was here bothering Harry because Harry was the unfinished business. Excellent! Had he been cursed with bad luck when he was a baby?

The first thing Harry would do after he got rid of this bit of oddness was find Professor Flamel. He was almost glad this ghost had told Harry what he didn't want to happen.

"Now, I wish to ensure you are well."

"Very, Professor. Why are you wondering?"

"I care about my students."

"And Professor Binns cares about his." Harry had to bite his lip.

"Exactly, Harry. Now is it almost summer?"

"We're in the dead of winter..."

"Ahh. I see. Well, for the summer, you'll do well to return home to your family."

When hell filled itself with the roller coasters from Alton Towers... "Of course."

"Such a sensible lad. Yes, yes, I had to make sure you were well. You are very important to our world, Harry."

"I see," Harry said, not seeing. "Do you remember about the Philosopher's Stone, Professor? I'm told you were killed trying to protect it."

"I am afraid I cannot comment. No one should know about or talk about it, I'm afraid. Your word, Harry."

"Certainly. Perhaps you'll enjoy visiting the other ghosts..." Or anyone or anything else. "I'm sure they can keep secrets."

"Ah, Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington. Yes, yes, I think his perspective might be quite useful indeed. There is still so much to do before my Next Great Adventure. Thank you, Harry."

And the ghost finally disappeared. It was less than forthcoming. Harry found he might have been very irritated if he'd had much to do with this man before his death. However, it was easier to 'see through' whatever this ghost was up to. He seemed not to exude the same aura of authority when he was pale as he was.

Harry tucked away his wand and walked to the door. He needed to find the Headmaster and rat out a certain opinionated ghost. Had Dumbledore always been this crazy? How had no one noticed? Or was it his death that had done this?

.....

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