"Thank you. Those socks saved my life."
Not long after Harry Potter left the hospital wing, he sought Albert out to thank him.
He knew that although Sirius had given him the socks as a gift, Harry knew full well Sirius did not have the brains or ability to rescue him right under Voldemort's nose. Only Albert, with his gift of foresight, could have timed the activation of the Portkey so precisely.
Especially after Hermione and Ron had told him roughly what had happened, Harry became even more certain. Otherwise, why would the Weasley family have insisted on waiting for him on the Quidditch Pitch?
"Here's a piece of well-intentioned advice." As though he had not heard Harry Potter's thanks, Albert gazed calmly at the scenery outside the window. "People don't want to accept the truth."
"You want me to keep quiet, like Fudge does?"
Harry raised an eyebrow, recalling some unpleasant memories.
On the night he had been brought back, Fudge had visited him. It had not been a pleasant meeting, since they had fallen out.
For the first time, Harry had seen Fudge's other face—ugly, vicious, and repulsive.
"Can't you smell the fear?"
Albert gestured toward the students who went out of their way to avoid them and reminded Harry, "Change-makers usually don't die well, because they offend too many people."
"You think I should lie." Harry looked a little angry. He had come to thank Albert, not to listen to a lecture.
Just as Harry turned to leave, he heard Albert continue, "Looks like the lesson you got a few days ago wasn't enough!"
"What do you mean?"
Harry halted and forced himself to turn back.
He really wanted to leave immediately, but... sometimes it was better to stop and listen to someone else's advice, especially after