Harry Potter and the Secret Treasures

During these so-called interviews, which effectively served as trials, the remaining Dementors, who had reverted to the Ministry of Magic, were once again brought into play.

Intimidation, violence, persecution — the new Ministry and the Dementors became one.

It no longer served as a guarantor of justice and order within the Wizarding world, but rather as a source of evil and chaos.

Evan could easily imagine the turmoil that was about to sweep across the Wizarding community. He finished the piece of bread in his hand and flipped a few more pages of the newspaper.

A photograph that showed a family group caught his eye. Beneath the photograph were the words: The Dumbledore family, left to right: Albus; Percival, holding newborn Ariana; Kendra; and Aberforth.

It was a promotional advertisement for Rita Skeeter’s new book. The new Ministry seemed to be pleased with it, giving it prominent publicity.

The photo showed Dumbledore’s father, Percival, as a good-looking man with eyes that seemed to twinkle even in this faded old photograph.

This was the first time Evan had ever seen him. The man had ultimately died in Azkaban, convicted of murdering Muggles.

Those who did not know the full circumstances of the case would think Percival a vile criminal — no different from the most rigid and bigoted pure-blood wizards, who casually tormented and killed Muggles for their own amusement or whim. And he had been reckless too: openly killing those Muggles in broad daylight. Such things were not unheard of at the time, but few, like Percival, had ever done it without mask or disguise, without even trying to flee — choosing instead to openly defy the Ministry’s law and be arrested.

The case caused a sensation in the Wizarding world. To some, the murderer Percival was seen as a hero. He had done what they had always wanted but never dared to do. All the more since Percival had acted in vengeance for his daughter, an act that lent a powerful sense of heroism to his name.

Evan found it difficult to pass judgment on Percival’s actions, but he could not deny that he had been a great father.

He had simply chosen the wrong way to take revenge, answering violence with greater violence, which brought not release, but endless suffering.

Percival’s choice shaped the fate of his family, and in some ways, even influenced the course of the entire Wizarding world.

He had been just an ordinary wizard who, in a fit of rage, committed a wrongdoing.

He paid with his life, and his wife, son, and daughter bore the brunt of the consequences.

Percival’s fate had long since ended, but the repercussions of the murder were far from over. Even after so many years, many wizards still admired what he had done, some even going further still. Now, they had begun to persecute Muggles openly and lawfully, simply because they had the power to do so.

Magic equated to power, and power equated to superiority.

Many yearned for power, to become stronger, and then seek pleasure in torturing those less capable.

And of course, they would cloak such deeds with lofty justifications, such as revenge, as in Percival’s case.

Whether such actions were right or not, Evan couldn’t judge, but the entire process was undoubtedly distorted, and even the most righteous reasons became mere despicable excuses.

In the photograph, Percival’s baby, Ariana, was little longer than a loaf of bread and no more distinctive-looking.

The mother, Kendra, had jet-black hair pulled into a high bun. Her face had a carved quality about it.

Though she was dressed in a high-necked silk gown, her dark eyes, high cheekbones, and straight nose reminded Evan of Native Americans.

Albus and Aberforth wore matching lacy collared jackets and had identical, shoulder-length hairstyles. Albus looked several years older, but otherwise the two boys looked very alike, for this was before Albus’s nose had been broken and before he started wearing glasses.

The family looked quite happy and normal, smiling serenely up out of the newspaper. Baby Ariana’s arm waved vaguely out of her shawl.

Beneath the picture was an extract from Rita Skeeter’s new book, which Evan began to read:

Proud and haughty, Kendra Dumbledore could not bear to remain in Mould-on-the-Wold after her husband Percival’s well-publicized arrest and imprisonment in Azkaban. She therefore decided to uproot the family and relocate to Godric’s Hollow, the village that was later to gain fame as the scene of Harry Potter’s strange escape from You-Know-Who.

At that moment, a quick tread of footsteps echoed outside the kitchen.

Evan looked up to see Harry in the doorway, still pale and looking as if he hadn’t slept well.

Kreacher, the house-elf, came to greet him. Harry paused for a moment before sitting down next to Evan.

He was clutching something in his hand, his expression slightly downcast.

“What’s wrong, Harry?” Evan asked.

“I was just upstairs, in Sirius’s room. I’ve never been there before,” said Harry, his voice a little hoarse. “I found this there.”

He handed over the crumpled note, which Harry smoothed out.

“Sirius never told me, I didn’t know …” Harry whispered.

Evan squinted and began to read. It was a letter from Harry’s mother, Lily, to Sirius.

Dear Padfoot,

Thank you, thank you, for Harry’s birthday present! It was his favorite by far. One year old and already zooming along on a toy broomstick, he looked so pleased with himself, I’m enclosing a picture so you can see. You know it only rises about two feet off the ground, but he nearly killed the cat and he smashed a horrible vase Petunia sent me for Christmas (no complaints there). Of course, James thought it was so funny, says he’s going to be a great Quidditch player, but we’ve had to pack away all the ornaments and make sure we don’t take our eyes off him when he gets going.

We had a very quiet birthday tea, just us and old Bathilda, who has always been sweet to us and who dotes on Harry. We were so sorry you couldn’t come, but the Order’s got to come first, and Harry’s not old enough to know it’s his birthday anyway! James is getting a bit frustrated shut up here, he tries not to show it but I can tell — also, Dumbledore’s still got his Invisibility Cloak, so no chance of little excursions. If you could visit, it would cheer him up so much. Wormy was here last weekend, I thought he seemed down, but that was probably the news about the McKinnons; I cried all evening when I heard.

Bathilda drops in most days, she’s a fascinating old thing with the most amazing stories about Dumbledore, I’m not sure he’d be pleased if he knew! I don’t know how much to believe, actually, because it seems incredible that Dumbledore

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