A Change of Heart

Chapter Nineteen

There was silence in the room for a few moments after Harry had finished speaking. Neither Ron nor Hermione had spoken while Harry was talking. Harry was grateful to them for not interrupting him. He was not looking at them while he talked. And now again he kept his head down, staring at his shoes.

It was Ron who broke the silence. "Do you think You-know-who is-well-sincere?"

"Dumbledore seemed to think so," muttered Harry.

"Harry," said Hermione. "I think you should tell him about the prophecy. I mean, this is something the two of you need to work out for yourselves."

Harry was amazed. Ron and Hermione were neither disgusted nor horrified. They were only concerned for him, and in a good way. His heart felt light and he looked up at them, smiling.

"You reckon?"

"He has to know. If Dumbledore feels his changed attitude towards you is genuine, then I think you can trust that." Said Hermione.

"I still find it hard to believe," muttered Ron. "But I do trust Dumbledore. I mean, he would have said it if he thought You-know-who is upto anything bad towards you."

"I guess I should write to Tom then," muttered Harry.

"Oh, it's Tom now, I see," Hermione smirked while Ron guffawed and Harry blushed.

"We'll leave you to write your letters in peace then," grinned Ron as he grabbed Hermione's hand and dragged her out of the room. They were both chortling.

Harry was smiling like an idiot as he pulled parchment and quills towards him. Dipping the quill in the ink, he thought for a moment. Then he started writing.

"Tom," he wrote. "Dumbledore told me about the prophecy. I need to talk to you.
Harry."

He read through the letter once again. Then he sighed deeply as he sealed the letter and gave it to Hedwig.

"I know I'm cutting it fine," he told her. "If he can't be found in time, just come to Hogwarts, ok?"

Hedwig nipped him in an affectionate way before flying out. Harry straightened. He needed to talk to Sirius. His godfather had a right to know. But Harry was not going to tell him about the prophecy. That information was not for everyone. Otherwise, Dumbledore would have told the Order long time ago.

He did not ask himself why it was okay to tell his friends, but not his godfather. He trusted Sirius implicitly, but he knew Sirius would probably try too hard to protect him. Harry knew he had to fight his own battles. Hermione was right. This prophecy was between him and Tom.

He went downstairs, feeling more relaxed and happy than he'd been since the day he learned of the prophecy. He wondered if Snape had left and if Sirius was free. Ron and Hermione was in the room adjoining the kitchen. Fred, George and Ginny were also there. They all kept shooting glances at the kitchen.

"Big meeting going on," whispered Fred. "No way to overhear though."

"Is that why Snape is here?" Asked Harry, curiously.

"Snape is here?" Asked Ron. "You didn't say you met him."

"Sirius and I were talking when he came in and then Sirius sent me upstairs."

"We ought to invent some way of eavesdropping on meetings even when charms and wards are in place," said George thoughtfully. "Snape never comes unless it is top secret and very very important."

"I hope they finish soon," muttered Ron. "I'm hungry."

"As if it's new," snorted Ginny as she looked up from where she and Hermione were going through a book together. Ron ignored his sister.

"I'm curious," muttered Fred. "I wish I could listen to them."

Harry sat back. He would need to wait till the meeting finished to talk to Sirius. Right on cue, the door to the kitchen opened and people started coming out. Most of them left, declining Sirius' invitation to stay for dinner. Harry was pleased to notice he did not extend the invitation to Snape, who was among the first to leave.

After that, they were all busy in helping Mrs. Weasley set the table and prepare dinner. But Harry did manage to get close enough to Sirius to whisper, "We need to talk."

Sirius nodded. "After dinner," he whispered back.

Dinner that night was a boisterous affair with Harry laughing alongwith everyone else at Fred and George's antics and at Mundungus' descriptions of his less colourful exploits. After a long time, Harry felt he was home.