After Snape left.
"What did he mean by something he had to explain to me?" Harry asked.
Dumbledore showed no change in expression as he led the way. "Why do you think it had anything to do with you?"
"He kept watching me." Harry followed Dumbledore. "Seven or eight times? He looked at me that many times during dinner."
Dumbledore nodded. "Of course. Everyone is interested in you, Harry. You're the most special one of all."
Changing the subject. Fobbing him off.
Snape definitely wasn't included in "everyone."
Seeing that the old man didn't want to discuss it, Harry said no more.
He followed Dumbledore to the Headmaster's Office.
Dumbledore invited Harry to sit, then sat down himself and took a jar of... indescribable contents from a drawer. Inside the clear glass jar, cockroaches crawled over one another.
"Fresh Cockroach Clusters."
"Would you like some? They're delicious."
Harry leaned his head back, his face full of resistance. "No, thank you."
"Oh, all right. It seems even our dear Chosen One can't appreciate this delicacy." Dumbledore opened the jar, took out a few, and tossed them into his mouth. He crunched down, and juice splattered everywhere.
Peanuts, cream, frosting...
Harry could tell what these cockroaches were made of almost instantly.
Thank goodness.
They weren't real cockroaches. He knew plenty of witchers eventually went a little mad; that was normal, but he didn't want his headmaster to be one of them.
"Before you ask your questions, Harry, would you allow me to ask you one first?" Dumbledore spoke before he could. With a wave of his wand, a glass of milk appeared in front of Harry. "There's someone with his hands around this poor old man's neck, demanding an explanation."
"Professor Snape?" Harry asked.
Dumbledore acted as if he hadn't heard him. "What happened to your eyes?"
"I remember your eyes were emerald green, like jade."
"I don't know." Harry shook his head, answering half-truthfully. "Maybe it's some kind of magic?"
"When did they change?" Dumbledore asked again.
Harry answered, "The day Hogwarts sent me a letter."
"Has anything else changed?" Dumbledore's expression grew serious.
"All of a sudden, I learned a little spell," Harry said.
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "A little spell? What kind? Can you show me?"
Harry glanced around. "It has a rather wide range. I don't know..."
Dumbledore held up a hand. "Don't worry. I may be old, but I can protect my office."
Harry didn't hesitate any longer. He raised his hand and formed a Sign.
"Aard!"
With a boom, magic surged forward, and the office trembled slightly. The sleeping phoenix let out a startled cry and poked its head around.
Other than that, nothing was affected.
"Very interesting. It's similar to the Knockback Jinx." Dumbledore tapped the table as he gave his assessment. "But I must say, I didn't expect its range to be this wide."
"A very interesting spell."
Harry said nothing, watching Dumbledore cautiously.
This man... the greatest white wizard of the century, an old wizard who had defeated two Dark Lords. He was even more powerful than the books said. Harry had used the Aard Sign with nearly all his strength, but he hadn't even managed to budge Dumbledore's magic.
"The Potter family is very, very old." Dumbledore rubbed his head. "It seems I'll have to look into it properly. Perhaps there's something I've overlooked."
"All right, Harry. Tell me what you wanted to discuss."
Harry took a deep breath. "I have two things... no, three things to tell you."
"First, I'd like to discuss whether I can find out how much inheritance my parents left me."
Dumbledore looked at Harry in surprise.
"It's not that I don't trust you, but... you're older and wiser, and you know it's only right for me to do this." Harry waved a hand and offered a casual explanation. "I don't think my parents left only the assets in Gringotts."
Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, I know. I'm just a little surprised."
He'd thought Harry would come to complain about life among Muggles, ask about his parents' past, or perhaps ask why Snape treated him that way.
He hadn't expected Harry to open with a question about his inheritance.
"Your parents left you a great many things." Dumbledore thought for a moment, then slowly continued, "Most of them are at Potter Manor, your family home."
"Hagrid told me you have many interests, like Potions, Herbology, and blacksmithing..."
"You needn't worry about money. The Potter family owns a goose that lays golden eggs. You receive a cut of the royalties for every bottle of hair-growth potion sold."
"I'll make you a list of those families."
"They haven't paid the Potter family in ten years, though. You'll have to figure out how to get the money back yourself."
"Of course, you can always ask an old man like me for help."
Harry froze.
Oh...
That was one hell of a surprise.
Hair-growth potion. No wonder he hadn't seen any bald wizards.
Dumbledore continued.
"Your father left behind a number of Transfiguration notes. He was a very talented Transfiguration master, but Transfiguration can be dangerous. I'll give them to Professor McGonagall, your Head of House and the Transfiguration professor."
"She's an excellent and responsible teacher. She'll give you the notes when the time is right."
"And your mother was a remarkable witch, very skilled at Potions. She left behind quite a few notes on the subject, which are with Professor Snape. You can speak with him about them."
Harry narrowed his eyes.
The wording was a little odd. Professor McGonagall would be "given" his father's notes, but his mother's belongings were "with" Professor Snape.
Oh, ho...
He looked a lot like his father, and Professor Snape hated his face so much. Then there was the matter of his eyes...
He'd have to find out whether Professor Snape was married.
Dumbledore didn't continue. His expression was hesitant, his fists clenched slightly.
He was worrying, thinking it over, working up the courage.
"Of course, the most important thing is one of your father's possessions: an Invisibility Cloak."
He stood and took a box from a nearby cabinet.
Harry raised an eyebrow.
Why the unusual attitude?
He knew about Invisibility Cloaks. The books said they were woven from Demiguise hair and had an effect similar to the Disillusionment Charm.
They were certainly valuable.
But not valuable enough to make Dumbledore hesitate. An Invisibility Cloak cost only a few hundred Galleons, while the Potter family's hair-growth potion was worth far more.
He wasn't interested in Galleons in the slightest.
Dumbledore opened the box, took a deep breath, and pushed it toward him with a little effort. "This is it. Your father's old possession. He used to sneak out at night with it all the time."
The box was empty, but when Harry reached in and touched it, he felt something cool against his fingers.
"This isn't an ordinary Invisibility Cloak?" Harry drew back his hand, closed the lid, and hugged the box to his chest.
Dumbledore paused. "Why do you ask?"
"You hesitated," Harry said bluntly. "I can tell you're debating whether to give it to me—and you're not worried I'll use it to do something bad."
Dumbledore's expression didn't change. He simply let out a breath. "The Sorting Hat was right. You really are an exceptionally perceptive young wizard."
"The owner of the Cedar Wand?"
"All right, it really is a very special Invisibility Cloak. Perhaps—I'm only saying perhaps—I may ask to borrow it from you again someday. I hope you'll agree when I do."
"But what is it..."
"Could we talk about that another time?"
Harry nodded. "Of course."
"Then let's discuss the second thing. I'd like to take the Sorting Hat with me."
Dumbledore paused again. All right, that was another unexpected request.
"I knew it, I knew it!" The Sorting Hat, sitting atop a nearby cabinet, shouted. "I knew you were up to no good!"
"Why do you want it?" Dumbledore asked curiously.
Harry replied with perfect reason. "It told me that whoever pulls out the sword can take part in Gryffindor's trial, and whoever passes the trial can truly own the Sword of Gryffindor."
"If I take it with me, I can learn more about the trial."
A trace of nostalgia showed in Dumbledore's eyes. "Gryffindor's trial. Oh, yes, of course. You'll have to bring the Hat back at the beginning of every school year."
"Hogwarts still needs it for the Sorting."
Harry asked, "Did you pass Gryffindor's trial when you were young?"
Dumbledore shook his head. "The trial is only for young wizards. When I was at Hogwarts, I didn't even have the courage to pull the sword out."
Harry didn't press him. He caught a barely perceptible flash of pain in Dumbledore's eyes. Witchers might be poor conversationalists, but that didn't mean they couldn't read the room.
"There's one more thing." Harry lifted a hand and brushed back his hair. "My scar suddenly started hurting just now, when I was looking at Professor Quirrell."
Dumbledore paused, his expression turning serious at once. "Your scar hurt?"
Harry briefly explained. "It never hurt when I was at my aunt's house. It didn't hurt after I started learning magic, either. Only today—only just now, when I was looking at Professor Quirrell—did it suddenly hurt."
"Are you sure it happened because you were looking at Professor Quirrell?" Dumbledore asked with a frown.
Harry nodded. "Yes, I'm sure."
"Magic didn't cause my scar to hurt, and no one cast a curse on me. This may sound far-fetched, but it's the likeliest explanation."
Dumbledore rubbed his head. "All right. I understand."
"You have an answer?" Harry narrowed his eyes.
Dumbledore muttered, "Harry, you're so perceptive that I'm starting to wonder whether you used Legilimency on me—if you know how."
"I do have a few suspicions, but I'm not certain yet. Give me some time, Harry."
"It's late now. You've been on the train all day. Take your Invisibility Cloak and the Sorting Hat, and get back to your dormitory to rest."
"I believe Gryffindor's password is Dragon Dregs."
"The Hat will show you the way."
Before you continue