Harry Potter and the Wandless Magic

Chapter Seven: Big Truths

Harry leaned back into the armchair in the den. He had been mostly studying last night and Andromeda hadn't spoken to him about anything that had happened at the Department of Mysteries. Had she told Dora and Ted about the Horcruxes?

This morning, Ted had invited him to come in and get lost in some light reading before heading to Diagon Alley. Harry had grabbed a book about dark artifacts and curses and sat down, flipping through the pages slowly. After a half hour, Ted told him to stay as long as wanted and headed out, presumably to go to work.

Twirling a Muggle pen in one hand above a spiral-bound notebook, Harry was glad to have been placed with people who understood that some Muggle inventions were superior such as the Wizarding World's odd attachment to quills and ink.

The young wizard glanced at the few notes he had jotted down about Horcruxes. There wasn't a lot of information on them beyond what the Unspeakables had told him. He let out a long sigh.

"Wotcher, Harry."

Harry turned to find Dora giving him a kind smile. "Hey, Dora."

She raised an eyebrow but said nothing about the shortened use of her dreaded first name. With a plop, she landed on the couch and laced her fingers behind her head.

"What's got you so down, Harry?"

He frowned. "I just don't understand why Dumbledore wouldn't tell me about the Horcrux. I was right there in his office and he could have told me that there was one in my head. Why did he keep something like that from me?"

Dora pursed her lips sideways. "He probably thought you weren't ready to hear it. Most people older than you will not want to tell you things because you're young."

"But I've already faced Voldemort twice!" He glanced at the doorway, but no one was there.

"I know, Harry, but look at it this way. You're still not even a teenager. What if a three year old told you about how he defeated a basilisk and a man possessed with a dead man's soul? You might believe him with enough evidence, but would you tell him everything that he would need to know for the next ten years and hope that he wouldn't freak out and do something rash?"

Harry felt his anger rise, both at the thought of people thinking he was like a three-year-old and at the fact that her argument made sense. While he could be angry at Dumbledore all he wanted, it wouldn't get him the answers he wanted.

"So what you're saying is . . . I need to trick people into seeing me as older. That way they won't think of me as a child."

"Knew you'd get there, Harrykins. Got any idea how you're gonna do that?"

"Not a clue. Maybe the goblins will give me some ideas."

"Sounds like a good start. They aren't just good with money. Their eyes see a lot into politics, titles and other stuff. Ask them as much as you can think of. You'll be paying for them time either way."

Harry chuckled. "I guess you're right."

Dora's face became serious and there was a haunted look in her eyes. "Just be careful. Sometimes the truth might be bigger than you want, and there's no taking things back, short of an Obliviation. Even then, there's no guarantee."

Harry didn't know what to say. What truth could be so big, he'd want to forget? Wouldn't that mean that he would be that much worse when he found on later?

"Ready to go?" Andromeda's voice called from the doorway.

He jumped to his feet. "Yea."

A quick floo stop later, they were strolling through Diagon Alley. As they passed Quality Quidditch Supplies, Harry gawked at the Firebolt, the newest and fastest broom in the world. He promised himself that he simply had to come back and get a closer look at it once they were done speaking with the goblins.