morning's Daily prophet； which lay unread on the bed； and attempted to stem the sudden upsurge of bitter memories； the stabs of regret and of longing the discovery of the broken mirror had occasioned； by attacking the rest of the rubbish in the trunk。
It took another hour to empty it pletely； throw away the useless items； and sort the remainder in piles according to whether or not he would need them from now on。 His school and Quidditch robes； cauldron； parchment； quills； and most of his textbooks were piled in a corner； to be left behind。 He wondered what his aunt and uncle would do with them； burn them in the dead of night； probably； as if they were evidence of some dreadful crime。 His Muggle clothing； Invisibility Cloak； potion…making kit； certain books； the photograph album Hagrid had once given him； a stack of letters； and his wand had been repacked into an old rucksack。 In a front pocket were the Marauder's Map and the locket with the note signed R。A。B。 inside it。 The locket was accorded this place of honor not because it was valuable … in all usual senses it was worthless … but because of what it had cost to attain it。
This left a sizable stack of newspapers sitting on his desk beside his snowy owl； Hedwig： one for each of the days Harry had spent at Privet Drive this summer。
He got up off the floor； stretched； and moved across to his desk。 Hedwig made no movement as he began to flick through newspapers； throwing them into the rubbish pile one by one。 The owl was asleep or else faking； she was angry with Harry about the limited amount of time she was allowed out of her cage at the moment。
As he neared the bottom of the pile of newspapers； Harry slowed down； searching for one particular issue that he knew had arrived shortly after he had returned to Privet Drive for the summer； he remembered that there had been a small mention on the front about the resignation of Charity Burbage； the Muggle Studies teacher at Hogwarts。 At last he found it。 Turning to page ten； he sank into his desk chair and reread the article he had been looking for。
bALBUS DUMBLEDORE REMEMBEREDb
By Elphias Doge
I met Albus Dumbledore at the age of eleven； on our first day at Hogwarts。 Our mutual attraction was undoubtedly due to the fact that we both felt ourselves to be outsiders。 I had contracted dragon pox shortly before arriving at school； and while
I was no longer contagious； my pock…marked visage and greenish hue did not encourage many to approach me。 For his part； Albus had arrived at Hogwarts under the burden of unwanted notoriety。 Scarcely a year previously； his father； Percival； had been convicted of a savage and well…publicized attack upon three young Muggles。
Albus never attempted to deny that his father （who was to die in Azkaban） had mitted this crime； on the contrary； when I plucked up courage to ask him； he assured me that he knew his father to be guilty。 Beyond that； Dumbledore refused to speak of the sad business； though many attempted to make him do so。 Some； indeed； were disposed to praise his father's action and assumed that Albus too was a Muggle…hater。 They could not have been more mistaken： As anybody who knew Albus would attest； he never revealed the remotest anti…Muggle tendency。 Indeed； his determined support for Muggle rights gained him many enemies in subsequent years。
In a matter of months； however； Albus's own fame had begun to eclipse that of his father。 By the end of his first year he would never again be known as the son of a Muggle…hater； but as nothing more or less than the most brilliant student ever seen at the school。 Those of us who were privileged to be his friends benefited from his example； not to mention his help and encouragement； with which he was always generous。 He confessed to me later in life that he knew even then that his greatest pleasure lay in teaching。
He not only won every prize of note that the school offered； he was soon in regular correspondence with the most notable magical names of the day； including Nicolas Flamel； the celebrated alchemist； Bathilda Bagshot； the noted historian； and Adalbert Waffling； the magical theoretician。 Several of his papers found their way into learned publications such as iTransfiguration Today； Challenges in Charming；i and iThe Practical Potioneeri。 Dumbledore's future career seemed likely to be meteoric； and the only question that remained was when he would bee Minister of Magic。 Though it was often predicted in later years that he was on the point of taking the job； however； he never had Ministerial ambitions。
Three years after we had started at Hogwarts； Albus's brother； Aberforth； arrived at school。 They were not alike： Aberforth was never bookish and； unlike Albus； preferred to settle arguments by dueling rather than through reasoned discussion。 However； it is quite wrong to suggest； as some have； that the brothers were not friends。 They rubbed along as fortably as two such different boys could do。 In fairness to Aberforth； it must be admitted that living in Albus's shadow cannot have been an altogether fortable experience。 Being continually outshone was an occupational hazard of being his friend and cannot have been any more pleasurable as a brother。 When Albus and I left Hogwarts we intended to take the then…traditional tour of the world together； visiting and observing foreign wizards； before pursuing our separate careers。 However； tragedy intervened。 On the very eve of our trip； Albus's mother； Kendra； died； leaving
Albus the head； and sole breadwinner； of the family。 I postponed my departure long enough to pay my respects at Kendra's funeral； then left for what was now to be a solitary journey。 With a younger brother and sister to care for； and little gold left to them； there could no longer be any question of Albus acpanying me。
That was the period of our lives when we had least contact。 I wrote to Albus； describing； perhaps insensitively； the wonders of my journey； from narrow escapes from chimaeras in Greece to the experiments of the Egyptian alchemists。 His letters told me little of his day…to…day life； which I guessed to be frustratingly dull for such a brilliant wizard。 Immersed in my own experiences； it was with horror that I heard； toward the end of my year's travels； that another tragedy had struck the Dumbledores： the death of his sister； Ariana。
Though Ariana had been in poor health for a long time； the blow； ing so soon after the loss of their mother； had a profound effect on both of her brothers。 All those closest to Albus … and I count myself one of that lucky number … agree that Ariana's death； and Albus's feeling of personal responsibility for it （though； of course； he was guiltless）； left their mark upon him forevermore。
I returned home to find a young man who had experienced a much older person's suffering。 Albus was more reserved than before； and much less light…hearted。 To add to his misery； the loss of Ariana had led； not to a renewed closeness between Albus and Aberforth； but to an estrangement。 （In time this would lift … in later years they reestablished； if not a close relationship； then certainly a cordial one。） However； he rarely spoke of his parents or of Ariana from then on； and his friends learned not to m