“No, they do not,” interrupted Dumbledore. “There are only two people in the whole world who know the full contents of the prophecy made about you and Lord Voldemort, and they are both standing in this smelly, spidery broom shed. It is true, however, that many have guessed, correctly, that Voldemort sent his Death Eaters to steal a prophecy, and that the prophecy concerned you.
“Now, I think I am correct in saying that you have not told anybody that you know what the prophecy said?”
“No,” said Harry.
“A wise decision, on the whole,” said Dumbledore. “Although I think you ought to relax it in favor of your friends, Mr. Ronald Weasley and Miss Hermione Granger. Yes,” he continued, when Harry looked startled, “I think they ought to know. You do them a disservice by not confiding something this important to them.”
“I didn’t want —”
“— to worry or frighten them?” said Dumbledore, surveying Harry over the top of his half-moon spectacles. “Or perhaps, to confess that you yourself are worried and frightened? You need your friends, Harry. As you so rightly said, Sirius would not have wanted you to shut yourself away.”
Harry said nothing, but Dumbledore did not seem to require an answer. He continued, “On a different, though related, subject, it is my wish that you take private lessons with me this year.”
“Private — with you?” said Harry, surprised out of his preoccupied silence.
“Yes. I think it is time that I took a greater hand in your education.”
“What will you be teaching me, sir?”
“Oh, a little of this, a little of that,” said Dumbledore airily.
Harry waited hopefully, but Dumbledore did not elaborate, so he asked something else that had been bothering him slightly.
“If I’m having lessons with you, I won’t have to do Occlumency lessons with Snape, will I?”
“Professor Snape, Harry — and no, you will not.”
“Good,” said Harry in relief, “because they were a —”
He stopped, careful not to say what he really thought.
“I think the word ‘fiasco’ would be a good one here,” said Dumbledore, nodding.
Harry laughed.
“Well, that means I won’t see much of Professor Snape from now on,” he said, “because he won’t let me carry on Potions unless I get ‘Outstanding’ in my O.W.L., which I know I haven’t.”
“Don’t count your owls before they are delivered,” said Dumbledore gravely. “Which, now I think of it, ought to be some time later today. Now, two more things, Harry, before we part.
“Firstly, I wish you to keep your Invisibility Cloak with you at all times from this moment onward. Even within Hogwarts itself. Just in case, you understand me?”
Harry nodded.
“And lastly, while you stay here, the Burrow has been given the highest security the Ministry of Magic can provide. These measures have caused a certain amount of inconvenience to Arthur and Molly — all their post, for instance, is being searched at the Ministry before being sent on. They do not mind in the slightest, for their only concern is your safety. However, it would be poor repayment if you risked your neck while staying with them.”
“I understand,” said Harry quickly.
“Very well, then,” said Dumbledore, pushing open the broom shed door and stepping out into the yard. “I see a light in the kitchen. Let us not deprive Molly any longer of the chance to deplore how thin you are.”
CHAPTER FIVE
AN EXCESS OF PHLEGM
Harry and Dumbledore approached the back door of the Burrow, which was surrounded by the familiar litter of old Wellington boots and rusty cauldrons; Harry could hear the soft clucking of sleepy chickens coming from a distant shed. Dumbledore knocked three times and Harry saw sudden movement behind the kitchen window.
“Who’s there?” said a nervous voice he recognized as Mrs. Weasley’s. “Declare yourself!”
“It is I, Dumbledore, bringing Harry.”
The door opened at once. There stood Mrs. Weasley, short, plump, and wearing an old green dressing gown.
“Harry, dear! Gracious, Albus, you gave me a fright, you said not to expect you before morning!”
“We were lucky,” said Dumbledore, ushering Harry over the threshold. “Slughorn proved much more persuadable than I had expected. Harry’s doing, of course. Ah, hello, Nymphadora!”
Harry looked around and saw that Mrs. Weasley was not alone, despite the lateness of the hour. A young witch with a pale, heart-shaped face and mousy brown hair was sitting at the table clutching a large mug between her hands.
“Hello, Professor,” she said. “Wotcher, Harry.”
“Hi, Tonks.”
Harry thought she looked drawn, even ill, and there was something forced in her smile. Certainly her appearance was less colorful than usual without her customary shade of bubble-gum-pink hair.
“I’d better be off,” she said quickly, standing up and pulling her cloak around her shoulders. “Thanks for the tea and sympathy, Molly.”
“Please don’t leave on my account,” said Dumbledore courteously, “I cannot stay, I have urgent matters to discuss with Rufus Scrimgeour.”
“No, no, I need to get going,” said Tonks, not meeting Dumbledore’s eyes. “’Night —”
“Dear, why not come to dinner at the weekend, Remus and Mad-Eye are coming — ?”
“No, really, Molly . . . thanks anyway . . . Good night, everyone.”
Tonks hurried past Dumbledore and Harry into the yard; a few paces beyond the doorstep, she turned on the spot and vanished into thin air. Harry noticed that Mrs. Weasley looked troubled.
“Well, I shall see you at Hogwarts, Harry,” said Dumbledore. “Take care of yourself. Molly, your servant.”
He made Mrs. Weasley a bow and followed Tonks, vanishing at precisely the same spot. Mrs. Weasley closed the door on the empty yard and then steered Harry by the shoulders into the full glow of the lantern on the table to examine his appearance.
“You’re like Ron,” she sighed, looking him up and down. “Both of you look as though you’ve had Stretching Jinxes put on you. I swear Ron’s grown four inches since I last bought him school robes. Are you hungry, Harry?”
“Yeah, I am,” said Harry, suddenly realizing just how hungry he was.