She looked back over her shoulder, having only just realised that Harry was no longer with her; he had stopped walking and they were now ten feet from each other.

“Harry?” she repeated uncertainly.

Perhaps his face was white, to make her look so concerned and frightened. Harry was standing stock-still as waves of shock crashed over him, wave after wave, obliterating everything except the information that had been kept from him for so long…

It was Snape who had overheard the prophecy. It was Snape who had carried the news of the prophecy to Voldemort. Snape and Peter Pettigrew together had sent Voldemort hunting after Lily and James and their son…

Nothing else mattered to Harry just now.

“Harry?” said Professor Trelawney again. “Harry—I thought we were going to see the Headmaster together?”

“You stay here,” said Harry through numb lips.

“But, dear… I was going to tell him how I was assaulted in the Room of—”

“You stay here!” Harry repeated angrily.

She looked alarmed as he ran past her, round the corner into Dumbledore’s corridor, where the lone gargoyle stood sentry. Harry shouted the password at the gargoyle and ran up the moving spiral staircase three steps at a time. He did not knock upon Dumbledore’s door, he hammered; and the calm voice answered “Enter” after Harry had already flung himself into the room.

Fawkes the phoenix looked round, his bright black eyes gleaming with reflected gold from the sunset beyond the window. Dumbledore was standing at the window looking out at the grounds, a long, black travelling cloak in his arms.

“Well, Harry, I promised that you could come with me.”

For a moment or two, Harry did not understand; the conversation with Trelawney had driven everything else out of his head and his brain seemed to be moving very slowly.

“Come… with you…?”

“Only if you wish it, of course.”

“If I…”

And then Harry remembered why he had been eager to come to Dumbledore’s office in the first place.

“You’ve found one? You’ve found a Horcrux?”

“I believe so.”

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And she pulled a card dramatically from underneath her shawls.	\|	Rage and resentment fought shock and excitement: for several moments, Harry could not speak.

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