omeone else's,"
Harry told Dumbledore. "He said the protection my - my mother left in me - he'd
have it too. And he was right - he could touch me without hurting himself, he
touched my face."
For a fleeting instant, Harry thought he saw a gleam of something like triumph in
Dumbledore's eyes. But next second. Harry was sure he had imagined it, for when
Dumbledore had returned to his seat behind the desk, he looked as old and weary
as Harry had ever seen him.
"Very well," he said, sitting down again. "Voldemort has overcome that particular
barrier. Harry, continue, please."
Harry went on; he explained how Voldemort had emerged from the cauldron, and
told them all he could remember of Voldemort's speech to the Death Eaters. Then
he told how Voldemort had untied him, returned his wand to him, and prepared to
duel.
But when he reached the part where the golden beam of light had connected his
and Voldemort's wands, he found his throat obstructed. He tried to keep talking,
but the memories of what had come out of Voldemort's wand were flooding into
his mind. He could see Cedric emerging, see the old man, Bertha Jorkins ... his
father . . . his mother . . .
He was glad when Sirius broke the silence.
"The wands connected?" he said, looking from Harry to Dumbledore. "Why?"
Harry looked up at Dumbledore again, on whose face there was an arrested look.
"Priori Incantatem," he muttered.
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His eyes gazed into Harry's and it was almost as though an invisible beam of
understanding shot between them.
"The Reverse Spell effect?" said Sirius sharply.
"Exactly," said Dumbledore. "Harry's wand and Voldemorts wand share cores.
Each of them contains a feather from the tail of the same phoenix. This phoenix, in
fact," he added, and he pointed at the scarlet-and-gold bird, perching peacefully on
Harry's knee.
"My wand's feather came from Fawkes?" Harry said, amazed.
"Yes," said Dumbledore. "Mr. Ollivander wrote to tell me you had bought the
second wand, the moment you left his shop four years ago."
"So what happens when a wand meets its brother?" said Sirius.
"They will not work properly against each other," said Dumbledore. "If, however,
the owners of the wands force the wands to do battle ... a very rare effect will take
place. One of the wands will force the other to regurgitate spells it has performed -
in reverse. The most recent first. . . and then those which preceded it. . . ."
He looked interrogatively at Harry, and Harry nodded.
"Which means," said Dumbledore slowly, his eyes upon Harry's face, "that some
form of Cedric must have reappeared."
Harry nodded again.
"Diggory came back to life?" said Sirius sharply.
"No spell can reawaken the dead," said Dumbledore heavily. "All that would have
happened is a kind of reverse echo. A shadow of the living Cedric would have
emerged from the wand . . . am I correct, Harry?"
"He spoke to me," Harry said. He was suddenly shaking again. "The . . . the ghost
Cedric, or whatever he was, spoke."
"An echo," said Dumbledore, "which retained Cedric's appearance and character. I
am guessing other such forms appeared . . . less recent victims of Voldemort's
wand...."
"An old man," Harry said, his throat still constricted. "Bertha Jorkins. And . . ."
"Your parents?" said Dumbledore quietly.
"Yes," said Harry.
Sirius's grip on Harry's shoulder was now so tight it was painful.
"The last murders the wand performed," said Dumbledore, nodding. "In reverse
order. More would have appeared, of course, had you maintained the connection.
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Very well, Harry, these echoes, these shadows . .. what did they do?"
Harry described how the figures that had emerged from the wand had prowled the
edges of the golden web, how Voldemort had seemed to fear them, how the
shadow of Harry's mother had told him what to do, how Cedric's had made its
final request.
At this point. Harry found he could not continue. He looked around at Sirius and
saw that he had his face in his hands.
Harry suddenly became aware that Fawkes had left his knee. The phoenix had
fluttered to the floor. It was resting its beautiful head against Harry's injured leg,
and thick, pearly tears were falling from its eyes onto the wound left by the spider.
The pain vanished. The skin mended. His leg was repaired.
"I will say it again," said Dumbledore as the phoenix rose into the air and resettled
itself upon the perch beside the door. "You have shown bravery beyond anything I
could have expected of you tonight. Harry. You have shown bravery equal to
those who died fighting Voldemort at the height of his powers. You have
shouldered a grown wizard's burden and found yourself equal to it - and you have
now given us all we have a right to expect. You will come with me to the hospital
wing. I do not want you returning to the dormitory tonight. A Sleeping Potion, and
some peace . . . Sirius, would you like to stay with him?"
Sirius nodded and stood up. He transformed back into the great black dog and
walked with Harry and Dumbledore out of the office, accompanying them down a
flight of stairs to the hospital wing.
When Dumbledore pushed open the door. Harry saw Mrs. Weasley, Bill, Ron, and
Hermione grouped around a harassed-looking Madam Pomfrey. They appeared to
be demanding to know where Harry was and what had happened to him. All of
them whipped around as Harry, Dumbledore, and the black dog entered, and Mrs.
Weasley let out a kind of muffled scream.
"Harry! Oh Harry!"
She started to hurry toward him, but Dumbledore moved between them.
"Molly," he said, holding up a hand, "please listen to me for a moment. Harry has
been through a terrible ordeal tonight. He has just had to relive it for me. What he
needs now is sleep, and peace, and quiet. If he would like you all to stay with
him," he added, looking around at Ron, Hermione, and Bill too, "you may do so.
But I do not want you questioning him until he is ready to answer, and certainly
not this evening."
Mrs. Weasley nodded. She was very white. She rounded on Ron, Hermione, and
Bill as though they were being noisy, and hissed, "Did you hear? He needs quiet!"
"Headmaster," said Madam Pomfrey, staring at the great black dog that was Sirius,
452
"may I ask what - ?"
"This dog will be remaining with Harry for a while," said Dumbledore simply. "I
assure you, he is extremely well trained. Harry - I will wait while you get into
bed."
Harry felt an inexpressible sense of gratitude to Dumbledore for asking the others
not to question him. It wasn't as though he didn't want them there; but the thought
of explaining it all over again, the idea of reliving it one more time, was more than
he could stand.
"I will be back to see you as soon as I have met with Fudge, Harry," said
Dumbledore. "I would like you to remain here tomorrow until I have spoken to the
school." He left.
As Madam Pomfrey led Harry to a nearby bed, he caught sight of the real Moody
lying motionless in a bed at the far end of the room. His wooden leg and magical
eye were lying on the bedside table.
"Is he okay?" Harry asked.
"He'll be fine," said Madam Pomfrey, giving Harry some pajamas and pulling
screens around him. He took off his robes, pulled on the pajamas, and got into bed.
Ron, Hermione, Bill, Mrs. Weasley, and the black dog came around the screen and
settled themselves in chairs on either side of him. Ron and Hermione were looking
at him almost cautiously, as though scared of him.
"I'm all right," he told them. "Just tired."
Mrs. Weasleys eyes filled with tears as she smoothed his bed-covers
unnecessarily.
Madam Pomfrey, who had bustled off to her office, returned holding a small bottle
of some purple potion and a goblet.
"You'll need to drink all of this. Harry," she said. "It's a potion for dreamless
sleep."
Harry took the goblet and drank a few mouthfuls. He felt himself becoming
drowsy at once. Everything around him became hazy; the lamps around the
hospital wing seemed to be winking at him in a friendly way through the screen
around his bed; his body felt as though it was sinking deeper into the warmth of
the feather matress. Before he could finish the potion, before he could say another
word, his exhaustion had carried him off to sleep.
Harry woke up, so warm, so very sleepy, that he didn't open his eyes, wanting to
drop off again. The room was still dimly lit; he was sure it was still nighttime and
had a feeling that he couldn't have been asleep very long.
Then he heard whispering around him.
453
"They'll wake him if they don't shut up!"
"What are they shouting about? Nothing else can have happened, can it?"
Harry opened his eyes blearily. Someone had removed his glasses. He could see
the fuzzy outlines of Mrs. Weasley and Bill close by. Mrs. Weasley was on her
feet.
"That's Fudge's voice," she whispered. "And that's Minerva McGonagall's, isn't it?
But what are they arguing about?"
Now Harry could hear them too: people shouting and running toward the hospital
wing.
"Regrettable, but all the same, Minerva -" Cornelius Fudge was saying loudly.
"You should never have brought it inside the castle!" yelled Professor
McGonagall. "When Dumbledore finds out -"
Harry heard the hospital doors burst open. Unnoticed by any of the people around
his bed, all of whom were staring at the door as Bill pulled back the screens, Harry
sat up and put his glasses back on.
Fudge came striding up the ward. Professors McGonagall and Snape were at his
heels.
"Where's Dumbledore?" Fudge demanded of Mrs. Weasley.
"He's not here," said Mrs. Weasley angrily. "This is a hospital wing. Minister,
don't you think you'd do better to -"
But the door opened, and Dumbledore came sweeping up the ward.
"What has happened?" said Dumbledore sharply, looking from Fudge to Professor
McGonagall. "Why are you disturbing these people? Minerva, I'm surprised at you
- I asked you to stand guard over Barty Crouch -"
"There is 