Pretty Kitty

Harry had been whisked away to Dumbledore’s office seconds style='mso-spacerun:yes'> later, thoroughly shaken up.

He’d been left in the office on his own as Dumbledore remained at the Ministry
to discuss the going-on’s that almost the entirety of the staff had seen,
alerted by security guards at their own homes, no doubt. At the very least,
Fudge could no longer deny the existence of Voldemort.

Harry stared numbly at Fawkes from his seat in front of Albus’ large desk.
Fawkes was trilling soothingly, but it wasn’t being acknowledged. Harry
couldn’t feel or see anything, glazed green eyes looking but not seeing, mind
completely shut down.

If Voldemort had waited a while to possess him, he would have found that moment
to be absolutely perfect. Harry wouldn’t have put up a fight. He wouldn’t have
even noticed. Maybe it would have killed him.

The fire flared green, and out stepped the Headmaster, who looked around his
old, much missed office for a moment with satisfaction – it was rare to find
such feelings in the days of war, and he had to savour each and every moment of
happiness.

He then turned to Harry, mood darkening when he saw the broken, pale face, half
covered in blood that had leaked from his open scar. The lightning-bolt cut had
scabbed over, and would soon turn back to its scar-like state, such was the
darkness of curse magic.

Harry slowly turned to Dumbledore, desperation creeping into his eyes – the
first emotion he’d felt since entering the office. That haunted look, set in a
face covered in blood, the look older than Harry’s sixteen years, Dumbledore
felt a chill creep up his spine.

Not for the first time, he felt remorse almost cripple him, and he had to keep
from staggering. He wished Voldemort had never existed, had never targeted
Harry. He wished he hadn’t put Harry with the Dursleys, he wished he’d never
believed Sirius guilty, and he wished Harry hadn’t seen the things he’d seen.

He wished.

Dumbledore moved to sit in his chair behind his desk, still soft, if slightly
dusty. Obviously, the house elves had been too scared to clean much, even
though they’d been allowed in. He wondered how the school had fared without
him, feeling remorse for leaving the students in the clutches of Umbridge.

But he doubted she’d hurt them – she was a Ministry official.

“Harry,” Dumbledore started. Harry’s head jerked up. The desperate look still
hung about his eyes. Dumbledore resisted reaching out to stroke the boy’s
cheeks. He looked so forlorn – even his cat ears were drooping as if the last
of their life had been sucked out of them.

“I believe there have been many misunderstandings surrounding tonight’s
events,” he continued, boring deep into Harry’s eyes as the events that had
transpired flashed in the boy’s mind. He tackled each one as he saw them. “Mr
and Mr Weasley were both relatively safe, and have never been captured by
Voldemort. He, unfortunately, discovered the connection you two share through
your scar, the one that allowed you to see through his eyes. Or rather, through
Nagini’s eyes.”

Harry remembered. He’d thought he’d been possessed. But he’s been wrong – real
possession was much worse.

“He exploited you, using information he’d gathered from Mr Malfoy.” Dumbledore
saw the scowl on Harry’s face at the mention of Malfoy – apparently, he’d
always been lingering in the corner, unnoticed. “Mr Malfoy told me all this in
a letter – he apparently didn’t realise the extent of Voldemort’s machinations.
Do not be angry at him, he’s far more naive than you.

“Voldemort tricked you through a dream, knowing your love and protection over
your friends and, more importantly, Fred and George. As such, you didn’t
hesitate in following your vision to the Department of Ministries.”

“But… but I…” Harry was frowning, struggling to phrase his thoughts. He felt
like his mind wasn’t connected to his lips, to any other part of his body. He
could barely move. “The clock! Mrs Weasley’s clock. I flooed the Burrow, and
her clock said Fred and George were in danger… They weren’t even there.”

Dumbledore sighed. “Ah, that most marvellous clock. I’ve always wondered when
it would begin to cause trouble,” he murmured, almost fondly. “The Weasleys
have been staying at Headquarters lately. Fred and George were concocting
another of their ingenious experiments, and it put them in brief danger when it
exploded and set their room on fire.”

Harry felt his lips twitch upwards, before he remembered that he may never be
able to see or hear Fred making a prank, see the mischief dancing in his eyes
when he’d successfully played a practical joke. And if Fred died, George would
never be the same, either.

It was like a blow to the stomach, and sobered him up.

“So… there wasn’t even any reason for going to the Department of Mysteries?”
Harry finally spoke up after a few minutes of silence, in a voice hoarse from
emotions. “He died… for nothing…”

“Harry,” Dumbledore announced, leaning forward, commanding Harry’s attention.
“Fred Weasley is now stable, and the healers are moving him to St Mungo’s. He’s
in little danger of dying.”

Harry’s head jerked upwards. Finally, some real emotion. His eyes burned with
confusion. “W-What?” he snapped, before shaking his head. “Dumbledore…
Professor Dumbledore, I know what I saw. But I appreciate the thought…”

Dumbledore frowned. “It wasn’t the Killing Curse. Mr Weasley, erm, George,
wasn’t just trying to lift your spirits. The curse that Voldemort used was
harmful, but wouldn’t kill instantly. The Killing Curse takes a deal of
concentration, which Voldemort didn’t have, appearing suddenly, and then
disappearing just as quickly, while also evading myself.”

“No, I don’t… I don’t believe it…” Harry
refused to allow himself to feel hope again, false hope that would be crushed.
Dumbledore was just trying to make him feel better. In the long term, it
wouldn’t work.

Dumbledore sighed, and touched his temple with his wand suddenly. Harry watched
the familiar process as Dumbledore pulled out a strand of memory, setting it
into the pensive standing on his desk.

He then tapped the pensive with his wand, and Harry watched as the small,
silver figures of St Mungo’s workers appeared, surrounding a floating gurney,
with Fred on it.

“We’ve stabilised him, and stopped the
curse from doing any more damage. Once we get him to St Mungo’s, we can heal
the damage already done…”



The memory faded back into the pensive, leaving Harry with his jaw hanging
open, absolutely frozen.

And then a huge grin broke out onto his face, as it hit him. Fred was style='mso-bidi-font-style:normal'>alive.

“He’s… he’s alive?” he asked, just to confirm it, one last time. Dumbledore
nodded, a smile spreading across his face as well. “He’s alive!” He would never
get used to saying that.

“Yes, Mr and Mr Weasley are at St Mungo’s at the moment. George was hit by a
couple of nasty cruciatris’, and Fred is still unconscious. They’ll be patched up
in no time, and transferred to the Hospital Wing tonight.”

“Can I go and see them?” Harry asked enthusiastically, previous numbness
completely fleeing him, tail swinging back and forth in agitation. He had to
see them, to feel them and know this was all real.

Dumbledore’s smile suddenly faded, and Harry’s brow creased in confusion.

“Yes, in a while. There’s something I need to tell you first.”

XxXxXxX

Harry was horrified, and shocked.

Dumbledore had just revealed the whole prophecy to him, and Harry felt numb all
over again. He’d been through too much that night and he didn’t think his body
would continue to handle the stress much longer.

“I think I should go to the Hospital Wing now,” Harry mumbled, wanting to see
the twins, if they’d arrived. They’d be able to comfort him.

He had to kill Voldemort.

“Maybe that would be wise,” Dumbledore agreed, concerned at Harry’s pallor and
shakiness. “But before you leave… one last thing.”

Harry stared at him – what else could there be? How much more would he pile on
Harry?

“We have found a way to remove your various feline features and undo Miss
Weasley’s potion.”

Harry’s eyebrows shot up. Oh.

“I know this comes to you very late, and I apologise for that, but if you would
like, me and Professor Snape could remove them tomorrow. It’s a taxing, long
spell, so it would be best when none of us are so tired.”

“Um…” Harry said, unsure of what to say, really. How many times was he going to
be taken by surprise? “Can I… think about it?”

Dumbledore looked taken aback – it was well known that Harry detested his ears
and tail, if only because so many people made fun of them. He thought that he
would be ecstatic to have them removed.

“Well, of course. It’s your decision, after all,” he announced. Harry nodded gratefully,
and got up from his up-righted chair, eyes weary. He looked utterly bedraggled
after the night they’d had. The dried blood felt itchy against his skin.

“Well, I’ll just go to the hospital wing,” Harry said, as if it needed to be confirmed
as to where he was going. Nerves were suddenly tightening his stomach at the
thought of seeing the twins again. It was like this was the first time he was
going to see them.

He felt apprehensive.

Dumbledore nodded.  “Again, I am truly
sorry.” Harry could see the truth in Dumbledore’s eyes, the guilt that weighed
heavily at him, a burden that Harry now also bared.

“I forgive you.”

Dumbledore’s eyes lightened, and the twinkle returned to them once more. Harry
was glad to see it.

XxXxXxX

Harry walked very slowly to the Hospital Wing, feeling sweat trickle down his
face, partly from the strain of any movement at all due to his whole body
burning from exhaustion, and partly out of sickening worry.

He’d led all his friends into danger, and almost-death. It had been sheer luck
Fred wasn’t dead. Would they ever forgive him?

Would he ever forgive himself?

He stopped outside the doors, trying to take in even breaths and failing
completely. He vaguely hoped he hyperventilated, fainting and thus putting off
the inevitable.

Finally, he hesitantly pushed open the doors. Inside, Madam Pomfrey was
bustling about, muttering under her breath. Neville, Ginny, Hermione and Ron
were all lying on separate beds. Ron and Hermione were unconscious, while
Neville and Ginny were sitting up and talking to each other. A large black dog
lay on one bed, getting disapproving looks from Pomfrey. Sirius, in his
animagus form.

Harry gazed past them, eyes frantically searching out the twins. His heart
lifted when he saw bright red hair, two sets of it, in fact.

Fred was lying down, with George sitting at the end of his bed, and nattering
endlessly. George was laughing, but his eyes turned to Harry suddenly, as if he
had super-Harry-senses.

Fred stopped talking suddenly, gazing in the same direction as his brother. For
a moment, all three were still as statues.

And then, with a large grin, Fred and George called his name in unison, and
Harry ran towards them, right into their waiting arms.

XxXxXxX

;;Sniffle;;

One more chapter, and then an epilogue! Oh dear, I’m feeling all emotional.

So, yes, everyone’s alive and well. Isn’t that bizarre, coming from me? I feel
like I’ve cheated myself. But in a good way :P

Again, thank you so much for all the reviews! You lot are so great!