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me about that woman!' cried Professor Trelawney leaping to her feet, her beads rattling and her spectacles flashing. 'Kindly continue with your work!'
And she spent the rest of the lesson striding among them, tears still leaking from behind her glasses, muttering what sounded like threats under her breath. '... may well choose to leave... the indignity of it... on probation... we shall see... how she dares.. 'She obviously reckons Trelawney's an old fraud, too... looks like she's put her on probation.'
Umbridge entered the room as he spoke, wearing her black velvet bow and an expression of great smugness. 'Good afternoon, class.'
'Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge,' they chanted dully. 'Wands away, please.'
But there was no answering flurry of movement this time; nobody had bothered to take out their wands. 'Please turn to page thirty-four of Defensive Magical Theory and read the third chapter, entitled "The Case for Non-Offensive Responses to Magical Attack". There will be - '
'- no need to talk,' Harry, Ron said together, under their breaths. *
'No Quidditch practice,' said Angelina in hollow tones when Harry, Ron entered the common room after dinner that night. 'But I kept my temper!' said Harry, horrified. 'I didn't say anything to her, Angelina, I swear, I - '
'I know, I know, said Angelina miserably. 'She just said she needed a bit of time to consider.'
'Consider what?' said Ron angrily. 'She's given the Slytherins permission, why not us?'
But Harry could imagine how much Umbridge was enjoying holding the threat of no Gryffindor Quidditch team over their heads and could easily understand why she would not want to relinquish that weapon over them too soon. 'No Quidditch practice, and extra Potions?'
Harry slumped down into a chair, dragged his Potions essay reluctantly from his bag and set to work. It was very | about that woman!' cried Professor Trelawney leaping to her feet, her beads rattling and her spectacles flashing. 'Kindly continue with your work!'
And she spent the rest of the lesson striding among them, tears still leaking from behind her glasses, muttering what sounded like threats under her breath. '... may well choose to leave... the indignity of it... on probation... we shall see... how she dares.. 'She obviously reckons Trelawney's an old fraud, too... looks like she's put her on probation.'
Umbridge entered the room as he spoke, wearing her black velvet bow and an expression of great smugness. 'Good afternoon, class.'
'Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge,' they chanted dully. 'Wands away, please.'
But there was no answering flurry of movement this time; nobody had bothered to take out their wands. 'Please turn to page thirty-four of Defensive Magical Theory and read the third chapter, entitled "The Case for Non-Offensive Responses to Magical Attack". There will be - '
'- no need to talk,' Harry, Ron said together, under their breaths. *
'No Quidditch practice,' said Angelina in hollow tones when Harry, Ron entered the common room after dinner that night. 'But I kept my temper!' said Harry, horrified. 'I didn't say anything to her, Angelina, I swear, I - '
'I know, I know, said Angelina miserably. 'She just said she needed a bit of time to consider.'
'Consider what?' said Ron angrily. 'She's given the Slytherins permission, why not us?'
But Harry could imagine how much Umbridge was enjoying holding the threat of no Gryffindor Quidditch team over their heads and could easily understand why she would not want to relinquish that weapon over them too soon. 'No Quidditch practice, and extra Potions?'
Harry slumped down into a chair, dragged his Potions essay reluctantly from his bag and set to work. It was very |
hard to concentrate; even though he knew Sirius was not due in the fire until much later, he could not help glancing into the flames every few minutes just in case. There was also an incredible amount of noise in the room: Fred and George appeared finally to have perfected one type of Skiving Snackbox, which they were taking turns to demonstrate to a cheering and whooping crowd. First, Fred would take a bite out of the orange end of a chew, at which he would vomit spectacularly into a bucket they had placed in front of them. Then he would force down the purple end of the chew, at which the vomiting would immediately cease. Lee Jordan, who was assisting the demonstration, was lazily Vanishing the vomit at regular intervals with the same Vanishing Spell Snape kept using on Harry's potions. What with the regular sounds of retching, cheering and the sound of Fred and George taking advance orders from the crowd, Harry was finding it exceptionally difficult to focus on the correct method for Strengthening Solution. 'Just go and stop them, then!' he said irritably, after crossing out the wrong weight of powdered griffin claw for the fourth time. They're quite within their rights to eat the foul things themselves and I can't find a rule that says the other idiots aren't entitled to buy them, not unless they're proven to be dangerous in some way and it doesn't look as though they are.'
She, Harry and Ron watched George projectile-vomit into the bucket, gulp down the rest of the chew and straighten up, beaming with his arms wide to protracted applause. 'You know, I don't get why Fred and George only got three OWLs each,' said Harry, watching as Fred, George and Lee collected gold from the eager crowd. 'No real use?' said Ron in a strained voice. Harry, who was making very little progress with his Potions essay, decided to give it up for the night. As he put his books away, Ron, who was dozing lightly in an armchair, gave a muffled grunt, awoke, and looked blearily into the fire. 'Sirius!' he said. | to concentrate; even though he knew Sirius was not due in the fire until much later, he could not help glancing into the flames every few minutes just in case. There was also an incredible amount of noise in the room: Fred and George appeared finally to have perfected one type of Skiving Snackbox, which they were taking turns to demonstrate to a cheering and whooping crowd. First, Fred would take a bite out of the orange end of a chew, at which he would vomit spectacularly into a bucket they had placed in front of them. Then he would force down the purple end of the chew, at which the vomiting would immediately cease. Lee Jordan, who was assisting the demonstration, was lazily Vanishing the vomit at regular intervals with the same Vanishing Spell Snape kept using on Harry's potions. What with the regular sounds of retching, cheering and the sound of Fred and George taking advance orders from the crowd, Harry was finding it exceptionally difficult to focus on the correct method for Strengthening Solution. 'Just go and stop them, then!' he said irritably, after crossing out the wrong weight of powdered griffin claw for the fourth time. They're quite within their rights to eat the foul things themselves and I can't find a rule that says the other idiots aren't entitled to buy them, not unless they're proven to be dangerous in some way and it doesn't look as though they are.'
She, Harry and Ron watched George projectile-vomit into the bucket, gulp down the rest of the chew and straighten up, beaming with his arms wide to protracted applause. 'You know, I don't get why Fred and George only got three OWLs each,' said Harry, watching as Fred, George and Lee collected gold from the eager crowd. 'No real use?' said Ron in a strained voice. Harry, who was making very little progress with his Potions essay, decided to give it up for the night. As he put his books away, Ron, who was dozing lightly in an armchair, gave a muffled grunt, awoke, and looked blearily into the fire. 'Sirius!' he said. |
Harry whipped round. Sirius's untidy dark head was sitting in the fire again. 'Hi,' he said, grinning. 'Hi,' chorused Harry, Ron, all three kneeling down on the hearthrug. Crookshanks purred loudly and approached the fire, trying, despite the heat, to put his face close to Sirius's. 'How're things?' said Sirius. The Ministry's forced through another decree, which means we're not allowed to have Quidditch teams - '
'Or secret Defence Against the Dark Arts groups? Said Sirius. There was a short pause. 'How did you know about that?' Harry demanded. 'You want to choose your meeting places more carefully,' said Sirius, grinning still more broadly. That's always packed with people - '
'Which means you'd have been harder to overhear,' said Sirius. 'Mundungus, of course,' said Sirius, and when they all looked puzzled he laughed. 'He was the witch under the veil.'
That was Mundungus?' Harry said, stunned. 'What was he doing in the Hog's Head?'
'What do you think he was doing?' said Sirius impatiently. 'Keeping an eye on you, of course.'
'I'm still being followed?' asked Harry angrily. 'Yeah, you are,' said Sirius, 'and just as well, isn't it, if the first thing you're going to do on your weekend off is organise an illegal defence group.'
But he looked neither angry nor worried. On the contrary, he was looking at Harry with distinct pride. 'Why was Dung hiding from us?' asked Ron, sounding disappointed. 'We'd've liked to've seen him.'
'He was banned from the Hog's Head twenty years ago,' said Sirius, 'and that barman's got a long memory. We lost Moody's spare Invisibility Cloak when Sturgis was arrested, so Dung's been dressing as a witch a lot lately... anyway... first of all, | whipped round. Sirius's untidy dark head was sitting in the fire again. 'Hi,' he said, grinning. 'Hi,' chorused Harry, Ron, all three kneeling down on the hearthrug. Crookshanks purred loudly and approached the fire, trying, despite the heat, to put his face close to Sirius's. 'How're things?' said Sirius. The Ministry's forced through another decree, which means we're not allowed to have Quidditch teams - '
'Or secret Defence Against the Dark Arts groups? Said Sirius. There was a short pause. 'How did you know about that?' Harry demanded. 'You want to choose your meeting places more carefully,' said Sirius, grinning still more broadly. That's always packed with people - '
'Which means you'd have been harder to overhear,' said Sirius. 'Mundungus, of course,' said Sirius, and when they all looked puzzled he laughed. 'He was the witch under the veil.'
That was Mundungus?' Harry said, stunned. 'What was he doing in the Hog's Head?'
'What do you think he was doing?' said Sirius impatiently. 'Keeping an eye on you, of course.'
'I'm still being followed?' asked Harry angrily. 'Yeah, you are,' said Sirius, 'and just as well, isn't it, if the first thing you're going to do on your weekend off is organise an illegal defence group.'
But he looked neither angry nor worried. On the contrary, he was looking at Harry with distinct pride. 'Why was Dung hiding from us?' asked Ron, sounding disappointed. 'We'd've liked to've seen him.'
'He was banned from the Hog's Head twenty years ago,' said Sirius, 'and that barman's got a long memory. We lost Moody's spare Invisibility Cloak when Sturgis was arrested, so Dung's been dressing as a witch a lot lately... anyway... first of all, |
Ron - I've sworn to pass on a message from your mother.'
'Oh yeah?' said Ron, sounding apprehensive. 'She says on no account whatsoever are you to take part in an illegal secret Defence Against the Dark Arts group. She says you'll be expelled for sure and your future will be ruined. She says there will be plenty of time to learn how to defend yourself later and that you are too young to be worrying about that right now. She would have written all this to you, but if the owl had been intercepted you'd all have been in real trouble, and she can't say it for herself because she's on duty tonight.'
'On duty doing what?' said Ron quickly. 'Never you mind, just stuff for the Order,' said Sirius. 'So it's fallen to me to be the messenger and make sure you tell her I passed it all on, because I don't think she trusts me to.'
There was another pause in which Crookshanks, mewing, attempted to paw Sirius's head, and Ron fiddled with a hole in the hearthrug. 'So, you want me to say I'm not going to take part in the Defence group?' he muttered finally. 'Me? Certainly not!' said Sirius, looking surprised. 'I think it's an excellent idea!'
'You do?' said Harry, his heart lifting. 'Of course I do!' said Sirius. 'D'you think your father and I would've lain down and taken orders from an old hag like Umbridge?'
'But - last term all you did was tell me to be careful and not take risks - '
'Last year, all the evidence was that someone inside Hogwarts was trying to kill you, Harry!' said Sirius impatiently. 'I know it was. I just wondered what Sirius thought,' she said, shrugging. 'Well, better expelled and able to defend yourselves than sitting safely in school without a clue,' said Sirius. 'Hear, hear,' said Harry and Ron enthusiastically. 'So,' said Sirius, 'how are you organising this group? Where are | - I've sworn to pass on a message from your mother.'
'Oh yeah?' said Ron, sounding apprehensive. 'She says on no account whatsoever are you to take part in an illegal secret Defence Against the Dark Arts group. She says you'll be expelled for sure and your future will be ruined. She says there will be plenty of time to learn how to defend yourself later and that you are too young to be worrying about that right now. She would have written all this to you, but if the owl had been intercepted you'd all have been in real trouble, and she can't say it for herself because she's on duty tonight.'
'On duty doing what?' said Ron quickly. 'Never you mind, just stuff for the Order,' said Sirius. 'So it's fallen to me to be the messenger and make sure you tell her I passed it all on, because I don't think she trusts me to.'
There was another pause in which Crookshanks, mewing, attempted to paw Sirius's head, and Ron fiddled with a hole in the hearthrug. 'So, you want me to say I'm not going to take part in the Defence group?' he muttered finally. 'Me? Certainly not!' said Sirius, looking surprised. 'I think it's an excellent idea!'
'You do?' said Harry, his heart lifting. 'Of course I do!' said Sirius. 'D'you think your father and I would've lain down and taken orders from an old hag like Umbridge?'
'But - last term all you did was tell me to be careful and not take risks - '
'Last year, all the evidence was that someone inside Hogwarts was trying to kill you, Harry!' said Sirius impatiently. 'I know it was. I just wondered what Sirius thought,' she said, shrugging. 'Well, better expelled and able to defend yourselves than sitting safely in school without a clue,' said Sirius. 'Hear, hear,' said Harry and Ron enthusiastically. 'So,' said Sirius, 'how are you organising this group? Where are |
you meeting?'
'Well, mats a bit of a problem now, said Harry. Dunno where we're going to be able to go.'
'How about the Shrieking Shack?' suggested Sirius. But there are twenty-eight of us and none of us is an Animagus, so we wouldn't need so much an Invisibility Cloak as an Invisibility Marquee - '
'Fair point,' said Sirius, looking slightly crestfallen. 'Well, I'm sure you'll come up with somewhere. There used to be a pretty roomy secret passageway behind that big mirror on the fourth floor, you might have enough space to practise jinxes in there.'
'Fred and George told me it's blocked,' said Harry, shaking his head. 'Caved in or something.'
'Oh...' said Sirius, frowning. 'Well, I'll have a think and get back to - '
He broke off. His face was suddenly tense, alarmed. He turned sideways, apparently looking into the solid brick wall of the fireplace. 'Sirius?' said Harry anxiously. But he had vanished. Harry gaped at the flames for a moment, then turned to look at Ron. A hand had appeared amongst the flames, groping as though to catch hold of something; a stubby, short-fingered hand covered in ugly old-fashioned rings. The three of them ran for it. At the door of the boys' dormitory Harry looked back. Umbridge's hand was still making snatching movements amongst the flames, as though she knew exactly where Sirius's hair had been moments before and was determined to seize it. - CHAPTER EIGHTEEN -
Dumbledore's Army
'Umbridge has been reading your mail, Harry. There's no other explanation.'
'You think Umbridge attacked Hedwig?' he said, outraged. 'Watch your frog, it's escaping.'
Harry pointed his wand at the bullfrog that had been hopping hopefully towards the other side of the table - 'Accio!' - and it zoomed gloomily back into his hand. Charms was always one of the best | meeting?'
'Well, mats a bit of a problem now, said Harry. Dunno where we're going to be able to go.'
'How about the Shrieking Shack?' suggested Sirius. But there are twenty-eight of us and none of us is an Animagus, so we wouldn't need so much an Invisibility Cloak as an Invisibility Marquee - '
'Fair point,' said Sirius, looking slightly crestfallen. 'Well, I'm sure you'll come up with somewhere. There used to be a pretty roomy secret passageway behind that big mirror on the fourth floor, you might have enough space to practise jinxes in there.'
'Fred and George told me it's blocked,' said Harry, shaking his head. 'Caved in or something.'
'Oh...' said Sirius, frowning. 'Well, I'll have a think and get back to - '
He broke off. His face was suddenly tense, alarmed. He turned sideways, apparently looking into the solid brick wall of the fireplace. 'Sirius?' said Harry anxiously. But he had vanished. Harry gaped at the flames for a moment, then turned to look at Ron. A hand had appeared amongst the flames, groping as though to catch hold of something; a stubby, short-fingered hand covered in ugly old-fashioned rings. The three of them ran for it. At the door of the boys' dormitory Harry looked back. Umbridge's hand was still making snatching movements amongst the flames, as though she knew exactly where Sirius's hair had been moments before and was determined to seize it. - CHAPTER EIGHTEEN -
Dumbledore's Army
'Umbridge has been reading your mail, Harry. There's no other explanation.'
'You think Umbridge attacked Hedwig?' he said, outraged. 'Watch your frog, it's escaping.'
Harry pointed his wand at the bullfrog that had been hopping hopefully towards the other side of the table - 'Accio!' - and it zoomed gloomily back into his hand. Charms was always one of the best |
lessons in which to enjoy a private chat; there was generally so much movement and activity that the danger of being overheard was very slight. Today, with the room full of croaking bullfrogs and cawing ravens, and with a heavy downpour of rain clattering and pounding against the classroom windows, Harry, Ron's whispered discussion about how Umbridge had nearly caught Sirius went quite unnoticed. 'I mean, once your letter had been read it would have been quite clear you weren't ordering them, so you wouldn't have been in trouble at all - it's a bit of a feeble joke, isn't it? But then I thought, what if somebody just wanted an excuse to read your mail? Well then, it would be a perfect way for Umbridge to manage it - tip off Filch, let him do the dirty work and confiscate the letter, then either find a way of stealing it from him or else demand to see it - I don't think Filch would object, when's he ever stuck up for a student's rights? Harry, you're squashing your frog.'
Harry looked down; he was indeed squeezing his bullfrog so tightly its eyes were popping; he replaced it hastily upon the desk. 'I just wonder if Umbridge knows how close it was. Silendo.'
The bullfrog on which she was practising her Silencing Charm was struck dumb mid-croak and glared at her reproachfully. 'If she'd caught Snuffles - '
Harry finished the sentence for her. '- He'd probably be back in Azkaban this morning.' He waved his wand without really concentrating; his bullfrog swelled like a green balloon and emitted a high-pitched whistle. 'Well, he mustn't do it again, that's all. I just don't know how we're going to let him know. We can't send him an owl.'
'I don't reckon he'll risk it again,' said Ron. 'He's not stupid, he knows she nearly got him. Silencio.'
The large and ugly raven in front of him let out a der | ons in which to enjoy a private chat; there was generally so much movement and activity that the danger of being overheard was very slight. Today, with the room full of croaking bullfrogs and cawing ravens, and with a heavy downpour of rain clattering and pounding against the classroom windows, Harry, Ron's whispered discussion about how Umbridge had nearly caught Sirius went quite unnoticed. 'I mean, once your letter had been read it would have been quite clear you weren't ordering them, so you wouldn't have been in trouble at all - it's a bit of a feeble joke, isn't it? But then I thought, what if somebody just wanted an excuse to read your mail? Well then, it would be a perfect way for Umbridge to manage it - tip off Filch, let him do the dirty work and confiscate the letter, then either find a way of stealing it from him or else demand to see it - I don't think Filch would object, when's he ever stuck up for a student's rights? Harry, you're squashing your frog.'
Harry looked down; he was indeed squeezing his bullfrog so tightly its eyes were popping; he replaced it hastily upon the desk. 'I just wonder if Umbridge knows how close it was. Silendo.'
The bullfrog on which she was practising her Silencing Charm was struck dumb mid-croak and glared at her reproachfully. 'If she'd caught Snuffles - '
Harry finished the sentence for her. '- He'd probably be back in Azkaban this morning.' He waved his wand without really concentrating; his bullfrog swelled like a green balloon and emitted a high-pitched whistle. 'Well, he mustn't do it again, that's all. I just don't know how we're going to let him know. We can't send him an owl.'
'I don't reckon he'll risk it again,' said Ron. 'He's not stupid, he knows she nearly got him. Silencio.'
The large and ugly raven in front of him let out a der |
isive caw. 'Silencio. SILENCIO!'
The raven cawed more loudly. 'Silencio!' The raven continued to open and close its sharp beak, but no sound came out. 'Now, let me see you try, Mr Weasley'
'Wha-? Oh - oh, right,' said Ron, very flustered. 'Er - silencio!'
He jabbed at the bullfrog so hard he poked it in the eye: the frog gave a deafening croak and leapt off the desk. It came as no surprise to any of them that Harry and Ron were given additional practice of the Silencing Charm for homework. They were allowed to remain inside over break due to the downpour outside. They found seats in a noisy and overcrowded classroom on the first floor in which Peeves was floating dreamily up near the chandelier, occasionally blowing an ink pellet at the top of somebody's head. They had barely sat down when Angelina came struggling towards them through the groups of gossiping students. 'I've got permission!' she said. To re-form the Quidditch team!'
'Excellent!' said Ron and Harry together. 'Yeah,' said Angelina, beaming. 'I went to McGonagall and I think she might have appealed to Dumbledore. Anyway, Umbridge had to give in. Ha! So I want you down at the pitch at seven o'clock tonight, all right, because we've got to make up time. You realise we're only three weeks away from our first match?'
She squeezed away from them, narrowly dodged an ink pellet from Peeves, which hit a nearby first-year instead, and vanished from sight. Ron's smile slipped slightly as he looked out of the window, which was now opaque with hammering rain. 'Hope this clears up. Her eyes were unfocused and there was a frown on her face. 'Just thinking...' she said, still frowning at the rain-washed window. 'About Siri - Snuffles?' said Harry. 'No... | ive caw. 'Silencio. SILENCIO!'
The raven cawed more loudly. 'Silencio!' The raven continued to open and close its sharp beak, but no sound came out. 'Now, let me see you try, Mr Weasley'
'Wha-? Oh - oh, right,' said Ron, very flustered. 'Er - silencio!'
He jabbed at the bullfrog so hard he poked it in the eye: the frog gave a deafening croak and leapt off the desk. It came as no surprise to any of them that Harry and Ron were given additional practice of the Silencing Charm for homework. They were allowed to remain inside over break due to the downpour outside. They found seats in a noisy and overcrowded classroom on the first floor in which Peeves was floating dreamily up near the chandelier, occasionally blowing an ink pellet at the top of somebody's head. They had barely sat down when Angelina came struggling towards them through the groups of gossiping students. 'I've got permission!' she said. To re-form the Quidditch team!'
'Excellent!' said Ron and Harry together. 'Yeah,' said Angelina, beaming. 'I went to McGonagall and I think she might have appealed to Dumbledore. Anyway, Umbridge had to give in. Ha! So I want you down at the pitch at seven o'clock tonight, all right, because we've got to make up time. You realise we're only three weeks away from our first match?'
She squeezed away from them, narrowly dodged an ink pellet from Peeves, which hit a nearby first-year instead, and vanished from sight. Ron's smile slipped slightly as he looked out of the window, which was now opaque with hammering rain. 'Hope this clears up. Her eyes were unfocused and there was a frown on her face. 'Just thinking...' she said, still frowning at the rain-washed window. 'About Siri - Snuffles?' said Harry. 'No... |
not exactly.. 'More... wondering... I suppose we're doing the right thing... I think... aren't
Harry and Ron looked at each other. 'Well, that clears that up,' said Ron. 'I was just wondering,' she said, her voice stronger now, 'whether we're doing the right thing, starting this Defence Against the Dark Arts group.'
'What?' said Harry and Ron together. 'But after talking to Snuffles...'
'But he's all for it,' said Harry. 'Yes, that's what made me think maybe it wasn't a good idea after all...'
Peeves floated over them on his stomach, peashooter at the ready; automatically all three of them lifted their bags to cover their heads until he had passed. Now staring at her own hands, she said, 'Do you honestly trust his judgement?'
'Yes, I do!' said Harry at once. 'He's always given us great advice!'
An ink pellet whizzed past them, striking Katie Bell squarely in the ear. 'You don't think he has become... sort of... reckless... since he's been cooped up in Grimmauld Place? You don't think he's... kind of... living through us?'
'What d'you mean, "living through us"?' Harry retorted. 'I mean... well, I think he'd love to be forming secret Defence societies right under the nose of someone from the Ministry... I think he's really frustrated at how little he can do where he is... so I think he's keen to kind of... egg us on.'
Ron looked utterly perplexed. The bell rang just as Peeves swooped down on Katie and emptied an entire ink bottle over her head. *
The weather did not improve as the day wore on, so that at seven o'clock that evening, when Harry and Ron went down to the Quidditch pitch for practice, they were soaked through within minutes, their feet slipping and sliding on the sodden grass. The | exactly.. 'More... wondering... I suppose we're doing the right thing... I think... aren't
Harry and Ron looked at each other. 'Well, that clears that up,' said Ron. 'I was just wondering,' she said, her voice stronger now, 'whether we're doing the right thing, starting this Defence Against the Dark Arts group.'
'What?' said Harry and Ron together. 'But after talking to Snuffles...'
'But he's all for it,' said Harry. 'Yes, that's what made me think maybe it wasn't a good idea after all...'
Peeves floated over them on his stomach, peashooter at the ready; automatically all three of them lifted their bags to cover their heads until he had passed. Now staring at her own hands, she said, 'Do you honestly trust his judgement?'
'Yes, I do!' said Harry at once. 'He's always given us great advice!'
An ink pellet whizzed past them, striking Katie Bell squarely in the ear. 'You don't think he has become... sort of... reckless... since he's been cooped up in Grimmauld Place? You don't think he's... kind of... living through us?'
'What d'you mean, "living through us"?' Harry retorted. 'I mean... well, I think he'd love to be forming secret Defence societies right under the nose of someone from the Ministry... I think he's really frustrated at how little he can do where he is... so I think he's keen to kind of... egg us on.'
Ron looked utterly perplexed. The bell rang just as Peeves swooped down on Katie and emptied an entire ink bottle over her head. *
The weather did not improve as the day wore on, so that at seven o'clock that evening, when Harry and Ron went down to the Quidditch pitch for practice, they were soaked through within minutes, their feet slipping and sliding on the sodden grass. The |
sky was a deep, thundery grey and it was a relief to gain the warmth and light of the changing rooms, even if they knew the respite was only temporary. They found Fred and George debating whether to use one of their own Skiving Snackboxes to get out of flying. '... but I bet she'd know what we'd done,' Fred said out of the corner of his mouth. 'If only I hadn't offered to sell her some Puking Pastilles yesterday.'
'We could try the Fever Fudge,' George muttered, 'no one's seen that yet - '
'Does it work?' enquired Ron hopefully, as the hammering of rain on the roof intensified and wind howled around the building. 'Well, yeah,' said Fred, 'your temperature'll go right up.'
'But you get these massive pus-filled boils, too,' said George, 'and we haven't worked out how to get rid of them yet.'
'I can't see any boils,' said Ron, staring at the twins. 'No, well, you wouldn't,' said Fred darkly, 'they're not in a place we generally display to the public.'
'But they make sitting on a broom a right pain in the - '
'All right, everyone, listen up,' said Angelina loudly, emerging from the Captain's office. 'I know it's not ideal weather, but there's a chance we'll be playing Slytherin in conditions like this so it's a good idea to work out how we're going to cope with them. He pulled out his wand, tapped h s glasses and said, 'Impervius!'
'I think we all ought to try that,' said Angelina. 'If we could just keep the rain off our faces it would really help visibility - all together, come on - Imperviusl OK. Let's go.'
They all stowed their wands back in the inside pockets of their robes, shouldered their brooms and followed Angelina out of the changing rooms. They squelched through the deepening mud to the middle of the pitch; visibility was still very poor even with the Impervius Charm; light was fading fast and | was a deep, thundery grey and it was a relief to gain the warmth and light of the changing rooms, even if they knew the respite was only temporary. They found Fred and George debating whether to use one of their own Skiving Snackboxes to get out of flying. '... but I bet she'd know what we'd done,' Fred said out of the corner of his mouth. 'If only I hadn't offered to sell her some Puking Pastilles yesterday.'
'We could try the Fever Fudge,' George muttered, 'no one's seen that yet - '
'Does it work?' enquired Ron hopefully, as the hammering of rain on the roof intensified and wind howled around the building. 'Well, yeah,' said Fred, 'your temperature'll go right up.'
'But you get these massive pus-filled boils, too,' said George, 'and we haven't worked out how to get rid of them yet.'
'I can't see any boils,' said Ron, staring at the twins. 'No, well, you wouldn't,' said Fred darkly, 'they're not in a place we generally display to the public.'
'But they make sitting on a broom a right pain in the - '
'All right, everyone, listen up,' said Angelina loudly, emerging from the Captain's office. 'I know it's not ideal weather, but there's a chance we'll be playing Slytherin in conditions like this so it's a good idea to work out how we're going to cope with them. He pulled out his wand, tapped h s glasses and said, 'Impervius!'
'I think we all ought to try that,' said Angelina. 'If we could just keep the rain off our faces it would really help visibility - all together, come on - Imperviusl OK. Let's go.'
They all stowed their wands back in the inside pockets of their robes, shouldered their brooms and followed Angelina out of the changing rooms. They squelched through the deepening mud to the middle of the pitch; visibility was still very poor even with the Impervius Charm; light was fading fast and |
curtains of rain were sweeping the grounds. 'All right, on my whistle,' shouted Angelina. Harry kicked off from the ground, spraying mud in all directions, and shot upwards, the wind pulling him slightly off course. He had no idea how he was going to see the Snitch in this weather; he was having enough difficulty seeing the one Bludger with which they were practising; a minute into the practice it almost unseated him and he had to use the Sloth Grip Roll to avoid it. Unfortunately, Angelina did not see this. In fact, she did not appear to be able to see anything; none of them had a clue what the others were doing. The wind was picking up; even at a distance Harry could hear the swishing, pounding sounds of the rain pummelling the surface of the lake. Angelina kept them at it for nearly an hour before conceding defeat. She led her sodden and disgruntled team back into the changing rooms, insisting that the practice had not been a waste of time, though without any real conviction in her voice. Fred and George were looking particularly annoyed; both were bandy-legged and winced with every movement. Harry could hear them complaining in low voices as he towelled his hair dry. 'I think a few of mine have ruptured,' said Fred in a hollow voice. 'Mine haven't,' said George, through clenched teeth, 'they're throbbing like mad... feel bigger if anything.'
'OUCH!' said Harry. He pressed the towel to his face, his eyes screwed tight with pain. The scar on his forehead had seared again, more painfully than it had in weeks. 'What's up?' said several voices. Harry emerged from behind his towel; the changing room was blurred because he was not wearing his glasses, but he could still tell that everyone's face was turned towards him. 'Nothing,' he muttered, 'I - poked myself in the eye, that's all.'
But he gave Ron a significant look and the two of them hung back as the rest of the team filed back outside, muffled in their cloaks, their hats pulled low over their ears. 'What happened?' | tains of rain were sweeping the grounds. 'All right, on my whistle,' shouted Angelina. Harry kicked off from the ground, spraying mud in all directions, and shot upwards, the wind pulling him slightly off course. He had no idea how he was going to see the Snitch in this weather; he was having enough difficulty seeing the one Bludger with which they were practising; a minute into the practice it almost unseated him and he had to use the Sloth Grip Roll to avoid it. Unfortunately, Angelina did not see this. In fact, she did not appear to be able to see anything; none of them had a clue what the others were doing. The wind was picking up; even at a distance Harry could hear the swishing, pounding sounds of the rain pummelling the surface of the lake. Angelina kept them at it for nearly an hour before conceding defeat. She led her sodden and disgruntled team back into the changing rooms, insisting that the practice had not been a waste of time, though without any real conviction in her voice. Fred and George were looking particularly annoyed; both were bandy-legged and winced with every movement. Harry could hear them complaining in low voices as he towelled his hair dry. 'I think a few of mine have ruptured,' said Fred in a hollow voice. 'Mine haven't,' said George, through clenched teeth, 'they're throbbing like mad... feel bigger if anything.'
'OUCH!' said Harry. He pressed the towel to his face, his eyes screwed tight with pain. The scar on his forehead had seared again, more painfully than it had in weeks. 'What's up?' said several voices. Harry emerged from behind his towel; the changing room was blurred because he was not wearing his glasses, but he could still tell that everyone's face was turned towards him. 'Nothing,' he muttered, 'I - poked myself in the eye, that's all.'
But he gave Ron a significant look and the two of them hung back as the rest of the team filed back outside, muffled in their cloaks, their hats pulled low over their ears. 'What happened?' |
said Ron, the moment Alicia had disappeared through the door. 'Was it your scar?'
Harry nodded. 'But...' looking scared, Ron strode across to the window and stared out into the rain, 'he - he can't be near us now, can he?'
'No,' Harry muttered, sinking on to a bench and rubbing his forehead. 'He's probably miles away. It hurt because... he's... angry.'
Harry had not meant to say that at all, and heard the words as though a stranger had spoken them - yet knew at once that they were true. He did not know how he knew it, but he did; Voldemort, wherever he was, whatever he was doing, was in a towering temper. 'Did you see him?' said Ron, looking horrified. 'Did you... get a vision, or something?'
Harry sat quite still, staring at his feet, allowing his mind and his memory to relax in the aftermath of the pain. A confused tangle of shapes, a howling rush of voices... 'He wants something done, and it's not happening fast enough,' he said. Again, he felt surprised to hear the words coming out of his mouth, and yet was quite certain they were true. 'But... how do you know?' said Ron. Harry shook his head and covered his eyes with his hands, pressing down upon them with his palms. Little stars erupted in them. He felt Ron sit down on the bench beside him and knew Ron was staring at him. 'Is this what it was about last time?' said Ron in a hushed voice. 'When your scar hurt in Umbridge's office? You-Know-Who was angry?'
Harry shook his head. 'What is it, then?'
Harry was thinking himself back. He had been looking into Umbridge's face... his scar had hurt... and he had had that odd feeling in his stomach... a strange, leaping feeling... a happy feeling... but of course, he had not recognised it for what it was, as he had been feeling so miserable himself... 'Last time, it was because he was | Ron, the moment Alicia had disappeared through the door. 'Was it your scar?'
Harry nodded. 'But...' looking scared, Ron strode across to the window and stared out into the rain, 'he - he can't be near us now, can he?'
'No,' Harry muttered, sinking on to a bench and rubbing his forehead. 'He's probably miles away. It hurt because... he's... angry.'
Harry had not meant to say that at all, and heard the words as though a stranger had spoken them - yet knew at once that they were true. He did not know how he knew it, but he did; Voldemort, wherever he was, whatever he was doing, was in a towering temper. 'Did you see him?' said Ron, looking horrified. 'Did you... get a vision, or something?'
Harry sat quite still, staring at his feet, allowing his mind and his memory to relax in the aftermath of the pain. A confused tangle of shapes, a howling rush of voices... 'He wants something done, and it's not happening fast enough,' he said. Again, he felt surprised to hear the words coming out of his mouth, and yet was quite certain they were true. 'But... how do you know?' said Ron. Harry shook his head and covered his eyes with his hands, pressing down upon them with his palms. Little stars erupted in them. He felt Ron sit down on the bench beside him and knew Ron was staring at him. 'Is this what it was about last time?' said Ron in a hushed voice. 'When your scar hurt in Umbridge's office? You-Know-Who was angry?'
Harry shook his head. 'What is it, then?'
Harry was thinking himself back. He had been looking into Umbridge's face... his scar had hurt... and he had had that odd feeling in his stomach... a strange, leaping feeling... a happy feeling... but of course, he had not recognised it for what it was, as he had been feeling so miserable himself... 'Last time, it was because he was |
pleased,' he said. 'Really pleased. He thought... something good was going to happen. And the night before we came back to Hogwarts...' he thought back to the moment when his scar had hurt so badly in his and Ron's bedroom in Grimmauld Place... 'he was furious
He looked round at Ron, who was gaping at him. 'You could take over from Trelawney, mate, he said in an awed voice. 'I'm not making prophecies,' said Harry. 'No, you know what you're doing?' Ron said, sounding both scared and impressed. 'Harry, you're reading You-Know-Who's mind!'
'No,' said Harry, shaking his head. 'It's more like... his mood, I suppose. I'm just getting flashes of what mood he's in. Dumbledore said something like this was happening last year. He said that when Voldemort was near me, or when he was feeling hatred, I could tell. Well, now I'm feeling it when he's pleased, too...'
There was a pause. The wind and rain lashed at the building. 'You've got to tell someone,' said Ron. 'I told Sirius last time.'
'Well, tell him about this time!'
'Can't, can I?' said Harry grimly. 'Umbridge is watching the owls and the fires, remember?'
'Well then, Dumbledore.'
'I've just told you, he already knows,' said Harry shortly, getting to his feet, taking his cloak off his peg and swinging it around him. There's no point telling him again.'
Ron did up the fastening of his own cloak, watching Harry thoughtfully. 'Dumbledore'd want to know,' he said. Harry shrugged. 'C'mon... we've still got Silencing Charms to practise.'
They hurried back through the dark grounds, sliding and stumbling up the muddy lawns, not talking. Harry was thinking hard. What was it that Voldemort wanted done that was not happening quickly enough? | ,' he said. 'Really pleased. He thought... something good was going to happen. And the night before we came back to Hogwarts...' he thought back to the moment when his scar had hurt so badly in his and Ron's bedroom in Grimmauld Place... 'he was furious
He looked round at Ron, who was gaping at him. 'You could take over from Trelawney, mate, he said in an awed voice. 'I'm not making prophecies,' said Harry. 'No, you know what you're doing?' Ron said, sounding both scared and impressed. 'Harry, you're reading You-Know-Who's mind!'
'No,' said Harry, shaking his head. 'It's more like... his mood, I suppose. I'm just getting flashes of what mood he's in. Dumbledore said something like this was happening last year. He said that when Voldemort was near me, or when he was feeling hatred, I could tell. Well, now I'm feeling it when he's pleased, too...'
There was a pause. The wind and rain lashed at the building. 'You've got to tell someone,' said Ron. 'I told Sirius last time.'
'Well, tell him about this time!'
'Can't, can I?' said Harry grimly. 'Umbridge is watching the owls and the fires, remember?'
'Well then, Dumbledore.'
'I've just told you, he already knows,' said Harry shortly, getting to his feet, taking his cloak off his peg and swinging it around him. There's no point telling him again.'
Ron did up the fastening of his own cloak, watching Harry thoughtfully. 'Dumbledore'd want to know,' he said. Harry shrugged. 'C'mon... we've still got Silencing Charms to practise.'
They hurried back through the dark grounds, sliding and stumbling up the muddy lawns, not talking. Harry was thinking hard. What was it that Voldemort wanted done that was not happening quickly enough? |
'... he's got other plans... plans he can put into operation very quietly indeed... stuff he can only get by stealth... like a weapon. Something he didn't have last time.'
Harry had not thought about those words in weeks; he had been too absorbed in what was going on at Hogwarts, too busy dwelling on the ongoing battles with Umbridge, the injustice of all the Ministry interference... but now they came back to him and made him wonder... Voldemort s anger would make sense if he was no nearer to laying hands on the weapon, whatever it was. Had the Order thwarted him, stopped him from seizing it? Where was it kept? Who had it now? 'Mimbulus mimbletonia,' said Ron's voice and Harry came back to his senses just in time to clamber through the portrait hole into the common room. Harry was rather grateful that she was not around, because he did not much want to discuss his scar hurting and have her urge him to go to Dumbledore, too. Ron kept throwing him anxious glances, but Harry pulled out his Charms books and set to work on finishing his essay, though he was only pretending to concentrate and by the time Ron said he was going up to bed, too, he had written hardly anything. Midnight came and went while Harry was reading and rereading a passage about the uses of scurvy-grass, lovage and sneezewort and not taking in a word of it. These plantes are moste efficacious in the inflaming of the braine, and are therefore much used in Confusing and Befuddlement Draughts, where the wizard is desirous of producing hot-headedness and recklessness... ..... ... moste efficacious in the inflaming of the braine, and are therefore much used... ... the Daily Prophet would think his brain was inflamed if they found out that he knew what Voldemort was feeling... ... therefore much used in Confusing and Befuddlement Draughts... ... confusing was the word, all right; why did he know what Voldemort was | .. he's got other plans... plans he can put into operation very quietly indeed... stuff he can only get by stealth... like a weapon. Something he didn't have last time.'
Harry had not thought about those words in weeks; he had been too absorbed in what was going on at Hogwarts, too busy dwelling on the ongoing battles with Umbridge, the injustice of all the Ministry interference... but now they came back to him and made him wonder... Voldemort s anger would make sense if he was no nearer to laying hands on the weapon, whatever it was. Had the Order thwarted him, stopped him from seizing it? Where was it kept? Who had it now? 'Mimbulus mimbletonia,' said Ron's voice and Harry came back to his senses just in time to clamber through the portrait hole into the common room. Harry was rather grateful that she was not around, because he did not much want to discuss his scar hurting and have her urge him to go to Dumbledore, too. Ron kept throwing him anxious glances, but Harry pulled out his Charms books and set to work on finishing his essay, though he was only pretending to concentrate and by the time Ron said he was going up to bed, too, he had written hardly anything. Midnight came and went while Harry was reading and rereading a passage about the uses of scurvy-grass, lovage and sneezewort and not taking in a word of it. These plantes are moste efficacious in the inflaming of the braine, and are therefore much used in Confusing and Befuddlement Draughts, where the wizard is desirous of producing hot-headedness and recklessness... ..... ... moste efficacious in the inflaming of the braine, and are therefore much used... ... the Daily Prophet would think his brain was inflamed if they found out that he knew what Voldemort was feeling... ... therefore much used in Confusing and Befuddlement Draughts... ... confusing was the word, all right; why did he know what Voldemort was |
feeling? What was this weird connection between them, which Dumbledore had never been able to explain satisfactorily? ... where the wizard is desirous... ... how Harry would like to sleep... ... of producing hot-headedness... ... it was warm and comfortable in his armchair before the fire, with the rain still beating heavily on the windowpanes, Crookshanks purring, and the crackling of the flames... The book slipped from Harry's slack grip and landed with a dull thud on the hearthrug. His head lolled sideways... He was walking once more along a windowless corridor, his footsteps echoing in the silence. As the door at the end of the passage loomed larger, his heart beat fast with excitement... if he could only open it... enter beyond... He stretched out his hand... his fingertips were inches from it ... 'Harry Potter, sir!'
He awoke with a start. The candles had all been extinguished in the common room, but there was something moving close by. 'Whozair?' said Harry, sitting upright in his chair. The fire was almost out, the room very dark. 'Dobby has your owl, sir!' said a squeaky voice. 'Dobby?' said Harry thickly, peering through the gloom towards the source of the voice. 'Dobby volunteered to return Harry Potter's owl,' said the elf squeakily, with a look of positive adoration on his face, 'Professor Grubbly-Plank says she is all well now, sir.' He sank into a deep bow so that his pencil-like nose brushed the threadbare surface of the hearthrug and Hedwig gave an indignant hoot and fluttered on to the arm of Harry's chair. Thanks, Dobby!' said Harry, stroking Hedwig's head and blinking hard, trying to rid himself of the image of the door in his dream... it had been very vivid. Surveying Dobby more closely, he noticed that | ? What was this weird connection between them, which Dumbledore had never been able to explain satisfactorily? ... where the wizard is desirous... ... how Harry would like to sleep... ... of producing hot-headedness... ... it was warm and comfortable in his armchair before the fire, with the rain still beating heavily on the windowpanes, Crookshanks purring, and the crackling of the flames... The book slipped from Harry's slack grip and landed with a dull thud on the hearthrug. His head lolled sideways... He was walking once more along a windowless corridor, his footsteps echoing in the silence. As the door at the end of the passage loomed larger, his heart beat fast with excitement... if he could only open it... enter beyond... He stretched out his hand... his fingertips were inches from it ... 'Harry Potter, sir!'
He awoke with a start. The candles had all been extinguished in the common room, but there was something moving close by. 'Whozair?' said Harry, sitting upright in his chair. The fire was almost out, the room very dark. 'Dobby has your owl, sir!' said a squeaky voice. 'Dobby?' said Harry thickly, peering through the gloom towards the source of the voice. 'Dobby volunteered to return Harry Potter's owl,' said the elf squeakily, with a look of positive adoration on his face, 'Professor Grubbly-Plank says she is all well now, sir.' He sank into a deep bow so that his pencil-like nose brushed the threadbare surface of the hearthrug and Hedwig gave an indignant hoot and fluttered on to the arm of Harry's chair. Thanks, Dobby!' said Harry, stroking Hedwig's head and blinking hard, trying to rid himself of the image of the door in his dream... it had been very vivid. Surveying Dobby more closely, he noticed that |
the elf was also wearing several scarves and innumerable socks, so that his feet looked far too big for his body. 'Er... 'Dobby has been taking some for Winky, too, sir.'
'Yeah, how is Winky?' asked Harry. Bobby's ears drooped slightly. 'Winky is still drinking lots, sir,' he said sadly, his enormous round green eyes, large as tennis balls, downcast. 'She still does not care for clothes, Harry Potter. Nor do the other house-elves. None of them will clean Gryffindor Tower any more, not with the hats and socks hidden everywhere, they finds them insulting, sir. Dobby does it all himself, sir, but Dobby does not mind, sir, for he always hopes to meet Harry Potter and tonight, sir, he has got his wish!' Dobby sank into a deep bow again. 'But Harry Potter does not seem happy,' Dobby went on, straightening up again and kicking timidly at Harry. 'Dobby heard him muttering in his sleep. Was Harry Potter having bad dreams?'
'Not really bad,' said Harry, yawning and rubbing his eyes. 'I've had worse.'
The elf surveyed Harry out of his vast, orb-like eyes. Then he said very seriously, his ears drooping, 'Dobby wishes he could help Harry Potter, for Harry Potter set Dobby free and Dobby is much, much happier now.'
Harry smiled. 'You can't help me, Dobby, but thanks for the offer.'
He bent and picked up his Potions book. He'd have to try to finish the essay tomorrow. He closed the book and as he did so the firelight illuminated the thin white scars on the back of his hand - the result of his detentions with Umbridge... Wait a moment - there is something you can do for me, Dobby,' said Harry slowly. The elf looked round, beaming. 'Name it, Harry Potter, sir!'
'I need to find a place where twenty-eight people can practise Defence Against the Dark Arts without being discovered by any | elf was also wearing several scarves and innumerable socks, so that his feet looked far too big for his body. 'Er... 'Dobby has been taking some for Winky, too, sir.'
'Yeah, how is Winky?' asked Harry. Bobby's ears drooped slightly. 'Winky is still drinking lots, sir,' he said sadly, his enormous round green eyes, large as tennis balls, downcast. 'She still does not care for clothes, Harry Potter. Nor do the other house-elves. None of them will clean Gryffindor Tower any more, not with the hats and socks hidden everywhere, they finds them insulting, sir. Dobby does it all himself, sir, but Dobby does not mind, sir, for he always hopes to meet Harry Potter and tonight, sir, he has got his wish!' Dobby sank into a deep bow again. 'But Harry Potter does not seem happy,' Dobby went on, straightening up again and kicking timidly at Harry. 'Dobby heard him muttering in his sleep. Was Harry Potter having bad dreams?'
'Not really bad,' said Harry, yawning and rubbing his eyes. 'I've had worse.'
The elf surveyed Harry out of his vast, orb-like eyes. Then he said very seriously, his ears drooping, 'Dobby wishes he could help Harry Potter, for Harry Potter set Dobby free and Dobby is much, much happier now.'
Harry smiled. 'You can't help me, Dobby, but thanks for the offer.'
He bent and picked up his Potions book. He'd have to try to finish the essay tomorrow. He closed the book and as he did so the firelight illuminated the thin white scars on the back of his hand - the result of his detentions with Umbridge... Wait a moment - there is something you can do for me, Dobby,' said Harry slowly. The elf looked round, beaming. 'Name it, Harry Potter, sir!'
'I need to find a place where twenty-eight people can practise Defence Against the Dark Arts without being discovered by any |
of the teachers. Especially,' Harry clenched his hand on the book, so that the scars shone pearly white, 'Professor Umbridge.'
He expected the elf's smile to vanish, his ears to droop; he expected him to say it was impossible, or else that he would try to find somewhere, but his hopes were not high. What he had not expected was for Dobby to give a little skip, his ears waggling cheerfully, and clap his hands together. 'Dobby knows the perfect place, sir!' he said happily. 'Dobby heard tell of it from the other house-elves when he came to Hogwarts, sir. It is known by us as the Come and Go Room, sir, or else as the Room of Requirement!'
'Why?' said Harry curiously. 'Because it is a room that a person can only enter,' said Dobby seriously, 'when they have real need of it. Sometimes it is there, and sometimes it is not, but when it appears, it is always equipped for the seeker's needs. Dobby has used it, sir,' said the elf, dropping his voice and looking guilty, 'when Winky has been very drunk; he has hidden her in the Room of Requirement and he has found antidotes to Butterbeer there, and a nice elf-sized bed to settle her on while she sleeps it off, sir... and Dobby knows Mr Filch has found extra cleaning materials there when he has run short, sir, and - '
'And if you really needed a bathroom,' said Harry, suddenly remembering something Dumbledore had said at the Yule Ball the previous Christmas, 'would it fill itself with chamber pots?'
'Dobby expects so, sir,' said Dobby, nodding earnestly. 'It is a most amazing room, sir.'
'How many people know about it?' said Harry, sitting up straight er in his chair. 'Very few, sir. Mostly people stumbles across it when they needs it, sir, but often they never finds it again, for they do not know that it is always there waiting to be called into service, sir.'
'It sounds brilliant,' said Harry, his heart racing | the teachers. Especially,' Harry clenched his hand on the book, so that the scars shone pearly white, 'Professor Umbridge.'
He expected the elf's smile to vanish, his ears to droop; he expected him to say it was impossible, or else that he would try to find somewhere, but his hopes were not high. What he had not expected was for Dobby to give a little skip, his ears waggling cheerfully, and clap his hands together. 'Dobby knows the perfect place, sir!' he said happily. 'Dobby heard tell of it from the other house-elves when he came to Hogwarts, sir. It is known by us as the Come and Go Room, sir, or else as the Room of Requirement!'
'Why?' said Harry curiously. 'Because it is a room that a person can only enter,' said Dobby seriously, 'when they have real need of it. Sometimes it is there, and sometimes it is not, but when it appears, it is always equipped for the seeker's needs. Dobby has used it, sir,' said the elf, dropping his voice and looking guilty, 'when Winky has been very drunk; he has hidden her in the Room of Requirement and he has found antidotes to Butterbeer there, and a nice elf-sized bed to settle her on while she sleeps it off, sir... and Dobby knows Mr Filch has found extra cleaning materials there when he has run short, sir, and - '
'And if you really needed a bathroom,' said Harry, suddenly remembering something Dumbledore had said at the Yule Ball the previous Christmas, 'would it fill itself with chamber pots?'
'Dobby expects so, sir,' said Dobby, nodding earnestly. 'It is a most amazing room, sir.'
'How many people know about it?' said Harry, sitting up straight er in his chair. 'Very few, sir. Mostly people stumbles across it when they needs it, sir, but often they never finds it again, for they do not know that it is always there waiting to be called into service, sir.'
'It sounds brilliant,' said Harry, his heart racing |
. 'It sounds perfect, Dobby. When can you show me where it is?'
'Any time, Harry Potter, sir,' said Dobby, looking delighted at Harry's enthusiasm. 'We could go now, if you like!'
For a moment Harry was tempted to go with Dobby. It was, after all, very late, he was exhausted, and had Snape's essay to finish. 'Not tonight, Dobby,' said Harry reluctantly, sinking back into his chair. This is really important... I don't want to blow it, it'll need proper planning. Listen, can you just tell me exactly where this Room of Requirement is, and how to get in there?'
*
Their robes billowed and swirled around them as they splashed across the flooded vegetable patch to double Herbology where they could hardly hear what Professor Sprout was saying over the hammering of raindrops hard as hailstones on the greenhouse roof. The afternoon's Care of Magical Creatures lesson was to be relocated from the storm-swept grounds to a free classroom on the ground floor and, to their intense relief, Angelina had sought out her team at lunch to tell them that Quidditch practice was cancelled. 'Good,' said Harry quietly, when she. told him, 'because we've found somewhere to have our first Defence meeting. Tonight, eight o'clock, seventh floor opposite that tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy being clubbed by those trolls. Can you tell Katie and Alicia?'
She looked slightly taken aback but promised to tell the others. Harry returned hungrily to his sausages and mash. 'What?' he said thickly. Well... it's just that Dobby's plans aren't always that safe. 'Dumbledore told you about it?'
'Just in passing,' said Harry, shrugging. Together - 'with Ron they had spent most of the day seeking out those people who had signed their names to the list in the Hog's Head and telling them where to meet that evening. Somewhat to Harry's disappointment, it was Ginny who managed to find Cho Chang and | 'It sounds perfect, Dobby. When can you show me where it is?'
'Any time, Harry Potter, sir,' said Dobby, looking delighted at Harry's enthusiasm. 'We could go now, if you like!'
For a moment Harry was tempted to go with Dobby. It was, after all, very late, he was exhausted, and had Snape's essay to finish. 'Not tonight, Dobby,' said Harry reluctantly, sinking back into his chair. This is really important... I don't want to blow it, it'll need proper planning. Listen, can you just tell me exactly where this Room of Requirement is, and how to get in there?'
*
Their robes billowed and swirled around them as they splashed across the flooded vegetable patch to double Herbology where they could hardly hear what Professor Sprout was saying over the hammering of raindrops hard as hailstones on the greenhouse roof. The afternoon's Care of Magical Creatures lesson was to be relocated from the storm-swept grounds to a free classroom on the ground floor and, to their intense relief, Angelina had sought out her team at lunch to tell them that Quidditch practice was cancelled. 'Good,' said Harry quietly, when she. told him, 'because we've found somewhere to have our first Defence meeting. Tonight, eight o'clock, seventh floor opposite that tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy being clubbed by those trolls. Can you tell Katie and Alicia?'
She looked slightly taken aback but promised to tell the others. Harry returned hungrily to his sausages and mash. 'What?' he said thickly. Well... it's just that Dobby's plans aren't always that safe. 'Dumbledore told you about it?'
'Just in passing,' said Harry, shrugging. Together - 'with Ron they had spent most of the day seeking out those people who had signed their names to the list in the Hog's Head and telling them where to meet that evening. Somewhat to Harry's disappointment, it was Ginny who managed to find Cho Chang and |
her friend first; however, by the end of dinner he was confident that the news had been passed to every one of the twenty-five people who had turned up in the Hog's Head. At half past seven Harry, Ron left the Gryffindor common room, Harry clutching a certain piece of aged parchment in his hand. Fifth-years were allowed to be out in the corridors until nine o'clock, but all three of them kept looking around nervously as they made their way along the seventh floor. 'Hold it,' Harry warned, unfolding the piece of parchment at the top of the last staircase, tapping it with his wand and muttering, 'I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."
A map of Hogwarts appeared on the blank surface of the parchment. Tiny black moving dots, labelled with names, showed where various people were. 'In her office,' said Harry, pointing. 'OK, let's go.'
They hurried along the corridor to the place Dobby had described to Harry, a stretch of blank wall opposite an enormous tapestry depicting Barnabas the Barmy's foolish attempt to train trolls for the ballet. 'OK,' said Harry quietly, while a moth-eaten troll paused in his relentless clubbing of the would-be ballet teacher to watch them. 'Dobby said to walk past this bit of wall three times, concentrating hard on what we need.'
They did so, turning sharply at the window just beyond the blank stretch of wall, then at the man-sized vase on its other side. We need somewhere to learn to fight... he thought. Just give us a place to practise... somewhere they can't find us... A highly polished door had appeared in the wall. Ron was staring at it, looking slightly wary. Harry reached out, seized the brass handle, pulled open the door and led the way into a spacious room lit with flickering torches like those that illuminated the dungeons eight floors below. The walls were lined with wooden bookcases and instead of chairs the re were large silk cushions on the floor. A set of shelves at | friend first; however, by the end of dinner he was confident that the news had been passed to every one of the twenty-five people who had turned up in the Hog's Head. At half past seven Harry, Ron left the Gryffindor common room, Harry clutching a certain piece of aged parchment in his hand. Fifth-years were allowed to be out in the corridors until nine o'clock, but all three of them kept looking around nervously as they made their way along the seventh floor. 'Hold it,' Harry warned, unfolding the piece of parchment at the top of the last staircase, tapping it with his wand and muttering, 'I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."
A map of Hogwarts appeared on the blank surface of the parchment. Tiny black moving dots, labelled with names, showed where various people were. 'In her office,' said Harry, pointing. 'OK, let's go.'
They hurried along the corridor to the place Dobby had described to Harry, a stretch of blank wall opposite an enormous tapestry depicting Barnabas the Barmy's foolish attempt to train trolls for the ballet. 'OK,' said Harry quietly, while a moth-eaten troll paused in his relentless clubbing of the would-be ballet teacher to watch them. 'Dobby said to walk past this bit of wall three times, concentrating hard on what we need.'
They did so, turning sharply at the window just beyond the blank stretch of wall, then at the man-sized vase on its other side. We need somewhere to learn to fight... he thought. Just give us a place to practise... somewhere they can't find us... A highly polished door had appeared in the wall. Ron was staring at it, looking slightly wary. Harry reached out, seized the brass handle, pulled open the door and led the way into a spacious room lit with flickering torches like those that illuminated the dungeons eight floors below. The walls were lined with wooden bookcases and instead of chairs the re were large silk cushions on the floor. A set of shelves at |
the far end of the room carried a range of instruments such as Sneakoscopes, Secrecy Sensors and a large, cracked Foe-Glass that Harry was sure had hung, the previous year, in the fake Moody's office. These will be good when we're practising Stunning,' said Ron enthusiastically, prodding one of the cushions with his foot. 'A Compendium of Common Curses and their Counter-Actions... The Dark Arts Outsmarted... Self-Defensive Spellwork... wow.. 'Harry, this is wonderful, there's everything we need here!'
And without further ado she slid Jinxes for the Jinxed from its shelf, sank on to the nearest cushion and began to read. There was a gentle knock on the door. Harry looked round. Ginny, Neville, Lavender, Parvati and Dean had arrived. 'Whoa,' said Dean, staring around, impressed. 'What is this place?'
Harry began to explain, but before he had finished more people had arrived and he had to start all over again. By the time eight o'clock arrived, every cushion was occupied. Harry moved across to the door and turned the key protruding from the lock; it clicked in a satisfyingly loud way and everybody fell silent, looking at him. 'Well,' said Harry, slightly nervously. This is the place we've found for practice sessions, and you've - er - obviously found it OK.'
'It's fantastic!' said Cho, and several people murmured their agreement. 'It's bizarre,' said Fred, frowning around at it. 'We once hid from Filch in here, remember, George? But it was just a broom cupboard then.'
'Hey, Harry, what's this stuff?' asked Dean from the rear of the room, indicating the Sneakoscopes and the Foe-Glass. 'Dark detectors,' said Harry, stepping between the cushions to reach them. 'Basically they all show when Dark wizards or enemies are around, but you don't want to rely on them too much, they can be fooled
He gazed | far end of the room carried a range of instruments such as Sneakoscopes, Secrecy Sensors and a large, cracked Foe-Glass that Harry was sure had hung, the previous year, in the fake Moody's office. These will be good when we're practising Stunning,' said Ron enthusiastically, prodding one of the cushions with his foot. 'A Compendium of Common Curses and their Counter-Actions... The Dark Arts Outsmarted... Self-Defensive Spellwork... wow.. 'Harry, this is wonderful, there's everything we need here!'
And without further ado she slid Jinxes for the Jinxed from its shelf, sank on to the nearest cushion and began to read. There was a gentle knock on the door. Harry looked round. Ginny, Neville, Lavender, Parvati and Dean had arrived. 'Whoa,' said Dean, staring around, impressed. 'What is this place?'
Harry began to explain, but before he had finished more people had arrived and he had to start all over again. By the time eight o'clock arrived, every cushion was occupied. Harry moved across to the door and turned the key protruding from the lock; it clicked in a satisfyingly loud way and everybody fell silent, looking at him. 'Well,' said Harry, slightly nervously. This is the place we've found for practice sessions, and you've - er - obviously found it OK.'
'It's fantastic!' said Cho, and several people murmured their agreement. 'It's bizarre,' said Fred, frowning around at it. 'We once hid from Filch in here, remember, George? But it was just a broom cupboard then.'
'Hey, Harry, what's this stuff?' asked Dean from the rear of the room, indicating the Sneakoscopes and the Foe-Glass. 'Dark detectors,' said Harry, stepping between the cushions to reach them. 'Basically they all show when Dark wizards or enemies are around, but you don't want to rely on them too much, they can be fooled
He gazed |
for a moment into the cracked Foe-Glass; shadowy figures were moving around inside it, though none was recognisable. He turned his back on it. 'Well, I've been thinking about the sort of stuff we ought to do first and - er -'He noticed a raised hand. Harry's stomach did yet another back-flip. 'It makes it formal and it gives him authority. So - 'everyone who thinks Harry ought to be our leader?'
Everybody put up their hand, even Zacharias Smith, though he did it very half-heartedly. 'Er - right, thanks,' said Harry, who could feel his face burning. 'It would promote a feeling of team spirit and unity, don't you think?'
'Can we be the Anti-Umbridge League?' said Angelina hopefully. 'Or the Ministry of Magic are Morons Group?' suggested Fred. 'The DA for short, so nobody knows what we're talking about?'
'Yeah, the DA's good,' said Ginny. 'Only let's make it stand for Dumbledore's Army, because that's the Ministry's worst fear, isn't it?'
There was a good deal of appreciative murmuring and laughter at this. That's a majority - motion passed!'
She pinned the piece of parchment with all of their signatures on it on to the wall and wrote across the top in large letters:
DUMBLEDORE'S ARMY
'Right,' said Harry, when she had sat down again,'shall we get practising then? I was thinking, the first thing we should do is Expelliarmus, you know, the Disarming Charm. I know it's pretty basic but I've found it really useful - '
'Oh, please,' said Zacharias Smith, rolling his eyes and folding his arms. 'I don't think Expelliarmus is exactly going to help us against You-Know-Who, do you?'
'I've used it against him,' said Harry quietly. 'It saved my life in June.'
Smith opened his mouth stupidly. The rest of the room was very quiet. 'But if you think it's beneath you, you can leave,' Harry said. Smith | a moment into the cracked Foe-Glass; shadowy figures were moving around inside it, though none was recognisable. He turned his back on it. 'Well, I've been thinking about the sort of stuff we ought to do first and - er -'He noticed a raised hand. Harry's stomach did yet another back-flip. 'It makes it formal and it gives him authority. So - 'everyone who thinks Harry ought to be our leader?'
Everybody put up their hand, even Zacharias Smith, though he did it very half-heartedly. 'Er - right, thanks,' said Harry, who could feel his face burning. 'It would promote a feeling of team spirit and unity, don't you think?'
'Can we be the Anti-Umbridge League?' said Angelina hopefully. 'Or the Ministry of Magic are Morons Group?' suggested Fred. 'The DA for short, so nobody knows what we're talking about?'
'Yeah, the DA's good,' said Ginny. 'Only let's make it stand for Dumbledore's Army, because that's the Ministry's worst fear, isn't it?'
There was a good deal of appreciative murmuring and laughter at this. That's a majority - motion passed!'
She pinned the piece of parchment with all of their signatures on it on to the wall and wrote across the top in large letters:
DUMBLEDORE'S ARMY
'Right,' said Harry, when she had sat down again,'shall we get practising then? I was thinking, the first thing we should do is Expelliarmus, you know, the Disarming Charm. I know it's pretty basic but I've found it really useful - '
'Oh, please,' said Zacharias Smith, rolling his eyes and folding his arms. 'I don't think Expelliarmus is exactly going to help us against You-Know-Who, do you?'
'I've used it against him,' said Harry quietly. 'It saved my life in June.'
Smith opened his mouth stupidly. The rest of the room was very quiet. 'But if you think it's beneath you, you can leave,' Harry said. Smith |
did not move. Nor did anybody else. 'OK,' said Harry, his mouth slightly drier than usual with all these eyes upon him, 'I reckon we should all divide into pairs and practise.'
It felt very odd to be issuing instructions, but not nearly as odd as seeing them followed. Everybody got to their feet at once and divided up. Predictably, Neville was left partnerless. You can practise with me,' Harry told him. 'Right - on the count of three, then - one, two, three - '
The room was suddenly full of shouts of Expelliarmus. Wands flew in all directions; missed spells hit books on shelves and sent them flying into the air. Harry was too quick for Neville, whose wand went spinning out of his hand, hit the ceiling in a shower of sparks and landed with a clatter on top of a bookshelf, from which Harry retrieved it with a Summoning Charm. Glancing around, he thought he had been right to suggest they practise the basics first; there was a lot of shoddy spellwork going on; many people were not succeeding in Disarming their opponents at all, but merely causing them to jump backwards a few paces or wince as their feeble spell whooshed over them. 'Expelliarmus! said Neville, and Harry, caught unawares, tell his wand fly out of his hand. 'I DID IT!' said Neville gleefully. 'I've never done it before - I DID IT!'
'Good one!' said Harry encouragingly, deciding not to point out that in a real duel Neville's opponent was unlikely to be staring in the opposite direction with his wand held loosely at his side. 'Listen, Neville, can you take it in turns to practise with Ron for a couple of minutes so I can walk around and see how the rest are doing?'
Harry moved off into the middle of the room. Something very odd was happening to Zacharias Smith. Every time he opened his mouth to disarm Anthony Goldstein, his own wand would fly out of his hand, yet Anthony did not seem to be making a sound. Harry did not have to look far to solve the mystery: Fred and George were several feet from Smith and taking | not move. Nor did anybody else. 'OK,' said Harry, his mouth slightly drier than usual with all these eyes upon him, 'I reckon we should all divide into pairs and practise.'
It felt very odd to be issuing instructions, but not nearly as odd as seeing them followed. Everybody got to their feet at once and divided up. Predictably, Neville was left partnerless. You can practise with me,' Harry told him. 'Right - on the count of three, then - one, two, three - '
The room was suddenly full of shouts of Expelliarmus. Wands flew in all directions; missed spells hit books on shelves and sent them flying into the air. Harry was too quick for Neville, whose wand went spinning out of his hand, hit the ceiling in a shower of sparks and landed with a clatter on top of a bookshelf, from which Harry retrieved it with a Summoning Charm. Glancing around, he thought he had been right to suggest they practise the basics first; there was a lot of shoddy spellwork going on; many people were not succeeding in Disarming their opponents at all, but merely causing them to jump backwards a few paces or wince as their feeble spell whooshed over them. 'Expelliarmus! said Neville, and Harry, caught unawares, tell his wand fly out of his hand. 'I DID IT!' said Neville gleefully. 'I've never done it before - I DID IT!'
'Good one!' said Harry encouragingly, deciding not to point out that in a real duel Neville's opponent was unlikely to be staring in the opposite direction with his wand held loosely at his side. 'Listen, Neville, can you take it in turns to practise with Ron for a couple of minutes so I can walk around and see how the rest are doing?'
Harry moved off into the middle of the room. Something very odd was happening to Zacharias Smith. Every time he opened his mouth to disarm Anthony Goldstein, his own wand would fly out of his hand, yet Anthony did not seem to be making a sound. Harry did not have to look far to solve the mystery: Fred and George were several feet from Smith and taking |
it in turns to point their wands at his back. 'Sorry Harry,' said George hastily, when Harry caught his eye. 'Couldn't resist.'
Harry walked around the other pairs, trying to correct those who were doing the spell wrong. Ginny was teamed with Michael Corner; she was doing very well, whereas Michael was either very bad or unwilling to jinx her. Ernie Macmillan was flourishing his wand unnecessarily, giving his partner time to get in under his guard; the Creevey brothers were enthusiastic but erratic and mainly responsible for all the books leaping off the shelves around them; Luna Lovegood was similarly patchy, occasionally sending Justin Finch-Fletchleys wand spinning out of his hand, at other times merely causing his hair to stand on end. 'OK, stop!' Harry shouted. 'Stop.' STOP!'
I need a whistle, he thought, and immediately spotted one lying on top of the nearest row of books. He caught it up and blew hard. Everyone lowered their wands. That wasn't bad,' said Harry, 'but there's definite room for improvement.' Zacharias Smith glared at him. 'Let's try again.'
He moved off around the room again, stopping here and there to make suggestions. Slowly, the general performance improved. He: avoided going near Cho and her friend for a while, but after walking twice around every other pair in the room felt he could not ignore them any longer. 'Oh no,' said Cho rather wildly as he approached. 'Expelliarmious! I mean, Expellimellius! I - oh, sorry, Marietta!'
Her curly-haired friend's sleeve had caught fire; Marietta extinguished it with her own wand and glared at Harry as though it was his fault. 'You made me nervous, I was doing all right before then!' Cho told Harry ruefully. That was quite good,' Harry lied, but when she raised her eyebrows he said, 'Well, no, it was lousy, but I know you can do it properly, I was watching from over there.'
She laughed. Her friend Marietta looked at them rather sourly and turned away. | in turns to point their wands at his back. 'Sorry Harry,' said George hastily, when Harry caught his eye. 'Couldn't resist.'
Harry walked around the other pairs, trying to correct those who were doing the spell wrong. Ginny was teamed with Michael Corner; she was doing very well, whereas Michael was either very bad or unwilling to jinx her. Ernie Macmillan was flourishing his wand unnecessarily, giving his partner time to get in under his guard; the Creevey brothers were enthusiastic but erratic and mainly responsible for all the books leaping off the shelves around them; Luna Lovegood was similarly patchy, occasionally sending Justin Finch-Fletchleys wand spinning out of his hand, at other times merely causing his hair to stand on end. 'OK, stop!' Harry shouted. 'Stop.' STOP!'
I need a whistle, he thought, and immediately spotted one lying on top of the nearest row of books. He caught it up and blew hard. Everyone lowered their wands. That wasn't bad,' said Harry, 'but there's definite room for improvement.' Zacharias Smith glared at him. 'Let's try again.'
He moved off around the room again, stopping here and there to make suggestions. Slowly, the general performance improved. He: avoided going near Cho and her friend for a while, but after walking twice around every other pair in the room felt he could not ignore them any longer. 'Oh no,' said Cho rather wildly as he approached. 'Expelliarmious! I mean, Expellimellius! I - oh, sorry, Marietta!'
Her curly-haired friend's sleeve had caught fire; Marietta extinguished it with her own wand and glared at Harry as though it was his fault. 'You made me nervous, I was doing all right before then!' Cho told Harry ruefully. That was quite good,' Harry lied, but when she raised her eyebrows he said, 'Well, no, it was lousy, but I know you can do it properly, I was watching from over there.'
She laughed. Her friend Marietta looked at them rather sourly and turned away. |
'Don't mind her,' Cho muttered. 'She doesn't really want to be here but I made her come with me. Her parents have forbidden her to do anything that might upset Umbridge. You see - her mum works for the Ministry.'
What about your parents?' asked Harry. Well, they've forbidden me to get on the wrong side of Umbridge, too,' said Cho, drawing herself up proudly. 'But if they think I'm not going to fight You-Know-Who after what happened to Cedric - '
She broke off, looking rather confused, and an awkward silence fell between them; Terry Boot's wand went whizzing past Harry's ear and hit Alicia Spinnet hard on the nose. Well, my dad is very supportive of any anti-Ministry action!' said Luna Lovegood proudly from just behind Harry; evidently she had been eavesdropping on his conversation while Justin Finch - 'Fletchley attempted to disentangle himself from the robes that had flown up over his head. 'He's always saying he'd believe anything of Fudge; I mean, the number of goblins Fudge has had assassinated! And of course he uses the Department of Mysteries to develop terrible poisons, which he secretly feeds to anybody who disagrees with him. And then there's his Umgubular Slashkilter - '
'Don't ask,' Harry muttered to Cho as she opened her mouth, looking puzzled. She giggled. He blew his whistle; everybody stopped shouting 'Expelliarmus' and the last couple of wands clattered to the floor. 'Well, that was pretty good,' said Harry, 'but we've overrun, we'd better leave it here. Same time, same place next week?'
'Sooner!' said Dean Thomas eagerly and many people nodded in agreement. Angelina, however, said quickly, The Quidditch season's about to start, we need team practices too!'
'Let's say next Wednesday night, then,' said Harry, 'we can decide on additional meetings then. Come on, we'd better get going.'
He pulled out the Marauder's Map | Don't mind her,' Cho muttered. 'She doesn't really want to be here but I made her come with me. Her parents have forbidden her to do anything that might upset Umbridge. You see - her mum works for the Ministry.'
What about your parents?' asked Harry. Well, they've forbidden me to get on the wrong side of Umbridge, too,' said Cho, drawing herself up proudly. 'But if they think I'm not going to fight You-Know-Who after what happened to Cedric - '
She broke off, looking rather confused, and an awkward silence fell between them; Terry Boot's wand went whizzing past Harry's ear and hit Alicia Spinnet hard on the nose. Well, my dad is very supportive of any anti-Ministry action!' said Luna Lovegood proudly from just behind Harry; evidently she had been eavesdropping on his conversation while Justin Finch - 'Fletchley attempted to disentangle himself from the robes that had flown up over his head. 'He's always saying he'd believe anything of Fudge; I mean, the number of goblins Fudge has had assassinated! And of course he uses the Department of Mysteries to develop terrible poisons, which he secretly feeds to anybody who disagrees with him. And then there's his Umgubular Slashkilter - '
'Don't ask,' Harry muttered to Cho as she opened her mouth, looking puzzled. She giggled. He blew his whistle; everybody stopped shouting 'Expelliarmus' and the last couple of wands clattered to the floor. 'Well, that was pretty good,' said Harry, 'but we've overrun, we'd better leave it here. Same time, same place next week?'
'Sooner!' said Dean Thomas eagerly and many people nodded in agreement. Angelina, however, said quickly, The Quidditch season's about to start, we need team practices too!'
'Let's say next Wednesday night, then,' said Harry, 'we can decide on additional meetings then. Come on, we'd better get going.'
He pulled out the Marauder's Map |
again and checked it carefully for signs of teachers on the seventh floor. He let them all leave in threes and fours, watching their tiny dots anxiously to see that they returned safely to their dormitories: the Hufflepuffs to the basement corridor that also led to the kitchens; the Ravenclaws to a tower on the west side of the castle, and the Gryffindors along the corridor to the Fat Lady's portrait. 'Yeah, it was!' said Ron enthusiastically, as they slipped out of the door and watched it melt back into stone behind them. 'I got you loads more than you got me -'
'I did not only get you once, I got you at least three times - '
'Well, if you're counting the one where you tripped over your own feet and knocked the wand out of my hand - '
They argued all the way back to the common room, but Harry was not listening to them. He had one eye on the Marauder's Map, but he was also thinking of Cho saying he made her nervous. - CHAPTER NINETEEN -
The Lion and the Serpant
Harry felt as though he were carrying some kind of talisman inside his chest over the following two weeks, a glowing secret that supported him through Umbridge's classes and even made it possible for him to smile blandly as he looked into her horrible bulging eyes. He was finding it almost impossible to fix a regular night of the week for the DA meetings, as they had to accommodate three separate: team's Quidditch practices, which were often rearranged due to bad weather conditions; but Harry was not sorry about this; he had a feeling that it was probably better to keep the timing of their meetings unpredictable. If anyone was watching them, it would be hard to make out a pattern. She gave each of the members of the DA a fake Galleon (Ron became very excited when he first saw the basket and was convinced she was actually giving out gold). The coin gleamed fat and yellow in the light from the torches. 'On real Galleons that's just a serial number referring to the goblin who cast the coin. On these fake coins, though, the numbers will change to reflect the | and checked it carefully for signs of teachers on the seventh floor. He let them all leave in threes and fours, watching their tiny dots anxiously to see that they returned safely to their dormitories: the Hufflepuffs to the basement corridor that also led to the kitchens; the Ravenclaws to a tower on the west side of the castle, and the Gryffindors along the corridor to the Fat Lady's portrait. 'Yeah, it was!' said Ron enthusiastically, as they slipped out of the door and watched it melt back into stone behind them. 'I got you loads more than you got me -'
'I did not only get you once, I got you at least three times - '
'Well, if you're counting the one where you tripped over your own feet and knocked the wand out of my hand - '
They argued all the way back to the common room, but Harry was not listening to them. He had one eye on the Marauder's Map, but he was also thinking of Cho saying he made her nervous. - CHAPTER NINETEEN -
The Lion and the Serpant
Harry felt as though he were carrying some kind of talisman inside his chest over the following two weeks, a glowing secret that supported him through Umbridge's classes and even made it possible for him to smile blandly as he looked into her horrible bulging eyes. He was finding it almost impossible to fix a regular night of the week for the DA meetings, as they had to accommodate three separate: team's Quidditch practices, which were often rearranged due to bad weather conditions; but Harry was not sorry about this; he had a feeling that it was probably better to keep the timing of their meetings unpredictable. If anyone was watching them, it would be hard to make out a pattern. She gave each of the members of the DA a fake Galleon (Ron became very excited when he first saw the basket and was convinced she was actually giving out gold). The coin gleamed fat and yellow in the light from the torches. 'On real Galleons that's just a serial number referring to the goblin who cast the coin. On these fake coins, though, the numbers will change to reflect the |
time and date of the next meeting. The coins will grow hot when the date changes, so if you're carrying them in a pocket you'll be able to feel them. She looked around at all the faces upturned to her, rather disconcerted. 'Well - I thought it was a good idea,' she said uncertainly, 'I mean, even if Umbridge asked us to turn out our pockets, there's nothing fishy about carrying a Galleon, is there? But... 'But that's... that's NEWT standard, that is,' he said weakly. 'Oh... well... So, does that mean we're using the Galleons?'
There was a murmur of assent and everybody moved forwards to collect one from the basket. 'You know what these remind me of?'
'No, what's that?'
The Death Eaters' scars. Voldemort touches one of them, and all their scars burn, and they know they've got to join him.'
'Well..... but you'll notice I decided to engrave the date on bits of metal rather than on our members' skin.'
'Yeah... I prefer your way,' said Harry, grinning, as he slipped his; Galleon into his pocket. 'I suppose the only danger with these is that we might accidentally spend them.'
'Fat chance,' said Ron, who was examining his own fake Galleon with a slightly mournful air, 'I haven't got any real Galleons to confuse it with.'
As the first Quidditch match of the season, Gryffindor versus Slytherin, drew nearer, their DA meetings were put on hold because Angelina insisted on almost daily practices. The fact that the Quidditch Cup had not been held for so long added considerably to the interest and excitement surrounding the forthcoming game; the: Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were taking a lively interest in the outcome, for they, of course, would be playing both teams over the coming year; and the Heads of House of the competing teams, though they attempted to disguise it under a decent pretence of sportsmanship | and date of the next meeting. The coins will grow hot when the date changes, so if you're carrying them in a pocket you'll be able to feel them. She looked around at all the faces upturned to her, rather disconcerted. 'Well - I thought it was a good idea,' she said uncertainly, 'I mean, even if Umbridge asked us to turn out our pockets, there's nothing fishy about carrying a Galleon, is there? But... 'But that's... that's NEWT standard, that is,' he said weakly. 'Oh... well... So, does that mean we're using the Galleons?'
There was a murmur of assent and everybody moved forwards to collect one from the basket. 'You know what these remind me of?'
'No, what's that?'
The Death Eaters' scars. Voldemort touches one of them, and all their scars burn, and they know they've got to join him.'
'Well..... but you'll notice I decided to engrave the date on bits of metal rather than on our members' skin.'
'Yeah... I prefer your way,' said Harry, grinning, as he slipped his; Galleon into his pocket. 'I suppose the only danger with these is that we might accidentally spend them.'
'Fat chance,' said Ron, who was examining his own fake Galleon with a slightly mournful air, 'I haven't got any real Galleons to confuse it with.'
As the first Quidditch match of the season, Gryffindor versus Slytherin, drew nearer, their DA meetings were put on hold because Angelina insisted on almost daily practices. The fact that the Quidditch Cup had not been held for so long added considerably to the interest and excitement surrounding the forthcoming game; the: Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were taking a lively interest in the outcome, for they, of course, would be playing both teams over the coming year; and the Heads of House of the competing teams, though they attempted to disguise it under a decent pretence of sportsmanship |
, were determined to see their own side victorious. Harry realised how much Professor McGonagall cared about beating Slytherin when she abstained from giving them homework in the week leading up to the match. I think you've got enough to be getting on with at the moment,' she; said loftily. Nobody could quite believe their ears until she looked directly at Harry and Ron and said grimly, 'I've become accustomed to seeing the Quidditch Cup in my study, boys, and I really don't want to have to hand it over to Professor Snape, so use the extra time to practise, won't you?'
Snape was no less obviously partisan; he had booked the Quidditch pitch for Slytherin practice so often that the Gryffindors had difficulty getting on it to play. He was also turning a deaf ear to the many reports of Slytherin attempts to hex Gryffindor players in the corridors. When Alicia Spinnet turned up in the hospital wing with her eyebrows growing so thick and fast they obscured her vision and obstructed her mouth, Snape insisted that she must have attempted a Hair-thickening Charm on herself and refused to listen to the fourteen eye-witnesses who insisted they had seen the Slytherin Keeper, Miles Bletchley, hit her from behind with a jinx while she worked in the library. Harry felt optimistic about Gryffindors chances; they had, after all, never lost to Malfoy's team. Admittedly, Ron was still not performing to Wood's standard, but he was working extremely hard to improve. His greatest weakness was a tendency to lose confidence after he'd made a blunder; if he let in one goal he became flustered and was therefore likely to miss more. On the other hand, Harry had seen Ron make some truly spectacular saves when he was on form; during one memorable practice he had hung one-handed from his broom and kicked the Quaffle so hard away from the goalhoop that it soared the length of the pitch and through the centre hoop at the other end; the rest of the team felt this save compared favourably with | were determined to see their own side victorious. Harry realised how much Professor McGonagall cared about beating Slytherin when she abstained from giving them homework in the week leading up to the match. I think you've got enough to be getting on with at the moment,' she; said loftily. Nobody could quite believe their ears until she looked directly at Harry and Ron and said grimly, 'I've become accustomed to seeing the Quidditch Cup in my study, boys, and I really don't want to have to hand it over to Professor Snape, so use the extra time to practise, won't you?'
Snape was no less obviously partisan; he had booked the Quidditch pitch for Slytherin practice so often that the Gryffindors had difficulty getting on it to play. He was also turning a deaf ear to the many reports of Slytherin attempts to hex Gryffindor players in the corridors. When Alicia Spinnet turned up in the hospital wing with her eyebrows growing so thick and fast they obscured her vision and obstructed her mouth, Snape insisted that she must have attempted a Hair-thickening Charm on herself and refused to listen to the fourteen eye-witnesses who insisted they had seen the Slytherin Keeper, Miles Bletchley, hit her from behind with a jinx while she worked in the library. Harry felt optimistic about Gryffindors chances; they had, after all, never lost to Malfoy's team. Admittedly, Ron was still not performing to Wood's standard, but he was working extremely hard to improve. His greatest weakness was a tendency to lose confidence after he'd made a blunder; if he let in one goal he became flustered and was therefore likely to miss more. On the other hand, Harry had seen Ron make some truly spectacular saves when he was on form; during one memorable practice he had hung one-handed from his broom and kicked the Quaffle so hard away from the goalhoop that it soared the length of the pitch and through the centre hoop at the other end; the rest of the team felt this save compared favourably with |
one made recently by Barry Ryan, the Irish International Keeper, against Poland's top Chaser, Ladislaw Zamojski. Even Fred had said that Ron might yet make him and George proud, and that they were seriously considering admitting he was related to them, something they assured him they had been trying to deny for four years. The only thing really worrying Harry was how much Ron was allowing the tactics of the Slytherin team to upset him before they even got on to the pitch. Harry, of course, had endured their snide comments for over four years, so whispers of, 'Hey, Potty, I heard Warrington's sworn to knock you off your broom on Saturday', far from chilling his blood, made him laugh. 'Warrington's aim's so pathetic I'd be more worried if he was aiming for the person next to me,' he retorted, which made Ron laugh and wiped the smirk off Pansy Parkinson's face. But Ron had never endured a relentless campaign of insults, jeers and intimidation. When Slytherins, some of them seventh-years and considerably larger than he was, muttered as they passed in the corridors, 'Got your bed booked in the hospital wing, Weasley?' he didn't laugh, but turned a delicate shade of green. When Draco Malfoy imitated Ron dropping the Quaffle (which he did whenever they came within sight of each other), Ron's ears glowed red and his hands shook so badly that he was likely to drop whatever he was holding at the time, too. October extinguished itself in a rush of howling winds and driving rain and November arrived, cold as frozen iron, with hard frosts every morning and icy draughts that bit at exposed hands and faces. The skies and the ceiling of the Great Hall turned a pale, pearly grey, the mountains around Hogwarts were snowcapped, and the temperature in the castle dropped so low that many students wore their thick protective dragonskin gloves in the corridors between lessons. The morning of the match dawned bright and cold. When Harry awoke he looked round at Ron's bed and | made recently by Barry Ryan, the Irish International Keeper, against Poland's top Chaser, Ladislaw Zamojski. Even Fred had said that Ron might yet make him and George proud, and that they were seriously considering admitting he was related to them, something they assured him they had been trying to deny for four years. The only thing really worrying Harry was how much Ron was allowing the tactics of the Slytherin team to upset him before they even got on to the pitch. Harry, of course, had endured their snide comments for over four years, so whispers of, 'Hey, Potty, I heard Warrington's sworn to knock you off your broom on Saturday', far from chilling his blood, made him laugh. 'Warrington's aim's so pathetic I'd be more worried if he was aiming for the person next to me,' he retorted, which made Ron laugh and wiped the smirk off Pansy Parkinson's face. But Ron had never endured a relentless campaign of insults, jeers and intimidation. When Slytherins, some of them seventh-years and considerably larger than he was, muttered as they passed in the corridors, 'Got your bed booked in the hospital wing, Weasley?' he didn't laugh, but turned a delicate shade of green. When Draco Malfoy imitated Ron dropping the Quaffle (which he did whenever they came within sight of each other), Ron's ears glowed red and his hands shook so badly that he was likely to drop whatever he was holding at the time, too. October extinguished itself in a rush of howling winds and driving rain and November arrived, cold as frozen iron, with hard frosts every morning and icy draughts that bit at exposed hands and faces. The skies and the ceiling of the Great Hall turned a pale, pearly grey, the mountains around Hogwarts were snowcapped, and the temperature in the castle dropped so low that many students wore their thick protective dragonskin gloves in the corridors between lessons. The morning of the match dawned bright and cold. When Harry awoke he looked round at Ron's bed and |
saw him sitting bolt upright, his arms around his knees, staring fixedly into space. 'You all right?' said Harry. Ron nodded but did not speak. Harry was reminded forcibly of the time Ron had accidentally put a Slug-vomiting Charm on himself; he looked just as pale and sweaty as he had done then, not to mention as reluctant to open his mouth. 'You just need some breakfast,' Harry said bracingly. 'C'mon.'
The Great Hall was filling up fast when they arrived, the talk louder and the mood more exuberant than usual. As they passed the Slytherin table there was an upsurge of noise. Harry looked round and saw that, in addition to the usual green and silver scarves and hats, every one of them was wearing a silver badge in the shape of what seemed to be a crown. For some reason many of them waved at Ron, laughing uproariously. Harry tried to see what was written on the badges as he walked by, but he was too concerned to get Ron past their table quickly to linger long enough to read them. They received a rousing welcome at the Gryffindor table, where everyone was wearing red and gold, but far from raising Ron's spirits the cheers seemed to sap the last of his morale; he collapsed on to the nearest bench looking as though he were facing his final meal. 'I must've been mental to do this,' he said in a croaky whisper. 'Mental.'
'Don't be thick,' said Harry firmly, passing him a choice of cereals, 'you're going to be fine. It's normal to be nervous.'
'I'm rubbish,' croaked Ron. 'I'm lousy. I can't play to save my life. What was I thinking?'
'Get a grip,' said Harry sternly. 'Look at that save you made with your foot the other day, even Fred and George said it was brilliant.'
Ron turned a tortured face to Harry. 'That was an accident,' he whispered miserably. 'How're you feeling?' Ginny asked Ron, who was now staring into the d | him sitting bolt upright, his arms around his knees, staring fixedly into space. 'You all right?' said Harry. Ron nodded but did not speak. Harry was reminded forcibly of the time Ron had accidentally put a Slug-vomiting Charm on himself; he looked just as pale and sweaty as he had done then, not to mention as reluctant to open his mouth. 'You just need some breakfast,' Harry said bracingly. 'C'mon.'
The Great Hall was filling up fast when they arrived, the talk louder and the mood more exuberant than usual. As they passed the Slytherin table there was an upsurge of noise. Harry looked round and saw that, in addition to the usual green and silver scarves and hats, every one of them was wearing a silver badge in the shape of what seemed to be a crown. For some reason many of them waved at Ron, laughing uproariously. Harry tried to see what was written on the badges as he walked by, but he was too concerned to get Ron past their table quickly to linger long enough to read them. They received a rousing welcome at the Gryffindor table, where everyone was wearing red and gold, but far from raising Ron's spirits the cheers seemed to sap the last of his morale; he collapsed on to the nearest bench looking as though he were facing his final meal. 'I must've been mental to do this,' he said in a croaky whisper. 'Mental.'
'Don't be thick,' said Harry firmly, passing him a choice of cereals, 'you're going to be fine. It's normal to be nervous.'
'I'm rubbish,' croaked Ron. 'I'm lousy. I can't play to save my life. What was I thinking?'
'Get a grip,' said Harry sternly. 'Look at that save you made with your foot the other day, even Fred and George said it was brilliant.'
Ron turned a tortured face to Harry. 'That was an accident,' he whispered miserably. 'How're you feeling?' Ginny asked Ron, who was now staring into the d |
regs of milk at the bottom of his empty cereal bowl as though seriously considering attempting to drown himself in them. 'He's just nervous,' said Harry. 'Hello,' said a vague and dreamy voice from behind them. Harry looked up: Luna Lovegood had drifted over from the Ravenclaw table. Many people were staring at her and a few were openly laughing and pointing; she had managed to procure a hat shaped like a life-size lion's head, which was perched precariously on her head. 'I'm supporting Gryffindor,' said Luna, pointing unnecessarily at her hat. 'Look what it does...'
She reached up and tapped the hat with her wand. It opened its mouth wide and gave an extremely realistic roar that made everyone in the vicinity jump. 'It's good, isn't it?' said Luna happily. 'I wanted to have it chewing up a serpent to represent Slytherin, you know, but there wasn't time. Anyway... good luck, Ronald!'
She drifted away. They had not quite recovered from the shock of Luna's hat before Angelina came hurrying towards them, accompanied by Katie and Alicia, whose eyebrows had mercifully been returned to normal by Madam Pomfrey. 'When you're ready,' she said, 'we're going to go straight down to the pitch, check out conditions and change.'
'We'll be there in a bit,' Harry assured her. 'Ron's just got to have some breakfast.'
It became clear after ten minutes, however, that Ron was not capable of eating anything more and Harry thought it best to get him down to the changing rooms. 'Don't let Ron see what's on those Slytherins' badges,' she whispered urgently. Harry looked questioningly at her, but she shook her head warningly; Ron had just ambled over to them, looking lost and desperate. 'And you, Harry - '
Ron seemed to come to himself slightly as they walked back across the Great Hall. He seemed too distracted to notice much around him, but Harry cast a curious glance at the crown-shaped | s of milk at the bottom of his empty cereal bowl as though seriously considering attempting to drown himself in them. 'He's just nervous,' said Harry. 'Hello,' said a vague and dreamy voice from behind them. Harry looked up: Luna Lovegood had drifted over from the Ravenclaw table. Many people were staring at her and a few were openly laughing and pointing; she had managed to procure a hat shaped like a life-size lion's head, which was perched precariously on her head. 'I'm supporting Gryffindor,' said Luna, pointing unnecessarily at her hat. 'Look what it does...'
She reached up and tapped the hat with her wand. It opened its mouth wide and gave an extremely realistic roar that made everyone in the vicinity jump. 'It's good, isn't it?' said Luna happily. 'I wanted to have it chewing up a serpent to represent Slytherin, you know, but there wasn't time. Anyway... good luck, Ronald!'
She drifted away. They had not quite recovered from the shock of Luna's hat before Angelina came hurrying towards them, accompanied by Katie and Alicia, whose eyebrows had mercifully been returned to normal by Madam Pomfrey. 'When you're ready,' she said, 'we're going to go straight down to the pitch, check out conditions and change.'
'We'll be there in a bit,' Harry assured her. 'Ron's just got to have some breakfast.'
It became clear after ten minutes, however, that Ron was not capable of eating anything more and Harry thought it best to get him down to the changing rooms. 'Don't let Ron see what's on those Slytherins' badges,' she whispered urgently. Harry looked questioningly at her, but she shook her head warningly; Ron had just ambled over to them, looking lost and desperate. 'And you, Harry - '
Ron seemed to come to himself slightly as they walked back across the Great Hall. He seemed too distracted to notice much around him, but Harry cast a curious glance at the crown-shaped |
badges as they passed the Slytherin table, and this time he made out the words etched on to them:
Weasley is our King
With an unpleasant feeling that this could mean nothing good, he hurried Ron across the Entrance Hall, clown the stone steps and out into the icy air. The frosty grass crunched under their feet as they hurried down the sloping lawns towards the stadium. There was no wind at all and the sky was a uniform pearly white, which meant that visibility would be good without the drawback of direct sunlight in the eyes. Harry pointed out these encouraging factors to Ron as they walked, but he was not sure that Ron was listening. Angelina had changed already and was talking to the rest of the team when they entered. Harry and Ron pulled on their robes (Ron attempted to do his up back-to-front for several minutes before Alicia took pity on him and went to help), then sat down to listen to the pre-match talk while the babble of voices outside grew steadily louder as the crowd came pouring out of the castle towards the pitch. 'OK, I've only just found out the final line-up for Slytherin,' said Angelina, consulting a piece of parchment. 'Last year's Beaters,
Derrick and Bole, have left, but it looks as though Montague's replaced them with the usual gorillas, rather than anyone who c an fly particularly well. They're two blokes called Crabbe and Goyle, I don't know much about them - '
'We do,' said Harry and Ron together. 'Well, they don't look bright enough to tell one end of a broom from the other,' said Angelina, pocketing her parchment, 'but then I was always surprised Derrick and Bole managed to find their way on to the pitch without signposts.'
'Crabbe and Goyle are in the same mould,' Harry assured her. They could hear hundreds of footsteps mounting the banked benches of the spectators' stands. Some people were singing, though Harry could not make out the words. He was starting to feel nervous, but he knew his butterflies were as nothing compared to Ron's, who was | ges as they passed the Slytherin table, and this time he made out the words etched on to them:
Weasley is our King
With an unpleasant feeling that this could mean nothing good, he hurried Ron across the Entrance Hall, clown the stone steps and out into the icy air. The frosty grass crunched under their feet as they hurried down the sloping lawns towards the stadium. There was no wind at all and the sky was a uniform pearly white, which meant that visibility would be good without the drawback of direct sunlight in the eyes. Harry pointed out these encouraging factors to Ron as they walked, but he was not sure that Ron was listening. Angelina had changed already and was talking to the rest of the team when they entered. Harry and Ron pulled on their robes (Ron attempted to do his up back-to-front for several minutes before Alicia took pity on him and went to help), then sat down to listen to the pre-match talk while the babble of voices outside grew steadily louder as the crowd came pouring out of the castle towards the pitch. 'OK, I've only just found out the final line-up for Slytherin,' said Angelina, consulting a piece of parchment. 'Last year's Beaters,
Derrick and Bole, have left, but it looks as though Montague's replaced them with the usual gorillas, rather than anyone who c an fly particularly well. They're two blokes called Crabbe and Goyle, I don't know much about them - '
'We do,' said Harry and Ron together. 'Well, they don't look bright enough to tell one end of a broom from the other,' said Angelina, pocketing her parchment, 'but then I was always surprised Derrick and Bole managed to find their way on to the pitch without signposts.'
'Crabbe and Goyle are in the same mould,' Harry assured her. They could hear hundreds of footsteps mounting the banked benches of the spectators' stands. Some people were singing, though Harry could not make out the words. He was starting to feel nervous, but he knew his butterflies were as nothing compared to Ron's, who was |
clutching his stomach and staring straight ahead again, his jaw set and his complexion pale grey. 'It's time,' said Angelina in a hushed voice, looking at her watch. 'C'mon everyone... good luck.'
The team rose, shouldered their brooms and marched in single file out of the changing room and into the dazzling sunlight, A roar of sound greeted them in which Harry could still hear singing, though it was muffled by the cheers and whistles. The Slytherin team was standing waiting for them. They, too, were wearing those silver crown-shaped badges. The new Captain, Montague, was built along the same lines as Dudley Dursley with massive forearms like hairy hams. Behind him lurked Crabbe and Goyle, almost as large, blinking stupidly in the sunlight, swinging their new Beaters' bats. Malfoy stood to one side, the sunlight gleaming on his white-blond head. He caught Harry's eye and smirked, tapping the crown-shaped badge on his chest. 'Captains, shake hands,' ordered the referee Madam Hooch, as Angelina and Montague reached each other. Harry could tell that Montague was trying to crush Angelina's fingers, though she did not wince. 'Mount your brooms...'
Madam Hooch placed her whistle in her mouth and blew. The balls were released and the fourteen players shot upwards. Out of the corner of his eye Harry saw Ron streak off towards the goalhoops. Harry zoomed higher, dodging a Bludger, and set off on a wide lap of the pitch, gazing around for a glint of gold; on the other side of the stadium, Draco Malfoy was doing exactly the same. 'And it's Johnson - 'Johnson with the Quaffle, what a player that girl is, I've been saying it for years but she still won't go out with me - '
JORDAN!' yelled Professor McGonagall. '- just a fun fact, Professor, adds a bit of interest - and she's ducked Warrington | utching his stomach and staring straight ahead again, his jaw set and his complexion pale grey. 'It's time,' said Angelina in a hushed voice, looking at her watch. 'C'mon everyone... good luck.'
The team rose, shouldered their brooms and marched in single file out of the changing room and into the dazzling sunlight, A roar of sound greeted them in which Harry could still hear singing, though it was muffled by the cheers and whistles. The Slytherin team was standing waiting for them. They, too, were wearing those silver crown-shaped badges. The new Captain, Montague, was built along the same lines as Dudley Dursley with massive forearms like hairy hams. Behind him lurked Crabbe and Goyle, almost as large, blinking stupidly in the sunlight, swinging their new Beaters' bats. Malfoy stood to one side, the sunlight gleaming on his white-blond head. He caught Harry's eye and smirked, tapping the crown-shaped badge on his chest. 'Captains, shake hands,' ordered the referee Madam Hooch, as Angelina and Montague reached each other. Harry could tell that Montague was trying to crush Angelina's fingers, though she did not wince. 'Mount your brooms...'
Madam Hooch placed her whistle in her mouth and blew. The balls were released and the fourteen players shot upwards. Out of the corner of his eye Harry saw Ron streak off towards the goalhoops. Harry zoomed higher, dodging a Bludger, and set off on a wide lap of the pitch, gazing around for a glint of gold; on the other side of the stadium, Draco Malfoy was doing exactly the same. 'And it's Johnson - 'Johnson with the Quaffle, what a player that girl is, I've been saying it for years but she still won't go out with me - '
JORDAN!' yelled Professor McGonagall. '- just a fun fact, Professor, adds a bit of interest - and she's ducked Warrington |
, she's passed Montague, she's - ouch - been hit from behind by a Bludger from Crabbe... Montague catches the Quaffle, Montague heading back up the pitch and - nice Bludger there from George Weasley, that's a Bludger to the head for Montague, he drops the Quaffle, caught by Katie Bell, Katie Bell of Gryffindor reverse-passes to Alicia Spinnet and Spinnet's away - '
Lee Jordan's commentary rang through the stadium and Harry listened as hard as he could through the wind whistling in his ears and the din of the crowd, all yelling and booing and singing. '- dodges Warrington, avoids a Bludger - close call, Alicia - and the crowd are loving this, just listen to them, what's that they're singing?'
And as Lee paused to listen, the song rose loud and clear from the sea of green and silver in the Slytherin section of the stands:
'Weasley cannot save a thing,
He cannot block a single ring,
That's why Slytherins all sing:
Weasley is our King. 'Weasley was born in a bin
He always lets the Quaffle in
Weasley will make sure we win
Weasley is our King.'
' - and Alicia passes back to Angelina!' Lee shouted, and as Harry swerved, his insides boiling at what he had just heard, he knew Lee was trying to drown out the words of the song. 'Come on now, Angelina - looks like she's got just the Keeper to beat! - SHE SHOOTS - SHE - aaaah...'
Bletchley, the Slytherin Keeper, had saved the goal; he threw the Quaffle to Warrington who sped off with it, zig-zagging in between Alicia and Katie; the singing from below grew louder and louder as he drew nearer and nearer Ron. 'Weasley is our King,
Weasley is our King,
He always lets the Quaffle in
Weasley is our | she's passed Montague, she's - ouch - been hit from behind by a Bludger from Crabbe... Montague catches the Quaffle, Montague heading back up the pitch and - nice Bludger there from George Weasley, that's a Bludger to the head for Montague, he drops the Quaffle, caught by Katie Bell, Katie Bell of Gryffindor reverse-passes to Alicia Spinnet and Spinnet's away - '
Lee Jordan's commentary rang through the stadium and Harry listened as hard as he could through the wind whistling in his ears and the din of the crowd, all yelling and booing and singing. '- dodges Warrington, avoids a Bludger - close call, Alicia - and the crowd are loving this, just listen to them, what's that they're singing?'
And as Lee paused to listen, the song rose loud and clear from the sea of green and silver in the Slytherin section of the stands:
'Weasley cannot save a thing,
He cannot block a single ring,
That's why Slytherins all sing:
Weasley is our King. 'Weasley was born in a bin
He always lets the Quaffle in
Weasley will make sure we win
Weasley is our King.'
' - and Alicia passes back to Angelina!' Lee shouted, and as Harry swerved, his insides boiling at what he had just heard, he knew Lee was trying to drown out the words of the song. 'Come on now, Angelina - looks like she's got just the Keeper to beat! - SHE SHOOTS - SHE - aaaah...'
Bletchley, the Slytherin Keeper, had saved the goal; he threw the Quaffle to Warrington who sped off with it, zig-zagging in between Alicia and Katie; the singing from below grew louder and louder as he drew nearer and nearer Ron. 'Weasley is our King,
Weasley is our King,
He always lets the Quaffle in
Weasley is our |
King.'
Harry could not help himself: abandoning his search for the Snitch, he wheeled around to watch Ron, a lone figure at the far end of the pitch, hovering before the three goalhoops while the massive Warrington pelted towards him. '- and it's Warrington with the Quaffle, Warrington heading for goal, he's out of Bludger range with just the Keeper ahead - '
A great swell of song rose from the Slytherin stands below:
'Weasley cannot save a thing,
He cannot block a single ring...'
' - so it's the first test for new Gryffindor Keeper Weasley, brother of Beaters Fred and George, and a promising new talent on the team - come on, Ron!'
But the scream of delight came from the Slytherins' end: Ron had dived wildly, his arms wide, and the Quaffle had soared between them straight through Ron's central hoop. 'Slytherin score!' came Lee's voice amid the cheering and booing from the crowds below,'so that's ten-nil to Slytherin - bad luck, Ron.'
The Slytherins sang even louder:
'WEASLEY WAS BORN IN A BIN
HE ALWAYS LETS THE QUAFFLE IN...'
' - and Gryffindor back in possession and it's Katie Bell tanking up the pitch -'cried Lee valiantly, though the singing was now so deafening that he could hardly make himself heard above it. 'WEASLEY WILL MAKE SURE WE WIN
WEASLEY IS OUR KING...'
'Harry, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?' screamed Angelina, soaring past him to keep up with Katie. 'GET GOING!'
Harry realised he had been stationary in midair for over a minute, watching the progress of the match without sparing a thought for the whereabouts of the Snitch; horrified, he went into a dive and started circling the pitch again, staring around, trying to ignore the chorus | .'
Harry could not help himself: abandoning his search for the Snitch, he wheeled around to watch Ron, a lone figure at the far end of the pitch, hovering before the three goalhoops while the massive Warrington pelted towards him. '- and it's Warrington with the Quaffle, Warrington heading for goal, he's out of Bludger range with just the Keeper ahead - '
A great swell of song rose from the Slytherin stands below:
'Weasley cannot save a thing,
He cannot block a single ring...'
' - so it's the first test for new Gryffindor Keeper Weasley, brother of Beaters Fred and George, and a promising new talent on the team - come on, Ron!'
But the scream of delight came from the Slytherins' end: Ron had dived wildly, his arms wide, and the Quaffle had soared between them straight through Ron's central hoop. 'Slytherin score!' came Lee's voice amid the cheering and booing from the crowds below,'so that's ten-nil to Slytherin - bad luck, Ron.'
The Slytherins sang even louder:
'WEASLEY WAS BORN IN A BIN
HE ALWAYS LETS THE QUAFFLE IN...'
' - and Gryffindor back in possession and it's Katie Bell tanking up the pitch -'cried Lee valiantly, though the singing was now so deafening that he could hardly make himself heard above it. 'WEASLEY WILL MAKE SURE WE WIN
WEASLEY IS OUR KING...'
'Harry, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?' screamed Angelina, soaring past him to keep up with Katie. 'GET GOING!'
Harry realised he had been stationary in midair for over a minute, watching the progress of the match without sparing a thought for the whereabouts of the Snitch; horrified, he went into a dive and started circling the pitch again, staring around, trying to ignore the chorus |
now thundering through the stadium:
'WEASLEY IS OUR KING,
WEASLEY IS OUR KING...'
There was no sign of the Snitch anywhere he looked; Malfoy was still circling the stadium just as he was. They passed one another midway around the pitch, going in opposite directions, and Harry heard Malfoy singing loudly:
'WEASLEY WAS BORN IN A BIN...'
' - and it's Warrington again,' bellowed Lee, 'who passes to Pucey, Pucey's off past Spinnet, come on now, Angelina, you can take him - turns out you can't - but nice Bludger from Fred Weasley I mean, George Weasley, oh, who cares, one of them, anyway, and Warrington drops the Quaffle and Katie Bell - er - drops it, too - so that's Montague with the Quaffle, Slytherin Captain Montague takes the Quaffle and he's off up the pitch, come on now, Gryffindor, block him!'
Harry zoomed around the end of the stadium behind the Slytherin goalhoops, willing himself not to look at what was going on at Ron's end. As he sped past the Slytherin Keeper, he heard Bletchley singing along with the crowd below:
'WEASLEY CANNOT SAVE A THING...'
' - and Pucey's dodged Alicia again and he's heading straight for goal, stop it, Ron!'
Harry did not have to look to see what had happened: there was a terrible groan from the Gryffindor end, coupled with fresh screams and applause from the Slytherins. Looking down, Harry saw the pug-faced Pansy Parkinson right at the front of the stands, her back to the pitch as she conducted the Slytherin supporters who were roaring:
'THAT'S WHY SLYTHERINS ALL SING
WEASLEY IS OUR KING.'
But twenty-nil was nothing, there was still time for Gryffindor | thundering through the stadium:
'WEASLEY IS OUR KING,
WEASLEY IS OUR KING...'
There was no sign of the Snitch anywhere he looked; Malfoy was still circling the stadium just as he was. They passed one another midway around the pitch, going in opposite directions, and Harry heard Malfoy singing loudly:
'WEASLEY WAS BORN IN A BIN...'
' - and it's Warrington again,' bellowed Lee, 'who passes to Pucey, Pucey's off past Spinnet, come on now, Angelina, you can take him - turns out you can't - but nice Bludger from Fred Weasley I mean, George Weasley, oh, who cares, one of them, anyway, and Warrington drops the Quaffle and Katie Bell - er - drops it, too - so that's Montague with the Quaffle, Slytherin Captain Montague takes the Quaffle and he's off up the pitch, come on now, Gryffindor, block him!'
Harry zoomed around the end of the stadium behind the Slytherin goalhoops, willing himself not to look at what was going on at Ron's end. As he sped past the Slytherin Keeper, he heard Bletchley singing along with the crowd below:
'WEASLEY CANNOT SAVE A THING...'
' - and Pucey's dodged Alicia again and he's heading straight for goal, stop it, Ron!'
Harry did not have to look to see what had happened: there was a terrible groan from the Gryffindor end, coupled with fresh screams and applause from the Slytherins. Looking down, Harry saw the pug-faced Pansy Parkinson right at the front of the stands, her back to the pitch as she conducted the Slytherin supporters who were roaring:
'THAT'S WHY SLYTHERINS ALL SING
WEASLEY IS OUR KING.'
But twenty-nil was nothing, there was still time for Gryffindor |
to catch up or catch the Snitch. A few goals and they would be in the lead as usual, Harry assured himself, bobbing and weaving through the other players in pursuit of something shiny that turned out to be Montague's watchstrap. But Ron let in two more goals. There was an edge of panic in Harry's desire to find the Snitch now. If he could just get it soon and finish the game quickly. '- and Katie Bell of Gryffindor dodges Pucey, ducks Montague, nice swerve, Katie, and she throws to Johnson, Angelina Johnson takes the Quaffle, she's past Warrington, she's heading for goal, come on now, Angelina - GRYFFINDOR SCORE! It's forty-ten, forty-ten to Slytherin and Pucey has the Quaffle...'
Harry could hear Luna's ludicrous lion hat roaring amidst the Gryffindor cheers and felt heartened; only thirty points in it, that was nothing, they could pull back easily. Harry ducked a Bludger that Crabbe had sent rocketing in his direction and resumed his frantic scouring of the pitch for the Snitch, keeping one eye on Malfoy in case he showed signs of having spotted it, but Malfoy, like him, was continuing to soar around the stadium, searching fruitlessly... '- Pucey throws to Warrington, Warrington to Montague, Montague back to Pucey - 'Johnson intervenes, Johnson takes the Quaffle, Johnson to Bell, this looks good - I mean bad - Bell's hit by a Bludger from Goyle of Slytherin and it's Pucey in possession again...'
'WEASLEY WAS BORN IN A BIN
HE ALWAYS LETS THE QUAFFLE IN
WEASLEY WILL MAKE SURE WE WIN...'
But Harry had seen it at last: the tiny fluttering Golden Snitch was hovering feet from the ground at the Slytherin end of the pitch. He dived... In a matter of seconds | catch up or catch the Snitch. A few goals and they would be in the lead as usual, Harry assured himself, bobbing and weaving through the other players in pursuit of something shiny that turned out to be Montague's watchstrap. But Ron let in two more goals. There was an edge of panic in Harry's desire to find the Snitch now. If he could just get it soon and finish the game quickly. '- and Katie Bell of Gryffindor dodges Pucey, ducks Montague, nice swerve, Katie, and she throws to Johnson, Angelina Johnson takes the Quaffle, she's past Warrington, she's heading for goal, come on now, Angelina - GRYFFINDOR SCORE! It's forty-ten, forty-ten to Slytherin and Pucey has the Quaffle...'
Harry could hear Luna's ludicrous lion hat roaring amidst the Gryffindor cheers and felt heartened; only thirty points in it, that was nothing, they could pull back easily. Harry ducked a Bludger that Crabbe had sent rocketing in his direction and resumed his frantic scouring of the pitch for the Snitch, keeping one eye on Malfoy in case he showed signs of having spotted it, but Malfoy, like him, was continuing to soar around the stadium, searching fruitlessly... '- Pucey throws to Warrington, Warrington to Montague, Montague back to Pucey - 'Johnson intervenes, Johnson takes the Quaffle, Johnson to Bell, this looks good - I mean bad - Bell's hit by a Bludger from Goyle of Slytherin and it's Pucey in possession again...'
'WEASLEY WAS BORN IN A BIN
HE ALWAYS LETS THE QUAFFLE IN
WEASLEY WILL MAKE SURE WE WIN...'
But Harry had seen it at last: the tiny fluttering Golden Snitch was hovering feet from the ground at the Slytherin end of the pitch. He dived... In a matter of seconds |
, Malfoy was streaking out of the sky on Harry's left, a green and silver blur lying flat on his broom... The Snitch skirted the foot of one of the goalhoops and scooted off towards the other side of the stands; its change of direction suited Malfoy, who was nearer; Harry pulled his Firebolt around, he and Malfoy were now neck and neck... Feet from the ground, Harry lifted his right hand from his broom, stretching towards the Snitch... to his right, Malfoy's arm extended too, was reaching, groping... It was over in two breathless, desperate, windswept seconds - 'Harry's fingers closed around the tiny, struggling ball - Malfoy's fingernails scrabbled the back of Harry's hand hopelessly - Harry pulled his broom upwards, holding the struggling ball in his hand and the Gryffindor spectators screamed their approval... They were saved, it did not matter that Ron had let in those goals, nobody would remember as long as Gryffindor had won - '
WHAM. A Bludger hit Harry squarely in the small of the back and he flew forwards off his broom. Luckily he was only five or six feet above the ground, having dived so low to catch the Snitch, but he was winded all the same as he landed flat on his back on the frozen pitch. He heard Madam Hooch's shrill whistle, an uproar in the stands compounded of catcalls, angry yells and jeering, a thud, then Angelina's frantic voice. 'Are you all right?'
Course I am, said Harry grimly, taking her hand and allowing her to pull him to his feet. Madam Hooch was zooming towards one of the Slytherin players above him, though he could not see who it was from this angle. 'It was that thug Crabbe,' said Angelina angrily, 'he whacked the Bludger at you the moment he saw you'd got the Snitch - but we won, Harry, we won!'
Harry heard a snort | Malfoy was streaking out of the sky on Harry's left, a green and silver blur lying flat on his broom... The Snitch skirted the foot of one of the goalhoops and scooted off towards the other side of the stands; its change of direction suited Malfoy, who was nearer; Harry pulled his Firebolt around, he and Malfoy were now neck and neck... Feet from the ground, Harry lifted his right hand from his broom, stretching towards the Snitch... to his right, Malfoy's arm extended too, was reaching, groping... It was over in two breathless, desperate, windswept seconds - 'Harry's fingers closed around the tiny, struggling ball - Malfoy's fingernails scrabbled the back of Harry's hand hopelessly - Harry pulled his broom upwards, holding the struggling ball in his hand and the Gryffindor spectators screamed their approval... They were saved, it did not matter that Ron had let in those goals, nobody would remember as long as Gryffindor had won - '
WHAM. A Bludger hit Harry squarely in the small of the back and he flew forwards off his broom. Luckily he was only five or six feet above the ground, having dived so low to catch the Snitch, but he was winded all the same as he landed flat on his back on the frozen pitch. He heard Madam Hooch's shrill whistle, an uproar in the stands compounded of catcalls, angry yells and jeering, a thud, then Angelina's frantic voice. 'Are you all right?'
Course I am, said Harry grimly, taking her hand and allowing her to pull him to his feet. Madam Hooch was zooming towards one of the Slytherin players above him, though he could not see who it was from this angle. 'It was that thug Crabbe,' said Angelina angrily, 'he whacked the Bludger at you the moment he saw you'd got the Snitch - but we won, Harry, we won!'
Harry heard a snort |
from behind him and turned around, still holding the Snitch tightly in his hand: Draco Malfoy had landed close by. White-faced with fury, he was still managing to sneer. 'Saved Weasley's neck, haven't you?' he said to Harry. 'I've never seen a worse Keeper... but then he was born in a bin... did you like my lyrics, Potter?'
Harry didn't answer. He turned away to meet the rest of the team who were now landing one by one, yelling and punching the air in triumph; all except Ron, who had dismounted from his broom over by the goalposts and seemed to be making his way slowly back to the changing rooms alone. 'We wanted to write another couple of verses!' Malfoy called, as Katie and Alicia hugged Harry. 'But we couldn't find rhymes for fat and ugly - we wanted to sing about his mother, see - '
Talk about sour grapes,' said Angelina, casting Malfoy a disgusted look. '- we couldn't fit in useless loser either - for his father, you know - '
Fred and George had realised what Malfoy was talking about. Halfway through shaking Harry's hand, they stiffened, looking round at Malfoy. 'Leave it!' said Angelina at once, taking Fred by the arm. 'Leave it, Fred, let him yell, he's just sore he lost, the jumped-up little -
'- but you like the Weasleys, don't you, Potter?' said Malfoy, sneering. 'Spend holidays there and everything, don't you? Can't see how you stand the stink, but I suppose when you've been dragged up by Muggles, even the Weasleys' hovel smells OK - '
Harry grabbed hold of George. Meanwhile, it was taking the combined efforts of Angelina, Alicia and Katie to stop Fred leaping on Malfoy, who was laughing openly. Harry looked around for Madam Hooch, but she was still berating Crabbe for his | behind him and turned around, still holding the Snitch tightly in his hand: Draco Malfoy had landed close by. White-faced with fury, he was still managing to sneer. 'Saved Weasley's neck, haven't you?' he said to Harry. 'I've never seen a worse Keeper... but then he was born in a bin... did you like my lyrics, Potter?'
Harry didn't answer. He turned away to meet the rest of the team who were now landing one by one, yelling and punching the air in triumph; all except Ron, who had dismounted from his broom over by the goalposts and seemed to be making his way slowly back to the changing rooms alone. 'We wanted to write another couple of verses!' Malfoy called, as Katie and Alicia hugged Harry. 'But we couldn't find rhymes for fat and ugly - we wanted to sing about his mother, see - '
Talk about sour grapes,' said Angelina, casting Malfoy a disgusted look. '- we couldn't fit in useless loser either - for his father, you know - '
Fred and George had realised what Malfoy was talking about. Halfway through shaking Harry's hand, they stiffened, looking round at Malfoy. 'Leave it!' said Angelina at once, taking Fred by the arm. 'Leave it, Fred, let him yell, he's just sore he lost, the jumped-up little -
'- but you like the Weasleys, don't you, Potter?' said Malfoy, sneering. 'Spend holidays there and everything, don't you? Can't see how you stand the stink, but I suppose when you've been dragged up by Muggles, even the Weasleys' hovel smells OK - '
Harry grabbed hold of George. Meanwhile, it was taking the combined efforts of Angelina, Alicia and Katie to stop Fred leaping on Malfoy, who was laughing openly. Harry looked around for Madam Hooch, but she was still berating Crabbe for his |
illegal Bludger attack. 'Or perhaps,' said Malfoy, leering as he backed away, 'you can remember what your mother's house stank like, Potter, and Weasley's pigsty reminds you of it - '
Harry was not aware of releasing George, all he knew was that a second later both of them were sprinting towards Malfoy. He had completely forgotten that all the teachers were watching: all he wanted to do was cause Malfoy as much pain as possible; with no time to draw out his wand, he merely drew back the fist clutching the Snitch and sank it as hard as he could into Malfoy's stomach - '
'Harry! HARRY! GEORGE! NO!'
He could hear girls' voices screaming, Malfoy yelling, George swearing, a whistle blowing and the bellowing of the crowd around him, but he did not care. Not until somebody in the vicinity yelled 'Impedimenta!' and he was knocked over backwards by the force of the spell, did he abandon the attempt to punch every inch of Malfoy he could reach. 'What do you think you're doing?' screamed Madam Hooch, as Harry leapt to his feet. It seemed to have been her who had hit him with the Impediment Jinx; she was holding her whistle in one hand and a wand in the other; her broom lay abandoned several feet away. Malfoy was curled up on the ground, whimpering and moaning, his nose bloody; George was sporting a swollen lip; Fred was still being forcibly restrained by the three Chasers, and Crabbe was cackling in the background. 'I've never seen behaviour like it - back up to the castle, both of you, and straight to your Head of House's office! Go! Now.''
Harry and George turned on their heels and marched off the pitch, both panting, neither saying a word to the other. The howling and jeering of the crowd grew fainter and fainter until they reached the Entrance Hall, where they could hear nothing except the sound of their own footsteps. Harry became aware that | Bludger attack. 'Or perhaps,' said Malfoy, leering as he backed away, 'you can remember what your mother's house stank like, Potter, and Weasley's pigsty reminds you of it - '
Harry was not aware of releasing George, all he knew was that a second later both of them were sprinting towards Malfoy. He had completely forgotten that all the teachers were watching: all he wanted to do was cause Malfoy as much pain as possible; with no time to draw out his wand, he merely drew back the fist clutching the Snitch and sank it as hard as he could into Malfoy's stomach - '
'Harry! HARRY! GEORGE! NO!'
He could hear girls' voices screaming, Malfoy yelling, George swearing, a whistle blowing and the bellowing of the crowd around him, but he did not care. Not until somebody in the vicinity yelled 'Impedimenta!' and he was knocked over backwards by the force of the spell, did he abandon the attempt to punch every inch of Malfoy he could reach. 'What do you think you're doing?' screamed Madam Hooch, as Harry leapt to his feet. It seemed to have been her who had hit him with the Impediment Jinx; she was holding her whistle in one hand and a wand in the other; her broom lay abandoned several feet away. Malfoy was curled up on the ground, whimpering and moaning, his nose bloody; George was sporting a swollen lip; Fred was still being forcibly restrained by the three Chasers, and Crabbe was cackling in the background. 'I've never seen behaviour like it - back up to the castle, both of you, and straight to your Head of House's office! Go! Now.''
Harry and George turned on their heels and marched off the pitch, both panting, neither saying a word to the other. The howling and jeering of the crowd grew fainter and fainter until they reached the Entrance Hall, where they could hear nothing except the sound of their own footsteps. Harry became aware that |
something was still struggling in his right hand, the knuckles of which he had bruised against Malfoy's jaw. Looking down, he saw the Snitch's silver wings protruding from between his fingers, struggling for release. They had barely reached the door of Professor McGonagalls office when she came marching along the corridor behind them. She was wearing a Gryffindor scarf, but tore it from her throat with shaking hands as she strode towards them, looking livid. 'In!' she said furiously, pointing to the door. Harry and George entered. She strode around behind her desk and faced them, quivering with rage as she threw the Gryffindor scarf aside on to the floor. 'Well?' she said. 'I have never seen such a disgraceful exhibition. Two on one! Explain yourselves!'
'Malfoy provoked us,' said Harry stiffly. 'Provoked you?' shouted Professor McGonagall, slamming a fist on to her desk so that her tartan tin slid sideways off it and burst open, littering the floor with Ginger Newts. 'He'd just lost, hadn't he? Of course he wanted to provoke you! But what on earth he can have said that justified what you two - '
'He insulted my parents,' snarled George. 'And Harry's mother.'
'But instead of leaving it to Madam Hooch to sort out, you two decided to give an exhibition of Muggle duelling, did you?' bellowed Professor McGonagall. 'Have you any idea what you've -?'
'Hem, hem.'
Harry and George both wheeled round. Dolores Umbridge was standing in the doorway wrapped in a green tweed cloak that greatly enhanced her resemblance to a giant toad, and was smiling in the horrible, sickly, ominous way that Harry had come to associate with imminent misery. 'May I help, Professor McGonagall?' asked Professor Umbridge in her most poisonously sweet voice. Blood rushed into Professor McGonagall's face. 'Help?' she repeated, in a constr | was still struggling in his right hand, the knuckles of which he had bruised against Malfoy's jaw. Looking down, he saw the Snitch's silver wings protruding from between his fingers, struggling for release. They had barely reached the door of Professor McGonagalls office when she came marching along the corridor behind them. She was wearing a Gryffindor scarf, but tore it from her throat with shaking hands as she strode towards them, looking livid. 'In!' she said furiously, pointing to the door. Harry and George entered. She strode around behind her desk and faced them, quivering with rage as she threw the Gryffindor scarf aside on to the floor. 'Well?' she said. 'I have never seen such a disgraceful exhibition. Two on one! Explain yourselves!'
'Malfoy provoked us,' said Harry stiffly. 'Provoked you?' shouted Professor McGonagall, slamming a fist on to her desk so that her tartan tin slid sideways off it and burst open, littering the floor with Ginger Newts. 'He'd just lost, hadn't he? Of course he wanted to provoke you! But what on earth he can have said that justified what you two - '
'He insulted my parents,' snarled George. 'And Harry's mother.'
'But instead of leaving it to Madam Hooch to sort out, you two decided to give an exhibition of Muggle duelling, did you?' bellowed Professor McGonagall. 'Have you any idea what you've -?'
'Hem, hem.'
Harry and George both wheeled round. Dolores Umbridge was standing in the doorway wrapped in a green tweed cloak that greatly enhanced her resemblance to a giant toad, and was smiling in the horrible, sickly, ominous way that Harry had come to associate with imminent misery. 'May I help, Professor McGonagall?' asked Professor Umbridge in her most poisonously sweet voice. Blood rushed into Professor McGonagall's face. 'Help?' she repeated, in a constr |
icted voice. 'What do you mean, help?'
Professor Umbridge moved forwards into the office, still smiling her sickly smile. 'Why, I thought you might be grateful for a little extra authority.'
Harry would not have been surprised to see sparks fly from Professor McGonagall's nostrils. 'You thought wrong,' she said, turning her back on Umbridge. 'Now, you two had better listen closely. I do not care what provocation Malfoy offered you, I do not care if he insulted every family member you possess, your behaviour was disgusting and I am giving each of you a week's worth of detentions! Do not look at me like that, Potter, you deserve it! And if either of you ever - '
'Hem, hem.'
Professor McGonagall closed her eyes as though praying for patience as she turned her face towards Professor Umbridge again. 'Yes?'
'I think they deserve rather more than detentions,' said Umbridge, smiling still more broadly. Professor McGonagall's eyes flew open. 'But unfortunately,' she said, with an attempt at a reciprocal smile that made her look as though she had lockjaw, 'it is what I think that counts, as they are in my House, Dolores.'
'Well, actually, Minerva,' simpered Professor Umbridge, 'I think you'll find that what I think does count. Now, where is it? Cornelius just sent it... I mean,' she gave a false little laugh as she rummaged in her handbag, 'the Minister just sent it... ah yes...'
She had pulled out a piece of parchment which she now unfurled, clearing her throat fussily before starting to read what it said. 'Hem, hem... "Educational Decree Number Twenty-five".'
'Not another one!' exclaimed Professor McGonagall violently. 'Well, yes,' said Umbridge, still smiling. 'As a matter of fact, Minerva, it was you who made me see that we needed a further amendment... you remember how you overrode me, when I was unwilling | voice. 'What do you mean, help?'
Professor Umbridge moved forwards into the office, still smiling her sickly smile. 'Why, I thought you might be grateful for a little extra authority.'
Harry would not have been surprised to see sparks fly from Professor McGonagall's nostrils. 'You thought wrong,' she said, turning her back on Umbridge. 'Now, you two had better listen closely. I do not care what provocation Malfoy offered you, I do not care if he insulted every family member you possess, your behaviour was disgusting and I am giving each of you a week's worth of detentions! Do not look at me like that, Potter, you deserve it! And if either of you ever - '
'Hem, hem.'
Professor McGonagall closed her eyes as though praying for patience as she turned her face towards Professor Umbridge again. 'Yes?'
'I think they deserve rather more than detentions,' said Umbridge, smiling still more broadly. Professor McGonagall's eyes flew open. 'But unfortunately,' she said, with an attempt at a reciprocal smile that made her look as though she had lockjaw, 'it is what I think that counts, as they are in my House, Dolores.'
'Well, actually, Minerva,' simpered Professor Umbridge, 'I think you'll find that what I think does count. Now, where is it? Cornelius just sent it... I mean,' she gave a false little laugh as she rummaged in her handbag, 'the Minister just sent it... ah yes...'
She had pulled out a piece of parchment which she now unfurled, clearing her throat fussily before starting to read what it said. 'Hem, hem... "Educational Decree Number Twenty-five".'
'Not another one!' exclaimed Professor McGonagall violently. 'Well, yes,' said Umbridge, still smiling. 'As a matter of fact, Minerva, it was you who made me see that we needed a further amendment... you remember how you overrode me, when I was unwilling |
to allow the Gryffindor Quidditch team to re-form? How you took the case to Dumbledore, who insisted that the team be allowed to play? Well, now, I couldn't have that. I contacted the Minister at once, and he quite agreed with me that the High Inquisitor has to have the power to strip pupils of privileges, or she - that is to say, I - would have less authority than common teachers! And you see now, don't you, Minerva, how right I was in attempting to stop the Gryffindor team re-forming? Dreadful tempers... anyway, I was reading out our amendment... hem, hem... "the High Inquisitor will henceforth have supreme authority over all punishments, sanctions and removal of privileges pertaining to the students of Hogwarts, and the power to alter such punishments, sanctions and removals of privileges as may have been ordered by other staff members. Signed, Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic, Order of Merlin First Class, etc., etc." '
She rolled up the parchment and put it back into her handbag still smiling. 'So... I really think I will have to ban these two from playing Quidditch ever again,' she said, looking from Harry to George and back again. Harry felt the Snitch fluttering madly in his hand. 'Ban us?' he said, and his voice sounded strangely distant. 'From playing... ever again?'
'Yes, Mr Potter, I think a lifelong ban ought to do the trick,' said Umbridge, her smile widening still further as she watched him struggle to comprehend what she had said. 'You and Mr Weasley here. And I think, to be safe, this young man's twin ought to be stopped, too - if his teammates had not restrained him, I feel sure he would have attacked young Mr Malfoy as well. I will want their broomsticks confiscated, of course; I shall keep them safely in my office, to make sure there is no infringement of my ban. But I am not unreasonable, Professor McGonagall,' she continued, turning back to Professor McGon | allow the Gryffindor Quidditch team to re-form? How you took the case to Dumbledore, who insisted that the team be allowed to play? Well, now, I couldn't have that. I contacted the Minister at once, and he quite agreed with me that the High Inquisitor has to have the power to strip pupils of privileges, or she - that is to say, I - would have less authority than common teachers! And you see now, don't you, Minerva, how right I was in attempting to stop the Gryffindor team re-forming? Dreadful tempers... anyway, I was reading out our amendment... hem, hem... "the High Inquisitor will henceforth have supreme authority over all punishments, sanctions and removal of privileges pertaining to the students of Hogwarts, and the power to alter such punishments, sanctions and removals of privileges as may have been ordered by other staff members. Signed, Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic, Order of Merlin First Class, etc., etc." '
She rolled up the parchment and put it back into her handbag still smiling. 'So... I really think I will have to ban these two from playing Quidditch ever again,' she said, looking from Harry to George and back again. Harry felt the Snitch fluttering madly in his hand. 'Ban us?' he said, and his voice sounded strangely distant. 'From playing... ever again?'
'Yes, Mr Potter, I think a lifelong ban ought to do the trick,' said Umbridge, her smile widening still further as she watched him struggle to comprehend what she had said. 'You and Mr Weasley here. And I think, to be safe, this young man's twin ought to be stopped, too - if his teammates had not restrained him, I feel sure he would have attacked young Mr Malfoy as well. I will want their broomsticks confiscated, of course; I shall keep them safely in my office, to make sure there is no infringement of my ban. But I am not unreasonable, Professor McGonagall,' she continued, turning back to Professor McGon |
agall who was now standing as still as though carved from ice, staring at her. The rest of the team can continue playing, I saw no signs of violence from any of them. Well... good afternoon to you.'
And with a look of the utmost satisfaction, Umbridge left the room, leaving a horrified silence in her wake. *
'Banned,' said Angelina in a hollow voice, late that evening in the common room. 'Banned. No Seeker and no Beaters... what on earth are we going to do?'
It did not feel as though they had won the match at all. Everywhere Harry looked there were disconsolate and angry faces; the team themselves were slumped around the fire, all apart from Ron, who had not been seen since the end of the match. 'Its just so unfair,' said Alicia numbly. 'I mean, what about
Crabbe and that Bludger he hit after the whistle had been blown? 'He just got lines, I heard Montague laughing about it at dinner.'
'And banning Fred when he didn't even do anything!' said Alicia furiously, pummelling her knee with her fist. 'It's not my fault I didn't,' said Fred, with a very ugly look on his face, 'I would've pounded the little scumbag to a pulp if you three hadn't been holding me back.'
Harry stared miserably at the dark window. Snow was falling. The Snitch he had caught earlier was now zooming around and around the common room; people were watching its progress as though hypnotised and Crookshanks was leaping from chair to chair, trying to catch it. 'I'm going to bed,' said Angelina, getting slowly to her feet. 'Maybe this will all turn out to have been a bad dream... maybe I'll wake up tomorrow and find we haven't played yet...'
She was soon followed by Alicia and Katie. Fred and George sloped off to bed some time later, glowering at everyone they passed, and Ginny went not long after that. Harry shook his head. 'Where do you think he -?'
But | all who was now standing as still as though carved from ice, staring at her. The rest of the team can continue playing, I saw no signs of violence from any of them. Well... good afternoon to you.'
And with a look of the utmost satisfaction, Umbridge left the room, leaving a horrified silence in her wake. *
'Banned,' said Angelina in a hollow voice, late that evening in the common room. 'Banned. No Seeker and no Beaters... what on earth are we going to do?'
It did not feel as though they had won the match at all. Everywhere Harry looked there were disconsolate and angry faces; the team themselves were slumped around the fire, all apart from Ron, who had not been seen since the end of the match. 'Its just so unfair,' said Alicia numbly. 'I mean, what about
Crabbe and that Bludger he hit after the whistle had been blown? 'He just got lines, I heard Montague laughing about it at dinner.'
'And banning Fred when he didn't even do anything!' said Alicia furiously, pummelling her knee with her fist. 'It's not my fault I didn't,' said Fred, with a very ugly look on his face, 'I would've pounded the little scumbag to a pulp if you three hadn't been holding me back.'
Harry stared miserably at the dark window. Snow was falling. The Snitch he had caught earlier was now zooming around and around the common room; people were watching its progress as though hypnotised and Crookshanks was leaping from chair to chair, trying to catch it. 'I'm going to bed,' said Angelina, getting slowly to her feet. 'Maybe this will all turn out to have been a bad dream... maybe I'll wake up tomorrow and find we haven't played yet...'
She was soon followed by Alicia and Katie. Fred and George sloped off to bed some time later, glowering at everyone they passed, and Ginny went not long after that. Harry shook his head. 'Where do you think he -?'
But |
at that precise moment, there was a creaking sound behind them as the Fat Lady swung forwards and Ron came clambering through the portrait hole. He was very pale indeed and there was snow in his hair. 'Walking,' Ron mumbled. He was still wearing his Quidditch things. 'Come and sit down!'
Ron walked to the fireside and sank into the chair furthest from Harry's, not looking at him. The stolen Snitch zoomed over their heads. 'I'm sorry, Ron mumbled, looking at his feet. 'What for?' said Harry. 'For thinking I can play Quidditch,' said Ron. 'I'm going to resign first thing tomorrow.'
'If you resign,' said Harry testily, 'there'll only be three players left on the team.' And when Ron looked puzzled, he said, 'I've been given a lifetime ban. So've Fred and George.'
'What?' Ron yelped. When she had finished, Ron looked more anguished than ever. This is all my fault - '
'You didn't make me punch Malfoy,' said Harry angrily. 'Look, drop it, will you!' Harry burst out. 'It's bad enough, without you blaming yourself for everything!'
Ron said nothing but sat gazing miserably at the damp hem of his robes. After a while he said in a dull voice, 'This is the worst I've ever felt in my life.'
'Join the club,' said Harry bitterly. 'I can think of one thing that might cheer you both up.'
'Oh yeah?' said Harry sceptically. 'Well, it's cold out there!' she said defensively, as Ron clicked his tongue impatiently. They crept through the portrait hole and covered themselves hastily in the Cloak - Ron had grown so much he now needed to crouch to prevent his feet showing - then, moving slowly and cautiously, they proceeded down the many staircases, pausing at intervals to check on the map for signs of Filch or Mrs Morris. They were lucky; they saw nobody but Nearly Headless Nick, who was gliding along absent-mindedly humming something that sounded hor | that precise moment, there was a creaking sound behind them as the Fat Lady swung forwards and Ron came clambering through the portrait hole. He was very pale indeed and there was snow in his hair. 'Walking,' Ron mumbled. He was still wearing his Quidditch things. 'Come and sit down!'
Ron walked to the fireside and sank into the chair furthest from Harry's, not looking at him. The stolen Snitch zoomed over their heads. 'I'm sorry, Ron mumbled, looking at his feet. 'What for?' said Harry. 'For thinking I can play Quidditch,' said Ron. 'I'm going to resign first thing tomorrow.'
'If you resign,' said Harry testily, 'there'll only be three players left on the team.' And when Ron looked puzzled, he said, 'I've been given a lifetime ban. So've Fred and George.'
'What?' Ron yelped. When she had finished, Ron looked more anguished than ever. This is all my fault - '
'You didn't make me punch Malfoy,' said Harry angrily. 'Look, drop it, will you!' Harry burst out. 'It's bad enough, without you blaming yourself for everything!'
Ron said nothing but sat gazing miserably at the damp hem of his robes. After a while he said in a dull voice, 'This is the worst I've ever felt in my life.'
'Join the club,' said Harry bitterly. 'I can think of one thing that might cheer you both up.'
'Oh yeah?' said Harry sceptically. 'Well, it's cold out there!' she said defensively, as Ron clicked his tongue impatiently. They crept through the portrait hole and covered themselves hastily in the Cloak - Ron had grown so much he now needed to crouch to prevent his feet showing - then, moving slowly and cautiously, they proceeded down the many staircases, pausing at intervals to check on the map for signs of Filch or Mrs Morris. They were lucky; they saw nobody but Nearly Headless Nick, who was gliding along absent-mindedly humming something that sounded hor |
ribly like 'Weasley is our King'. They crept across the Entrance Hall and out into the silent, snowy grounds. With a great leap of his heart, Harry saw little golden squares of light ahead and smoke coiling up from Hagrid's chimney. He set off at a quick march, the other two jostling and bumping along behind him. They crunched excitedly through the thickening snow until at last they reached the wooden front door. When Harry raised his fist and knocked three times, a dog started barking frantically inside. 'Hagrid, it's us!' Harry called through the keyhole. 'Shoulda known!' said a gruff voice. They beamed at each other under the Cloak; they could tell by Hagrid's voice that he was pleased. 'Bin home three seconds... out the way, Fang... out the way, yeh dozy dog...'
The bolt was drawn back, the door creaked open and Hagrid's head appeared in the gap. 'Merlin's beard, keep it down!' said Hagrid hastily, staring wildly over their heads. 'Under that Cloak, are yeh? Hagrid's hair was matted with congealed blood and his left eye had been reduced to a puffy slit amid a mass of purple and black bruising. There were many cuts on his face and hands, some of them still bleeding, and he was moving gingerly, which made Harry suspect broken ribs. It was obvious that he had only just got home: a thick black travelling cloak lay over the back of a chair and a haversack large enough to carry several small children leaned against the wall inside the door. Hagrid himself, twice the size of a normal man, was now limping over to the fire and placing a copper kettle over it. 'What happened to you?' Harry demanded, while Fang danced around them all, trying to lick their faces. Told yeh, nuthin',' said Hagrid firmly. 'Want a cuppa?'
'Come off it,' said Ron, 'you're in a right state!'
'I'm tellin' yeh, | ly like 'Weasley is our King'. They crept across the Entrance Hall and out into the silent, snowy grounds. With a great leap of his heart, Harry saw little golden squares of light ahead and smoke coiling up from Hagrid's chimney. He set off at a quick march, the other two jostling and bumping along behind him. They crunched excitedly through the thickening snow until at last they reached the wooden front door. When Harry raised his fist and knocked three times, a dog started barking frantically inside. 'Hagrid, it's us!' Harry called through the keyhole. 'Shoulda known!' said a gruff voice. They beamed at each other under the Cloak; they could tell by Hagrid's voice that he was pleased. 'Bin home three seconds... out the way, Fang... out the way, yeh dozy dog...'
The bolt was drawn back, the door creaked open and Hagrid's head appeared in the gap. 'Merlin's beard, keep it down!' said Hagrid hastily, staring wildly over their heads. 'Under that Cloak, are yeh? Hagrid's hair was matted with congealed blood and his left eye had been reduced to a puffy slit amid a mass of purple and black bruising. There were many cuts on his face and hands, some of them still bleeding, and he was moving gingerly, which made Harry suspect broken ribs. It was obvious that he had only just got home: a thick black travelling cloak lay over the back of a chair and a haversack large enough to carry several small children leaned against the wall inside the door. Hagrid himself, twice the size of a normal man, was now limping over to the fire and placing a copper kettle over it. 'What happened to you?' Harry demanded, while Fang danced around them all, trying to lick their faces. Told yeh, nuthin',' said Hagrid firmly. 'Want a cuppa?'
'Come off it,' said Ron, 'you're in a right state!'
'I'm tellin' yeh, |
I'm fine,' said Hagrid, straightening up and turning to beam at them all, but wincing. 'Blimey, it's good ter see yeh three again - had good summers, did yeh?'
'Hagrid, you've been attacked!' said Ron. 'Per the las' time, it's nuthin'!' said Hagrid firmly. 'Would you say it was nothing if one of us turned up with a pound of mince instead of a face?' Ron demanded. He walked across to the enormous wooden table that stood in the middle of his cabin and twitched aside a tea towel that had been lying on it. Underneath was a raw, bloody, green-tinged steak slightly larger than the average car tyre. 'You're not going to eat that, are you, Hagrid?' said Ron, leaning in for a closer look. 'It looks poisonous.'
'It's s'posed ter look like that, it's dragon meat,' Hagrid said. 'An' I didn' get it ter eat.'
He picked up the steak and slapped it over the left side of his face. Greenish blood trickled down into his beard as he gave a soft moan of satisfaction. 'Tha's better. It helps with the stingin', yeh know.'
'So, are you going to tell us what's happened to you?' Harry asked. 'Can't, Harry. Top secret. Hagrid's fingers slipped on the dragon steak and it slid squelchily on to his chest. 'Giants?' said Hagrid, catching the steak before it reached his belt and slapping it back over his face, 'who said anythin' abou' giants? Who yeh bin talkin' to? 'Oh, yeh did, did yeh?' said Hagrid, surveying her sternly with the eye that was not hidden by the steak. 'It was kind of... obvious,' said Ron. Harry nodded. Hagrid glared at them, then snorted, threw the steak back on to the table and strode over to the kettle, which was now whist | 'm fine,' said Hagrid, straightening up and turning to beam at them all, but wincing. 'Blimey, it's good ter see yeh three again - had good summers, did yeh?'
'Hagrid, you've been attacked!' said Ron. 'Per the las' time, it's nuthin'!' said Hagrid firmly. 'Would you say it was nothing if one of us turned up with a pound of mince instead of a face?' Ron demanded. He walked across to the enormous wooden table that stood in the middle of his cabin and twitched aside a tea towel that had been lying on it. Underneath was a raw, bloody, green-tinged steak slightly larger than the average car tyre. 'You're not going to eat that, are you, Hagrid?' said Ron, leaning in for a closer look. 'It looks poisonous.'
'It's s'posed ter look like that, it's dragon meat,' Hagrid said. 'An' I didn' get it ter eat.'
He picked up the steak and slapped it over the left side of his face. Greenish blood trickled down into his beard as he gave a soft moan of satisfaction. 'Tha's better. It helps with the stingin', yeh know.'
'So, are you going to tell us what's happened to you?' Harry asked. 'Can't, Harry. Top secret. Hagrid's fingers slipped on the dragon steak and it slid squelchily on to his chest. 'Giants?' said Hagrid, catching the steak before it reached his belt and slapping it back over his face, 'who said anythin' abou' giants? Who yeh bin talkin' to? 'Oh, yeh did, did yeh?' said Hagrid, surveying her sternly with the eye that was not hidden by the steak. 'It was kind of... obvious,' said Ron. Harry nodded. Hagrid glared at them, then snorted, threw the steak back on to the table and strode over to the kettle, which was now whist |
ling. 'Never known kids like you three fer knowin' more'n yeh oughta,' he muttered, splashing boiling water into three of his bucket-shaped mugs. 'An' I'm not complimentin' yeh, neither. Nosy, some'd call it. Interferin'.'
But his beard twitched. 'So you have been to look for giants?' said Harry, grinning as he sat down at the table. Hagrid set tea in front of each of them, sat down, picked up his steak again and slapped it back over his face. 'Well, they're not that difficult ter find, ter be honest, said Hagrid. 'Pretty big, see.'
'Where are they?' said Ron. 'Mountains,' said Hagrid unhelpfully. 'So why don't Muggles -?'
They do,' said Hagrid darkly. 'On'y their deaths are always put down ter mountaineerin' accidents, aren' they?'
He adjusted the steak a little so that it covered the worst of the bruising. 'Come on, Hagrid, tell us what you've been up to!' said Ron. Tell us about being attacked by the giants and Harry can tell you about being attacked by the Dementors - '
Hagrid choked in his mug and dropped his steak at the same time; a large quantity of spit, tea and dragon blood was sprayed over the table as Hagrid coughed and spluttered and the steak slid, with a soft splat, on to the floor. 'Whadda yeh mean, attacked by Dementors?' growled Hagrid. 'I don' know any thin' that's bin happenin' since I left. I was on a secret mission, wasn' I, didn' wan' owls followin' me all over the place - ruddy Dementors! Yeh're not serious?'
'Yeah, I am, they turned up in Little Whinging and attacked my cousin and me, and then the Ministry of Magic expelled me - '
'WHAT?'
'- and I had to go to | . 'Never known kids like you three fer knowin' more'n yeh oughta,' he muttered, splashing boiling water into three of his bucket-shaped mugs. 'An' I'm not complimentin' yeh, neither. Nosy, some'd call it. Interferin'.'
But his beard twitched. 'So you have been to look for giants?' said Harry, grinning as he sat down at the table. Hagrid set tea in front of each of them, sat down, picked up his steak again and slapped it back over his face. 'Well, they're not that difficult ter find, ter be honest, said Hagrid. 'Pretty big, see.'
'Where are they?' said Ron. 'Mountains,' said Hagrid unhelpfully. 'So why don't Muggles -?'
They do,' said Hagrid darkly. 'On'y their deaths are always put down ter mountaineerin' accidents, aren' they?'
He adjusted the steak a little so that it covered the worst of the bruising. 'Come on, Hagrid, tell us what you've been up to!' said Ron. Tell us about being attacked by the giants and Harry can tell you about being attacked by the Dementors - '
Hagrid choked in his mug and dropped his steak at the same time; a large quantity of spit, tea and dragon blood was sprayed over the table as Hagrid coughed and spluttered and the steak slid, with a soft splat, on to the floor. 'Whadda yeh mean, attacked by Dementors?' growled Hagrid. 'I don' know any thin' that's bin happenin' since I left. I was on a secret mission, wasn' I, didn' wan' owls followin' me all over the place - ruddy Dementors! Yeh're not serious?'
'Yeah, I am, they turned up in Little Whinging and attacked my cousin and me, and then the Ministry of Magic expelled me - '
'WHAT?'
'- and I had to go to |
a hearing and everything, but tell us about the giants first.'
'You were expelled!'
Tell us about your summer and I'll tell you about mine.'
Hagrid glared at him through his one open eye. Harry looked right back, an expression of innocent determination on his face. 'Oh, all righ',' Hagrid said in a resigned voice. He bent down and tugged the dragon steak out of Fang's mouth. 'Yeah, tha's righ',' said Hagrid, and a softened expression appeared on the few inches of face that were not obscured by beard or green steak. 'Yeah, it was jus' the pair of us. An' I'll tell yen this, she's not afraid of roughin' it, Olympe. Yeh know, she's a fine, well-dressed woman, an' knowin' where we was goin' I wondered 'ow she'd feel abou' clamberin' over boulders an' sleepin' in caves an' tha', bu' she never complained once.'
'You knew where you were going?' Harry repeated. 'You knew where the giants were?'
'Well, Durnbledore knew, an' he told us,' said Hagrid. 'Are they hidden?' asked Ron. 'Is it a secret, where they are?'
'Not really,' said Hagrid, shaking his shaggy head. 'It's jus' that mos' wizards aren' bothered where they are,'s'long as it's a good long way away. But where they are's very difficult ter get ter, fer humans anyway, so we needed Dumbledore's instructions. Took us abou' a month ter get there - '
'A month?' said Ron, as though he had never heard of a journey lasting such a ridiculously long time. 'But - why couldn't you just grab a Portkey or something?'
There was an odd expression in Hagrid's unobscured eye as he surveyed Ron; it was almost pitying. 'We're bein' watched, Ron,' he said gruffly. ' | hearing and everything, but tell us about the giants first.'
'You were expelled!'
Tell us about your summer and I'll tell you about mine.'
Hagrid glared at him through his one open eye. Harry looked right back, an expression of innocent determination on his face. 'Oh, all righ',' Hagrid said in a resigned voice. He bent down and tugged the dragon steak out of Fang's mouth. 'Yeah, tha's righ',' said Hagrid, and a softened expression appeared on the few inches of face that were not obscured by beard or green steak. 'Yeah, it was jus' the pair of us. An' I'll tell yen this, she's not afraid of roughin' it, Olympe. Yeh know, she's a fine, well-dressed woman, an' knowin' where we was goin' I wondered 'ow she'd feel abou' clamberin' over boulders an' sleepin' in caves an' tha', bu' she never complained once.'
'You knew where you were going?' Harry repeated. 'You knew where the giants were?'
'Well, Durnbledore knew, an' he told us,' said Hagrid. 'Are they hidden?' asked Ron. 'Is it a secret, where they are?'
'Not really,' said Hagrid, shaking his shaggy head. 'It's jus' that mos' wizards aren' bothered where they are,'s'long as it's a good long way away. But where they are's very difficult ter get ter, fer humans anyway, so we needed Dumbledore's instructions. Took us abou' a month ter get there - '
'A month?' said Ron, as though he had never heard of a journey lasting such a ridiculously long time. 'But - why couldn't you just grab a Portkey or something?'
There was an odd expression in Hagrid's unobscured eye as he surveyed Ron; it was almost pitying. 'We're bein' watched, Ron,' he said gruffly. ' |
What d'you mean?'
'Yeh don' understand,' said Hagrid. The Ministry's keepin' an eye on Dumbledore an' anyone they reckon's in league with 'im, an' - '
'We know about that,' said Harry quickly, keen to hear the rest of Hagrid's story, 'we know about the Ministry watching Dumbledore - '
'So you couldn't use magic to get there?' asked Ron, looking thunderstruck, 'you had to act like Muggles all the way?'
'Well, not exactly all the way' said Hagrid cagily. 'We jus' had ter be careful, 'cause Olympe an' me, we stick out a bit -
Ron made a stifled noise somewhere between a snort and a sniff and hastily took a gulp of tea. '- so we're not hard ter follow. We was pretendin' we was goin' on holiday together, so we got inter France an' we made like we was headin' fer where Olympe's school is, 'cause we knew we was bein' tailed by someone from the Ministry. We had to go slow, 'cause I'm not really s'posed ter use magic an' we knew the Mimstry'd be lookin' fer a reason ter run us in. 'I've been there on holiday, did you see -?'
She fell silent at the look on Ron's face. 'We chanced a bit o' magic after that an' it wasn' a bad journey. Ran inter a couple o' mad trolls on the Polish border an' I had a sligh' disagreement with a vampire in a pub in Minsk, bu' apart from tha' couldn't'a bin smoother. 'An' then we reached the place, an' we started trekkin' up through the mountains, lookin' fer signs of 'em... 'We had ter lay off the magic once we got near 'em. Partly 'cause they don' like wizards an' we didn' want ter put their backs up too soon, an' partly 'cause Dumbledore had warned us You-Know | d'you mean?'
'Yeh don' understand,' said Hagrid. The Ministry's keepin' an eye on Dumbledore an' anyone they reckon's in league with 'im, an' - '
'We know about that,' said Harry quickly, keen to hear the rest of Hagrid's story, 'we know about the Ministry watching Dumbledore - '
'So you couldn't use magic to get there?' asked Ron, looking thunderstruck, 'you had to act like Muggles all the way?'
'Well, not exactly all the way' said Hagrid cagily. 'We jus' had ter be careful, 'cause Olympe an' me, we stick out a bit -
Ron made a stifled noise somewhere between a snort and a sniff and hastily took a gulp of tea. '- so we're not hard ter follow. We was pretendin' we was goin' on holiday together, so we got inter France an' we made like we was headin' fer where Olympe's school is, 'cause we knew we was bein' tailed by someone from the Ministry. We had to go slow, 'cause I'm not really s'posed ter use magic an' we knew the Mimstry'd be lookin' fer a reason ter run us in. 'I've been there on holiday, did you see -?'
She fell silent at the look on Ron's face. 'We chanced a bit o' magic after that an' it wasn' a bad journey. Ran inter a couple o' mad trolls on the Polish border an' I had a sligh' disagreement with a vampire in a pub in Minsk, bu' apart from tha' couldn't'a bin smoother. 'An' then we reached the place, an' we started trekkin' up through the mountains, lookin' fer signs of 'em... 'We had ter lay off the magic once we got near 'em. Partly 'cause they don' like wizards an' we didn' want ter put their backs up too soon, an' partly 'cause Dumbledore had warned us You-Know |
-Who was bound ter be after the giants an' all. Said it was odds on he'd sent a messenger off ter them already. Told us ter be verv careful of drawin' attention ter ourselves as we got nearer in case there was Death Eaters around.'
Hagrid paused for a long draught of tea. 'Go on!' said Harry urgently. 'Found 'em,' said Hagrid baldly. 'Went over a ridge one nigh' an' there they was, spread ou' underneath us. Little fires burnin' below an' huge shadows... it was like watchin' bits o' the mountain movin'.'
'How big are they?' asked Ron in a hushed voice. "Bout twenty feet,' said Hagrid casually. 'Some o' the bigger ones mighta bin twenty-five.'
'And how many were there?' asked Harry. 'I reckon abou' seventy or eighty,' said Hagrid. 'Yep,' said Hagrid sadly, 'eighty left, an' there was loads once, musta bin a hundred diff'rent tribes from all over the world. Bu' they've bin dyin' out fer ages. Wizards killed a few, o' course, bu' mostly they killed each other, an' now they're dyin' out faster than ever. They're not made ter live bunched up together like tha'. Dumbledore says it's our fault, it was the wizards who forced 'em to go an' made 'em live a good long way from us an' they had no choice bu' ter stick together fer their own protection.'
'So,' said Harry, 'you saw them and then what?'
'Well, we waited till morning, didn' want ter go sneakin' up on 'em in the dark, fer our own safety' said Hagrid. "Bout three in the mornin' they fell asleep jus' where they was sittin'. We didn' dare sleep. Fer one thing, we wanted ter make sure none of 'em woke up an' came up where we were, an' fer another, the snorin' was unbelievable. Caused an avalanche near m | Who was bound ter be after the giants an' all. Said it was odds on he'd sent a messenger off ter them already. Told us ter be verv careful of drawin' attention ter ourselves as we got nearer in case there was Death Eaters around.'
Hagrid paused for a long draught of tea. 'Go on!' said Harry urgently. 'Found 'em,' said Hagrid baldly. 'Went over a ridge one nigh' an' there they was, spread ou' underneath us. Little fires burnin' below an' huge shadows... it was like watchin' bits o' the mountain movin'.'
'How big are they?' asked Ron in a hushed voice. "Bout twenty feet,' said Hagrid casually. 'Some o' the bigger ones mighta bin twenty-five.'
'And how many were there?' asked Harry. 'I reckon abou' seventy or eighty,' said Hagrid. 'Yep,' said Hagrid sadly, 'eighty left, an' there was loads once, musta bin a hundred diff'rent tribes from all over the world. Bu' they've bin dyin' out fer ages. Wizards killed a few, o' course, bu' mostly they killed each other, an' now they're dyin' out faster than ever. They're not made ter live bunched up together like tha'. Dumbledore says it's our fault, it was the wizards who forced 'em to go an' made 'em live a good long way from us an' they had no choice bu' ter stick together fer their own protection.'
'So,' said Harry, 'you saw them and then what?'
'Well, we waited till morning, didn' want ter go sneakin' up on 'em in the dark, fer our own safety' said Hagrid. "Bout three in the mornin' they fell asleep jus' where they was sittin'. We didn' dare sleep. Fer one thing, we wanted ter make sure none of 'em woke up an' came up where we were, an' fer another, the snorin' was unbelievable. Caused an avalanche near m |
ornin'. 'Anyway once it was light we wen' down ter see 'em.'
'Just like that?' said Ron, looking awestruck. 'You just walked right into a giant camp?'
'Well, Dumbledore'd told us how ter do it,' said Hagrid. 'Give the Gurg gifts, show some respect, yeh know.'
'Give the what gifts?' asked Harry. 'Oh, the Gurg - means the chief.'
'How could you tell which one was the Gurg?' asked Ron. Hagrid grunted in amusement. 'No problem,' he said. 'He was the biggest, the ugliest an1 the laziest. Sittin' there waitin' ter be brought food by the others. Dead goats an' such like. Name o' Karkus. I'd put him at twenty-two, twenty-three feet an' the weight o' a couple o' bull elephants. 'Well... down ter him, where he was lyin' in the valley. They was in this dip between four pretty high mountains, see, beside a mountain lake, an' Karkus was lyin' by the lake roarin' at the others ter feed him an' his wife. Olympe an' I went down the mountainside -'
'But didn't they try and kill you when they saw you?' asked Ron incredulously. 'It was def'nitely on some o' their minds,' said Hagrid, shrugging, 'but we did what Dumbledore told us ter do, which was ter hold our gift up high an' keep our eyes on the Gurg an' ignore the others. So tha's what we did. An' the rest of 'em went quiet an'
watched us pass an' we got right up ter Karkuss leet an we bowed an' put our present down in front o' him.'
'What do you give a giant?' asked Ron eagerly. 'Food?'
'Nah, he can get food all righ' fer himself,' said Hagrid. 'We took him magic. Giants like magic, jus' don' like us usin' it against 'em. Professor Flitwick's mentioned it | in'. 'Anyway once it was light we wen' down ter see 'em.'
'Just like that?' said Ron, looking awestruck. 'You just walked right into a giant camp?'
'Well, Dumbledore'd told us how ter do it,' said Hagrid. 'Give the Gurg gifts, show some respect, yeh know.'
'Give the what gifts?' asked Harry. 'Oh, the Gurg - means the chief.'
'How could you tell which one was the Gurg?' asked Ron. Hagrid grunted in amusement. 'No problem,' he said. 'He was the biggest, the ugliest an1 the laziest. Sittin' there waitin' ter be brought food by the others. Dead goats an' such like. Name o' Karkus. I'd put him at twenty-two, twenty-three feet an' the weight o' a couple o' bull elephants. 'Well... down ter him, where he was lyin' in the valley. They was in this dip between four pretty high mountains, see, beside a mountain lake, an' Karkus was lyin' by the lake roarin' at the others ter feed him an' his wife. Olympe an' I went down the mountainside -'
'But didn't they try and kill you when they saw you?' asked Ron incredulously. 'It was def'nitely on some o' their minds,' said Hagrid, shrugging, 'but we did what Dumbledore told us ter do, which was ter hold our gift up high an' keep our eyes on the Gurg an' ignore the others. So tha's what we did. An' the rest of 'em went quiet an'
watched us pass an' we got right up ter Karkuss leet an we bowed an' put our present down in front o' him.'
'What do you give a giant?' asked Ron eagerly. 'Food?'
'Nah, he can get food all righ' fer himself,' said Hagrid. 'We took him magic. Giants like magic, jus' don' like us usin' it against 'em. Professor Flitwick's mentioned it |
at least twice in class!'
'Well, anyway,' said Hagrid quickly, intervening before Ron could answer back, 'Dumbledore'd bewitched this branch to burn fer evermore, which isn' somethin' any wizard could do, an' so I lies it down in the snow by Karkuss feet and says, "A gift to the Gurg of the giants from Albus Dumbledore, who sends his respectful greetings."'
'And what did Karkus say?' asked Harry eagerly. 'Nothin',' said Hagrid. 'Didn' speak English.'
'You're kidding!'
'Didn' matter,' said Hagrid imperturbably, 'Dumbledore had warned us tha' migh' happen. Karkus knew enough to yell fer a couple o' giants who knew our lingo an' they translated fer us.'
'And did he like the present?' asked Ron. 'Oh yeah, it went down a storm once they understood what it was,' said Hagrid, turning his dragon steak over to press the cooler side to his swollen eye. 'Very pleased. 'Dumbledore wanted us ter take it very slow,' said Hagrid. 'Let 'em see we kept our promises. We'll come back tomorrow with another present, an' then we do come back with another present - gives a good impression, see? An' gives them time ter test out the firs' present an' iind out it's a good one, an' get 'em eager ier more. In any case, giants like Karkus - overload 'em with information an' they'll kill yeh jus' to simplify things. So we bowed outta the way an' went off an' found ourselves a nice little cave ter spend that night in an' the followin' mornin' we went back an' this time we found Karkus sittin' up waitin' fer us lookin' all eager.'
'And you talked to him?'
'Oh yeah. Firs' we presented him with a nice battle helmet - 'goblin-made an' indestructible, yeh know - an' then we sat down an' we talked.'
' | least twice in class!'
'Well, anyway,' said Hagrid quickly, intervening before Ron could answer back, 'Dumbledore'd bewitched this branch to burn fer evermore, which isn' somethin' any wizard could do, an' so I lies it down in the snow by Karkuss feet and says, "A gift to the Gurg of the giants from Albus Dumbledore, who sends his respectful greetings."'
'And what did Karkus say?' asked Harry eagerly. 'Nothin',' said Hagrid. 'Didn' speak English.'
'You're kidding!'
'Didn' matter,' said Hagrid imperturbably, 'Dumbledore had warned us tha' migh' happen. Karkus knew enough to yell fer a couple o' giants who knew our lingo an' they translated fer us.'
'And did he like the present?' asked Ron. 'Oh yeah, it went down a storm once they understood what it was,' said Hagrid, turning his dragon steak over to press the cooler side to his swollen eye. 'Very pleased. 'Dumbledore wanted us ter take it very slow,' said Hagrid. 'Let 'em see we kept our promises. We'll come back tomorrow with another present, an' then we do come back with another present - gives a good impression, see? An' gives them time ter test out the firs' present an' iind out it's a good one, an' get 'em eager ier more. In any case, giants like Karkus - overload 'em with information an' they'll kill yeh jus' to simplify things. So we bowed outta the way an' went off an' found ourselves a nice little cave ter spend that night in an' the followin' mornin' we went back an' this time we found Karkus sittin' up waitin' fer us lookin' all eager.'
'And you talked to him?'
'Oh yeah. Firs' we presented him with a nice battle helmet - 'goblin-made an' indestructible, yeh know - an' then we sat down an' we talked.'
' |
What did he say?'
'Not much,' said Hagrid. 'Listened mostly. Bu' there were good signs. He'd heard o' Dumbledore, heard he'd argued against the killin' o' the last giants in Britain. Karkus seemed ter be quite int'rested in what Dumbledore had ter say. An' a few o' the others,'specially the ones who had some English, they gathered round an' listened too. We were hopeful when we left that day. Promised ter come back next mornin' with another present. 'Bu' that night it all wen' wrong.'
'What d'you mean?' said Ron quickly. 'Well, like I say, they're not meant ter live together, giants,' said Hagrid sadly. 'Not in big groups like that. They can' help themselves, they half kill each other every few weeks. The men fight each other an' the women fight each other; the remnants of the old tribes fight each other, an' that's even without squabbles over food an' the best fires an' sleepin' spots. Yeh'd think, seein' as how their whole race is abou' finished, they'd lay off each other, bu'...'
Hagrid sighed deeply. That night a fight broke out, we saw it from the mouth of our cave, lookin' down on the valley. Went on fer hours, yeh wouldn' believe the noise. 'Karkus's,' said Hagrid heavily. There was a new Gurg, Golgomath.' He sighed deeply. 'Well, we hadn' bargained on a new Gurg two days after we'd made friendly contact with the firs' one, an' we had a funny feelin' Golgomath wouldn' be so keen ter listen to us, bu' we had ter try'
'You went to speak to him?' asked Ron incredulously. 'After you'd watched him rip off another giant's head?'
'Course we did,' said Hagrid, 'we hadn' gone all that way ter give up after two days! We wen' down with the next present we'd meant ter give ter Karkus. 'I knew it was no go | did he say?'
'Not much,' said Hagrid. 'Listened mostly. Bu' there were good signs. He'd heard o' Dumbledore, heard he'd argued against the killin' o' the last giants in Britain. Karkus seemed ter be quite int'rested in what Dumbledore had ter say. An' a few o' the others,'specially the ones who had some English, they gathered round an' listened too. We were hopeful when we left that day. Promised ter come back next mornin' with another present. 'Bu' that night it all wen' wrong.'
'What d'you mean?' said Ron quickly. 'Well, like I say, they're not meant ter live together, giants,' said Hagrid sadly. 'Not in big groups like that. They can' help themselves, they half kill each other every few weeks. The men fight each other an' the women fight each other; the remnants of the old tribes fight each other, an' that's even without squabbles over food an' the best fires an' sleepin' spots. Yeh'd think, seein' as how their whole race is abou' finished, they'd lay off each other, bu'...'
Hagrid sighed deeply. That night a fight broke out, we saw it from the mouth of our cave, lookin' down on the valley. Went on fer hours, yeh wouldn' believe the noise. 'Karkus's,' said Hagrid heavily. There was a new Gurg, Golgomath.' He sighed deeply. 'Well, we hadn' bargained on a new Gurg two days after we'd made friendly contact with the firs' one, an' we had a funny feelin' Golgomath wouldn' be so keen ter listen to us, bu' we had ter try'
'You went to speak to him?' asked Ron incredulously. 'After you'd watched him rip off another giant's head?'
'Course we did,' said Hagrid, 'we hadn' gone all that way ter give up after two days! We wen' down with the next present we'd meant ter give ter Karkus. 'I knew it was no go |
before I'd opened me mouth. He was sitting there wearin' Karkus's helmet, leerin' at us as we got nearer. He's massive, one o' the biggest ones there. Black hair an' matchin' teeth an' a necklace o' bones. Human-lookin' bones, some of 'em. 'How did you get out of that!' asked Harry. 'Wouldn'ta done if Olympe hadn' bin there,' said Hagrid. 'She pulled out her wand an' did some o' the fastes' spellwork I've ever seen. Ruddy marvellous. Hit the two holdin' me right in the eyes with Conjunctivitus Curses an' they dropped me straightaway - 'bu' we were in trouble then, 'cause we'd used magic against 'em, an' that's what giants hate abou' wizards. We had ter leg it an' we knew there was no way we was going ter be able ter march inter the camp again.'
'Blimey, Hagrid,' said Ron quietly. 'We didn' leave after three days!' said Hagrid, looking outraged. 'Dumbledore was relyin' on us!'
'But you've just said there was no way you could go back!'
'Not by daylight we couldn', no. We just had ter rethink a bit. Spent a couple o' days lyin' low up in the cave an' watchin'. 'No,' said Hagrid, 'I wish he had.'
'What d'you mean?'
'I mean we soon found out he didn' object ter all wizards - 'just us.'
'You went to speak to him?' asked Ron incredulously. 'After you'd watched him rip off another giant's head?'
'Course we did,' said Hagrid, 'we hadn' gone all that way ter give up after two days! We wen' down with the next present we'd meant ter give ter Karkus. 'I knew it was no go before I'd opened me mouth. He was sitting there wearin' Karkus's helmet, leerin' at us as we got nearer. | I'd opened me mouth. He was sitting there wearin' Karkus's helmet, leerin' at us as we got nearer. He's massive, one o' the biggest ones there. Black hair an' matchin' teeth an' a necklace o' bones. Human-lookin' bones, some of 'em. 'How did you get out of that!' asked Harry. 'Wouldn'ta done if Olympe hadn' bin there,' said Hagrid. 'She pulled out her wand an' did some o' the fastes' spellwork I've ever seen. Ruddy marvellous. Hit the two holdin' me right in the eyes with Conjunctivitus Curses an' they dropped me straightaway - 'bu' we were in trouble then, 'cause we'd used magic against 'em, an' that's what giants hate abou' wizards. We had ter leg it an' we knew there was no way we was going ter be able ter march inter the camp again.'
'Blimey, Hagrid,' said Ron quietly. 'We didn' leave after three days!' said Hagrid, looking outraged. 'Dumbledore was relyin' on us!'
'But you've just said there was no way you could go back!'
'Not by daylight we couldn', no. We just had ter rethink a bit. Spent a couple o' days lyin' low up in the cave an' watchin'. 'No,' said Hagrid, 'I wish he had.'
'What d'you mean?'
'I mean we soon found out he didn' object ter all wizards - 'just us.'
'You went to speak to him?' asked Ron incredulously. 'After you'd watched him rip off another giant's head?'
'Course we did,' said Hagrid, 'we hadn' gone all that way ter give up after two days! We wen' down with the next present we'd meant ter give ter Karkus. 'I knew it was no go before I'd opened me mouth. He was sitting there wearin' Karkus's helmet, leerin' at us as we got nearer. |
He's massive, one o' the biggest ones there. Black hair an' matchin' teeth an' a necklace o' bones. Human-lookin' bones, some of 'em. 'How did you get out of that?' asked Harry. 'Wouldn'ta done if Olympe hadn' bin there,' said Hagrid. 'She pulled out her wand an' did some o' the fastes' spellwork I've ever seen. Ruddy marvellous. Hit the two holdin' me right in the eyes with Conjunctivitus Curses an' they dropped me straightaway - 'bu' we were in trouble then, 'cause we'd used magic against 'em, an' that's what giants hate abou' wizards. We had ter leg it an' we knew there was no way we was going ter be able ter march inter the camp again.'
'Blimey, Hagrid,' said Ron quietly. 'We didn' leave after three days!' said Hagrid, looking outraged. 'Dumbledore was relyin' on us!'
'But you've just said there was no way you could go back!'
'Not by daylight we couldn', no. We just had ter rethink a bit. Spent a couple o' days lyin' low up in the cave an' watchin'. 'No,' said Hagrid, 'I wish he had.'
'What d'you mean?'
'I mean we soon found out he didn' object ter all wizards - 'just us.'
'Death Eaters?' said Harry quickly. 'Yep,' said Hagrid darkly. 'Couple oi 'em were visitin' him ev'ry clay, bringin' gifts ter the Gurg, an' he wasn' dangling them upside - 'c.own.'
'How d'you know they were Death Eaters?' said Ron. 'Because I recognised one of 'em,' Hagrid growled. 'Macnair, remember him? Bloke they sent ter kill Buckbeak? Maniac, he is. 'Hold yer Hippogriffs, I haven' finished me story yet!' said Hagrid indignantly, | 's massive, one o' the biggest ones there. Black hair an' matchin' teeth an' a necklace o' bones. Human-lookin' bones, some of 'em. 'How did you get out of that?' asked Harry. 'Wouldn'ta done if Olympe hadn' bin there,' said Hagrid. 'She pulled out her wand an' did some o' the fastes' spellwork I've ever seen. Ruddy marvellous. Hit the two holdin' me right in the eyes with Conjunctivitus Curses an' they dropped me straightaway - 'bu' we were in trouble then, 'cause we'd used magic against 'em, an' that's what giants hate abou' wizards. We had ter leg it an' we knew there was no way we was going ter be able ter march inter the camp again.'
'Blimey, Hagrid,' said Ron quietly. 'We didn' leave after three days!' said Hagrid, looking outraged. 'Dumbledore was relyin' on us!'
'But you've just said there was no way you could go back!'
'Not by daylight we couldn', no. We just had ter rethink a bit. Spent a couple o' days lyin' low up in the cave an' watchin'. 'No,' said Hagrid, 'I wish he had.'
'What d'you mean?'
'I mean we soon found out he didn' object ter all wizards - 'just us.'
'Death Eaters?' said Harry quickly. 'Yep,' said Hagrid darkly. 'Couple oi 'em were visitin' him ev'ry clay, bringin' gifts ter the Gurg, an' he wasn' dangling them upside - 'c.own.'
'How d'you know they were Death Eaters?' said Ron. 'Because I recognised one of 'em,' Hagrid growled. 'Macnair, remember him? Bloke they sent ter kill Buckbeak? Maniac, he is. 'Hold yer Hippogriffs, I haven' finished me story yet!' said Hagrid indignantly, |
who, considering he had not wanted to tell them anything in the first place, now seemed to be rather enjoying himself. 'Me an' Olympe talked it over an' we agreed, jus' 'cause the Gurg looked like favourin' You-Know-Who didn' mean all of 'em would. We had ter try an' persuade some o' the others, the ones who hadn' wanted Golgomath as Gurg.'
'How could you tell which ones they were?' asked Ron. Well, they were the ones bein' beaten to a pulp, weren' they?' said Hagrid patiently. The ones with any sense were keepin' outta Golgomath's way, hidin' out in caves roun' the gully jus' like we were. So we decided we'd go pokin' round the caves by night an' see if we couldn' persuade a few o' them.'
'You went poking around dark caves looking for giants?' said Ron, with awed respect in his voice. Well, it wasn' the giants who worried us most,' said Hagrid. 'We were more concerned abou' the Death Eaters. Dumbledore had told us before we wen' not ter tangle with 'em if we could avoid it, an' the trouble was they knew we was around -'spect Golgomath told 'em abou' us. At night, when the giants were sleepin' an' we wanted ter be creepin' inter the caves, Macnair an' the other one were sneakin' round the mountains lookin' fer us. I was hard put to stop Olympe jumpin' out at 'em,' said Hagrid, the corners of h s mouth lifting his wild beard,'she was rarin' ter attack 'em... she's somethin' when she's roused, Olympe... fiery, yeh know...'spect it's the French in her...'
Hagrid gazed misty-eyed into the fire. Harry allowed him thirty seconds of reminiscence before clearing his throat loudly. 'So, what happened? Did you ever get near any of the other giants | , considering he had not wanted to tell them anything in the first place, now seemed to be rather enjoying himself. 'Me an' Olympe talked it over an' we agreed, jus' 'cause the Gurg looked like favourin' You-Know-Who didn' mean all of 'em would. We had ter try an' persuade some o' the others, the ones who hadn' wanted Golgomath as Gurg.'
'How could you tell which ones they were?' asked Ron. Well, they were the ones bein' beaten to a pulp, weren' they?' said Hagrid patiently. The ones with any sense were keepin' outta Golgomath's way, hidin' out in caves roun' the gully jus' like we were. So we decided we'd go pokin' round the caves by night an' see if we couldn' persuade a few o' them.'
'You went poking around dark caves looking for giants?' said Ron, with awed respect in his voice. Well, it wasn' the giants who worried us most,' said Hagrid. 'We were more concerned abou' the Death Eaters. Dumbledore had told us before we wen' not ter tangle with 'em if we could avoid it, an' the trouble was they knew we was around -'spect Golgomath told 'em abou' us. At night, when the giants were sleepin' an' we wanted ter be creepin' inter the caves, Macnair an' the other one were sneakin' round the mountains lookin' fer us. I was hard put to stop Olympe jumpin' out at 'em,' said Hagrid, the corners of h s mouth lifting his wild beard,'she was rarin' ter attack 'em... she's somethin' when she's roused, Olympe... fiery, yeh know...'spect it's the French in her...'
Hagrid gazed misty-eyed into the fire. Harry allowed him thirty seconds of reminiscence before clearing his throat loudly. 'So, what happened? Did you ever get near any of the other giants |
?'
'What? Oh... oh, yeah, we did. Yeah, on the third night after Karkus was killed we crept outta the cave we'd bin hidin' in an' headed back down inter the gully, keepin' our eyes skinned fer the Death Eaters. Got inside a few o' the caves, no go - then, in abou' the sixth one, we found three giants hidin'.'
'Cave must've been cramped,' said Ron. 'Wasn' room ter swing a Kneazle,' said Hagrid. 'Probably woulda done if they'd bin in any condition,' said Hagrid, 'but they was badly hurt, all three o' them; Golgomath's lot had beaten 'em unconscious; they'd woken up an' crawled inter the nearest shelter they could find. Anyway, one o' them had a bit of English an' 'e translated fer the others, an' what we had ter say didn' seem ter go down too badly. So we kep' goin' back, visitin' the wounded... I reckon we had abou' six or seven o' them convinced at one poin'.'
'Six or seven?' said Ron eagerly. 'Golgomath's lot raided the caves. The ones tha' survived didn' wan' no more ter to do with us after that.'
'So... so there aren't any giants coming?' said Ron, looking disappointed. 'Nope,' said Hagrid, heaving a deep sigh as he turned over his steak and applied the cooler side to his face, 'but we did wha' we meant ter do, we gave 'em Dumbledore's message an' some o' them heard it an' I spect some o' them'll remember it. Jus' maybe, them that don' want ter stay around Golgomath'll move outta the mountains, an' there's gotta be a chance they'll remember Dumbledore's friendly to 'em... could be they'll come.'
Snow was filling up the window now. Harry became aware that the knees of his robes were soaked through: |
'What? Oh... oh, yeah, we did. Yeah, on the third night after Karkus was killed we crept outta the cave we'd bin hidin' in an' headed back down inter the gully, keepin' our eyes skinned fer the Death Eaters. Got inside a few o' the caves, no go - then, in abou' the sixth one, we found three giants hidin'.'
'Cave must've been cramped,' said Ron. 'Wasn' room ter swing a Kneazle,' said Hagrid. 'Probably woulda done if they'd bin in any condition,' said Hagrid, 'but they was badly hurt, all three o' them; Golgomath's lot had beaten 'em unconscious; they'd woken up an' crawled inter the nearest shelter they could find. Anyway, one o' them had a bit of English an' 'e translated fer the others, an' what we had ter say didn' seem ter go down too badly. So we kep' goin' back, visitin' the wounded... I reckon we had abou' six or seven o' them convinced at one poin'.'
'Six or seven?' said Ron eagerly. 'Golgomath's lot raided the caves. The ones tha' survived didn' wan' no more ter to do with us after that.'
'So... so there aren't any giants coming?' said Ron, looking disappointed. 'Nope,' said Hagrid, heaving a deep sigh as he turned over his steak and applied the cooler side to his face, 'but we did wha' we meant ter do, we gave 'em Dumbledore's message an' some o' them heard it an' I spect some o' them'll remember it. Jus' maybe, them that don' want ter stay around Golgomath'll move outta the mountains, an' there's gotta be a chance they'll remember Dumbledore's friendly to 'em... could be they'll come.'
Snow was filling up the window now. Harry became aware that the knees of his robes were soaked through: |
Fang was drooling with his head in Harry's lap. 'Mmm?'
'Did you... was there any sign of... did you hear anything asout your... your... 'I'm sorry... I... forget it - '
'Dead,' Hagrid grunted. 'Died years ago. They told me.'
'Oh... I'm... Hagrid shrugged his massive shoulders. 'No need,' he said shortly. 'Can't remember her much. Wasn' a great mother.'
They were silent again. 'But you still haven't explained how you got in this state, Hagrid,' Ron said, gesturing towards Hagrid's bloodstained face. 'Or why you're back so late,' said Harry. 'Sirius says Madame Maxime got back ages ago - '
'Who attacked you?' said Ron. 'I haven' bin attacked!' said Hagrid emphatically. 'I - '
But the rest of his words were drowned in a sudden outbreak of rapping on the door. All four of them stared at the window beside the doorway. The shadow of somebody small and squat rippled across the thin curtain. 'It's her!' Ron whispered. Huddled together, they backed away into a corner. Fang was barking madly at the door. Hagrid looked thoroughly confused. 'Hagrid, hide our mugs!'
Hagrid seized Harry and Ron's mugs and shoved them under the cushion in Fang's basket. Fang was now leaping up at the door; Hagrid pushed him out of the way with his foot and pulled it open. Professor Umbridge was standing in the doorway wearing her green tweed cloak and a matching hat with earflaps. Lips pursed, she leaned back so as to see Hagrid's face; she barely reached his navel. 'So,' she said slowly and loudly, as though speaking to somebody deaf. 'You're Hagrid, are you?'
Without waiting for an answer she strolled into the room, her bulging eyes rolling in every direction. | ang was drooling with his head in Harry's lap. 'Mmm?'
'Did you... was there any sign of... did you hear anything asout your... your... 'I'm sorry... I... forget it - '
'Dead,' Hagrid grunted. 'Died years ago. They told me.'
'Oh... I'm... Hagrid shrugged his massive shoulders. 'No need,' he said shortly. 'Can't remember her much. Wasn' a great mother.'
They were silent again. 'But you still haven't explained how you got in this state, Hagrid,' Ron said, gesturing towards Hagrid's bloodstained face. 'Or why you're back so late,' said Harry. 'Sirius says Madame Maxime got back ages ago - '
'Who attacked you?' said Ron. 'I haven' bin attacked!' said Hagrid emphatically. 'I - '
But the rest of his words were drowned in a sudden outbreak of rapping on the door. All four of them stared at the window beside the doorway. The shadow of somebody small and squat rippled across the thin curtain. 'It's her!' Ron whispered. Huddled together, they backed away into a corner. Fang was barking madly at the door. Hagrid looked thoroughly confused. 'Hagrid, hide our mugs!'
Hagrid seized Harry and Ron's mugs and shoved them under the cushion in Fang's basket. Fang was now leaping up at the door; Hagrid pushed him out of the way with his foot and pulled it open. Professor Umbridge was standing in the doorway wearing her green tweed cloak and a matching hat with earflaps. Lips pursed, she leaned back so as to see Hagrid's face; she barely reached his navel. 'So,' she said slowly and loudly, as though speaking to somebody deaf. 'You're Hagrid, are you?'
Without waiting for an answer she strolled into the room, her bulging eyes rolling in every direction. |
'Get away,' she snapped, waving her handbag at Fang, who had bounded up to her and was attempting to lick her face. 'Er - I don' want ter be rude,' said Hagrid, staring at her, 'but who the ruddy hell are you?'
'My name is Dolores Umbridge.'
Her eyes were sweeping the cabin. Twice they stared directly into the corner where Harry stood, sandwiched between Ron. 'Dolores Umbridge?' Hagrid said, sounding thoroughly confused. 'I thought you were one o' them Ministry - don' you work with Fudge?'
'I was Senior Undersecretary to the Minister, yes,' said Umbridge, now pacing around the cabin, taking in every tiny detail within, from the haversack against the wall to the abandoned travelling cloak. 'I am now the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher - '
Tha's brave of yeh,' said Hagrid, 'there's not many'd take tha' job any more.'
'- and Hogwarts High Inquisitor,' said Umbridge, giving no sign that she had heard him. 'Wha's that?' said Hagrid, frowning. 'Oh,' said Hagrid, with a most unhelpful glance towards the corner where Harry, Ron stood hidden, 'oh, tha' was... was Fang. He broke a mug. So I had ter use this one instead.'
Hagrid pointed to the mug from which he had been drinking, one hand still clamped over the dragon steak pressed to his eye. Umbridge stood facing him now, taking in every detail of his appearance instead of the cabins. 'I heard voices,' she said quietly. 'I was talkin' ter Fang,' said Hagrid stoutly. 'And was he talking back to you?'
'Well... in a manner o' speakin',' said Hagrid, looking uncomfortable. 'I sometimes say Fang's near enough human - '
There are three sets of footprints in the snow leading from the castle doors to your cabin,' said Umbridge sleekly. Luckily, Fang was sniffing loudly | 'Get away,' she snapped, waving her handbag at Fang, who had bounded up to her and was attempting to lick her face. 'Er - I don' want ter be rude,' said Hagrid, staring at her, 'but who the ruddy hell are you?'
'My name is Dolores Umbridge.'
Her eyes were sweeping the cabin. Twice they stared directly into the corner where Harry stood, sandwiched between Ron. 'Dolores Umbridge?' Hagrid said, sounding thoroughly confused. 'I thought you were one o' them Ministry - don' you work with Fudge?'
'I was Senior Undersecretary to the Minister, yes,' said Umbridge, now pacing around the cabin, taking in every tiny detail within, from the haversack against the wall to the abandoned travelling cloak. 'I am now the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher - '
Tha's brave of yeh,' said Hagrid, 'there's not many'd take tha' job any more.'
'- and Hogwarts High Inquisitor,' said Umbridge, giving no sign that she had heard him. 'Wha's that?' said Hagrid, frowning. 'Oh,' said Hagrid, with a most unhelpful glance towards the corner where Harry, Ron stood hidden, 'oh, tha' was... was Fang. He broke a mug. So I had ter use this one instead.'
Hagrid pointed to the mug from which he had been drinking, one hand still clamped over the dragon steak pressed to his eye. Umbridge stood facing him now, taking in every detail of his appearance instead of the cabins. 'I heard voices,' she said quietly. 'I was talkin' ter Fang,' said Hagrid stoutly. 'And was he talking back to you?'
'Well... in a manner o' speakin',' said Hagrid, looking uncomfortable. 'I sometimes say Fang's near enough human - '
There are three sets of footprints in the snow leading from the castle doors to your cabin,' said Umbridge sleekly. Luckily, Fang was sniffing loudly |
around the hem of Professor Umbridge's robes and she did not appear to have heard. 'Well, I on'y jus' got back,' said Hagrid, waving an enormous hand at the haversack. 'Maybe someone came ter call earlier an' I missed 'em.'
There are no footsteps leading away from your cabin door.'
'Well, I... I don' know why that'd be...' said Hagrid, tugging nervously at his beard and again glancing towards the corner where Harry, Ron stood, as though asking for help. 'Erm...'
Umbridge wheeled round and strode the length of the cabin, looking around carefully. She bent and peered under the bed. She opened Hagrid's cupboards. She passed within two inches of where Harry, Ron stood pressed against the wall; Harry actually pulled in his stomach as she walked by. After looking carefully inside the enormous cauldron Hagrid used for cooking, she wheeled round again and said, 'What has happened to you? How did you sustain those injuries?'
Hagrid hastily removed the dragon steak from his face, which in Harry's opinion was a mistake, because the black and purple bruising all around his eye was now clearly visible, not to mention the large amount of fresh and congealed blood on his face. 'Oh, I... had a bit of an accident,' he said lamely. 'What sort of accident?'
'I - I tripped.'
'You tripped,' she repeated coolly. 'Yeah, tha's right. Over... over a friends broomstick. I don' fly, meself. Well, look at the size o' me, I don' reckon there's a broomstick that'd hold me. Friend o' mine breeds Abraxan horses, I dunno if you ve ever seen em, big beasts, winged, yen know, I've had a bit of a ride on one o' them an' it was - '
'Where have you been?' asked Umbridge, cutting coolly through Hagrid's babbling. "Where've I -?'
| the hem of Professor Umbridge's robes and she did not appear to have heard. 'Well, I on'y jus' got back,' said Hagrid, waving an enormous hand at the haversack. 'Maybe someone came ter call earlier an' I missed 'em.'
There are no footsteps leading away from your cabin door.'
'Well, I... I don' know why that'd be...' said Hagrid, tugging nervously at his beard and again glancing towards the corner where Harry, Ron stood, as though asking for help. 'Erm...'
Umbridge wheeled round and strode the length of the cabin, looking around carefully. She bent and peered under the bed. She opened Hagrid's cupboards. She passed within two inches of where Harry, Ron stood pressed against the wall; Harry actually pulled in his stomach as she walked by. After looking carefully inside the enormous cauldron Hagrid used for cooking, she wheeled round again and said, 'What has happened to you? How did you sustain those injuries?'
Hagrid hastily removed the dragon steak from his face, which in Harry's opinion was a mistake, because the black and purple bruising all around his eye was now clearly visible, not to mention the large amount of fresh and congealed blood on his face. 'Oh, I... had a bit of an accident,' he said lamely. 'What sort of accident?'
'I - I tripped.'
'You tripped,' she repeated coolly. 'Yeah, tha's right. Over... over a friends broomstick. I don' fly, meself. Well, look at the size o' me, I don' reckon there's a broomstick that'd hold me. Friend o' mine breeds Abraxan horses, I dunno if you ve ever seen em, big beasts, winged, yen know, I've had a bit of a ride on one o' them an' it was - '
'Where have you been?' asked Umbridge, cutting coolly through Hagrid's babbling. "Where've I -?'
|
'Been, yes,' she said. Term started two months ago. Another teacher has had to cover your classes. None of your colleagues has been able to give me any information as to your whereabouts. You left no address. Where have you been?'
There was a pause in which Hagrid stared at her with his newly uncovered eye. Harry could almost hear his brain working furiously. 'I - I've been away for me health,' he said. 'For your health,' repeated Professor Umbridge. Her eyes travelled over Hagrid's discoloured and swollen face; dragon blood dripped gently and silently on to his waistcoat. 'I see.'
'Yeah,' said Hagrid, 'bit o' - o' fresh air, yeh know - '
'Yes, as gamekeeper fresh air must be so difficult to come by' said Umbridge sweetly. The small patch of Hagrid's face that was not black or purple, flushed. 'Well - change o' scene, yeh know - '
'Mountain scenery?' said Umbridge swiftly. She knows, Harry thought desperately. 'Mountains?' Hagrid repeated, clearly thinking fast. 'Nope, South o' France fer me. Bit o' sun an'... an' sea.'
'Really?' said Umbridge. 'You don't have much of a tan.'
'Yeah... well... sensitive skin,' said Hagrid, attempting an ingratiating smile. Harry noticed that two of his teeth had been knocked out. Umbridge looked at him coldly; his smile faltered. Then she hoisted her handbag a little higher into the crook of her arm and said, 'I shall, of course, be informing the Minister of your late return.'
'Righ',' said Hagrid, nodding. 'You ought to know, too, that as High Inquisitor it is my unfortunate but necessary duty to inspect my fellow teachers. So I daresay we shall meet again soon enough.'
She turned sharply and marched back to the door. 'You're inspectin' us?' Hagrid repeated blankly, looking after her. 'Oh, | 'Been, yes,' she said. Term started two months ago. Another teacher has had to cover your classes. None of your colleagues has been able to give me any information as to your whereabouts. You left no address. Where have you been?'
There was a pause in which Hagrid stared at her with his newly uncovered eye. Harry could almost hear his brain working furiously. 'I - I've been away for me health,' he said. 'For your health,' repeated Professor Umbridge. Her eyes travelled over Hagrid's discoloured and swollen face; dragon blood dripped gently and silently on to his waistcoat. 'I see.'
'Yeah,' said Hagrid, 'bit o' - o' fresh air, yeh know - '
'Yes, as gamekeeper fresh air must be so difficult to come by' said Umbridge sweetly. The small patch of Hagrid's face that was not black or purple, flushed. 'Well - change o' scene, yeh know - '
'Mountain scenery?' said Umbridge swiftly. She knows, Harry thought desperately. 'Mountains?' Hagrid repeated, clearly thinking fast. 'Nope, South o' France fer me. Bit o' sun an'... an' sea.'
'Really?' said Umbridge. 'You don't have much of a tan.'
'Yeah... well... sensitive skin,' said Hagrid, attempting an ingratiating smile. Harry noticed that two of his teeth had been knocked out. Umbridge looked at him coldly; his smile faltered. Then she hoisted her handbag a little higher into the crook of her arm and said, 'I shall, of course, be informing the Minister of your late return.'
'Righ',' said Hagrid, nodding. 'You ought to know, too, that as High Inquisitor it is my unfortunate but necessary duty to inspect my fellow teachers. So I daresay we shall meet again soon enough.'
She turned sharply and marched back to the door. 'You're inspectin' us?' Hagrid repeated blankly, looking after her. 'Oh, |
yes; said Umbridge softly, looking back at him with her hand on the door handle. The Ministry is determined to weed out unsatisfactory teachers, Hagrid. Goodnight.'
She left, closing the door behind her with a snap. 'Not yet,' she breathed in his ear. 'She might not be gone yet.'
Hagrid seemed to be thinking the same way; he stumped across the room and pulled back the curtain an inch or so. 'She's goin' back ter the castle,' he said in a low voice. 'Blimey... inspectin' people, is she?'
'Yeah,' said Harry, pulling off the Cloak. Trelawney's on probation already...'
'Um... 'Oh, don' you worry abou' that, I've got a great load o' lessons planned,' said Hagrid enthusiastically, scooping up his dragon steak from the table and slapping it over his eye again. 'I've bin keepin' a couple o' creatures saved fer yer OWL year; you wait, they're somethin' really special.'
'Erm... 'I'm not sayin',' said Hagrid happily. 'Don' be silly, I wouldn' give yeh anythin' dangerous! 'The stuff I've got's much more impressive. I've bin bringin' 'em on ler years, I reckon I've got the on'y domestic herd in Britain.'
'Hagrid... please.. 'Umbridge is looking for any excuse to get rid of
teachers she thinks are too close to Dumbledore. Please, Hagrid, teach us something dull that's bound to come up in our OWL.'
But Hagrid merely yawned widely and cast a one-eyed look of longing towards the vast bed in the corner. 'Oh - sorry -'He pulled her back up by the neck of her robes. 'Look, don' you go worryin' abou' me, I promise yeh I've got really good stuff planned fer yer lessons now I'm back... 'I'll | ; said Umbridge softly, looking back at him with her hand on the door handle. The Ministry is determined to weed out unsatisfactory teachers, Hagrid. Goodnight.'
She left, closing the door behind her with a snap. 'Not yet,' she breathed in his ear. 'She might not be gone yet.'
Hagrid seemed to be thinking the same way; he stumped across the room and pulled back the curtain an inch or so. 'She's goin' back ter the castle,' he said in a low voice. 'Blimey... inspectin' people, is she?'
'Yeah,' said Harry, pulling off the Cloak. Trelawney's on probation already...'
'Um... 'Oh, don' you worry abou' that, I've got a great load o' lessons planned,' said Hagrid enthusiastically, scooping up his dragon steak from the table and slapping it over his eye again. 'I've bin keepin' a couple o' creatures saved fer yer OWL year; you wait, they're somethin' really special.'
'Erm... 'I'm not sayin',' said Hagrid happily. 'Don' be silly, I wouldn' give yeh anythin' dangerous! 'The stuff I've got's much more impressive. I've bin bringin' 'em on ler years, I reckon I've got the on'y domestic herd in Britain.'
'Hagrid... please.. 'Umbridge is looking for any excuse to get rid of
teachers she thinks are too close to Dumbledore. Please, Hagrid, teach us something dull that's bound to come up in our OWL.'
But Hagrid merely yawned widely and cast a one-eyed look of longing towards the vast bed in the corner. 'Oh - sorry -'He pulled her back up by the neck of her robes. 'Look, don' you go worryin' abou' me, I promise yeh I've got really good stuff planned fer yer lessons now I'm back... 'I'll |
plan his lessons for him if I have to. Harry and Ron wanted to go with her, but their mountain of homework had reached an alarming height again, so they remained grudgingly in the common room, Tying to ignore the gleeful shouts drifting up from the grounds outside, where students were enjoying themselves skating on the frozen lake, tobogganing and, worst of all, bewitching snowballs to zoom up to Gryffindor Tower and rap hard on the windows. 'Oi!' bellowed Ron, finally losing patience and sticking his head out of the window, 'I am a prefect and if one more snowball hits this window - OUCH!'
He withdrew his head sharply, his face covered in snow. 'It's Fred and George,' he said bitterly, slamming the window behind him. 'Gits.. 'So?' said Ron, looking up when she entered. 'Got all his lessons planned for him?'
'Well, I tried,' she said dully, sinking into a chair beside Harry. She pulled out her wand and gave it a complicated little wave so that hot air streamed out of the tip; she then pointed this at her robes, which began to steam as they dried out. 'He wasn't even there when I arrived, I was knocking for at least half an hour. And then he came stumping out of the Forest - '
Harry groaned. The Forbidden Forest was teeming with the kind of creatures most likely to get Hagrid the sack. 'What's he keeping in there? Did he say?' he asked. 'He says he wants them to be a surprise. I tried to explain about Umbridge, but he just doesn't get it. He kept saying nobody in their right mind would rather study Knarls than Chimaeras - oh, I don't think he's got a Chimaera,' she added at the appalled look on Harry and Ron's faces, 'but that's not for lack of trying, from what he said about how hard it is to get eggs. I don't know how many times I told him he'd be better off following Grubbly-Plank's plan, I honestly don't think he listened to | his lessons for him if I have to. Harry and Ron wanted to go with her, but their mountain of homework had reached an alarming height again, so they remained grudgingly in the common room, Tying to ignore the gleeful shouts drifting up from the grounds outside, where students were enjoying themselves skating on the frozen lake, tobogganing and, worst of all, bewitching snowballs to zoom up to Gryffindor Tower and rap hard on the windows. 'Oi!' bellowed Ron, finally losing patience and sticking his head out of the window, 'I am a prefect and if one more snowball hits this window - OUCH!'
He withdrew his head sharply, his face covered in snow. 'It's Fred and George,' he said bitterly, slamming the window behind him. 'Gits.. 'So?' said Ron, looking up when she entered. 'Got all his lessons planned for him?'
'Well, I tried,' she said dully, sinking into a chair beside Harry. She pulled out her wand and gave it a complicated little wave so that hot air streamed out of the tip; she then pointed this at her robes, which began to steam as they dried out. 'He wasn't even there when I arrived, I was knocking for at least half an hour. And then he came stumping out of the Forest - '
Harry groaned. The Forbidden Forest was teeming with the kind of creatures most likely to get Hagrid the sack. 'What's he keeping in there? Did he say?' he asked. 'He says he wants them to be a surprise. I tried to explain about Umbridge, but he just doesn't get it. He kept saying nobody in their right mind would rather study Knarls than Chimaeras - oh, I don't think he's got a Chimaera,' she added at the appalled look on Harry and Ron's faces, 'but that's not for lack of trying, from what he said about how hard it is to get eggs. I don't know how many times I told him he'd be better off following Grubbly-Plank's plan, I honestly don't think he listened to |
half of what I said. He's in a bit of a funny mood, you know. He still won't say how he got all those injuries.'
Hagrid's reappearance at the staff table at breakfast next day was not greeted by enthusiasm from all students. Some, like Fred, George and Lee, roared with delight and sprinted up the aisle between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables to wring Hagrid's enormous hand; others, like Parvati and Lavender, exchanged gloomy looks and shook their heads. Harry knew that many of them preferred Professor Grubbly-Planks lessons, and the worst of it was that a very small, unbiased part of him knew that they had good reason: Grubbly-Plank's idea of an interesting class was not one where there was a risk that somebody might have their head ripped off. It was with a certain amount of apprehension that Harry, Ron headed down to Hagrid's on Tuesday, heavily muffled against the cold. Harry was worried, not only about what Hagrid might have decided to teach them, but also about how the rest of the class, particularly Malfoy and his cronies, would behave if Umbridge was watching them. However, the High Inquisitor was nowhere to be seen as they struggled through the snow towards Hagrid, who stood waiting for them on the edge of the Forest. He did not present a reassuring sight; the bruises that had been purple on Saturday night were now tinged with green and yellow and some of his cuts still seemed to be bleeding. Harry could not understand this: had Hagrid perhaps been attacked by some creature whose venom prevented the wounds it inflicted from healing? As though to complete the ominous picture, Hagrid was carrying what looked like half a dead cow over his shoulder. 'We're workin' in here today!' Hagrid called happily to the approaching students, jerking his head back at the dark trees behind him. 'Bit more sheltered! Anyway, they prefer the dark.'
'What prefers the dark?' Harry heard Malfoy say sharply to Crabbe and Goyle, a trace of panic in his | of what I said. He's in a bit of a funny mood, you know. He still won't say how he got all those injuries.'
Hagrid's reappearance at the staff table at breakfast next day was not greeted by enthusiasm from all students. Some, like Fred, George and Lee, roared with delight and sprinted up the aisle between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables to wring Hagrid's enormous hand; others, like Parvati and Lavender, exchanged gloomy looks and shook their heads. Harry knew that many of them preferred Professor Grubbly-Planks lessons, and the worst of it was that a very small, unbiased part of him knew that they had good reason: Grubbly-Plank's idea of an interesting class was not one where there was a risk that somebody might have their head ripped off. It was with a certain amount of apprehension that Harry, Ron headed down to Hagrid's on Tuesday, heavily muffled against the cold. Harry was worried, not only about what Hagrid might have decided to teach them, but also about how the rest of the class, particularly Malfoy and his cronies, would behave if Umbridge was watching them. However, the High Inquisitor was nowhere to be seen as they struggled through the snow towards Hagrid, who stood waiting for them on the edge of the Forest. He did not present a reassuring sight; the bruises that had been purple on Saturday night were now tinged with green and yellow and some of his cuts still seemed to be bleeding. Harry could not understand this: had Hagrid perhaps been attacked by some creature whose venom prevented the wounds it inflicted from healing? As though to complete the ominous picture, Hagrid was carrying what looked like half a dead cow over his shoulder. 'We're workin' in here today!' Hagrid called happily to the approaching students, jerking his head back at the dark trees behind him. 'Bit more sheltered! Anyway, they prefer the dark.'
'What prefers the dark?' Harry heard Malfoy say sharply to Crabbe and Goyle, a trace of panic in his |
voice. 'What did he say prefers the dark - did you hear?'
Harry remembered the only other occasion on which Malfoy had entered the Forest before now; he had not been very brave then, either. He smiled to himself; after the Quidditch match anything that caused Malfoy discomfort was all right with him. 'Ready?' said Hagrid cheerfully, looking around at the class. 'Right, well, I've bin savin' a trip inter the Forest fer yer fifth year. Thought we'd go an' see these creatures in their natural habitat. Now, what we're studyin' today is pretty rare, I reckon I'm probably the on'y person in Britain who's managed ter train 'em.'
'And you're sure they're trained, are you?' said Malfoy, the panic in his voice even more pronounced. 'Only it wouldn't be the first time you'd brought wild stuff to class, would it?'
The Slytherins murmured agreement and a few Gryffindors looked as though they thought Malfoy had a fair point, too. 'Course they're trained,' said Hagrid, scowling and hoisting the dead cow a little higher on his shoulder. 'So what happened to your face, then?' demanded Malfoy. 'Mind yer own business!' said Hagrid, angrily. 'Now, if yeh've finished askin' stupid questions, follow me!'
He turned and strode straight into the Forest. Nobody seemed much disposed to follow. Harry glanced at Ron, who sighed but nodded, and the three of them set off after Hagrid, leading the rest of the class. They walked for about ten minutes until they reached a place where the trees stood so closely together that it was as dark as twilight and there was no snow at all on the ground. With a grunt, Hagrid deposited his half a cow on the ground, stepped back and turned to face his class, most of whom were creeping from tree to tree towards him, peering around nervously as though expecting to be set upon at any moment. 'Gather roun', gather roun',' Hagrid encouraged. 'Now, they'll be attracted by the sm | . 'What did he say prefers the dark - did you hear?'
Harry remembered the only other occasion on which Malfoy had entered the Forest before now; he had not been very brave then, either. He smiled to himself; after the Quidditch match anything that caused Malfoy discomfort was all right with him. 'Ready?' said Hagrid cheerfully, looking around at the class. 'Right, well, I've bin savin' a trip inter the Forest fer yer fifth year. Thought we'd go an' see these creatures in their natural habitat. Now, what we're studyin' today is pretty rare, I reckon I'm probably the on'y person in Britain who's managed ter train 'em.'
'And you're sure they're trained, are you?' said Malfoy, the panic in his voice even more pronounced. 'Only it wouldn't be the first time you'd brought wild stuff to class, would it?'
The Slytherins murmured agreement and a few Gryffindors looked as though they thought Malfoy had a fair point, too. 'Course they're trained,' said Hagrid, scowling and hoisting the dead cow a little higher on his shoulder. 'So what happened to your face, then?' demanded Malfoy. 'Mind yer own business!' said Hagrid, angrily. 'Now, if yeh've finished askin' stupid questions, follow me!'
He turned and strode straight into the Forest. Nobody seemed much disposed to follow. Harry glanced at Ron, who sighed but nodded, and the three of them set off after Hagrid, leading the rest of the class. They walked for about ten minutes until they reached a place where the trees stood so closely together that it was as dark as twilight and there was no snow at all on the ground. With a grunt, Hagrid deposited his half a cow on the ground, stepped back and turned to face his class, most of whom were creeping from tree to tree towards him, peering around nervously as though expecting to be set upon at any moment. 'Gather roun', gather roun',' Hagrid encouraged. 'Now, they'll be attracted by the sm |
ell o the meat but I'm going ter give em a call anyway, 'cause they'll like ter know it's me.'
He turned, shook his shaggy head to get the hair out of his face and gave an odd, shrieking cry that echoed through the dark trees like the call of some monstrous bird. Nobody laughed: most of them looked too scared to make a sound. Hagrid gave the shrieking cry again. A minute passed in which the class continued to peer nervously over their shoulders and around trees for a first glimpse of whatever it was that was coming. And then, as Hagrid shook his hair back for a third lime and expanded his enormous chest, Harry nudged Ron and pointed into the black space between two gnarled yew trees. A pair of blank, white, shining eyes were growing larger through the gloom and a moment later the dragonish face, neck and then skeletal body of a great, black, winged horse emerged from the darkness. It surveyed the class for a few seconds, swishing its long black tail, then bowed its head and began to tear flesh from the dead cow with its pointed fangs. A great wave of relief broke over Harry. Here at last was proof that he had not imagined these creatures, that they were real: Hagrid knew about them too. He looked eagerly at Ron, but Ron was still staring around into the trees and after a few seconds he whispered, 'Why doesn't Hagrid call again?'
Most of the rest of the class were wearing expressions as confused and nervously expectant as Ron's and were still gazing everywhere but at the horse standing feet from them. There were only two other people who seemed to be able to see them: a stringy Slytherin boy standing just behind Goyle was watching the horse eating with an expression of great distaste on his face; and Neville, whose eyes were following the swishing progress of the long black tail. 'Oh, an' here comes another one!' said Hagrid proudly, as a second black horse appeared out of the dark trees, folded its leathery-wings closer to its body and dipped its head to gorge on the meat. 'Now... put yer hands up, who can | o the meat but I'm going ter give em a call anyway, 'cause they'll like ter know it's me.'
He turned, shook his shaggy head to get the hair out of his face and gave an odd, shrieking cry that echoed through the dark trees like the call of some monstrous bird. Nobody laughed: most of them looked too scared to make a sound. Hagrid gave the shrieking cry again. A minute passed in which the class continued to peer nervously over their shoulders and around trees for a first glimpse of whatever it was that was coming. And then, as Hagrid shook his hair back for a third lime and expanded his enormous chest, Harry nudged Ron and pointed into the black space between two gnarled yew trees. A pair of blank, white, shining eyes were growing larger through the gloom and a moment later the dragonish face, neck and then skeletal body of a great, black, winged horse emerged from the darkness. It surveyed the class for a few seconds, swishing its long black tail, then bowed its head and began to tear flesh from the dead cow with its pointed fangs. A great wave of relief broke over Harry. Here at last was proof that he had not imagined these creatures, that they were real: Hagrid knew about them too. He looked eagerly at Ron, but Ron was still staring around into the trees and after a few seconds he whispered, 'Why doesn't Hagrid call again?'
Most of the rest of the class were wearing expressions as confused and nervously expectant as Ron's and were still gazing everywhere but at the horse standing feet from them. There were only two other people who seemed to be able to see them: a stringy Slytherin boy standing just behind Goyle was watching the horse eating with an expression of great distaste on his face; and Neville, whose eyes were following the swishing progress of the long black tail. 'Oh, an' here comes another one!' said Hagrid proudly, as a second black horse appeared out of the dark trees, folded its leathery-wings closer to its body and dipped its head to gorge on the meat. 'Now... put yer hands up, who can |
see 'em?'
Immensely pleased to feel that he was at last going to understand the mystery of these horses, Harry raised his hand. Hagrid nodded at him. 'Yeah... yeah, I knew you'd be able ter, Harry,' he said seriously. 'An' you too, Neville, eh? An' - '
'Excuse me,' said Malfoy in a sneering voice, 'but what exactly are we supposed to be seeing?'
For an answer, Hagrid pointed at the cow carcass on the ground. The whole class stared at it for a few seconds, then several people gasped and Parvati squealed. Harry understood why: bits of flesh stripping themselves away from the bones and vanishing into thin air had to look very odd indeed. 'What's doing it?' Parvati demanded in a terrified voice, retreating behind the nearest tree. 'Hogwarts has got a whole herd of 'em in here. Now, who knows -?'
'But they're really, really unlucky!' interrupted Parvati, looking alarmed. They're supposed to bring all sorts of horrible misfortune on people who see them. Professor Trelawney told me once - '
'No, no, no,' said Hagrid, chuckling, 'tha's jus' superstition, that is, they aren' unlucky, they're dead clever an' useful! Course, this lot don' get a lot o' work, it's mainly jus' pullin' the school carriages unless Dumbledore's takin' a long journey an' don' want ter Apparate - an' here's another couple, look - '
Two more horses came quietly out of the trees, one of them passing very close to Parvati, who shivered and pressed herself closer to the tree, saying, 'I think I felt something, I think it's near me!'
'Don' worry, it won' hurt yeh,' said Hagrid patiently. 'Go on then,' said Hagrid, beaming at her. The only people who can see Thestrals,' she said, 'are people who have seen death.'
Tha' | 'em?'
Immensely pleased to feel that he was at last going to understand the mystery of these horses, Harry raised his hand. Hagrid nodded at him. 'Yeah... yeah, I knew you'd be able ter, Harry,' he said seriously. 'An' you too, Neville, eh? An' - '
'Excuse me,' said Malfoy in a sneering voice, 'but what exactly are we supposed to be seeing?'
For an answer, Hagrid pointed at the cow carcass on the ground. The whole class stared at it for a few seconds, then several people gasped and Parvati squealed. Harry understood why: bits of flesh stripping themselves away from the bones and vanishing into thin air had to look very odd indeed. 'What's doing it?' Parvati demanded in a terrified voice, retreating behind the nearest tree. 'Hogwarts has got a whole herd of 'em in here. Now, who knows -?'
'But they're really, really unlucky!' interrupted Parvati, looking alarmed. They're supposed to bring all sorts of horrible misfortune on people who see them. Professor Trelawney told me once - '
'No, no, no,' said Hagrid, chuckling, 'tha's jus' superstition, that is, they aren' unlucky, they're dead clever an' useful! Course, this lot don' get a lot o' work, it's mainly jus' pullin' the school carriages unless Dumbledore's takin' a long journey an' don' want ter Apparate - an' here's another couple, look - '
Two more horses came quietly out of the trees, one of them passing very close to Parvati, who shivered and pressed herself closer to the tree, saying, 'I think I felt something, I think it's near me!'
'Don' worry, it won' hurt yeh,' said Hagrid patiently. 'Go on then,' said Hagrid, beaming at her. The only people who can see Thestrals,' she said, 'are people who have seen death.'
Tha' |
s exactly right,' said Hagrid solemnly, 'ten points ter Gryffindor. Now, Thestrals - '
'Hem, hem.'
Professor Umbridge had arrived. She was standing a few feet away from Harry, wearing her green hat and cloak again, her clipboard at the ready. Hagrid. who had never heard Umbridge's fake cough before, was gazing in some concern at the closest Thestral, evidently under the impression that it had made the sound. 'Hem, hem.'
'Oh, hello!' Hagrid said, smiling, having located the source of the noise. 'You received the note I sent to your cabin this morning?' said Umbridge, in the same loud, slow voice she had used with him earlier, as though she were addressing somebody both foreign and very slow. Telling you that I would be inspecting your lesson?'
'Oh, yeah,' said Hagrid brightly. 'Glad yeh found the place all righ'! Well, as you can see - or, I dunno - can you? We're doin' Thestrals today - '
'I'm sorry?' said Professor Umbridge loudly, cupping her hand around her ear and frowning. 'What did you say?'
Hagrid looked a little confused. 'Er - Thestrals!' he said loudly. 'Big - er - winged horses, yeh know!'
He flapped his gigantic arms hopefully. Professor Umbridge raised her eyebrows at him and muttered as she made a note on her clipboard: 'Has... to... resort... to... crude... sign... language.'
'Well... anyway...' said Hagrid, turning back to the class and looking slightly flustered, 'erm... what was I sayin?'
'Appears... to... have... poor... short... term... memory,' muttered Umbridge, loudly enough for everyone to hear her. 'Oh, yeah,' said Hagrid, throwing an uneasy glance at Umbridge's clipboard, but ploughing on valiantly. 'Yeah, I was | exactly right,' said Hagrid solemnly, 'ten points ter Gryffindor. Now, Thestrals - '
'Hem, hem.'
Professor Umbridge had arrived. She was standing a few feet away from Harry, wearing her green hat and cloak again, her clipboard at the ready. Hagrid. who had never heard Umbridge's fake cough before, was gazing in some concern at the closest Thestral, evidently under the impression that it had made the sound. 'Hem, hem.'
'Oh, hello!' Hagrid said, smiling, having located the source of the noise. 'You received the note I sent to your cabin this morning?' said Umbridge, in the same loud, slow voice she had used with him earlier, as though she were addressing somebody both foreign and very slow. Telling you that I would be inspecting your lesson?'
'Oh, yeah,' said Hagrid brightly. 'Glad yeh found the place all righ'! Well, as you can see - or, I dunno - can you? We're doin' Thestrals today - '
'I'm sorry?' said Professor Umbridge loudly, cupping her hand around her ear and frowning. 'What did you say?'
Hagrid looked a little confused. 'Er - Thestrals!' he said loudly. 'Big - er - winged horses, yeh know!'
He flapped his gigantic arms hopefully. Professor Umbridge raised her eyebrows at him and muttered as she made a note on her clipboard: 'Has... to... resort... to... crude... sign... language.'
'Well... anyway...' said Hagrid, turning back to the class and looking slightly flustered, 'erm... what was I sayin?'
'Appears... to... have... poor... short... term... memory,' muttered Umbridge, loudly enough for everyone to hear her. 'Oh, yeah,' said Hagrid, throwing an uneasy glance at Umbridge's clipboard, but ploughing on valiantly. 'Yeah, I was |
gonna tell yeh how come we got a herd. Yeah, so, we started off with a male an' five females. This one,' he patted the first horse to have appeared, 'name o' Tenebrus, he's my special favourite, firs' one born here in the Forest - '
'Are you aware,' Umbridge said loudly, interrupting him, 'that the Ministry of Magic has classified Thestrals as "dangerous"?'
Harry's heart sank like a stone, but Hagrid merely chuckled. Thestrals aren' dangerous! All righ', they might take a bite outta yeh if yeh really annoy them - '
'Shows... signs... of... pleasure... at... idea... of... violence,' muttered Umbridge, scribbling on her clipboard again. 'No - come on!' said Hagrid, looking a little anxious now. 'I mean, a dog'll bite if yeh bait it, won' it - but Thestrals have jus' got a bad reputation because o' the death thing - people used ter think they were bad omens, didn' they? Jus' didn' understand, did they?'
Umbridge did not answer; she finished writing her last note, then looked up at Hagrid and said, again very loudly and slowly, 'Please continue teaching as usual. I am going to walk,' she mimed walking (Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson were having silent fits of laughter) 'among the students' (she pointed around at individual members of the class) 'and ask them questions.' She pointed at her mouth to indicate talking. Hagrid stared at her, clearly at a complete loss to understand why she was acting as though he did not understand normal English. 'You hag, you evil hag!' she whispered, as Umbridge walked towards Pansy Parkinson. 'I know what you're doing, you awiul, twisted, vicious - '
'Erm... anyway,' said Hagrid, clearly struggling to regain the flow of his lesson,'so - Thestrals. Yeah. Well, there's loads o' good stuff abou' them | onna tell yeh how come we got a herd. Yeah, so, we started off with a male an' five females. This one,' he patted the first horse to have appeared, 'name o' Tenebrus, he's my special favourite, firs' one born here in the Forest - '
'Are you aware,' Umbridge said loudly, interrupting him, 'that the Ministry of Magic has classified Thestrals as "dangerous"?'
Harry's heart sank like a stone, but Hagrid merely chuckled. Thestrals aren' dangerous! All righ', they might take a bite outta yeh if yeh really annoy them - '
'Shows... signs... of... pleasure... at... idea... of... violence,' muttered Umbridge, scribbling on her clipboard again. 'No - come on!' said Hagrid, looking a little anxious now. 'I mean, a dog'll bite if yeh bait it, won' it - but Thestrals have jus' got a bad reputation because o' the death thing - people used ter think they were bad omens, didn' they? Jus' didn' understand, did they?'
Umbridge did not answer; she finished writing her last note, then looked up at Hagrid and said, again very loudly and slowly, 'Please continue teaching as usual. I am going to walk,' she mimed walking (Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson were having silent fits of laughter) 'among the students' (she pointed around at individual members of the class) 'and ask them questions.' She pointed at her mouth to indicate talking. Hagrid stared at her, clearly at a complete loss to understand why she was acting as though he did not understand normal English. 'You hag, you evil hag!' she whispered, as Umbridge walked towards Pansy Parkinson. 'I know what you're doing, you awiul, twisted, vicious - '
'Erm... anyway,' said Hagrid, clearly struggling to regain the flow of his lesson,'so - Thestrals. Yeah. Well, there's loads o' good stuff abou' them |
.. 'No... because... well... it sounds... like grunting a lot of the time...'
Umbridge scribbled on her clipboard. The few unbruised bits of Hagrid's face flushed, but he tried to act as though he had not heard Pansy's answer. 'Er... yeah... good stuff abou' Thestrals. Well, once they're tamed, like this lot, yeh'll never be lost again. 'Mazin' sense o' direction, jus' tell 'em where yeh want ter go - '
'Assuming they can understand you, of course,' said Malfoy loudly, and Pansy Parkinson collapsed in a fit of renewed giggles. Professor Umbridge smiled indulgently at them and then turned to Neville. 'You can see the Thestrals, Longbottom, can you?' she said. Neville nodded. 'Who did you see die?' she asked, her tone indifferent. 'My... my grandad,' said Neville. 'And what do you think of them?' she said, waving her stubby hand at the horses, who by now had stripped a great deal of the carcass down to bone. 'Erm,' said Neville nervously, with a glance at Hagrid. 'Well, they're... er... OK...'
'Students... are... too... intimidated... to... admit... they... are... frightened,' muttered Umbridge, making another note on her clipboard. 'No!' said Neville, looking upset. 'No, I'm not scared of them!'
'It's quite all right,' said Umbridge, patting Neville on the shoulder with what she evidently intended to be an understanding smile, though it looked more like a leer to Harry. 'Well, Hagrid,' she turned to look up at him again, speaking once more in that loud, slow voice, 'I think I've got enough to be getting along with. 'You see what she's up to? It's her thing about | . 'No... because... well... it sounds... like grunting a lot of the time...'
Umbridge scribbled on her clipboard. The few unbruised bits of Hagrid's face flushed, but he tried to act as though he had not heard Pansy's answer. 'Er... yeah... good stuff abou' Thestrals. Well, once they're tamed, like this lot, yeh'll never be lost again. 'Mazin' sense o' direction, jus' tell 'em where yeh want ter go - '
'Assuming they can understand you, of course,' said Malfoy loudly, and Pansy Parkinson collapsed in a fit of renewed giggles. Professor Umbridge smiled indulgently at them and then turned to Neville. 'You can see the Thestrals, Longbottom, can you?' she said. Neville nodded. 'Who did you see die?' she asked, her tone indifferent. 'My... my grandad,' said Neville. 'And what do you think of them?' she said, waving her stubby hand at the horses, who by now had stripped a great deal of the carcass down to bone. 'Erm,' said Neville nervously, with a glance at Hagrid. 'Well, they're... er... OK...'
'Students... are... too... intimidated... to... admit... they... are... frightened,' muttered Umbridge, making another note on her clipboard. 'No!' said Neville, looking upset. 'No, I'm not scared of them!'
'It's quite all right,' said Umbridge, patting Neville on the shoulder with what she evidently intended to be an understanding smile, though it looked more like a leer to Harry. 'Well, Hagrid,' she turned to look up at him again, speaking once more in that loud, slow voice, 'I think I've got enough to be getting along with. 'You see what she's up to? It's her thing about |
half-breeds all over again - she's trying to make out Hagrid's some kind of dimwitted troll, just because he had a giantess for a mother - and. oh, it's not fair, that really wasn't a bad lesson at all - I mean, all right, if it had been Blast-Ended Skrewts again, but Thestrals are fine - in fact, for Hagrid, they're really good!'
'Umbridge said they're dangerous,' said Ron. The way some people can see them and some can't! I wish I could.'
'Do you?' Harry asked her quietly. She looked suddenly horrorstruck. 'Oh, Harry - I'm sorry - no, of course I don't - that was a really stupid thing to say.'
'It's OK,' he said quickly, 'don't worry'
'I'm surprised so many people could see them,' said Ron. 'Three in a class - '
'Yeah, Weasley, we were just wondering,' said a malicious voice. Unheard by any of them in the muffling snow, Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle were walking along right behind them. 'D'you reckon if you saw someone snuff it you'd be able to see the Quaffle better?'
He, Crabbe and Goyle roared with laughter as they pushed past on their way to the castle, then broke into a chorus of 'Weasley is our King'. Ron's ears turned scarlet. *
December arrived, bringing with it more snow and a positive avalanche of homework for the fifth-years. Ron's prefect duties also became more and more onerous as Christmas approached. They were called upon to supervise the decoration of the castle ('You try putting up tinsel when Peeves has got the other end and is trying to strangle you with it,' said Ron), to watch over first- and second-years spending their break-times inside because of the bitter cold ('And they're cheeky little snot-rags, you know, we definitely weren't that rude when we were in first year, said Ron) and to patrol the corridors in sh | -breeds all over again - she's trying to make out Hagrid's some kind of dimwitted troll, just because he had a giantess for a mother - and. oh, it's not fair, that really wasn't a bad lesson at all - I mean, all right, if it had been Blast-Ended Skrewts again, but Thestrals are fine - in fact, for Hagrid, they're really good!'
'Umbridge said they're dangerous,' said Ron. The way some people can see them and some can't! I wish I could.'
'Do you?' Harry asked her quietly. She looked suddenly horrorstruck. 'Oh, Harry - I'm sorry - no, of course I don't - that was a really stupid thing to say.'
'It's OK,' he said quickly, 'don't worry'
'I'm surprised so many people could see them,' said Ron. 'Three in a class - '
'Yeah, Weasley, we were just wondering,' said a malicious voice. Unheard by any of them in the muffling snow, Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle were walking along right behind them. 'D'you reckon if you saw someone snuff it you'd be able to see the Quaffle better?'
He, Crabbe and Goyle roared with laughter as they pushed past on their way to the castle, then broke into a chorus of 'Weasley is our King'. Ron's ears turned scarlet. *
December arrived, bringing with it more snow and a positive avalanche of homework for the fifth-years. Ron's prefect duties also became more and more onerous as Christmas approached. They were called upon to supervise the decoration of the castle ('You try putting up tinsel when Peeves has got the other end and is trying to strangle you with it,' said Ron), to watch over first- and second-years spending their break-times inside because of the bitter cold ('And they're cheeky little snot-rags, you know, we definitely weren't that rude when we were in first year, said Ron) and to patrol the corridors in sh |
ifts with Argus Filch, who suspected that the holiday spirit might show itself in an outbreak of wizard duels ('He's got dung for brains, that one,' said Ron furiously). 'All those poor elves I haven't set free yet, having to stay here over Christmas because there aren't enough hats!'
Harry, who had not had the heart to tell her that Dobby was taking everything she made, bent lower over his History of Magic essay. In any case, he did not want to think about Christmas. For the first time in his school career, he very much wanted to spend the holidays away from Hogwarts. Between his Quidditch ban and worry about whether or not Hagrid was going to be put on probation, he felt highly resentful towards the place at the moment. The only thing he really looked forward to were the DA meetings, and they would have to stop over the holidays, as nearly everybody in the DA would be spending the time with their families. Ron was going home to The Burrow. Harry endured several days of envy before Ron said, in response to Harry asking him how he was going to get home for Christmas: :But you're coming too! Didn't I say? He wondered whether he could possibly persuade Mrs Weasley to invite his godfather for the festivities. Even though he doubted whether Dumbledore would permit Sirius to leave Grimmauld Place anyway, he could not help but think Mrs Weasley might not want him; they were so often at loggerheads. Sirius had not contacted Harry at all since his last appearance in the fire, and although Harry knew that with Umbridge on constant watch it would be unwise to attempt to contact him, he did not like to think of Sirius alone in his mother's old house, perhaps pulling a lonely cracker with Kreacher. Harry arrived early in the Room of Requirement for the last DA meeting before the holidays and was very glad he had, because when the torches burst into flame he saw that Dobby had taken it upon himself to decorate the place for Christmas. He could tell the elf had done it, because nobody else would have strung a hundred golden baubles from the ceiling, each showing a picture of Harry's face and bearing | with Argus Filch, who suspected that the holiday spirit might show itself in an outbreak of wizard duels ('He's got dung for brains, that one,' said Ron furiously). 'All those poor elves I haven't set free yet, having to stay here over Christmas because there aren't enough hats!'
Harry, who had not had the heart to tell her that Dobby was taking everything she made, bent lower over his History of Magic essay. In any case, he did not want to think about Christmas. For the first time in his school career, he very much wanted to spend the holidays away from Hogwarts. Between his Quidditch ban and worry about whether or not Hagrid was going to be put on probation, he felt highly resentful towards the place at the moment. The only thing he really looked forward to were the DA meetings, and they would have to stop over the holidays, as nearly everybody in the DA would be spending the time with their families. Ron was going home to The Burrow. Harry endured several days of envy before Ron said, in response to Harry asking him how he was going to get home for Christmas: :But you're coming too! Didn't I say? He wondered whether he could possibly persuade Mrs Weasley to invite his godfather for the festivities. Even though he doubted whether Dumbledore would permit Sirius to leave Grimmauld Place anyway, he could not help but think Mrs Weasley might not want him; they were so often at loggerheads. Sirius had not contacted Harry at all since his last appearance in the fire, and although Harry knew that with Umbridge on constant watch it would be unwise to attempt to contact him, he did not like to think of Sirius alone in his mother's old house, perhaps pulling a lonely cracker with Kreacher. Harry arrived early in the Room of Requirement for the last DA meeting before the holidays and was very glad he had, because when the torches burst into flame he saw that Dobby had taken it upon himself to decorate the place for Christmas. He could tell the elf had done it, because nobody else would have strung a hundred golden baubles from the ceiling, each showing a picture of Harry's face and bearing |
the legend: 'HAVE A VERY HARRY CHRISTMAS!'
Harry had only just managed to get the last of them down before the door creaked open and Luna Lovegood entered, looking as dreamy as usual. 'Hello,' she said vaguely, looking around at what remained of the decorations. These are nice, did you put them up?'
'No,' said Harry, 'it was Dobby the house-elf.'
'Mistletoe,' said Luna dreamily, pointing at a large clump of white berries placed almost over Harry's head. He jumped out from under it. 'Good thinking,' said Luna very seriously. 'It's often infested with Nargles.'
Harry was saved the necessity of asking what Nargles are by the arrival of Angelina, Katie and Alicia. All three of them were breathless and looked very cold. 'Well,' said Angelina dully, pulling off her cloak and throwing it into a corner, 'we've finally replaced you.'
'Replaced me?' said Harry blankly. You and Fred and George,' she said impatiently. 'We've got another Seeker!'
'Who?' said Harry quickly. 'Ginny Weasley,' said Katie. Harry gaped at her. 'Yeah, I know,' said Angelina, pulling out her wand and flexing her arm, 'but she's pretty good, actually. Nothing on you, of course,' she said, throwing him a very dirty look, 'but as we can't have you...'
Harry bit back the retort he was longing to utter: did she imagine for a second that he did not regret his expulsion from the team a hundred times more than she did? 'And what about the Beaters? he asked, trying to keep his voice even. 'Andrew Kirke,' said Alicia without enthusiasm, 'and Jack Sloper. Neither of them are brilliant, but compared to the rest of the idiots who turned up.. 'OK,' he said, calling them all to order. 'I thought this evening we should just go over the things we've done so far, because it's the last meeting before the holidays | legend: 'HAVE A VERY HARRY CHRISTMAS!'
Harry had only just managed to get the last of them down before the door creaked open and Luna Lovegood entered, looking as dreamy as usual. 'Hello,' she said vaguely, looking around at what remained of the decorations. These are nice, did you put them up?'
'No,' said Harry, 'it was Dobby the house-elf.'
'Mistletoe,' said Luna dreamily, pointing at a large clump of white berries placed almost over Harry's head. He jumped out from under it. 'Good thinking,' said Luna very seriously. 'It's often infested with Nargles.'
Harry was saved the necessity of asking what Nargles are by the arrival of Angelina, Katie and Alicia. All three of them were breathless and looked very cold. 'Well,' said Angelina dully, pulling off her cloak and throwing it into a corner, 'we've finally replaced you.'
'Replaced me?' said Harry blankly. You and Fred and George,' she said impatiently. 'We've got another Seeker!'
'Who?' said Harry quickly. 'Ginny Weasley,' said Katie. Harry gaped at her. 'Yeah, I know,' said Angelina, pulling out her wand and flexing her arm, 'but she's pretty good, actually. Nothing on you, of course,' she said, throwing him a very dirty look, 'but as we can't have you...'
Harry bit back the retort he was longing to utter: did she imagine for a second that he did not regret his expulsion from the team a hundred times more than she did? 'And what about the Beaters? he asked, trying to keep his voice even. 'Andrew Kirke,' said Alicia without enthusiasm, 'and Jack Sloper. Neither of them are brilliant, but compared to the rest of the idiots who turned up.. 'OK,' he said, calling them all to order. 'I thought this evening we should just go over the things we've done so far, because it's the last meeting before the holidays |
and there's no poin: starting anything new right before a three-week break - '
'We're not doing anything new?' said Zacharias Smith, in a disgruntled whisper loud enough to carry through the room. 'If I'd known that, I wouldn't have come.'
'We're all really sorry Harry didn't tell you, then,' said Fred loudly. Several people sniggered. Harry saw Cho laughing and felt the familiar swooping sensation in his stomach, as though he had missed a step going downstairs. '- we can practise in pairs,' said Harry. 'We'll start with the Impediment Jinx, for ten minutes, then we can get out the cushions and try Stunning again.'
They all divided up obediently; Harry partnered Neville as usual. The room was soon full of intermittent cries of 'Impedimenta!' People froze for a minute or so, during which their partner would stare aimlessly around the room watching other pairs at work, then would unfreeze and take their turn at the jinx. Neville had improved beyond all recognition. After a while, when Harry had unfrozen three times in a row, he had Neville join Ron again so that he could walk around the room and watch the others. When he passed Cho she beamed at him; he resisted the temptation to walk past her several more times. After ten minutes on the Impediment Jinx, they laid out cushions all over the floor and started practising Stunning again. Space was really too confined to allow them all to work this spell at once; half the group observed the others for a while, then swapped over. Harry felt himself positively swelling with pride as he watched them all. True, Neville did Stun Padma Patil rather than Dean, at whom he had been aiming, but it was a much closer miss than usual, and everybody else had made enormous progress. At the end of an hour, Harry called a halt. 'You're getting really good,' he said, beaming around at them. 'When we get back from the holidays we can start doing some of the big stuff - maybe even Patronuses.'
There was a murmur of excitement. The room began to clear | there's no poin: starting anything new right before a three-week break - '
'We're not doing anything new?' said Zacharias Smith, in a disgruntled whisper loud enough to carry through the room. 'If I'd known that, I wouldn't have come.'
'We're all really sorry Harry didn't tell you, then,' said Fred loudly. Several people sniggered. Harry saw Cho laughing and felt the familiar swooping sensation in his stomach, as though he had missed a step going downstairs. '- we can practise in pairs,' said Harry. 'We'll start with the Impediment Jinx, for ten minutes, then we can get out the cushions and try Stunning again.'
They all divided up obediently; Harry partnered Neville as usual. The room was soon full of intermittent cries of 'Impedimenta!' People froze for a minute or so, during which their partner would stare aimlessly around the room watching other pairs at work, then would unfreeze and take their turn at the jinx. Neville had improved beyond all recognition. After a while, when Harry had unfrozen three times in a row, he had Neville join Ron again so that he could walk around the room and watch the others. When he passed Cho she beamed at him; he resisted the temptation to walk past her several more times. After ten minutes on the Impediment Jinx, they laid out cushions all over the floor and started practising Stunning again. Space was really too confined to allow them all to work this spell at once; half the group observed the others for a while, then swapped over. Harry felt himself positively swelling with pride as he watched them all. True, Neville did Stun Padma Patil rather than Dean, at whom he had been aiming, but it was a much closer miss than usual, and everybody else had made enormous progress. At the end of an hour, Harry called a halt. 'You're getting really good,' he said, beaming around at them. 'When we get back from the holidays we can start doing some of the big stuff - maybe even Patronuses.'
There was a murmur of excitement. The room began to clear |
in the usual twos and threes; most people wished Harry a 'Happy Christmas' as they went. Feeling cheerful, he collected up the cushions with Ron and stacked them neatly away. Ron left before he did; he hung back a little, because Cho was still there and he was hoping to receive a 'Merry Christmas' from her. 'No, you go on,' he heard her say to her friend Marietta and his heart gave a jolt that seemed to take it into the region of his Adam's apple. He pretended to be straightening the cushion pile. He was quite sure they were alone now and waited for her to speak. Instead, he heard a hearty sniff. He turned and saw Cho standing in the middle of the room, tears pouring down her face. 'Wha-?'
He didn't know what to do. She was simply standing there, crying silently. 'What's up?' he said, feebly. She shook her head and wiped her eyes on her sleeve. 'I'm - sorry,' she said thickly. 'I suppose... it's just... learning all this stuff... it just makes me... wonder whether... if he'd known it all... he'd still be alive.'
Harry's heart sank right back past its usual spot and settled somewhere around his navel. He ought to have known. She wanted to talk about Cedric. 'He did know this stuff,' Harry said heavily. 'He was really good a': it, or he could never have got to the middle of that maze. But if Voldemort really wants to kill you, you don't stand a chance.'
She hiccoughed at the sound of Voldemort's name, but stared at Harry without flinching. 'You survived when you were just a baby,' she said quietly. 'Yeah, well,' said Harry wearily, moving towards the door, 'I dunno why, nor does anyone else, so it's nothing to be proud of.'
'Oh, don't go!' said Cho, sounding tearful again. 'I'm really sorry to get all upset like this... I | the usual twos and threes; most people wished Harry a 'Happy Christmas' as they went. Feeling cheerful, he collected up the cushions with Ron and stacked them neatly away. Ron left before he did; he hung back a little, because Cho was still there and he was hoping to receive a 'Merry Christmas' from her. 'No, you go on,' he heard her say to her friend Marietta and his heart gave a jolt that seemed to take it into the region of his Adam's apple. He pretended to be straightening the cushion pile. He was quite sure they were alone now and waited for her to speak. Instead, he heard a hearty sniff. He turned and saw Cho standing in the middle of the room, tears pouring down her face. 'Wha-?'
He didn't know what to do. She was simply standing there, crying silently. 'What's up?' he said, feebly. She shook her head and wiped her eyes on her sleeve. 'I'm - sorry,' she said thickly. 'I suppose... it's just... learning all this stuff... it just makes me... wonder whether... if he'd known it all... he'd still be alive.'
Harry's heart sank right back past its usual spot and settled somewhere around his navel. He ought to have known. She wanted to talk about Cedric. 'He did know this stuff,' Harry said heavily. 'He was really good a': it, or he could never have got to the middle of that maze. But if Voldemort really wants to kill you, you don't stand a chance.'
She hiccoughed at the sound of Voldemort's name, but stared at Harry without flinching. 'You survived when you were just a baby,' she said quietly. 'Yeah, well,' said Harry wearily, moving towards the door, 'I dunno why, nor does anyone else, so it's nothing to be proud of.'
'Oh, don't go!' said Cho, sounding tearful again. 'I'm really sorry to get all upset like this... I |
didn't mean to...'
She hiccoughed again. She was very pretty even when her eyes were red and puffy. Harry felt thoroughly miserable. He'd have been so pleased with just a 'Merry Christmas'. 'I know it must be horrible for you,' she said, mopping her eyes on her sleeve again. 'Me mentioning Cedric, when you saw him die... I suppose you just want to forget about it?'
Harry did not say anything to this; it was quite true, but he felt heartless saying it. 'You're a r-really good teacher, you know,' said Cho, with a watery smile. 'I've never been able to Stun anything before.'
'Thanks,' said Harry awkwardly. They looked at each other for a long moment. Harry felt a burning desire to run from the room and, at the same time, a complete inability to move his feet. 'Mistletoe,' said Cho quietly, pointing at the ceiling over his head. 'Yeah,' said Harry. His mouth was very dry. 'It's probably full of Nargles, though.'
'What are Nargles?'
'No idea,' said Harry. She had moved closer. His brain seemed to have been Stunned. 'You'd have to ask Loony. Luna, I mean.'
Cho made a funny noise halfway between a sob and a laugh. She was even nearer to him now. He could have counted the freckles on her nose. 'I really like you, Harry.'
He could not think. A tingling sensation was spreading through him, paralysing his arms, legs and brain. She was much too close. He could see every tear clinging to her eyelashes... *
He returned to the common room half an hour later to find Ron in the best seats by the fire; nearly everybody else had gone to bed. Ron was lying on the hearthrug, trying to finish his Transfiguration homework. Harry didn't answer. He was in a state of shock. Half of him wanted to tell Ron what had just happened, but the other half wanted to take the secret with him to the grave. Harry gave | 't mean to...'
She hiccoughed again. She was very pretty even when her eyes were red and puffy. Harry felt thoroughly miserable. He'd have been so pleased with just a 'Merry Christmas'. 'I know it must be horrible for you,' she said, mopping her eyes on her sleeve again. 'Me mentioning Cedric, when you saw him die... I suppose you just want to forget about it?'
Harry did not say anything to this; it was quite true, but he felt heartless saying it. 'You're a r-really good teacher, you know,' said Cho, with a watery smile. 'I've never been able to Stun anything before.'
'Thanks,' said Harry awkwardly. They looked at each other for a long moment. Harry felt a burning desire to run from the room and, at the same time, a complete inability to move his feet. 'Mistletoe,' said Cho quietly, pointing at the ceiling over his head. 'Yeah,' said Harry. His mouth was very dry. 'It's probably full of Nargles, though.'
'What are Nargles?'
'No idea,' said Harry. She had moved closer. His brain seemed to have been Stunned. 'You'd have to ask Loony. Luna, I mean.'
Cho made a funny noise halfway between a sob and a laugh. She was even nearer to him now. He could have counted the freckles on her nose. 'I really like you, Harry.'
He could not think. A tingling sensation was spreading through him, paralysing his arms, legs and brain. She was much too close. He could see every tear clinging to her eyelashes... *
He returned to the common room half an hour later to find Ron in the best seats by the fire; nearly everybody else had gone to bed. Ron was lying on the hearthrug, trying to finish his Transfiguration homework. Harry didn't answer. He was in a state of shock. Half of him wanted to tell Ron what had just happened, but the other half wanted to take the secret with him to the grave. Harry gave |
a half-hearted shrug. In truth, he didn't know whether he was all right or not. 'What's up?' said Ron, hoisting himself up on his elbow to get a clearer view of Harry. What's happened?'
Harry didn't quite know how to set about telling them, and still wasn't sure whether he wanted to. 'Is it Cho?' she asked in a businesslike way. 'Did she corner you after the meeting?'
Numbly surprised, Harry nodded. 'So - er - what did she want?' he asked in a mock casual voice. 'She -'Harry began, rather hoarsely, he cleared his throat and tried again. Ron sat up so fast he sent his ink bottle flying all over the rug. Disregarding this completely, he stared avidly at Harry. 'Well?' he demanded. 'HA!'
Ron made a triumphant gesture with his fist and went into a raucous peal of laughter that made several timid-looking second-years over beside the window jump. A reluctant grin spread over Harry's face as he watched Ron rolling around on the hearthrug. 'Well?' Ron said finally, looking up at Harry. 'How was it?'
Harry considered for a moment. 'Wet,' he said truthfully. Ron made a noise that might have indicated jubilation or disgust, it was hard to tell. 'Because she was crying,' Harry continued heavily. 'Oh,' said Ron, his smile fading slightly. 'Are you that bad at kissing?'
'Dunno,' said Harry, who hadn't considered this, and immediately felt rather worried. 'How do you know?' said Ron very sharply. 'She does it at mealtimes, in the loos, all over the place.'
'You'd think a bit of kissing would cheer her up,' said Ron, grinning. 'Don't you understand how Cho's feeling at the moment?' she asked. 'No,' said Harry and Ron together. 'Well, obviously, she's feeling very sad, because of Cedric dying. Then I expect she's feeling confused because she liked Cedric and now she likes Harry, and she | half-hearted shrug. In truth, he didn't know whether he was all right or not. 'What's up?' said Ron, hoisting himself up on his elbow to get a clearer view of Harry. What's happened?'
Harry didn't quite know how to set about telling them, and still wasn't sure whether he wanted to. 'Is it Cho?' she asked in a businesslike way. 'Did she corner you after the meeting?'
Numbly surprised, Harry nodded. 'So - er - what did she want?' he asked in a mock casual voice. 'She -'Harry began, rather hoarsely, he cleared his throat and tried again. Ron sat up so fast he sent his ink bottle flying all over the rug. Disregarding this completely, he stared avidly at Harry. 'Well?' he demanded. 'HA!'
Ron made a triumphant gesture with his fist and went into a raucous peal of laughter that made several timid-looking second-years over beside the window jump. A reluctant grin spread over Harry's face as he watched Ron rolling around on the hearthrug. 'Well?' Ron said finally, looking up at Harry. 'How was it?'
Harry considered for a moment. 'Wet,' he said truthfully. Ron made a noise that might have indicated jubilation or disgust, it was hard to tell. 'Because she was crying,' Harry continued heavily. 'Oh,' said Ron, his smile fading slightly. 'Are you that bad at kissing?'
'Dunno,' said Harry, who hadn't considered this, and immediately felt rather worried. 'How do you know?' said Ron very sharply. 'She does it at mealtimes, in the loos, all over the place.'
'You'd think a bit of kissing would cheer her up,' said Ron, grinning. 'Don't you understand how Cho's feeling at the moment?' she asked. 'No,' said Harry and Ron together. 'Well, obviously, she's feeling very sad, because of Cedric dying. Then I expect she's feeling confused because she liked Cedric and now she likes Harry, and she |
can't work out who she likes best. Then she'll be feeling guilty, thinking it's an insult to Cedric's memory to be kissing Harry at all, and she'll be worrying about what everyone else might say about her if she starts going out with Harry. And she probably can't work out what her feelings towards Harry are, anyway, because he was the one who was with Cedric when Cedric died, so that's all very mixed up and painful. 'She was the one who started it,' said Harry. 'I wouldn't've - she just sort of came at me - and next thing she's crying all over me - I didn't know what to do - '
'Don't blame you, mate,' said Ron, looking alarmed at the very thought. 'Well, I suppose it could have been worse,' she said. 'Are you going to see her again?'
'I'll have to, won't I?' said Harry. Harry said nothing. He tried to imagine going somewhere with Cho - Hogsmeade, perhaps - and being alone with her for hours at a time. Of course, she would have been expecting him to ask her out after what had just happened... the thought made his stomach clench painfully. Yes, he had liked Cho for ages, but whenever he had imagined a scene involving the two of them it had always featured a Cho who was enjoying herself, as opposed to a Cho who was sobbing uncontrollably into his shoulder. 'Viktor.'
'Krum?'
'How many other Viktors do we know?'
Ron said nothing, but looked disgruntled. But the fire merely crackled lower and lower, until the red-hot embers crumbled into ash and, looking around, Harry saw that they were, yet again, the last ones in the common room. 'What does she see in Krum?' Ron demanded, as he and Harry climbed the boys' stairs. 'Well,' said Harry, considering the matter, 'I s'pose he's older, isn't he... and he's an international Quidditch player...'
'Yeah, but apart from that,' said Ron, sounding aggrav | 't work out who she likes best. Then she'll be feeling guilty, thinking it's an insult to Cedric's memory to be kissing Harry at all, and she'll be worrying about what everyone else might say about her if she starts going out with Harry. And she probably can't work out what her feelings towards Harry are, anyway, because he was the one who was with Cedric when Cedric died, so that's all very mixed up and painful. 'She was the one who started it,' said Harry. 'I wouldn't've - she just sort of came at me - and next thing she's crying all over me - I didn't know what to do - '
'Don't blame you, mate,' said Ron, looking alarmed at the very thought. 'Well, I suppose it could have been worse,' she said. 'Are you going to see her again?'
'I'll have to, won't I?' said Harry. Harry said nothing. He tried to imagine going somewhere with Cho - Hogsmeade, perhaps - and being alone with her for hours at a time. Of course, she would have been expecting him to ask her out after what had just happened... the thought made his stomach clench painfully. Yes, he had liked Cho for ages, but whenever he had imagined a scene involving the two of them it had always featured a Cho who was enjoying herself, as opposed to a Cho who was sobbing uncontrollably into his shoulder. 'Viktor.'
'Krum?'
'How many other Viktors do we know?'
Ron said nothing, but looked disgruntled. But the fire merely crackled lower and lower, until the red-hot embers crumbled into ash and, looking around, Harry saw that they were, yet again, the last ones in the common room. 'What does she see in Krum?' Ron demanded, as he and Harry climbed the boys' stairs. 'Well,' said Harry, considering the matter, 'I s'pose he's older, isn't he... and he's an international Quidditch player...'
'Yeah, but apart from that,' said Ron, sounding aggrav |
ated. 'I mean, he's a grouchy git, isn't he?'
'Bit grouchy, yeah,' said Harry, whose thoughts were still on Cho. They pulled off their robes and put on pyjamas in silence; Dean, Seamus and Neville were already asleep. Harry put his glasses on his bedside table and got into bed but did not pull the hangings closed around his four-poster; instead, he stared at the patch of starry sky visible through the window next to Neville's bed. If he had known, this time last night, that in twenty-four hours' time he would have kissed Cho Chang... 'Night,' grunted Ron, from somewhere to his right. 'Night,' said Harry. Maybe next time... if there was a next time... she'd be a bit happier. He ought to have asked her out; she had probably been expecting it and was now really angry with him... or was she lying in bed, still crying about Cedric? He did not know what to think. That's what they should teach us here, he thought, turning over on to his side, how girls' brains work... it'd be more useful than Divination, anyway... Neville snuffled in his sleep. An owl hooted somewhere out in the night. Harry dreamed he was back in the DA room. Cho was accusing him of luring her there under false pretences; she said he had promised her a hundred and fifty Chocolate Frog Cards if she showed up. Harry protested... Cho shouted, 'Cedric gave me loads of Chocolate Frog Cards, look!' And she pulled out fistfuls of Cards from inside her robes and threw them into the air... I think you'd better give her something else instead... how about your Firebolt?' And Harry was protesting that he could not give Cho his Firebolt, because Umbridge had it, and anyway the whole thing w;3s ridiculous, he'd only come to the DA room to put up some Christmas baubles shaped like Dobby's head... The dream changed... His body felt smooth | . 'I mean, he's a grouchy git, isn't he?'
'Bit grouchy, yeah,' said Harry, whose thoughts were still on Cho. They pulled off their robes and put on pyjamas in silence; Dean, Seamus and Neville were already asleep. Harry put his glasses on his bedside table and got into bed but did not pull the hangings closed around his four-poster; instead, he stared at the patch of starry sky visible through the window next to Neville's bed. If he had known, this time last night, that in twenty-four hours' time he would have kissed Cho Chang... 'Night,' grunted Ron, from somewhere to his right. 'Night,' said Harry. Maybe next time... if there was a next time... she'd be a bit happier. He ought to have asked her out; she had probably been expecting it and was now really angry with him... or was she lying in bed, still crying about Cedric? He did not know what to think. That's what they should teach us here, he thought, turning over on to his side, how girls' brains work... it'd be more useful than Divination, anyway... Neville snuffled in his sleep. An owl hooted somewhere out in the night. Harry dreamed he was back in the DA room. Cho was accusing him of luring her there under false pretences; she said he had promised her a hundred and fifty Chocolate Frog Cards if she showed up. Harry protested... Cho shouted, 'Cedric gave me loads of Chocolate Frog Cards, look!' And she pulled out fistfuls of Cards from inside her robes and threw them into the air... I think you'd better give her something else instead... how about your Firebolt?' And Harry was protesting that he could not give Cho his Firebolt, because Umbridge had it, and anyway the whole thing w;3s ridiculous, he'd only come to the DA room to put up some Christmas baubles shaped like Dobby's head... The dream changed... His body felt smooth |
, powerful and flexible. He was gliding between shining metal bars, across dark, cold stone... he was flat against the floor, sliding along on his belly... it was dark, yet he could see objects around him shimmering in strange, vibrant colours... he was turning his head... at first glance the corridor was empty... but no... a man was sitting on the floor ahead, his chin drooping on to his chest, his outline gleaming in the dark... Harry put out his tongue... he tasted the man's scent on the air... he was alive but drowsy... sitting in front of a door at the end of the corridor.. Harry longed to bite the man... but he must master the impulse... he had more important work to do... But the man was stirring... a silver Cloak fell from his legs as he jumped to his feet; and Harry saw his vibrant, blurred outline towering above him, saw a wand withdrawn from a belt... he had no choice... he reared high from the floor and struck once, twice, three times, plunging his fangs deeply into the mans flesh, feeling his ribs splinter beneath his jaws, feeling the warm gush of blood... The man was yelling in pain... then he fell silent... he slumped backwards against the wall... blood was splattering on to the floor... His forehead hurt terribly... it was aching fit to burst... 'Harry! HARRY!'
He opened his eyes. Every inch of his body was covered in icy sweat; his bed covers were twisted all around him like a strait-jacket; he felt as though a white-hot poker were being applied to his forehead. 'Harry!'
Ron was standing over him looking extremely frightened. There were more figures at the foot of Harry's bed. He clutched his head in his hands; the pain was blinding him... he rolled right over and vomited over the edge of the mattress. 'He's really | powerful and flexible. He was gliding between shining metal bars, across dark, cold stone... he was flat against the floor, sliding along on his belly... it was dark, yet he could see objects around him shimmering in strange, vibrant colours... he was turning his head... at first glance the corridor was empty... but no... a man was sitting on the floor ahead, his chin drooping on to his chest, his outline gleaming in the dark... Harry put out his tongue... he tasted the man's scent on the air... he was alive but drowsy... sitting in front of a door at the end of the corridor.. Harry longed to bite the man... but he must master the impulse... he had more important work to do... But the man was stirring... a silver Cloak fell from his legs as he jumped to his feet; and Harry saw his vibrant, blurred outline towering above him, saw a wand withdrawn from a belt... he had no choice... he reared high from the floor and struck once, twice, three times, plunging his fangs deeply into the mans flesh, feeling his ribs splinter beneath his jaws, feeling the warm gush of blood... The man was yelling in pain... then he fell silent... he slumped backwards against the wall... blood was splattering on to the floor... His forehead hurt terribly... it was aching fit to burst... 'Harry! HARRY!'
He opened his eyes. Every inch of his body was covered in icy sweat; his bed covers were twisted all around him like a strait-jacket; he felt as though a white-hot poker were being applied to his forehead. 'Harry!'
Ron was standing over him looking extremely frightened. There were more figures at the foot of Harry's bed. He clutched his head in his hands; the pain was blinding him... he rolled right over and vomited over the edge of the mattress. 'He's really |
ill,' said a scared voice. 'Should we call someone?'
'Harry! Harry!'
He had to tell Ron, it was very important that he tell him... taking great gulps of air, Harry pushed himself up in bed, willing himself not to throw up again, the pain half-blinding him. 'Your dad,' he panted, his chest heaving. 'Your dad's... been attacked...'
'What?' said Ron uncomprehendingly. 'Your dad! He's been bitten, it's serious, there was blood everywhere...'
'I'm going for help,' said the same scared voice, and Harry heard footsteps running out of the dormitory. 'Harry, mate,' said Ron uncertainly, 'you... you were just dreaming
'No!' said Harry furiously; it was crucial that Ron understand. 'It wasn't a dream... not an ordinary dream... I was there, I saw it... I did it...'
He could hear Seamus and Dean muttering but did not care. The pain in his forehead was subsiding slightly, though he was still sweating and shivering feverishly. He retched again and Ron leapt backwards out of the way. 'Harry, you're not well,' he said shakily. 'Neville's gone for help.'
'I'm fine!' Harry choked, wiping his mouth on his pyjamas and shaking uncontrollably. There's nothing wrong with me, it's your dad you've got to worry about - we need to find out where he is - he's bleeding like mad - I was - it was a huge snake.'
He tried to get out of bed but Ron pushed him back into it; Dean and Seamus were still whispering somewhere nearby. Whether one minute passed or ten, Harry did not know; he simply sat there shaking, feeling the pain recede very slowly from his scar... then there were hurried footsteps coming up the stairs and he heard Neville's voice again. 'Over here, Professor.'
Professor McGonagall came hurry | ,' said a scared voice. 'Should we call someone?'
'Harry! Harry!'
He had to tell Ron, it was very important that he tell him... taking great gulps of air, Harry pushed himself up in bed, willing himself not to throw up again, the pain half-blinding him. 'Your dad,' he panted, his chest heaving. 'Your dad's... been attacked...'
'What?' said Ron uncomprehendingly. 'Your dad! He's been bitten, it's serious, there was blood everywhere...'
'I'm going for help,' said the same scared voice, and Harry heard footsteps running out of the dormitory. 'Harry, mate,' said Ron uncertainly, 'you... you were just dreaming
'No!' said Harry furiously; it was crucial that Ron understand. 'It wasn't a dream... not an ordinary dream... I was there, I saw it... I did it...'
He could hear Seamus and Dean muttering but did not care. The pain in his forehead was subsiding slightly, though he was still sweating and shivering feverishly. He retched again and Ron leapt backwards out of the way. 'Harry, you're not well,' he said shakily. 'Neville's gone for help.'
'I'm fine!' Harry choked, wiping his mouth on his pyjamas and shaking uncontrollably. There's nothing wrong with me, it's your dad you've got to worry about - we need to find out where he is - he's bleeding like mad - I was - it was a huge snake.'
He tried to get out of bed but Ron pushed him back into it; Dean and Seamus were still whispering somewhere nearby. Whether one minute passed or ten, Harry did not know; he simply sat there shaking, feeling the pain recede very slowly from his scar... then there were hurried footsteps coming up the stairs and he heard Neville's voice again. 'Over here, Professor.'
Professor McGonagall came hurry |
ing into the dormitory in her tartan dressing gown, her glasses perched lopsidedly on the bridge of her bony nose. 'What is it, Potter? Where does it hurt?'
He had never been so pleased to see her; it was a member of the Order of the Phoenix he needed now, not someone fussing over him and prescribing useless potions. 'It's Ron's dad,' he said, sitting up again. 'He's been attacked by a snake and it's serious, I saw it happen.'
'What do you mean, you saw it happen?' said Professor McGonagall, her dark eyebrows contracting. 'I don't know... I was asleep and then I was there...'
'You mean you dreamed this?'
'No!' said Harry angrily; would none of them understand? 'I was having a dream at first about something completely different, something stupid... and then this interrupted it. It was real, I didn't imagine it. Mr Weasley was asleep on the floor and he was attacked by a gigantic snake, there was a load of blood, he collapsed, someone's got to find out where he is...'
Professor McGonagall was gazing at him through her lopsided spectacles as though horrified at what she was seeing. 'I'm not lying and I'm not mad!' Harry told her, his voice rising to a shout. 'I tell you, I saw it happen!'
'I believe you, Potter,' said Professor McGonagall curtly. 'Put on your dressing gown - we're going to see the Headmaster.'
- CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO -
St Mungo's Hosptial
for Magical Maladies
and Injuries
Harry was so relieved she was taking him seriously that he did not hesitate, hut jumped out of bed at once, pulled on his dressing gown and pushed his glasses back on to his nose. 'Weasley, you ought to come too,' said Professor McGonagall. They followed Professor McGonagall past the silent figures of Neville, Dean and Seamus | into the dormitory in her tartan dressing gown, her glasses perched lopsidedly on the bridge of her bony nose. 'What is it, Potter? Where does it hurt?'
He had never been so pleased to see her; it was a member of the Order of the Phoenix he needed now, not someone fussing over him and prescribing useless potions. 'It's Ron's dad,' he said, sitting up again. 'He's been attacked by a snake and it's serious, I saw it happen.'
'What do you mean, you saw it happen?' said Professor McGonagall, her dark eyebrows contracting. 'I don't know... I was asleep and then I was there...'
'You mean you dreamed this?'
'No!' said Harry angrily; would none of them understand? 'I was having a dream at first about something completely different, something stupid... and then this interrupted it. It was real, I didn't imagine it. Mr Weasley was asleep on the floor and he was attacked by a gigantic snake, there was a load of blood, he collapsed, someone's got to find out where he is...'
Professor McGonagall was gazing at him through her lopsided spectacles as though horrified at what she was seeing. 'I'm not lying and I'm not mad!' Harry told her, his voice rising to a shout. 'I tell you, I saw it happen!'
'I believe you, Potter,' said Professor McGonagall curtly. 'Put on your dressing gown - we're going to see the Headmaster.'
- CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO -
St Mungo's Hosptial
for Magical Maladies
and Injuries
Harry was so relieved she was taking him seriously that he did not hesitate, hut jumped out of bed at once, pulled on his dressing gown and pushed his glasses back on to his nose. 'Weasley, you ought to come too,' said Professor McGonagall. They followed Professor McGonagall past the silent figures of Neville, Dean and Seamus |
, out of the dormitory down the spiral stairs into the common room, through the portrait hole and off along the Fat Lady's moonlit corridor. Harry felt as though the panic inside him might spill over at any moment; he wanted to run, to yell for Dumbledore; Mr Weasley was bleeding as they walked along so sedately and what if those fangs (Harry tried hard not to think'my fangs') had been poisonous? They passed Mrs Norris, who turned her lamplike eyes upon them and hissed faintly but Professor McGonagall said, 'Shoo!' Mrs Norris slunk away into the shadows, and in a few minutes they had reached the stone gargoyle guarding the entrance to Dumbledore s office. 'Fizzing Whizzbee,' said Professor McGonagall. The gargoyle sprang to life and leapt aside; the wall behind it split in two to reveal a stone staircase that was moving continually upwards like a spiral escalator. The three of them stepped on to the moving stairs; the wall closed behind them with a thud and they were moving upwards in tight circles until they reached the highly polished oak door with the brass knocker shaped like a griffin. Though it was now well past midnight there were voices coming
from inside the room, a positive babble of them. It sounded as though Dumbledore was entertaining at least a dozen people. Professor McGonagall rapped three times with the griffin knocker and the voices ceased abruptly as though someone had switched them all off. The door opened of its own accord and Professor McGonagall led Harry and Ron inside. The room was in half-darkness; the strange silver instruments standing on tables were silent and still rather than whirring and emitting puffs of smoke as they usually did; the portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses covering the walls were all snoozing in their frames. Behind the door, a magnificent red and gold bird the size of a swan dozed on its perch with its head under its wing. 'Oh, it's you, Professor McGonagall... and... ah.'
Dumbledore was sitting | out of the dormitory down the spiral stairs into the common room, through the portrait hole and off along the Fat Lady's moonlit corridor. Harry felt as though the panic inside him might spill over at any moment; he wanted to run, to yell for Dumbledore; Mr Weasley was bleeding as they walked along so sedately and what if those fangs (Harry tried hard not to think'my fangs') had been poisonous? They passed Mrs Norris, who turned her lamplike eyes upon them and hissed faintly but Professor McGonagall said, 'Shoo!' Mrs Norris slunk away into the shadows, and in a few minutes they had reached the stone gargoyle guarding the entrance to Dumbledore s office. 'Fizzing Whizzbee,' said Professor McGonagall. The gargoyle sprang to life and leapt aside; the wall behind it split in two to reveal a stone staircase that was moving continually upwards like a spiral escalator. The three of them stepped on to the moving stairs; the wall closed behind them with a thud and they were moving upwards in tight circles until they reached the highly polished oak door with the brass knocker shaped like a griffin. Though it was now well past midnight there were voices coming
from inside the room, a positive babble of them. It sounded as though Dumbledore was entertaining at least a dozen people. Professor McGonagall rapped three times with the griffin knocker and the voices ceased abruptly as though someone had switched them all off. The door opened of its own accord and Professor McGonagall led Harry and Ron inside. The room was in half-darkness; the strange silver instruments standing on tables were silent and still rather than whirring and emitting puffs of smoke as they usually did; the portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses covering the walls were all snoozing in their frames. Behind the door, a magnificent red and gold bird the size of a swan dozed on its perch with its head under its wing. 'Oh, it's you, Professor McGonagall... and... ah.'
Dumbledore was sitting |
in a high-backed chair behind his desk; he leaned forward into the pool of candlelight illuminating the papers laid out before him. He was wearing a magnificently embroidered purple and gold dressing gown over a snowy white nightshirt, but seemed wide-awake, his penetrating light blue eyes fixed intently upon Professor McGonagall. 'Professor Dumbledore, Potter has had a... well, a nightmare,' said Professor McGonagall. 'He says...'
'It wasn't a nightmare,' said Harry quickly. Professor McGonagall looked round at Harry, frowning slightly. 'Very well, then, Potter, you tell the Headmaster about it.'
'I... well, I was asleep...' said Harry and, even in his terror and his desperation to make Dumbledore understand, he felt slightly irritated that the Headmaster was not looking at him, but examining his own interlocked fingers. 'But it wasn't an ordinary dream... it was real... I saw it happen...' He took a deep breath, 'Ron's dad - Mr Weasley - has been attacked by a giant snake.'
The words seemed to reverberate in the air after he had said them, sounding slightly ridiculous, even comic. There was a pause in which Dumbledore leaned back and stared meditatively at the ceiling. Ron looked from Harry to Dumbledore, white-faced and shocked. 'How did you see this?' Dumbledore asked quietly, still not looking at Harry. 'Well... I don't know,' said Harry, rather angrily - what did it matter? 'Inside my head, I suppose - '
'You misunderstand me,' said Dumbledore, still in the same calm tone. 'I mean... can you remember - er - where you were positioned as you watched this attack happen? Were you perhaps standing beside the victim, or else looking down on the scene from above?'
This was such a curious question that Harry gaped at Dumbledore; it was almost as though he knew... 'I was the snake,' he | a high-backed chair behind his desk; he leaned forward into the pool of candlelight illuminating the papers laid out before him. He was wearing a magnificently embroidered purple and gold dressing gown over a snowy white nightshirt, but seemed wide-awake, his penetrating light blue eyes fixed intently upon Professor McGonagall. 'Professor Dumbledore, Potter has had a... well, a nightmare,' said Professor McGonagall. 'He says...'
'It wasn't a nightmare,' said Harry quickly. Professor McGonagall looked round at Harry, frowning slightly. 'Very well, then, Potter, you tell the Headmaster about it.'
'I... well, I was asleep...' said Harry and, even in his terror and his desperation to make Dumbledore understand, he felt slightly irritated that the Headmaster was not looking at him, but examining his own interlocked fingers. 'But it wasn't an ordinary dream... it was real... I saw it happen...' He took a deep breath, 'Ron's dad - Mr Weasley - has been attacked by a giant snake.'
The words seemed to reverberate in the air after he had said them, sounding slightly ridiculous, even comic. There was a pause in which Dumbledore leaned back and stared meditatively at the ceiling. Ron looked from Harry to Dumbledore, white-faced and shocked. 'How did you see this?' Dumbledore asked quietly, still not looking at Harry. 'Well... I don't know,' said Harry, rather angrily - what did it matter? 'Inside my head, I suppose - '
'You misunderstand me,' said Dumbledore, still in the same calm tone. 'I mean... can you remember - er - where you were positioned as you watched this attack happen? Were you perhaps standing beside the victim, or else looking down on the scene from above?'
This was such a curious question that Harry gaped at Dumbledore; it was almost as though he knew... 'I was the snake,' he |
said. 'I saw it all from the snake's point of view.'
Nobody else spoke for a moment, then Dumbledore, now looking at Ron who was still whey-faced, asked in a new and sharper voice, 'Is Arthur seriously injured?'
'Yes,' said Harry emphatically - why were they all so slow on the uptake, did they not realise how much a person bled when fangs that long pierced their side? And why could Dumbledore not do him the courtesy of looking at him? But Dumbledore stood up, so quickly it made Harry jump, and addressed one of the old portraits hanging very near the ceiling. 'Everard?' he said sharply. 'And you too, Dilys!'
A sallow-faced wizard with a short black fringe and an elderly witch with long silver ringlets in the frame beside him, both of whom seemed to have been in the deepest of sleeps, opened their eyes immediately. 'You were listening?' said Dumbledore. The wizard nodded; the witch said, 'Naturally.'
The man has red hair and glasses,' said Dumbledore. 'Everard, you will need to raise the alarm, make sure he is found by the right people - '
Both nodded and moved sideways out of their frames, but instead of emerging in neighbouring pictures (as usually happened at Hogwarts) neither reappeared. One frame now contained nothing but a backdrop of dark curtain, the other a handsome leather arm-el" air. Harry noticed that many of the other headmasters and mistresses on the walls, though snoring and drooling most convincingly, kept sneaking peeks at him from under their eyelids, and he suddenly understood who had been talking when they had knocked. 'Everard and Dilys were two of Hogwartss most celebrated Heads,' Dumbledore said, now sweeping around Harry, Ron and Professor McGonagall to approach the magnificent sleeping bird on his perch beside the door. 'Their renown is such that both have portraits hanging in other important wizarding institutions. As they are free to move between their own portraits, they can tell | . 'I saw it all from the snake's point of view.'
Nobody else spoke for a moment, then Dumbledore, now looking at Ron who was still whey-faced, asked in a new and sharper voice, 'Is Arthur seriously injured?'
'Yes,' said Harry emphatically - why were they all so slow on the uptake, did they not realise how much a person bled when fangs that long pierced their side? And why could Dumbledore not do him the courtesy of looking at him? But Dumbledore stood up, so quickly it made Harry jump, and addressed one of the old portraits hanging very near the ceiling. 'Everard?' he said sharply. 'And you too, Dilys!'
A sallow-faced wizard with a short black fringe and an elderly witch with long silver ringlets in the frame beside him, both of whom seemed to have been in the deepest of sleeps, opened their eyes immediately. 'You were listening?' said Dumbledore. The wizard nodded; the witch said, 'Naturally.'
The man has red hair and glasses,' said Dumbledore. 'Everard, you will need to raise the alarm, make sure he is found by the right people - '
Both nodded and moved sideways out of their frames, but instead of emerging in neighbouring pictures (as usually happened at Hogwarts) neither reappeared. One frame now contained nothing but a backdrop of dark curtain, the other a handsome leather arm-el" air. Harry noticed that many of the other headmasters and mistresses on the walls, though snoring and drooling most convincingly, kept sneaking peeks at him from under their eyelids, and he suddenly understood who had been talking when they had knocked. 'Everard and Dilys were two of Hogwartss most celebrated Heads,' Dumbledore said, now sweeping around Harry, Ron and Professor McGonagall to approach the magnificent sleeping bird on his perch beside the door. 'Their renown is such that both have portraits hanging in other important wizarding institutions. As they are free to move between their own portraits, they can tell |
us what may be happening elsewhere...'
'But Mr Weasley could be anywhere!' said Harry. 'Please sit down, all three of you,' said Dumbledore, as though Harry had not spoken, 'Everard and Dilys may not be back for several minutes. Professor McGonagall, if you could draw up extra chairs.'
Professor McGonagall pulled her wand from the pocket of her dressing gown and waved it; three chairs appeared out of thin air, straight-backed and wooden, quite unlike the comfortable chintz armchairs that Dumbledore had conjured up at Harry's hearing. Harry sat down, watching Dumbledore over his shoulder. Dumbledore was now stroking Fawkes's plumed golden head with one finger. The phoenix awoke immediately. He stretched his beautiful head high and observed Dumbledore through bright, dark eyes. 'We will need,' Dumbledore said very quietly to the bird, 'a warning.'
There was a flash of fire and the phoenix had gone. Dumbledore now swooped down upon one of the fragile silver instruments whose function Harry had never known, carried it over to his desk, sat down facing them again and tapped it gently with the tip of his wand. The instrument tinkled into life at once with rhythmic clinking noises. Tiny puffs of pale green smoke issued from the minuscule silver tube at the top. Dumbledore watched the smoke closely, his brow furrowed. After a few seconds, the tiny puffs became a steady stream of smoke that thickened and coiled in the air... a serpent's head grew out of the end of it, opening its mouth wide. Harry wondered whether the instrument was confirming his story: he looked eagerly at Dumbledore for a sign that he was right, but Dumbledore did not look up. 'Naturally, naturally,' murmured Dumbledore apparently to himself, still observing the stream of smoke without the slightest sign of surprise. 'But in essence divided?'
Harry could make neither head nor tail of this question. The smoke serpent, however, split itself instantly into two snakes, both coiling and undulating in the dark air. With a look of grim satisfaction, | what may be happening elsewhere...'
'But Mr Weasley could be anywhere!' said Harry. 'Please sit down, all three of you,' said Dumbledore, as though Harry had not spoken, 'Everard and Dilys may not be back for several minutes. Professor McGonagall, if you could draw up extra chairs.'
Professor McGonagall pulled her wand from the pocket of her dressing gown and waved it; three chairs appeared out of thin air, straight-backed and wooden, quite unlike the comfortable chintz armchairs that Dumbledore had conjured up at Harry's hearing. Harry sat down, watching Dumbledore over his shoulder. Dumbledore was now stroking Fawkes's plumed golden head with one finger. The phoenix awoke immediately. He stretched his beautiful head high and observed Dumbledore through bright, dark eyes. 'We will need,' Dumbledore said very quietly to the bird, 'a warning.'
There was a flash of fire and the phoenix had gone. Dumbledore now swooped down upon one of the fragile silver instruments whose function Harry had never known, carried it over to his desk, sat down facing them again and tapped it gently with the tip of his wand. The instrument tinkled into life at once with rhythmic clinking noises. Tiny puffs of pale green smoke issued from the minuscule silver tube at the top. Dumbledore watched the smoke closely, his brow furrowed. After a few seconds, the tiny puffs became a steady stream of smoke that thickened and coiled in the air... a serpent's head grew out of the end of it, opening its mouth wide. Harry wondered whether the instrument was confirming his story: he looked eagerly at Dumbledore for a sign that he was right, but Dumbledore did not look up. 'Naturally, naturally,' murmured Dumbledore apparently to himself, still observing the stream of smoke without the slightest sign of surprise. 'But in essence divided?'
Harry could make neither head nor tail of this question. The smoke serpent, however, split itself instantly into two snakes, both coiling and undulating in the dark air. With a look of grim satisfaction, |
Dumbledore gave the instrument another gentle tap with h.s wand: the clinking noise slowed and died and the smoke serpents grew faint, became a formless haze and vanished. Dumbledore replaced the instrument on its spindly little table. Harry saw many of the old headmasters in the portraits follow him with their eyes, then, realising that Harry was watching them, hastily pretend to be sleeping again. Harry wanted to ask what the strange silver instrument was for, but before he could do so, there was a shout from the top of the wall to their right; the wizard called Everard had reappeared in his portrait., panting slightly. 'Dumbledore!'
'What news?' said Dumbledore at once. 'I yelled until someone came running,' said the wizard, who was mopping his brow on the curtain behind him,'said I'd heard something moving downstairs - they weren't sure whether to believe me but went down to check - you know there are no portraits down there to watch from. Anyway, they carried him up a few minutes later. He doesn't look good, he's covered in blood, I ran along to Elfrida Cragg's portrait to get a good view as they left - '
'Good,' said Dumbledore as Ron made a convulsive movement. 'I take it Dilys will have seen him arrive, then - '
And moments later, the silver-ringleted witch had reappeared in her picture, too; she sank, coughing, into her armchair and said, "Yes, they've taken him to St Mungo's, Dumbledore... they carried him past my portrait... he looks bad..."
'Thank you,' said Dumbledore. He looked round at Professor McGonagall. 'Minerva, I need you to go and wake the other Weasley children.'
'Of course...'
Professor McGonagall got up and moved swiftly to the door. Harry cast a sideways glance at Ron, who was looking terrified. And Dumbledore - what about Molly? said Professor McGonagall, pausing at the door. That will be | umbledore gave the instrument another gentle tap with h.s wand: the clinking noise slowed and died and the smoke serpents grew faint, became a formless haze and vanished. Dumbledore replaced the instrument on its spindly little table. Harry saw many of the old headmasters in the portraits follow him with their eyes, then, realising that Harry was watching them, hastily pretend to be sleeping again. Harry wanted to ask what the strange silver instrument was for, but before he could do so, there was a shout from the top of the wall to their right; the wizard called Everard had reappeared in his portrait., panting slightly. 'Dumbledore!'
'What news?' said Dumbledore at once. 'I yelled until someone came running,' said the wizard, who was mopping his brow on the curtain behind him,'said I'd heard something moving downstairs - they weren't sure whether to believe me but went down to check - you know there are no portraits down there to watch from. Anyway, they carried him up a few minutes later. He doesn't look good, he's covered in blood, I ran along to Elfrida Cragg's portrait to get a good view as they left - '
'Good,' said Dumbledore as Ron made a convulsive movement. 'I take it Dilys will have seen him arrive, then - '
And moments later, the silver-ringleted witch had reappeared in her picture, too; she sank, coughing, into her armchair and said, "Yes, they've taken him to St Mungo's, Dumbledore... they carried him past my portrait... he looks bad..."
'Thank you,' said Dumbledore. He looked round at Professor McGonagall. 'Minerva, I need you to go and wake the other Weasley children.'
'Of course...'
Professor McGonagall got up and moved swiftly to the door. Harry cast a sideways glance at Ron, who was looking terrified. And Dumbledore - what about Molly? said Professor McGonagall, pausing at the door. That will be |
a job for Fawkes when he has finished keeping a lookout for anybody approaching,' said Dumbledore. 'But she may already know... that excellent clock of hers...'
Harry knew Dumbledore was referring to the clock that told, not the time, but the whereabouts and conditions of the various Weasley family members, and with a pang he thought that Mr Weasley's hand must, even now, be pointing at mortal peril. But it was very late. Mrs Weasley was probably asleep, not watching the clock. Harry felt cold as he remembered Mrs Weasley's Boggart turning into Mr Weasley's lifeless body, his glasses askew, blood running down his face... but Mr Weasley wasn't going to die... he couldn't... Dumbledore was now rummaging in a cupboard behind Harry and Ron. He emerged from it carrying a blackened old kettle, which he placed carefully on his desk. He raised his wand and murmured, 'Portus!' For a moment the kettle trembled, glowing with an odd blue light; then it quivered to rest, as solidly black as ever. Dumbledore marched over to another portrait, this time of a clever-looking wizard with a pointed beard, who had been painted wearing the Slytherin colours of green and silver and was apparently sleeping so deeply that he could not hear Dumbledore's voice when he attempted to rouse him. 'Phineas. Phineas.'
The subjects of the portraits lining the room were no longer pretending to be asleep; they were shifting around in their frames, the better to watch what was happening. When the clever-looking wizard continued to feign sleep, some of them shouted his name, too. 'Phineas! Phineas! PHINEAS!'
He could not pretend any longer; he gave a theatrical jerk and opened his eyes wide. 'Did someone call?'
'I need you to visit your other portrait again, Phineas,' said Dumbledore. 'I've got another message.'
'Visit my other portrait?' said Phineas in a reedy voice, giving a long, | job for Fawkes when he has finished keeping a lookout for anybody approaching,' said Dumbledore. 'But she may already know... that excellent clock of hers...'
Harry knew Dumbledore was referring to the clock that told, not the time, but the whereabouts and conditions of the various Weasley family members, and with a pang he thought that Mr Weasley's hand must, even now, be pointing at mortal peril. But it was very late. Mrs Weasley was probably asleep, not watching the clock. Harry felt cold as he remembered Mrs Weasley's Boggart turning into Mr Weasley's lifeless body, his glasses askew, blood running down his face... but Mr Weasley wasn't going to die... he couldn't... Dumbledore was now rummaging in a cupboard behind Harry and Ron. He emerged from it carrying a blackened old kettle, which he placed carefully on his desk. He raised his wand and murmured, 'Portus!' For a moment the kettle trembled, glowing with an odd blue light; then it quivered to rest, as solidly black as ever. Dumbledore marched over to another portrait, this time of a clever-looking wizard with a pointed beard, who had been painted wearing the Slytherin colours of green and silver and was apparently sleeping so deeply that he could not hear Dumbledore's voice when he attempted to rouse him. 'Phineas. Phineas.'
The subjects of the portraits lining the room were no longer pretending to be asleep; they were shifting around in their frames, the better to watch what was happening. When the clever-looking wizard continued to feign sleep, some of them shouted his name, too. 'Phineas! Phineas! PHINEAS!'
He could not pretend any longer; he gave a theatrical jerk and opened his eyes wide. 'Did someone call?'
'I need you to visit your other portrait again, Phineas,' said Dumbledore. 'I've got another message.'
'Visit my other portrait?' said Phineas in a reedy voice, giving a long, |
fake yawn (his eyes travelling around the room and focusing on Harry). 'Oh, no, Dumbledore, I am too tired tonight.'
Something about Phineas's voice was familiar to Harry, where had he heard it before? But before he could think, the portraits on the surrounding walls broke into a storm of protest. 'Insubordination, sir!' roared a corpulent, red-nosed wizard, brandishing his fists. 'Dereliction of duty!'
'We are honour-bound to give service to the present Headmaster o:~ Hogwarts!' cried a frail-looking old wizard whom Harry recognised as Dumbledore's predecessor, Armando Dippet. 'Sharne on you, Phineas!'
'Shall I persuade him, Dumbledore?' called a gimlet-eyed witch, raising an unusually thick wand that looked not unlike a birch rod. 'Oh, very well,' said the wizard called Phineas, eyeing the wand with mild apprehension, 'though he may well have destroyed my picture by now, he's done away with most of the family - '
'Sirius knows not to destroy your portrait,' said Dumbledore, and Harry realised immediately where he had heard Phineas's voice before: issuing from the apparently empty frame in his bedroom in Grimmauld Place. 'You are to give him the message that Arthur Weasley has been gravely injured and that his wife, children and Harry Potter will be arriving at his house shortly. Do you understand?'
'Arthur Weasley, injured, wife and children and Harry Potter coming to stay,' repeated Phineas in a bored voice. 'Yes, yes... very well...'
He sloped away into the frame of the portrait and disappeared from view at the very moment the study door opened again. Fred, George and Ginny were ushered inside by Professor McGonagall, all three of them looking dishevelled and shocked, still in their night things. 'Harry - what's going on?' asked Ginny, who looked frightened. 'Professor McGonagall says you saw Dad get hurt - '
'Your father | yawn (his eyes travelling around the room and focusing on Harry). 'Oh, no, Dumbledore, I am too tired tonight.'
Something about Phineas's voice was familiar to Harry, where had he heard it before? But before he could think, the portraits on the surrounding walls broke into a storm of protest. 'Insubordination, sir!' roared a corpulent, red-nosed wizard, brandishing his fists. 'Dereliction of duty!'
'We are honour-bound to give service to the present Headmaster o:~ Hogwarts!' cried a frail-looking old wizard whom Harry recognised as Dumbledore's predecessor, Armando Dippet. 'Sharne on you, Phineas!'
'Shall I persuade him, Dumbledore?' called a gimlet-eyed witch, raising an unusually thick wand that looked not unlike a birch rod. 'Oh, very well,' said the wizard called Phineas, eyeing the wand with mild apprehension, 'though he may well have destroyed my picture by now, he's done away with most of the family - '
'Sirius knows not to destroy your portrait,' said Dumbledore, and Harry realised immediately where he had heard Phineas's voice before: issuing from the apparently empty frame in his bedroom in Grimmauld Place. 'You are to give him the message that Arthur Weasley has been gravely injured and that his wife, children and Harry Potter will be arriving at his house shortly. Do you understand?'
'Arthur Weasley, injured, wife and children and Harry Potter coming to stay,' repeated Phineas in a bored voice. 'Yes, yes... very well...'
He sloped away into the frame of the portrait and disappeared from view at the very moment the study door opened again. Fred, George and Ginny were ushered inside by Professor McGonagall, all three of them looking dishevelled and shocked, still in their night things. 'Harry - what's going on?' asked Ginny, who looked frightened. 'Professor McGonagall says you saw Dad get hurt - '
'Your father |
has been injured in the course of his work for the Order of the Phoenix,' said Dumbledore, before Harry could speak. 'He has been taken to St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. I am sending you back to Sirius's house, which is much more convenient for the hospital than The Burrow. You will meet your mother there.'
'How're we going?' asked Fred, looking shaken. Floo powder?'
'No,' said Dumbledore, 'Floo powder is not safe at the moment, the Network is being watched. You will be taking a Portkey.' He indicated the old kettle lying innocently on his desk. "We are just waiting for Phineas Nigellus to report back... I want to be sure that the coast is clear before sending you - '
There was a flash of flame in the very middle of: the office, leaving behind a single golden feather that floated gently to the floor. 'It is Fawkes's warning,' said Dumbledore, catching the feather as it fell. 'Professor Umbridge must know you're out of your beds... Minerva, go and head her off - tell her any story - '
Professor McGonagall was gone in a swish of tartan. 'He says he'll be delighted,' said a bored voice behind Dumbledore; the wizard called Phineas had reappeared in front of his Slytherin banner. 'My great-great-grandson has always had an odd taste in house-guests.'
'Come here, then,' Dumbledore said to Harry and the Weasleys. 'And quickly, before anyone else joins us.'
Harry and the others gathered around Dumbledore's desk. 'You have all used a Portkey before?' asked Dumbledore, and they nodded, each reaching out to touch some part of the blackened kettle. 'Good. On the count of three, then... one... two...'
It happened in a fraction of a second: in the infinitesimal pause before Dumbledore said 'three', Harry looked up at him - they were very close together - and Dumbledore' | been injured in the course of his work for the Order of the Phoenix,' said Dumbledore, before Harry could speak. 'He has been taken to St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. I am sending you back to Sirius's house, which is much more convenient for the hospital than The Burrow. You will meet your mother there.'
'How're we going?' asked Fred, looking shaken. Floo powder?'
'No,' said Dumbledore, 'Floo powder is not safe at the moment, the Network is being watched. You will be taking a Portkey.' He indicated the old kettle lying innocently on his desk. "We are just waiting for Phineas Nigellus to report back... I want to be sure that the coast is clear before sending you - '
There was a flash of flame in the very middle of: the office, leaving behind a single golden feather that floated gently to the floor. 'It is Fawkes's warning,' said Dumbledore, catching the feather as it fell. 'Professor Umbridge must know you're out of your beds... Minerva, go and head her off - tell her any story - '
Professor McGonagall was gone in a swish of tartan. 'He says he'll be delighted,' said a bored voice behind Dumbledore; the wizard called Phineas had reappeared in front of his Slytherin banner. 'My great-great-grandson has always had an odd taste in house-guests.'
'Come here, then,' Dumbledore said to Harry and the Weasleys. 'And quickly, before anyone else joins us.'
Harry and the others gathered around Dumbledore's desk. 'You have all used a Portkey before?' asked Dumbledore, and they nodded, each reaching out to touch some part of the blackened kettle. 'Good. On the count of three, then... one... two...'
It happened in a fraction of a second: in the infinitesimal pause before Dumbledore said 'three', Harry looked up at him - they were very close together - and Dumbledore' |
s clear blue gaze moved from the Portkey to Harry's face. At once, Harry's scar burned white-hot, as though the old wound had burst open again - and unbidden, unwanted, but terrifyingly strong, there rose within Harry a hatred so powerful he felt, for that instant, he would like nothing better than to strike - to bite - to sink his fangs into the man before him - '
'... three.'
Harry felt a powerful jerk behind his navel, the ground vanished from beneath his feet, his hand was glued to the kettle; he was banging into the others as they all sped forwards in a swirl of colours and a rush of wind, the kettle pulling them onwards... until his feet hit the ground so hard his knees buckled, the kettle clattered to the ground, and somewhere close at hand a voice said:
'Back again, the blood-traitor brats. Is it true their father's dying?'
'OUT!' roared a second voice. Harry scrambled to his feet and looked around; they had arrived in the gloomy basement kitchen of number twelve, Grimmauld Place. The only sources of light were the fire and one guttering candle, which illuminated the remains of a solitary supper. Kreacher was disappearing through the door to the hall, looking back at them malevolently as he hitched up his loincloth; Sirius was hurrying towards them all, looking anxious. He was unshaven and still in his day clothes; there was also a slightly Mundungus-like whiff of stale drink about him. 'What's going on?' he said, stretching out a hand to help Ginny up. Thineas Nigellus said Arthur's been badly injured - '
'Ask Harry,' said Fred. 'Yeah, I want to hear this for myself,' said George. The twins and Ginny were staring at him. Kreacher's footsteps had stopped on the stairs outside. 'It was -'Harry began; this was even worse than telling McGonagall and Dumbledore. 'I had a - a kind of- vision.. | clear blue gaze moved from the Portkey to Harry's face. At once, Harry's scar burned white-hot, as though the old wound had burst open again - and unbidden, unwanted, but terrifyingly strong, there rose within Harry a hatred so powerful he felt, for that instant, he would like nothing better than to strike - to bite - to sink his fangs into the man before him - '
'... three.'
Harry felt a powerful jerk behind his navel, the ground vanished from beneath his feet, his hand was glued to the kettle; he was banging into the others as they all sped forwards in a swirl of colours and a rush of wind, the kettle pulling them onwards... until his feet hit the ground so hard his knees buckled, the kettle clattered to the ground, and somewhere close at hand a voice said:
'Back again, the blood-traitor brats. Is it true their father's dying?'
'OUT!' roared a second voice. Harry scrambled to his feet and looked around; they had arrived in the gloomy basement kitchen of number twelve, Grimmauld Place. The only sources of light were the fire and one guttering candle, which illuminated the remains of a solitary supper. Kreacher was disappearing through the door to the hall, looking back at them malevolently as he hitched up his loincloth; Sirius was hurrying towards them all, looking anxious. He was unshaven and still in his day clothes; there was also a slightly Mundungus-like whiff of stale drink about him. 'What's going on?' he said, stretching out a hand to help Ginny up. Thineas Nigellus said Arthur's been badly injured - '
'Ask Harry,' said Fred. 'Yeah, I want to hear this for myself,' said George. The twins and Ginny were staring at him. Kreacher's footsteps had stopped on the stairs outside. 'It was -'Harry began; this was even worse than telling McGonagall and Dumbledore. 'I had a - a kind of- vision.. |
.'
And he told them all that he had seen, though he altered the story so that it sounded as though he had watched from the sidelines as the snake attacked, rather than from behind the snake's own eyes. Ron, who was still very white, gave him a fleeting look, but did not speak. When Harry had finished, Fred, George and Ginny continued to stare at him for a moment. Harry did not know whether he was imagining it or not, but he fancied there was something accusatory in their looks. Well, if they were going to blame him just for seeing the attack, he was glad he had not told them that he had been inside the snake at the lime. 'Is Mum here?' said Fred, turning to Sirius. 'She probably doesn't even know what's happened yet,' said Sirius. The important thing was to get you away before Umbridge could interfere. I expect Dumbledore's letting Molly know now.'
We've got to go to St Mungos, said Ginny urgently, She looked around at her brothers; they were of course still in their pyjamas. 'Sirius, can you lend us cloaks or anything?'
'Hang on, you can't go tearing off to St Mungo's!' said Sirius. 'Course we can go to St Mungo's if we want,' said Fred, with a mulish expression. 'He's our dad!'
'And how are you going to explain how you knew Arthur was attacked before the hospital even let his wife know?'
'What does that matter?' said George hotly. 'It matters because we don't want to draw attention to the fact that Harry is having visions of things that are happening hundreds of miles away!' said Sirius angrily. 'Have you any idea what the Ministry would make oifthat information?'
Fred and George looked as though they could not care less what the Ministry made of anything. Ron was still ashen-faced and silent. Ginny said, 'Somebody else could have told us... we could have heard it somewhere other than Harry.'
'Like who?' said Sirius impatiently. 'Listen | '
And he told them all that he had seen, though he altered the story so that it sounded as though he had watched from the sidelines as the snake attacked, rather than from behind the snake's own eyes. Ron, who was still very white, gave him a fleeting look, but did not speak. When Harry had finished, Fred, George and Ginny continued to stare at him for a moment. Harry did not know whether he was imagining it or not, but he fancied there was something accusatory in their looks. Well, if they were going to blame him just for seeing the attack, he was glad he had not told them that he had been inside the snake at the lime. 'Is Mum here?' said Fred, turning to Sirius. 'She probably doesn't even know what's happened yet,' said Sirius. The important thing was to get you away before Umbridge could interfere. I expect Dumbledore's letting Molly know now.'
We've got to go to St Mungos, said Ginny urgently, She looked around at her brothers; they were of course still in their pyjamas. 'Sirius, can you lend us cloaks or anything?'
'Hang on, you can't go tearing off to St Mungo's!' said Sirius. 'Course we can go to St Mungo's if we want,' said Fred, with a mulish expression. 'He's our dad!'
'And how are you going to explain how you knew Arthur was attacked before the hospital even let his wife know?'
'What does that matter?' said George hotly. 'It matters because we don't want to draw attention to the fact that Harry is having visions of things that are happening hundreds of miles away!' said Sirius angrily. 'Have you any idea what the Ministry would make oifthat information?'
Fred and George looked as though they could not care less what the Ministry made of anything. Ron was still ashen-faced and silent. Ginny said, 'Somebody else could have told us... we could have heard it somewhere other than Harry.'
'Like who?' said Sirius impatiently. 'Listen |
, your dad's been hurt while on duty for the Order and the circumstances are fishy enough without his children knowing about it seconds after it happened, you could seriously damage the Order's - '
'We don't care about the dumb Order!' shouted Fred. 'It's our dad dying we're talking about!' yelled George. 'Your father knew what he was getting into and he won't thank you for messing things up for the Order!' said Sirius, equally angry. This is how it is - this is why you're not in the Order - you don't understand - there are things worth dying for!'
'Easy for you to say, stuck here!' bellowed Fred. 'I don't see you risking your neck!'
The little colour remaining in Sirius's face drained from it. He looked for a moment as though he would quite like to hit Fred, but when he spoke, it was in a voice of determined calm. 'I know it's hard, but we've all got to act as though we don't know anything yet. We've got to stay put, at least until we hear from your mother, all right?'
Fred and George still looked mutinous. Ginny, however, took a few steps over to the nearest chair and sank into it. Harry looked at Ron, who made a funny movement somewhere between a nod and a shrug, and they sat down too. The twins glared at Sirius for another minute, then took seats either side of Ginny. 'That's right,' said Sirius encouragingly, 'come on, lets all... let's all have a drink while we're waiting. Accio Butterbeer!'
He raised his wand as he spoke and half a dozen bottles came flying towards them out of the pantry, skidded along the table, scattering the debris of Sirius's meal, and stopped neatly in front of t le six of them. They all drank, and for a while the only sounds were those of the crackling of the kitchen fire and the soft thud of their bottles on the table. Harry was only drinking to have something to do with his hands. His stomach was full of horrible hot, | your dad's been hurt while on duty for the Order and the circumstances are fishy enough without his children knowing about it seconds after it happened, you could seriously damage the Order's - '
'We don't care about the dumb Order!' shouted Fred. 'It's our dad dying we're talking about!' yelled George. 'Your father knew what he was getting into and he won't thank you for messing things up for the Order!' said Sirius, equally angry. This is how it is - this is why you're not in the Order - you don't understand - there are things worth dying for!'
'Easy for you to say, stuck here!' bellowed Fred. 'I don't see you risking your neck!'
The little colour remaining in Sirius's face drained from it. He looked for a moment as though he would quite like to hit Fred, but when he spoke, it was in a voice of determined calm. 'I know it's hard, but we've all got to act as though we don't know anything yet. We've got to stay put, at least until we hear from your mother, all right?'
Fred and George still looked mutinous. Ginny, however, took a few steps over to the nearest chair and sank into it. Harry looked at Ron, who made a funny movement somewhere between a nod and a shrug, and they sat down too. The twins glared at Sirius for another minute, then took seats either side of Ginny. 'That's right,' said Sirius encouragingly, 'come on, lets all... let's all have a drink while we're waiting. Accio Butterbeer!'
He raised his wand as he spoke and half a dozen bottles came flying towards them out of the pantry, skidded along the table, scattering the debris of Sirius's meal, and stopped neatly in front of t le six of them. They all drank, and for a while the only sounds were those of the crackling of the kitchen fire and the soft thud of their bottles on the table. Harry was only drinking to have something to do with his hands. His stomach was full of horrible hot, |
bubbling guilt. They would not be here if it were not for him; they would all still be asleep in bed. And it was no good telling himself that by raising the alarm he had ensured that Mr Weasley was found, because there was also the inescapable business of it being he who had attacked Mr Weasley in the first place. Don't be stupid, you haven't got fangs, he told himself, trying to keep calm, though the hand on his Butterbeer bottle was shaking, you were lying in bed, you weren't attacking anyone... But then, what just happened in Dumbledore's office? he asked himself. I felt like I wanted to attack Dumbledore, too... He put the bottle down a little harder than he meant to, and it slopped over on to the table. No one took any notice. Then a burst of fire in midair illuminated the dirty plates in front of them and, as they gave cries of shock, a scroll of parchment fell with a thud on to the table, accompanied by a single golden phoenix tail feather. 'Fawkes!' said Sirius at once, snatching up the parchment. 'That's not Dumbledore s writing - it must be a message from your mother - here - '
He thrust the letter into Georges hand, who ripped it open and read aloud: 'Dad is still alive. I am setting out for St Mungo's now. Stay where you are. I will send news as soon as I can. Mum.'
George looked around the table. 'Still alive...' he said slowly. 'But that makes it sound...'
He did not need to finish the sentence. It sounded to Harry, too, as though Mr Weasley was hovering somewhere between life and death. Still exceptionally pale, Ron stared at the back of his mother's letter as though it might speak words of comfort to him. Fred pulled the parchment out of George's hands and read it for himself, then looked up at Harry, who felt his hand shaking on his Butterbeer bottle again and clenched it more tightly to stop the trembling. If Harry had ever | ubbling guilt. They would not be here if it were not for him; they would all still be asleep in bed. And it was no good telling himself that by raising the alarm he had ensured that Mr Weasley was found, because there was also the inescapable business of it being he who had attacked Mr Weasley in the first place. Don't be stupid, you haven't got fangs, he told himself, trying to keep calm, though the hand on his Butterbeer bottle was shaking, you were lying in bed, you weren't attacking anyone... But then, what just happened in Dumbledore's office? he asked himself. I felt like I wanted to attack Dumbledore, too... He put the bottle down a little harder than he meant to, and it slopped over on to the table. No one took any notice. Then a burst of fire in midair illuminated the dirty plates in front of them and, as they gave cries of shock, a scroll of parchment fell with a thud on to the table, accompanied by a single golden phoenix tail feather. 'Fawkes!' said Sirius at once, snatching up the parchment. 'That's not Dumbledore s writing - it must be a message from your mother - here - '
He thrust the letter into Georges hand, who ripped it open and read aloud: 'Dad is still alive. I am setting out for St Mungo's now. Stay where you are. I will send news as soon as I can. Mum.'
George looked around the table. 'Still alive...' he said slowly. 'But that makes it sound...'
He did not need to finish the sentence. It sounded to Harry, too, as though Mr Weasley was hovering somewhere between life and death. Still exceptionally pale, Ron stared at the back of his mother's letter as though it might speak words of comfort to him. Fred pulled the parchment out of George's hands and read it for himself, then looked up at Harry, who felt his hand shaking on his Butterbeer bottle again and clenched it more tightly to stop the trembling. If Harry had ever |
sat through a longer night than this one, he could not remember it. Sirius suggested once, without any real conviction, that they all go to bed, but the Weasleys' looks of disgust were answer enough. They mostly sat in silence around the table, watching the candle wick sinking lower and lower into liquid wax, occasionally raising a bottle to their lips, speaking only to check the time, to wonder aloud what was happening, and to reassure each other that if there was bad news, they would know straightaway, for Mrs Weasley must long since have arrived at St Mungo's. Fred fell into a doze, his head lolling sideways on to his shoulder. Ginny was curled like a cat on her chair, but her eyes were open; Harry could see them reflecting the firelight. Ron was sitting with his head in his hands, whether awake or asleep it was impossible to tell. Harry and Sirius looked at each other every so often, intruders upon the family grief, waiting... waiting... At ten past five in the morning by Ron's watch, the kitchen door swung open and Mrs Weasley entered the kitchen. She was extremely pale, but when they all turned to look at her, Fred, Ron and Harry half rising from their chairs, she gave a wan smile. 'He's going to be all right,' she said, her voice weak with tiredness. 'He's sleeping. We can all go and see him later. Bill's sitting with him now; he's going to take the morning off work.'
Fred fell back into his chair with his hands over his face. George and Ginny got up, walked swiftly over to their mother and hugged her. Ron gave a very shaky laugh and downed the rest of his Butterbeer in one. 'Breakfast!' said Sirius loudly and joyfully, jumping to his feet. 'Where's that accursed house-elf? Kreacher! KREACHER!'
But Kreacher did not answer the summons. 'Oh, forget it, then,' muttered Sirius, counting the people in front of him. 'So, it's breakfast for - let's see - seven... bacon | through a longer night than this one, he could not remember it. Sirius suggested once, without any real conviction, that they all go to bed, but the Weasleys' looks of disgust were answer enough. They mostly sat in silence around the table, watching the candle wick sinking lower and lower into liquid wax, occasionally raising a bottle to their lips, speaking only to check the time, to wonder aloud what was happening, and to reassure each other that if there was bad news, they would know straightaway, for Mrs Weasley must long since have arrived at St Mungo's. Fred fell into a doze, his head lolling sideways on to his shoulder. Ginny was curled like a cat on her chair, but her eyes were open; Harry could see them reflecting the firelight. Ron was sitting with his head in his hands, whether awake or asleep it was impossible to tell. Harry and Sirius looked at each other every so often, intruders upon the family grief, waiting... waiting... At ten past five in the morning by Ron's watch, the kitchen door swung open and Mrs Weasley entered the kitchen. She was extremely pale, but when they all turned to look at her, Fred, Ron and Harry half rising from their chairs, she gave a wan smile. 'He's going to be all right,' she said, her voice weak with tiredness. 'He's sleeping. We can all go and see him later. Bill's sitting with him now; he's going to take the morning off work.'
Fred fell back into his chair with his hands over his face. George and Ginny got up, walked swiftly over to their mother and hugged her. Ron gave a very shaky laugh and downed the rest of his Butterbeer in one. 'Breakfast!' said Sirius loudly and joyfully, jumping to his feet. 'Where's that accursed house-elf? Kreacher! KREACHER!'
But Kreacher did not answer the summons. 'Oh, forget it, then,' muttered Sirius, counting the people in front of him. 'So, it's breakfast for - let's see - seven... bacon |
and eggs, I think, and some tea, and toast - '
Harry hurried over to the stove to help. He did not want to intrude on the Weasleys' happiness and he dreaded the moment when Mrs Weasley would ask him to recount his vision. However, he had barely taken plates from the dresser when Mrs Weasley lifted them out of his hands and pulled him into a hug. 'I don't know what would have happened if it hadn't been for you, Harry' she said in a muffled voice. 'They might not have found Arthur for hours, and then it would have been too late, but thanks to you he's alive and Dumbledore's been able to think up a good cover story for Arthur being where he was, you've no idea what trouble he would have been in otherwise, look at poor Sturgis...'
Harry could hardly bear her gratitude, but fortunately she soon released him to turn to Sirius and thank him for looking after her children through the night. Sirius said he was very pleased to have been able to help, and hoped they would all stay with him as long as Mr Weasley was in hospital. Oh, Sirius, I'm so grateful... they think he'll be there a little while and it would be wonderful to be nearer... of course, that might mean we're here for Christmas.'
The more the merrier!' said Sirius with such obvious sincerity that Mrs Weasley beamed at him, threw on an apron and began to help with breakfast. Sirius,' Harry muttered, unable to stand it a moment longer. 'Can I have a quick word? Er - now?'
He walked into the dark pantry and Sirius followed. Without preamble, Harry told his godfather every detail of the vision he had had, including the fact that he himself had been the snake who had attacked Mr Weasley. When he paused for breath, Sirius said, 'Did you tell Dumbledore this?'
'Yes,' said Harry impatiently 'but he didn't tell me what it meant. Well, he doesn't tell me anything any more.'
'I'm sure he would have told you if it was anything | eggs, I think, and some tea, and toast - '
Harry hurried over to the stove to help. He did not want to intrude on the Weasleys' happiness and he dreaded the moment when Mrs Weasley would ask him to recount his vision. However, he had barely taken plates from the dresser when Mrs Weasley lifted them out of his hands and pulled him into a hug. 'I don't know what would have happened if it hadn't been for you, Harry' she said in a muffled voice. 'They might not have found Arthur for hours, and then it would have been too late, but thanks to you he's alive and Dumbledore's been able to think up a good cover story for Arthur being where he was, you've no idea what trouble he would have been in otherwise, look at poor Sturgis...'
Harry could hardly bear her gratitude, but fortunately she soon released him to turn to Sirius and thank him for looking after her children through the night. Sirius said he was very pleased to have been able to help, and hoped they would all stay with him as long as Mr Weasley was in hospital. Oh, Sirius, I'm so grateful... they think he'll be there a little while and it would be wonderful to be nearer... of course, that might mean we're here for Christmas.'
The more the merrier!' said Sirius with such obvious sincerity that Mrs Weasley beamed at him, threw on an apron and began to help with breakfast. Sirius,' Harry muttered, unable to stand it a moment longer. 'Can I have a quick word? Er - now?'
He walked into the dark pantry and Sirius followed. Without preamble, Harry told his godfather every detail of the vision he had had, including the fact that he himself had been the snake who had attacked Mr Weasley. When he paused for breath, Sirius said, 'Did you tell Dumbledore this?'
'Yes,' said Harry impatiently 'but he didn't tell me what it meant. Well, he doesn't tell me anything any more.'
'I'm sure he would have told you if it was anything |
to worry about,' said Sirius steadily
'But that's not all,' said Harry, in a voice only a little above a whisper. 'Sirius, I... I think I'm going mad. Back in Dumbledore's office, just before we took the Portkey... for a couple of seconds there I thought I was a snake, I felt like one - my scar really hurt when I was looking at Dumbledore - Sirius, I wanted to attack him!'
He could only see a sliver of Sirius's face; the rest was in darkness. "It must have been the aftermath of the vision, that's all,' said Sirius. 'You were still thinking of the dream or whatever it was and - '
'It wasn't that,' said Harry, shaking his head, 'it was like something rose up inside me, like there's a snake inside me.'
'You need to sleep,' said Sirius firmly. 'You're going to have breakfast, then go upstairs to bed, and after lunch you can go and see Arthur with the others. You're in shock, Harry; you're blaming yourself for something you only witnessed, and it's lucky you did witness it or Arthur might have died. Just stop worrying.'
He clapped Harry on the shoulder and left the pantry, leaving Harry standing alone in the dark. *
Everyone but Harry spent the rest of the morning sleeping. He went up to the bedroom he and Ron had shared over the last few weeks of summer, but while Ron crawled into bed and was asleep within minutes, Harry sat fully clothed, hunched against the cold metal bars of the bedstead, keeping himself deliberately uncomfortable, determined not to fall into a doze, terrified that he might become the serpent again in his sleep and wake to find that he had attacked Ron, or else slithered through the house after one of the others... When Ron woke up, Harry pretended to have enjoyed a refreshing nap too. Their trunks arrived from Hogwarts while they were eating lunch, so they could dress as Muggles for the trip to St Mungo's. Everybody except Harry was riotously happy | worry about,' said Sirius steadily
'But that's not all,' said Harry, in a voice only a little above a whisper. 'Sirius, I... I think I'm going mad. Back in Dumbledore's office, just before we took the Portkey... for a couple of seconds there I thought I was a snake, I felt like one - my scar really hurt when I was looking at Dumbledore - Sirius, I wanted to attack him!'
He could only see a sliver of Sirius's face; the rest was in darkness. "It must have been the aftermath of the vision, that's all,' said Sirius. 'You were still thinking of the dream or whatever it was and - '
'It wasn't that,' said Harry, shaking his head, 'it was like something rose up inside me, like there's a snake inside me.'
'You need to sleep,' said Sirius firmly. 'You're going to have breakfast, then go upstairs to bed, and after lunch you can go and see Arthur with the others. You're in shock, Harry; you're blaming yourself for something you only witnessed, and it's lucky you did witness it or Arthur might have died. Just stop worrying.'
He clapped Harry on the shoulder and left the pantry, leaving Harry standing alone in the dark. *
Everyone but Harry spent the rest of the morning sleeping. He went up to the bedroom he and Ron had shared over the last few weeks of summer, but while Ron crawled into bed and was asleep within minutes, Harry sat fully clothed, hunched against the cold metal bars of the bedstead, keeping himself deliberately uncomfortable, determined not to fall into a doze, terrified that he might become the serpent again in his sleep and wake to find that he had attacked Ron, or else slithered through the house after one of the others... When Ron woke up, Harry pretended to have enjoyed a refreshing nap too. Their trunks arrived from Hogwarts while they were eating lunch, so they could dress as Muggles for the trip to St Mungo's. Everybody except Harry was riotously happy |
and talkative as they changed out of their robes into jeans and sweatshirts. When Tonks and Mad-Eye turned up to escort them across London, they greeted them gleefully, laughing at the bowler hat Mad-Eye was wearing at an angle to conceal his magical eye and assuring him, truthfully,
that Tonks, whose hair was short and bright pink again, would attract far less attention on the Underground. Tonks was very interested in Harry's vision of the attack on Mr Weasley, something Harry was not remotely interested in discussing. There isn't any Seer blood in your family, is there?' she enquired curiously, as they sat side by side on a train rattling towards the heart of the city. 'No,' said Harry thinking of Professor Trelawney and feeling insulted. 'No,' said Tonks musingly, 'no, I suppose it's not really prophecy you're doing, is it? I mean, you're not seeing the future, you're seeing the present... it's odd, isn't it? Useful, though...'
Harry didn't answer; fortunately, they got out at the next stop, a station in the very heart of London, and in the bustle of leaving the train he was able to allow Fred and George to get between himself and Tonks, who was leading the way. They all followed her up the escalator, Moody clunking along at the back of the group, his bowler 'I'llted low and one gnarled hand stuck in between the buttons of his coat, clutching his wand. Harry thought he sensed the concealed eye staring hard at him. Trying to avoid any more questions about his dream, he asked Mad-Eye where St Mungo's was hidden. 'Not far from here,' grunted Moody as they stepped out into the wintry air on a broad store-lined street packed with Christmas shoppers. He pushed Harry a little ahead of him and stumped along just behind; Harry knew the eye was rolling in all directions under the tilted hat. 'Wasn't easy to find a good location for a hospital. Nowhere in Diagon Alley was big | talkative as they changed out of their robes into jeans and sweatshirts. When Tonks and Mad-Eye turned up to escort them across London, they greeted them gleefully, laughing at the bowler hat Mad-Eye was wearing at an angle to conceal his magical eye and assuring him, truthfully,
that Tonks, whose hair was short and bright pink again, would attract far less attention on the Underground. Tonks was very interested in Harry's vision of the attack on Mr Weasley, something Harry was not remotely interested in discussing. There isn't any Seer blood in your family, is there?' she enquired curiously, as they sat side by side on a train rattling towards the heart of the city. 'No,' said Harry thinking of Professor Trelawney and feeling insulted. 'No,' said Tonks musingly, 'no, I suppose it's not really prophecy you're doing, is it? I mean, you're not seeing the future, you're seeing the present... it's odd, isn't it? Useful, though...'
Harry didn't answer; fortunately, they got out at the next stop, a station in the very heart of London, and in the bustle of leaving the train he was able to allow Fred and George to get between himself and Tonks, who was leading the way. They all followed her up the escalator, Moody clunking along at the back of the group, his bowler 'I'llted low and one gnarled hand stuck in between the buttons of his coat, clutching his wand. Harry thought he sensed the concealed eye staring hard at him. Trying to avoid any more questions about his dream, he asked Mad-Eye where St Mungo's was hidden. 'Not far from here,' grunted Moody as they stepped out into the wintry air on a broad store-lined street packed with Christmas shoppers. He pushed Harry a little ahead of him and stumped along just behind; Harry knew the eye was rolling in all directions under the tilted hat. 'Wasn't easy to find a good location for a hospital. Nowhere in Diagon Alley was big |
enough and we couldn't have it underground like the Ministry - wouldn't be healthy. In the end they managed to get hold of a building up here. Theory was, sick wizards could come and go and just blend in with the crowd.'
He seized Harry's shoulder to prevent them being separated by a gaggle of shoppers plainly intent on nothing but making it into a nearby shop full of electrical gadgets. 'Here we go,' said Moody a moment later. They had arrived outside a large, old-fashioned, red-brick department store called Purge & Dowse Ltd. The place had a shabby, miserable air; the window displays consisted of a few chipped dummies with their wigs askew, standing at random and modelling fashions at least ten years out of date. Large signs on all the dusty doors read: 'Closed for Refurbishment'. Harry distinctly heard a large woman laden with plastic shopping bags say to her friend as they passed, 'It's never open, that place...'
'Right,' said Tonks, beckoning them towards a window displaying nothing but a particularly ugly female dummy. Its false eyelashes were hanging off and it was modelling a green nylon pinafore dress. 'Everybody ready?'
They nodded, clustering around her. Moody gave Harry another shove between the shoulder blades to urge him forward and Tonks leaned close to the glass, looking up at the very ugly dummy, her breath steaming up the glass. 'Wotcher,' she said, 'we're here to see Arthur Weasley.'
Harry thought how absurd it was for Tonks to expect the dummy to hear her talking so quietly through a sheet of glass, with buses rumbling along behind her and all the racket of a street full of shoppers. Then he reminded himself that dummies couldn't hear anyway. Next second, his mouth opened in shock as the dummy gave a tiny nod and beckoned with its jointed finger, and Tonks had seized Ginny and Mrs Weasley by the elbows, stepped right through the glass and vanished. Fred, George and Ron stepped after them. Harry glanced around at the j | and we couldn't have it underground like the Ministry - wouldn't be healthy. In the end they managed to get hold of a building up here. Theory was, sick wizards could come and go and just blend in with the crowd.'
He seized Harry's shoulder to prevent them being separated by a gaggle of shoppers plainly intent on nothing but making it into a nearby shop full of electrical gadgets. 'Here we go,' said Moody a moment later. They had arrived outside a large, old-fashioned, red-brick department store called Purge & Dowse Ltd. The place had a shabby, miserable air; the window displays consisted of a few chipped dummies with their wigs askew, standing at random and modelling fashions at least ten years out of date. Large signs on all the dusty doors read: 'Closed for Refurbishment'. Harry distinctly heard a large woman laden with plastic shopping bags say to her friend as they passed, 'It's never open, that place...'
'Right,' said Tonks, beckoning them towards a window displaying nothing but a particularly ugly female dummy. Its false eyelashes were hanging off and it was modelling a green nylon pinafore dress. 'Everybody ready?'
They nodded, clustering around her. Moody gave Harry another shove between the shoulder blades to urge him forward and Tonks leaned close to the glass, looking up at the very ugly dummy, her breath steaming up the glass. 'Wotcher,' she said, 'we're here to see Arthur Weasley.'
Harry thought how absurd it was for Tonks to expect the dummy to hear her talking so quietly through a sheet of glass, with buses rumbling along behind her and all the racket of a street full of shoppers. Then he reminded himself that dummies couldn't hear anyway. Next second, his mouth opened in shock as the dummy gave a tiny nod and beckoned with its jointed finger, and Tonks had seized Ginny and Mrs Weasley by the elbows, stepped right through the glass and vanished. Fred, George and Ron stepped after them. Harry glanced around at the j |
ostling crowd; not one of them seemed to have a glance to spare for window displays as ugly as those of Purge & Dowse Ltd; nor did any of them seem to have noticed that six people had just melted into thin air in front of them. 'C'mon,' growled Moody, giving Harry yet another poke in the back, and together they stepped forward through what felt like a sheet of cool water, emerging quite warm and dry on the other side. There was no sign of the ugly dummy or the space where she had stood. They were in what seemed to be a crowded reception area where rows of witches and wizards sat upon rickety wooden chairs, some looking perfectly normal and perusing out-of-date copies of Witch Weekly, others sporting gruesome disfigurements such as elephant trunks or extra hands sticking out of their chests. The room was scarcely less quiet than the street outside, for many of the patients were making very peculiar noises: a sweaty-faced witch in the centre of the front row, who was fanning herself vigorously with a copy of the Daily Prophet, kept letting off a high-pitched whistle as steam came pouring out of her mouth; a grubby-looking warlock in the corner clanged like a bell every time he moved and, with each clang, his head vibrated horribly so that he had to seize himself by the ears to hold it steady. Witches and wizards in lime-green robes were walking up and down the rows, asking questions and making notes on clipboards like Umbridge's. Harry noticed the emblem embroidered on their chests: a wand and bone, crossed. 'Are they doctors?' he asked Ron quietly. 'Doctors?' said Ron, looking startled. Those Muggle nutters that cut people up? Nah, they're Healers.'
'Over here!' called Mrs Weasley, above the renewed clanging of the warlock in the corner, and they followed her to the queue in front of a plump blonde witch seated at a desk marked Enquiries. The wall behind her was covered in notices and posters saying things like: A CLEAN CAULDRON KEEPS POTIONS | ling crowd; not one of them seemed to have a glance to spare for window displays as ugly as those of Purge & Dowse Ltd; nor did any of them seem to have noticed that six people had just melted into thin air in front of them. 'C'mon,' growled Moody, giving Harry yet another poke in the back, and together they stepped forward through what felt like a sheet of cool water, emerging quite warm and dry on the other side. There was no sign of the ugly dummy or the space where she had stood. They were in what seemed to be a crowded reception area where rows of witches and wizards sat upon rickety wooden chairs, some looking perfectly normal and perusing out-of-date copies of Witch Weekly, others sporting gruesome disfigurements such as elephant trunks or extra hands sticking out of their chests. The room was scarcely less quiet than the street outside, for many of the patients were making very peculiar noises: a sweaty-faced witch in the centre of the front row, who was fanning herself vigorously with a copy of the Daily Prophet, kept letting off a high-pitched whistle as steam came pouring out of her mouth; a grubby-looking warlock in the corner clanged like a bell every time he moved and, with each clang, his head vibrated horribly so that he had to seize himself by the ears to hold it steady. Witches and wizards in lime-green robes were walking up and down the rows, asking questions and making notes on clipboards like Umbridge's. Harry noticed the emblem embroidered on their chests: a wand and bone, crossed. 'Are they doctors?' he asked Ron quietly. 'Doctors?' said Ron, looking startled. Those Muggle nutters that cut people up? Nah, they're Healers.'
'Over here!' called Mrs Weasley, above the renewed clanging of the warlock in the corner, and they followed her to the queue in front of a plump blonde witch seated at a desk marked Enquiries. The wall behind her was covered in notices and posters saying things like: A CLEAN CAULDRON KEEPS POTIONS |
FROM BECOMING POISONS and ANTIDOTES ARE ANTI-DON'TS UNLESS APPROVED BY A QUALIFIED HEALER. There was also a large portrait of a witch with long silver ringlets which was labelled:
Dilys Derwent
St Mungo's Healer 1722-1741
Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
1741-1768
Dilys was eyeing the Weasley party closely as though counting them; when Harry caught her eye she gave a tiny wink, walked sideways out of her portrait and vanished. Meanwhile, at the front of the queue, a young wizard was performing an odd on-the-spot jig and trying, in between yelps of pain, to explain his predicament to the witch behind the desk. 'It's these - ouch - shoes my brother gave me - ow - they re eating my - OUCH - feet - look at them, there must be some kind of - AARGH - jinx on them and I can't - AAAAARGH - get them off.' He hopped from one foot to the other as though dancing on hot coals. The shoes don't prevent you reading, do they?' said the blonde witch, irritably pointing at a large sign to the left of her desk. 'You want Spell Damage, fourth floor. Just like it says on the floor guide. Next!'
As the wizard hobbled and pranced sideways out of the way, the Weasley party moved forward a few steps and Harry read the floor guide:
ARTEFACT ACCIDENTS...................................... Gound floor
Cauldron explosion, wand backfiring, broom
crashes, etc. CREATURE-INDUCED INJURIES........................ First floor
Bites, stings, burns, embedded spines, etc. MAGICAL BUGS.................................................... Second floor
Contagious maladies, e.g. dragon pox,
vanishing sickness, scrofungulus, etc. POTION AND PLANT | BECOMING POISONS and ANTIDOTES ARE ANTI-DON'TS UNLESS APPROVED BY A QUALIFIED HEALER. There was also a large portrait of a witch with long silver ringlets which was labelled:
Dilys Derwent
St Mungo's Healer 1722-1741
Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
1741-1768
Dilys was eyeing the Weasley party closely as though counting them; when Harry caught her eye she gave a tiny wink, walked sideways out of her portrait and vanished. Meanwhile, at the front of the queue, a young wizard was performing an odd on-the-spot jig and trying, in between yelps of pain, to explain his predicament to the witch behind the desk. 'It's these - ouch - shoes my brother gave me - ow - they re eating my - OUCH - feet - look at them, there must be some kind of - AARGH - jinx on them and I can't - AAAAARGH - get them off.' He hopped from one foot to the other as though dancing on hot coals. The shoes don't prevent you reading, do they?' said the blonde witch, irritably pointing at a large sign to the left of her desk. 'You want Spell Damage, fourth floor. Just like it says on the floor guide. Next!'
As the wizard hobbled and pranced sideways out of the way, the Weasley party moved forward a few steps and Harry read the floor guide:
ARTEFACT ACCIDENTS...................................... Gound floor
Cauldron explosion, wand backfiring, broom
crashes, etc. CREATURE-INDUCED INJURIES........................ First floor
Bites, stings, burns, embedded spines, etc. MAGICAL BUGS.................................................... Second floor
Contagious maladies, e.g. dragon pox,
vanishing sickness, scrofungulus, etc. POTION AND PLANT |
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