"What's this?" Harry stared at the insole in Dumbledore's hand, puzzled.
Harry remembered Dumbledore telling him in his first year, in front of the Mirror of Erised, that he saw himself holding a thick pair of woolen socks. Harry had always found it strange that the greatest white wizard wanted socks.
And now Dumbledore was giving him an insole... Did powerful wizards all have peculiar hobbies?
"It's a special kind of Portkey," Dumbledore explained. "If you're in danger, you can activate it and return to Hogwarts. Right here."
Harry knew what a Portkey was. He had used one to get to the Quidditch World Cup.
At that, Harry accepted the Insole Portkey. "Thank you, Professor Dumbledore."
Harry was delighted. He felt he needed something like this, considering that something had happened to him every year, big or small: Quirrell in his first year, the snake in his second, and all those Dementors in his third.
This year's Triwizard Tournament was not over yet, so Harry hardly felt safe. He kept thinking something might happen to him. Now that Dumbledore had given him the Portkey, of course he was pleased.
Watching Harry turn the insole over and over with a foolish grin, Strange wanted to rub the head of the boy who had been so thoroughly fooled—if he had hands.
Because it was not a Portkey that could bring Harry back at all. It was an alchemical creation that could transport Dumbledore to Harry, serving as a teleportation anchor.
And Will and Dumbledore had discussed it right in front of him, the Sorting Hat. The old man and the young man had Harry wrapped around their fingers.
"Hi, Mr. Behrens." By the Black Lake, Pheobe was taking a walk with her sister when she greeted Will, who had just finished