Harry woke sometime later. His arm ached. He thought of that Harry man had his heart began to race. Was he safe...
Then he looked around. The infirmary.
"Mr. Potter," the matron said.
She inspected him as if he were dying. He wasn't, though. The cut was healed up, too.
The matron noticed where Harry was looking. "How did you wind up with that cut?" she asked.
"I was attacked while out there."
"Attacked, my word." She seemed haunted by memories just then.
A door that Harry couldn't see opened. "Madam Pomfrey, I would like to speak with your patient."
The mediwitch looked to Headmaster Flamel and nodded. "He's comfortable. Please try not to upset him."
The Headmaster made no commitments.
"So, the body of the Wolf of Bandon is on the school grounds. You are in here after being cut. Danger has returned again to Hogwarts against all my best efforts."
"He said he didn't want to kill me. But he had to..."
"Slow down, Harry. Tell me everything. Why were you on the grounds? Please start there."
So Harry did. He told the whole story.
"This should be a place of safety and I feel we have failed you," Headmaster Flamel said.
Harry agreed, but just looked away.
"I didn't see who...attacked him," Harry said. "Just a shadow in the woods."
"I know who it was. I do not know the why, as of yet."
"Who was it professor?"
"The man who killed your attacker was Augustus Rookwood, another of the Azkaban escapees. The wards were quite clear on that."
"But why... And how did either of them get on the grounds?"
"You've been looking into protections?"
"Yes," Harry said.
"The kind of protections available for a private home used to be different from what could be placed on a public structure like this one. I imagine an estate like the Potters had could completely exclude people?"
Harry nodded.
"Hogwarts is a public structure built a long time ago. The wards keep out almost no witches and wizards. They'll keep out different creatures, but wizards can pass through."
"But..."
"The state of warding has changed somewhat over the centuries, but Hogwarts wards are renowned, old, and powerful. Newer ones are thought by some conservative nitwits to have a deleterious effect on the old ones. So, basically, we can't upgrade because some old men are afraid. The way things always go."
So anyone could come onto the grounds... Some protection. "What should I do?" Harry asked.
"I've no doubt you're more wary now."
"Yes."
"So stay in groups. Continue the training you've done with self-defense spells. And we shall see what we can do to tighten things up with the protections. It's hard because we do have others on the grounds, especially during Quidditch weekends. But we cannot keep out the Governors or the parents of students or Ministry employees, among others."
"But you can keep Rookwood out? And Lestrange?"
"Yes, if we have the names of certain individuals, we can ban them from the castle. I just couldn't secure permission until this happened. Three Azkaban escapees and the Board didn't wish to invoke the wards... I'm disgusted with many of them. Albus was rather foolish not to do so during the last war, so none of the Board are used to how it works. I think I'll manage to restart the practice."
"So I'm safe here?" Harry asked.
"Well, you're safe from two people entering the castle, Mr. Potter. The ground as more tricky. I think we both know you have more troublemakers in your life than that."
"Right." Harry thought of that odd man on the ground before the attack. So he mentioned the conversation and what the man looked like. "Was he part of it?"
"I know him. He works for the Ministry. An eager sort, but not very cautious. I doubt he was involved." Still, the Headmaster looked very displeased.
"But what was he talking about? Invitations..."
"A fool's lot to mention it to you now. A clever fool that boy. It's an option for you when you're older – but only if you're interested."
"It's a real job?"
Flamel shrugged. "You're too young, by far, to see which way you'll go..."
"I'm not," Harry almost snapped. He hated being called too young.
"You wish to study the esoteric?"
Harry shrugged.
"As I said, too young. You would do well there, if it fit your other plans. But only if it was something of interest."
"And what was it called?"
"The Department of Mysteries. Now file it away and forget it. If you become useful to them, they'll be in touch. An odd bunch in recent centuries, secretive."
"They work for the Ministry?" Harry asked.
"They work out of the Ministry. It's hard to say who they work for. I have contacts there, but I doubt I hear everything. They're secretive, remember?"
Harry smiled. "What about the Ministry? One of their escapees was here – and he was killed by another. What will the Ministry do?"
"I've reported what happened."
"And?"
"Give them five weeks to decide."
So slow. "What do you think?"
"Based on their usual pattern? They'll do something dumb, then do more of it until it finally works... Now if the smarter option is to replace the Dementors with Aurors, I'd say the Ministry will send more Dementors and no Aurors."
Harry was aghast. "If they haven't worked so far, why are they sending more of them?"
"I've known the British Ministry to have some sense, but it's not often and it's not continuous over the decades. Right now, the Ministry is led by lackwits who believe themselves competent, perhaps the most dangerous sort of wizard and witch."
"Right," Harry said.
"Again, my apologies. I had thought to do more here. While the English haven't manage to replace me yet, they have neatly organized to oppose good sense things I propose - and merely because I propose them. I fear I am making some situations worse by the fact of my birth nationality. Morons."
Morons indeed, Harry agreed.