Chapter 1 Puzzlement

TO ACHIEVE PEACE, PRACTICE FORGIVENESS AND GOODWILL

The words were seared into Harry's mind like a brand on a calf. Harry had stood for more than an hour staring at these words scant weeks earlier in an ancient Egyptian shrine. Voldemort had laid plans for years to get access to the site. Voldemort's plans had all come to a head this past year when Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge, prompted both by his hatred of goblins and an Imperius Curse, had led an army of wizards behind a pair of graphorns modified to cause goblin heliopathy in an attack on Gringotts' Bank to gain access to the key that would open the shrine.

All the hundreds of goblins of Gringotts were helpless against the heliopathy, and would surely have died, except that the goblin healer Melony had alerted Harry and her boyfriend Dobby, who had destroyed the heliopaths while the older students of the Defense Association trapped the wizard army in Gringotts. With the threat of heliopathy gone, the goblins counterattacked against the invading army and defeated it, with the last remnants of the army driven out of Hogwarts into an inescapable crossfire from the students of the DA.

The only Hogwarts' fatality was Marietta Edgecombe, who had provided cover for the DA to get into position. Harry was the only other student casualty, having suffered substantial wounds after destroying the graphorns, but the physical wounds were easily healed. Not so easily healed was the emotional wound, as Harry had fallen in love with Marietta, and still loved her, though she had broken up with him.

In the aftermath, it was proven that Dobby was actually a goblin whose exposure to sunlight had made him elflike and that he was the owner of the vault where the key to the shrine had been placed years ago by his family, before all but he were murdered by Death Eaters looking for the key.

Dobby, Harry, Dumbledore and Hermione had traveled to Egypt to open the shrine. It was expected to have some sort of instructions for some great magic. Most had expected a recipe for a potion. Voldemort had expected instructions for immortality: after all, the ancient Egyptians had been preoccupied with overcoming death, and the inscription had said that it contained the path to what is great. Others had expected an incantation for an immensely powerful spell. However, the words when revealed said only "To Achieve Peace, Practice Forgiveness and Goodwill." There was no apparent incantation or potion recipe, no readily performable magic, and yet Dumbledore had been most impressed. And after all, the ancient Egyptian wizards had found these words to be so valuable that not only had they built a shrine for viewing them and encapsulated them in a charmed ruby the size of a snitch, but they had also protected the shrine with charms which had foiled the best that Voldemort, or the goblins, or wizard charm-breakers could throw at it. None of the mummies or troves of ancient Egypt were as well-protected as this.

Harry himself had stood transfixed. At first he was mesmerized by the promise of peace, for which his heart ached like it would collapse, having lost yet another in a string of people he loved lost to the fight against Voldemort. Then his attention shifted to the mystery of the instructions. Harry had barely been aware of Dumbledore discussing the message with Hermione, and only recalled it much later as he mulled over the events of that day. Dumbledore had said that this was the way that Harry could unlock power enough to overcome any evil.

But as usual Dumbledore was short on details. Harry got the impression that Dumbledore was leaving it to him to figure out, just as he had since Harry had come to Hogwarts' School of Wizardry and Witchcraft. Harry knew now that Dumbledore had been watching over Harry for some time, his whole life really, but had generally left Harry to figure things out for himself – with the occasional nudge or protection - and learn to deal with the challenges that faced him. Harry knew that Dumbledore felt that everyone should learn by doing and must meet their own challenges. Still, Harry's challenges had been extraordinary, and he didn't know if he could have brought himself to let someone meet all of those with no more preparation than Harry had. For all that, though, Harry had to admit that Dumbledore had cultivated in him an ability to deal with pain and danger and to face evil and fear beyond that of anyone he knew.

Now it was three weeks since he had viewed those words in the otherworldly setting of the shrine and he was back in the very muggle setting of his bedroom at his aunt and uncle's house at 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, UK. Other boys his age, 16 still for another month and a few days, were worried about girlfriends and zits and the latest tunes. Or maybe it was sports and electronic games and the Internet or … whatever. Harry had very little insight into what normal boys did. He had never been a normal boy, although he had wanted to be one and usually felt like he ought to be one. He did not feel all that special. He knew the things he had done set him apart, but he looked at those like they applied to someone else, just as the title he had carried since his parents were killed – The Boy Who Lived – was something apart from him, even though it applied to him.

Rather than the concerns of a normal boy, Harry knew that he stood between the entire world and the unleashing of death, destruction and subjugation to an extent that no one had ever previously conceived. And to prevent this disaster, he had to figure out those words – "To Achieve Peace, Practice Forgiveness and Goodwill" – and somehow do them. And as Harry thought about them, he knew that he only knew what those words meant in a very abstract sense. He had no idea how to apply them in any useful way.

Harry had settled back into the routine he had established the previous summer quite readily. He continued his early morning runs, workouts at the Recreation Center, and studying and practicing the incantations and movements for spells. On Monday, Wednesday and Friday evenings, he boxed with his cousin Dudley at the Recreation Center, with Uncle Vernon refereeing. On Tuesday and Thursday evenings Harry helped with the yard work, now that the members of the Order of the Phoenix were convinced that he was not being abused. Tuesday afternoons were spent at Mrs. Figg's house, helping her brew potions. Dumbledore was making arrangements already for Harry to visit classmates at their houses on the weekends. Just in case, Harry was never without his 2 magic wands, and carried a couple of drumsticks along with them, so it would look like he was just another teen boy wanting to be a rock band drummer, always ready to practice riffs on any available surface.

But through it all, Harry was pondering what the message meant, what it required of him. His consternation was not for want of trying. As he did things, he thought often of how much he cared for the people he knew, even when they were not at their best, and how many good things there were in the world. He was aware of the many bad things as well, but they all seemed solvable, if only people would make the effort, and he saw that many people, at least those he saw, were trying to solve problems, though sometimes they only saw only their local or personal problems, and not the big picture. It pained Harry to think, and even to have visions, of the death and destruction that would come if he himself did not solve the problem that faced him – Voldemort and his Death Eaters. The thought of the awful things they had and would do filled him with loathing, and yet he knew that whatever else the message from the shrine meant, learning not to hate people was a part of it.

Realizing he needed help, one evening Harry took out his mirror which communicated with a matching mirror Dumbledore had. These had belonged to his father and his godfather, Sirius Black, both now dead. If he had been back at Hogwarts, Harry might have talked with his portrait of Sirius, but a talking animate portrait was just too much to have around a muggle house, and it didn't help that his relatives had seen Sirius on the telly identified as a convicted murderer.

"Professor Dumbledore?" Harry spoke into the mirror, and soon Dumbledore's visage appeared.

"Yes, Harry. How are you?"

"Fine, sir. Trying to figure out the message from Egypt."

"Excellent. Are you making any progress?

"Not really; that's why I called. The words are just that to me - words. Most of the people I know try to be what they conceive of as good people, sometimes with only a vague notion of what that is, but I don't think I've ever heard anyone talking about practicing forgiveness and goodwill. About the only circumstances in which I hear of forgiveness is when a bad debt gets written off. And goodwill is only mentioned in the Christmas banners - you know, 'Peace on Earth, Goodwill towards Men.' But nobody talks about actually acting that way. It's just pretty words at the end of the year."

"You have come farther than you think, Harry. You know that the concepts are empty for most people and that practicing them means more than just saying them. Your relatives never took you to church I take it?"

"No, sir. They went to services at the local church at Easter, but they never brought me. The rest of the year, Uncle Vernon would just grumble about what a fraud the churches are."

"Unfortunately, sometimes they are. As you have learned of the Ministry, any institution – governments, religions, businesses, unions, clubs - can be abused by those who see only a source of authority or power in it, rather than an opportunity to help their fellows. Nonetheless, there are good people in government, and good people in religion. It is the latter that you have need of."

"No chance you could just make it all clear to me?" asked Harry.

Dumbledore smiled benignly. "Even if I had the words to express it all clearly, they would not make sense to you until you had confronted all the issues in your own heart and mind."

"So I need to go find a priest and talk it all out?"

"Actually, I've made arrangements for someone to come to you. Someone I know to be an excellent teacher of such matters. In fact, he is the Hogwarts chaplain."

"Hogwarts has a chaplain?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "Yes, of course, Harry. His name is Cameron MacBoon. Have you not noticed the chapel in the south courtyard?"

"Er, well, I saw the building but I never knew what it was. I've never heard anyone mention it or say they were going to services."

"Yes, most of the students have become quite secular, as has British society in general. Too few people are concerned with the notions of how to become exemplary people. They want power or money or leisure, but not enlightenment or serenity."

"I think I do. I think I'd better."

"Yes, Harry. Your experiences have pushed you into facing much of evil and pain. To handle these experiences without becoming dull or venal requires spiritual and moral study. Remus will be bringing him to meet you Wednesday afternoon. He and Chaplain MacBoon are friends, and he wanted to see you again as well, so he quickly volunteered to make the introductions."

"Wonderful. I love seeing Professor Lupin as well. It sounds as though you already knew I would be needing help."

"Few people can find their way where you'll be going without someone guiding them on the first part of the journey."

"It sounds a bit scary."

"I understand that, Harry, although it shouldn't. I would liken a young person to a seed. Most never allow themselves to sprout and grow and blossom, and yet we would consider doing so the fulfillment of the seed's reason for existence."

"Hmm, I think I see. The plant looks nothing like the seed itself, and people are afraid of letting go of what they are so as to become what they could be."

"Yes, very good. It is that fear of losing oneself in change that keeps most from ever growing. Do you think you're up for it?"

"As I see it, the choice is 'grow or die'."

"Yes, but not because of the threat which impends. For all of us, we either grow emotionally and spiritually or we begin to wither from within. You are just being pressed rather more insistently than most."

"I think I'd rather face a more immediate challenge, like a basilisk or Death Eaters: then I have the spur of adrenaline and the goal right in front of me."

"Yes, it is far easier to overcome a monster or a mountain than one's baser self."

"There is no other way?"

"Alas, Harry, your choice is to surrender and become just like Voldemort, in which case it barely matters which of you would win out, or to become his opposite."

Harry shuddered at the thought of becoming like Voldemort. "I've felt the pleasure he feels in others' pain and destruction. It sickens me even though the feeling of pleasure grasps at me. I'll do whatever it takes to go the opposite way."

"I had confidence that you would, Harry. Well, now that that is settled, what has your scar been telling you?"

"The pain has been growing since we were in Egypt. He knows we gained access and he is fuming over it. He probes my mind on occasion, but he is cautious, because he knows that I feel it and become more aware of his thoughts at the same time. He's plotting, but I don't know any details, other than that nothing dire has been done yet."

Dumbledore looked grim. "Harry, just how open are your minds to each other?"

"I'm … I'm not sure."

"Do you have any idea?"

"The connection is growing, but neither of us pushes the limits. He finds most of my thoughts repulsive and useless, and while I recognize the helpfulness of knowing his plans, much of the rest is contempt, fear and loathing."

Dumbledore nodded. "Excellent report, Harry. Keep me informed, but keep working on occlumency as well – you need to learn to protect yourself. And don't slack off on your other training just because you are concerned about the message. Before this is done, it is virtually certain you will need those skills to keep yourself alive. There are no shortcuts to victory."

"I have accepted that, Professor. Until all this is over, I know I have to prepare for anything."

Now Harry needed to prepare his aunt and uncle for having visitors from the wizarding world. Harry was always concerned about having magical people come to the house. His relatives were still none too keen on magic, though they had come to accept Harry and that Harry needed to stay each summer with them. Harry checked the calendar and reassured himself that the full moon was not near, so Professor Lupin would not be turning into a werewolf while visiting. Harry doubted that Lupin or Dumbledore would overlook a thing like that, but it didn't hurt to check. Harry knew that Lupin would do nothing very wizardly unless forced to, but he didn't know about Reverend MacBoon. Of course, there was the Statute for Secrecy, but too few wizards seemed capable of observing it, especially if they rarely interacted with the muggle world. Harry crept downstairs to the parlor, where his aunt and uncle were watching telly and talking about something nervously.

"Erm, Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia. I have something to tell you."

Vernon Dursley quick pushed an envelope into the cushion beside his leg and tried to give a relaxed smile from under his walrus moustache. "Aah, yes, Harry, my boy. That's fine, and we have something to tell you. Tell you what – you go first," he said unctuously.

This was sounding suspicious, thought Harry, but he went on. "A, erm, friend of mine – he used to be friends with my parents. Umm – you met him last year, Uncle Vernon, when he and several others came to watch us box – Professor Lupin?"

Harry stressed the word 'professor' in hopes that this would make him sound more acceptable. Harry expected a reaction from Uncle Vernon, but instead, Aunt Petunia spoke up. "Ooh, Remus!"

Uncle Vernon turned and glared at her as blush rose on her cheeks. "Yes, Petunia, and just where do you know this fellow from, and on a first-name basis, too? You weren't there at the Rec. Center last year."

"Oh, well, it's just that she – his mother – used to bring HIM – Harry's father – and his friends around at times. Remus was kind of reserved and shy, but with a kind of a hint of both wildness and sadness about him, and he would quote poetry. That's all very dashing and, erm, romantic to a teenage girl, you know. And more than any of them, he treated me like a regular person even though I wasn't – like them."

Uncle Vernon looked disquieted by this, but before he could speak, Harry said, "You knew them? Did you know Sirius, too?"

"The murderer?" shouted Uncle Vernon, getting very red in the face.

Petunia put up her hands to calm Vernon down and then continued, "Yes, I did. And while he was very rude to me at first, I still cannot come to believe that he murdered anyone. Especially as it came closer to the time they left that school, when they stopped coming around much, he had turned to be a very kindly and decent sort, still mischievous, but not in a hurtful way."

"That sounds like the Sirius I knew," said Harry, his voice cracking. "Why didn't you say anything before?"

"I'm sorry, Harry," said Petunia, "but I didn't want to stir anything up about old times. I liked the house being so much less tense."

"He wasn't really a murderer. We proved that at the school several years ago, but our evidence slipped away. And now it doesn't matter."

"Well, it does matter to me," said Petunia. "I didn't like thinking of him that way. I couldn't imagine any of them doing anything that evil."

"Well, actually, the real betrayer of my parents and murderer of those others was another friend of theirs, Peter Pettigrew. Do you remember him?"

Petunia searched her mind. "I think so. There was one boy they called Peter, or sometimes Worm-something. He was always such a tag-along, mousy little sort: I could see him doing all sorts of things to ingratiate himself with anyone he was with. I know I wouldn't have trusted him, but then, I wouldn't have trusted anyone with … those powers."

Harry tilted his head at her. "Really – just because they can do things you can't?"

"Yes, Harry. It's a decided and rather dramatic advantage over us … normal folk. Lots of people who have advantages - whether it's money or political power, or other ways to manipulate and take advantage of others - use them in bad ways. They even start to think they are entitled to treat those without such advantages as 'lesser people' deserving to be treated shabbily. After all, it must be 'God's will' that they have such advantages, they seem to think."

"I can't blame you for feeling that way. I've seen too much of people who think that way. I know … people with my powers who seem not to regard those without them as even human. They sneer at people like me with relatives and ancestors lacking those powers."

Uncle Vernon looked keenly at him. "Rather like the attitudes of the nobility, eh?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah. What makes them so special, anyway? But back to Professor Lupin, Aunt Petunia, you didn't say anything last year when all those people came to tell you two to treat me better. Didn't you recognize him?"

"Well, it actually took a while. The years have been somewhat hard on him. And really, Harry, that was by no means a social call they were making."

"No, you're right, it was anything but. Anyway, Professor Lupin is going to have another person with him, a Reverend MacBoon."

"Reverend?" perked up Vernon. "Well, he better not be passing the plate around here. We're already attending church regularly, thank you very much, and do our part. What's he coming around for?"

"He's to help me figure out some things?"

"Is he … one of your kind?"

"You know, I didn't ask. He's the chaplain at Hog – uh, my school -, so I assumed, but maybe not."

"Well, as long as they can arrive normal and look normal and they don't want anything out of us, it'll be okay," said Uncle Vernon. "Now Harry, I've just gotten a letter from my sister, …"

"Oh, no," said Harry, "not Aunt Marge."

Petunia nodded nervously, as Uncle Vernon went on. "Yes, she's coming to visit for the month of July. Listen, Harry, we know you aren't too fond of her, but we really don't want any, erm, well, blow up like we had the last time she came during a summer."

"She really says rather awful things, you know," said Harry.

"I can't deny it, Harry," agreed Uncle Vernon, "and we're going to have to go along with those things, too."

"WHAT?"

"Listen, Harry, things have been better for you here. And you can't deny it – you've enjoyed it. But things have been better because your headmaster explained all those things about what's going on in your world to us - over a cup of the most delightful tea that he brought – but we can't go trying to explain all that to m'sister. And how else are we going to explain the change of attitude around here. So we're going to have to put on like everything's just as it was the last time she came."

All of the old resentments and frustrations with Aunt Marge were boiling up in Harry, and this was proving to be a bitter pill to swallow. Finally, he said, "Well, Reverend MacBoon is coming here to teach me about forgiveness and goodwill. I guess Marge will have to be a priority project."