The Wand of Ravenclaw

Return to Number Twelve

Grimmauld Place had never been the most welcoming place even in the brightest of daylight, so it was positively unsettling by night. The little square in which the house sat was as run-down and filthy as Harry remembered it; a small patch of weed-strewn grass at the centre was encircled by an array of discarded chip papers, beer cans and other assorted litter. Underneath a graffiti-daubed wall at the far side of the square a metal bin crackled with a fire lit inside while pounding club music spewed from one of the many part-derelict houses around the place.

Clutching his wand tightly inside his cloak, Harry stole across the square casting nervous glances in all directions. Number Twelve's shining serpent door knocker glinted in the dirty orange neon of the streetlight. He thought about knocking, wondering who would be inside to open up, and whether they would allow him in. He decided that, as it was his property, he didn't really care what they thought and reached for the knocker anyway. As he did, a sudden fizzing noise held his actions. He looked down to see a handsome brass case materialise out of thin air next to the twisted serpent.

Harry looked at it for some time. The contrast of the case to the Dark Arts preference of the house was not lost on Harry. He considered for a moment that it might be trap; perhaps, now that Dumbledore had died, the attributes which had made the house so appealing as a Headquarters were no longer in place. Was it still Unplottable? Was the Fidelius Charm now defunct as its caster was no longer living? Harry remembered that Sirius had once told him that most of the charms had been put on by his security-conscious father and that Dumbledore wouldn't have had any effect on them. But what about the Fidelius, Harry thought. What if this house is a trap waiting for me? He realised then that the Order of the Phoenix must have a new leader, that although Dumbledore had been Secret Keeper that he surely couldn't have performed the charm on himself. Which led Harry to wonder who had cast the charm, and who they had approached to take it over in Dumbledore's stead.

Harry looked at the case and saw a small clasp holding a clear lid in place. Reaching down he unhooked the clasp and lifted the lid. Immediately, a shot of flame flew out of the box and when it died it left a piece of parchment floating in the air. Harry caught it, unfurled it quickly and read. The tight, loopy writing was undeniably familiar.

'Hello, Harry. If you are reading this it can only mean that I have perished. I have placed this charm upon the door in readiness for this very event. It is a sign of my growing age that I had to steal an old idea of mine and re-work it. Novel ideas have been at a premium for me lately. You may remember in your first Hogwarts year that I performed a spell upon the Mirror Of Erised that allowed me to successfully hide the Philosopher's Stone to any but those who wished to find it but not use it. The spell I cast here is rather similar, except that this message could only appear to you and that only if you agree to the request within can anyone but you enter the house.

'The request is thus: as master of the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix you are automatically a member of the group. As we have established, I must be dead and the Fidelius Charm performed on me must also be dead. But here's where one of my most brilliant ideas has found a second use. This parchment contains a dormant Fidelius Charm as I used Fawkes flame to conceal it within the door. If you enter the house with the parchment then the charm will be awoken. If you burn it with your wand it will be passed onto you. I could think of no other who would be more trusted with such a secret as the one I have carried. If you choose to destroy the parchment outside or dispose of it before entering then the charm will void and the enemy will find us. It is, of course, a choice I leave to you.

Your Eternal Friend,

Albus Dumbledore