Untitled Part 12
Seamus dressed at top speed next morning and left thedormitory before Harry had even put on his socks.
"Does he think he'll turn into a nutter if he stays in a roomwith me too long?" asked Harry loudly, as the hem ofSeamus's robes whipped out of sight.
"Don't worry about it, Harry," Dean muttered, hoisting hisschool-bag onto his shoulder. "He's just ..." But apparentlyhe was unable to say exactly what Seamus was, and after aslightly awkward pause followed him out of the room.
Neville and Ron both gave Harry it's-his-problem-notyours looks, but Harry was not much consoled. How muchmore of this was he going to have to take?
"What's the matter?" asked Hermione five minutes later,catching up with Harry and Ron halfway across thecommon room as they all headed toward breakfast. "Youlook absolutely — oh for heaven's sake."
She was staring at the common room notice board, wherea large new sign had been put up.
GALLONS OF GALLEONS!
Pocket money failing to keep pace with youroutgoings?
Like to earn a little extra gold?
—————————————————
Contact Fred and George Weasley,
Gryffindor common room,
for simple, part-time, virtually painless jobs
(WE REGRET THAT ALL WORK IS UNDERTAKEN AT APPLICANT'S OWNRISK)
"They are the limit," said Hermione grimly, taking downthe sign, which Fred and George had pinned up over aposter giving the date of the first Hogsmeade weekend inOctober. "We'll have to talk to them, Ron."
Ron looked positively alarmed.
"Why?"
"Because we're prefects!" said Hermione, as they climbedout through the portrait hole. "It's up to us to stop this kindof thing!"
Ron said nothing; Harry could tell from his glumexpression that the prospect of stopping Fred and Georgedoing exactly what they liked was not one that he foundinviting.
"Anyway, what's up, Harry?" Hermione continued, as theywalked down a flight of stairs lined with portraits of oldwitches and wizards, all of whom ignored them, beingengrossed in their own conversation. "You look really angryabout something."
"Seamus reckons Harry's lying about You-Know-Who,"said Ron succinctly, when Harry did not respond.
Hermione, whom Harry had expected to react angrily onhis behalf, sighed.
"Yes, Lavender thinks so too," she said gloomily.
"Been having a nice little chat with her about whether ornot I'm a lying, attention-seeking prat, have you?" Harrysaid loudly.
"No," said Hermione calmly, "I told her to keep her big fatmouth shut about you, actually. And it would be quite nice ifyou stopped jumping down Ron's and my throats, Harry,because if you haven't noticed, we're on your side."
There was a short pause.
"Sorry," said Harry in a low voice.
"That's quite all right," said Hermione with dignity. Thenshe shook her head. "Don't you remember whatDumbledore said at the end-of-term feast last year?"
Harry and Ron both looked at her blankly, and Hermionesighed again.
"About You-Know-Who. He said, 'His gift for spreadingdiscord and enmity is very great. We can fight it only byshowing an equally strong bond of friendship and trust —' "
"How do you remember stuff like that?" asked Ron,looking at her in admiration.
"I listen, Ron," said Hermione with a touch of asperity.
"So do I, but I still couldn't tell you exactly what —"
"The point," Hermione pressed on loudly, "is that this sortof thing is exactly what Dumbledore was talking about. You-Know-Who's only been back two months, and we've startedfighting among ourselves. And the Sorting Hat's warningwas the same — stand together, be united —"
"And Harry said it last night," retorted Ron, "if that meanswe're supposed to get matey with the Slytherins, fatchance."
"Well, I think it's a pity we're not trying for a bit of interHouse unity," said Hermione crossly.
They had reached the foot of the marble staircase. A lineof fourth-year Ravenclaws was crossing the entrance hall;they caught sight of Harry and hurried to form a tightergroup, as though frightened he might attack stragglers.
"Yeah, we really ought to be trying to make friends withpeople like that," said Harry sarcastically.
They followed the Ravenclaws into the Great Hall, lookinginstinctively at the staff table as they entered. ProfessorGrubbly-Plank was chatting to Professor Sinistra, theAstronomy teacher, and Hagrid was once again conspicuousonly by his absence. The enchanted ceiling above themechoed Harry's mood; it was a miserable rain-cloud gray.
"Dumbledore didn't even mention how long that GrubblyPlank woman's staying," he said, as they made their wayacross to the Gryffindor table.
"Maybe ..." said Hermione thoughtfully.
"What?" said both Harry and Ron together.
"Well ... maybe he didn't want to draw attention to Hagridnot being here."
"What d'you mean, draw attention to it?" said Ron, halflaughing. "How could we not notice?"
Before Hermione could answer, a tall black girl with long,braided hair had marched up to Harry.
"Hi, Angelina."
"Hi," she said briskly, "good summer?" And withoutwaiting for an answer, "Listen, I've been made GryffindorQuidditch Captain."
"Nice one," said Harry, grinning at her; he suspectedAngelina's pep talks might not be as long-winded as OliverWood's had been, which could only be an improvement.
"Yeah, well, we need a new Keeper now Oliver's left.Tryouts are on Friday at five o'clock and I want the wholeteam there, all right? Then we can see how the newperson'll fit in."
"Okay," said Harry, and she smiled at him and departed.
"I'd forgotten Wood had left," said Hermione vaguely,sitting down beside Ron and pulling a plate of toast towardher. "I suppose that will make quite a difference to theteam?"
"I s'pose," said Harry, taking the bench opposite. "He wasa good Keeper. ..."
"Still, it won't hurt to have some new blood, will it?" saidRon.
With a whoosh and a clatter, hundreds of owls camesoaring in through the upper windows. They descended allover the Hall, bringing letters and packages to their ownersand showering the breakfasters with droplets of water; itwas clearly raining hard outside. Hedwig was nowhere tobe seen, but Harry was hardly surprised; his onlycorrespondent was Sirius, and he doubted Sirius wouldhave anything new to tell him after only twenty-four hoursapart. Hermione, however, had to move her orange juiceaside quickly to make way for a large damp barn owlbearing a sodden Daily Prophet in its beak.
"What are you still getting that for?" said Harry irritably,thinking of Seamus, as Hermione placed a Knut in theleather pouch on the owl's leg and it took off again. "I'm notbothering ... load of rubbish."
"It's best to know what the enemy are saying," saidHermione darkly, and she unfurled the newspaper anddisappeared behind it, not emerging until Harry and Ronhad finished eating.
"Nothing," she said simply, rolling up the newspaper andlaying it down by her plate. "Nothing about you orDumbledore or anything."
Professor McGonagall was now moving along the tablehanding out schedules.
"Look at today!" groaned Ron. "History of Magic, doublePotions, Divination, and double Defense Against the DarkArts ... Binns, Snape, Trelawney, and that Umbridge womanall in one day! I wish Fred and George'd hurry up and getthose Skiving Snackboxes sorted. ..."
"Do mine ears deceive me?" said Fred, arriving withGeorge and squeezing onto the bench beside Harry."Hogwarts prefects surely don't wish to skive off lessons?"
"Look what we've got today," said Ron grumpily, shovinghis schedule under Fred's nose. "That's the worst MondayI've ever seen."
"Fair point, little bro," said Fred, scanning the column."You can have a bit of Nosebleed Nougat cheap if you like."
"Why's it cheap?" said Ron suspiciously.
"Because you'll keep bleeding till you shrivel up, wehaven't got an antidote yet," said George, helping himself toa kipper.
"Cheers," said Ron moodily, pocketing his schedule, "but Ithink I'll take the lessons."
"And speaking of your Skiving Snackboxes," saidHermione, eyeing Fred and George beadily, "you can'tadvertise for testers on the Gryffindor notice board."
"Says who?" said George, looking astonished.
"Says me," said Hermione. "And Ron."
"Leave me out of it," said Ron hastily.
Hermione glared at him. Fred and George sniggered.
"You'll be singing a different tune soon enough,Hermione," said Fred, thickly buttering a crumpet. "You'restarting your fifth year, you'll be begging us for a Snackboxbefore long."
"And why would starting fifth year mean I want a SkivingSnackbox?" asked Hermione.
"Fifth year's O.W.L. year," said George.
"So?"
"So you've got your exams coming up, haven't you?They'll be keeping your noses so hard to that grindstonethey'll be rubbed raw," said Fred with satisfaction.
"Half our year had minor breakdowns coming up toO.W.L.s," said George happily. "Tears and tantrums ...Patricia Stimpson kept coming over faint. ..."
"Kenneth Towler came out in boils, d'you remember?"said Fred reminiscently.
"That's 'cause you put Bulbadox Powder in his pajamas,"said George.
"Oh yeah," said Fred, grinning. "I'd forgotten. ... Hard tokeep track sometimes, isn't it?"
"Anyway, it's a nightmare of a year, the fifth," said George."If you care about exam results anyway. Fred and Imanaged to keep our spirits up somehow."
"Yeah ... you got, what was it, three O.W.L.s each?" saidRon.
"Yep," said Fred unconcernedly. "But we feel our futureslie outside the world of academic achievement."
"We seriously debated whether we were going to bothercoming back for our seventh year," said George brightly,"now that we've got —"
He broke off at a warning look from Harry, who knewGeorge had been about to mention the Triwizard winningshe had given them.
"— now that we've got our O.W.L.s," George said hastily. "Imean, do we really need N.E.W.T.s? But we didn't thinkMum could take us leaving school early, not on top of Percyturning out to be the world's biggest prat."
"We're not going to waste our last year here, though,"said Fred, looking affectionately around at the Great Hall."We're going to use it to do a bit of market research, findout exactly what the average Hogwarts student requiresfrom his joke shop, carefully evaluate the results of ourresearch, and then produce the products to fit thedemand."
"But where are you going to get the gold to start a jokeshop?" asked Hermione skeptically. "You're going to needall the ingredients and materials — and premises too, Isuppose. ..."
Harry did not look at the twins. His face felt hot; hedeliberately dropped his fork and dived down to retrieve it.He heard Fred say overhead, "Ask us no questions and we'lltell you no lies, Hermione. C'mon, George, if we get thereearly we might be able to sell a few Extendable Ears beforeHerbology."
Harry emerged from under the table to see Fred andGeorge walking away, each carrying a stack of toast.
"What did that mean?" said Hermione, looking fromHarry to Ron. " 'Ask us no questions ...' Does that meanthey've already got some gold to start a joke shop?"
"You know, I've been wondering about that," said Ron, hisbrow furrowed. "They bought me a new set of dress robesthis summer, and I couldn't understand where they got theGalleons. ..."
Harry decided it was time to steer the conversation out ofthese dangerous waters.
"D'you reckon it's true this year's going to be reallytough? Because of the exams?"
"Oh yeah," said Ron. "Bound to be, isn't it? O.W.L.s arereally important, affect the jobs you can apply for andeverything. We get career advice too, later this year, Billtold me. So you can choose what N.E.W.T.s you want to donext year."
"D'you know what you want to do after Hogwarts?" Harryasked the other two, as they left the Great Hall shortlyafterward and set off toward their History of Magicclassroom.
"Not really," said Ron slowly. "Except ... well ..."
He looked slightly sheepish.
"What?" Harry urged him.
"Well, it'd be cool to be an Auror," said Ron in an offhandvoice.
"Yeah, it would," said Harry fervently.
"But they're, like, the elite," said Ron. "You've got to bereally good. What about you, Hermione?"
"I don't know," said Hermione. "I think I'd really like to dosomething worthwhile."
"An Auror's worthwhile!" said Harry.
"Yes, it is, but it's not the only worthwhile thing," saidHermione thoughtfully. "I mean, if I could take S.P.E.W.further ..."
Harry and Ron carefully avoided looking at each other.
History of Magic was by common consent the most boringsubject ever devised by Wizard-kind. Professor Binns, theirghost teacher, had a wheezy, droning voice that was almostguaranteed to cause severe drowsiness within ten minutes,five in warm weather. He never varied the form of theirlessons, but lectured them without pausing while they tooknotes, or rather, gazed sleepily into space. Harry and Ronhad so far managed to scrape passes in this subject only bycopying Hermione's notes before exams; she alone seemedable to resist the soporific power of Binns's voice.
Today they suffered through three quarters of an hour'sdroning on the subject of giant wars. Harry heard justenough within the first ten minutes to appreciate dimly thatin another teacher's hands this subject might have beenmildly interesting, but then his brain disengaged, and hespent the remaining thirty-five minutes playing hangman ona corner of his parchment with Ron, while Hermione shotthem filthy looks out of the corner of her eye.
"How would it be," she asked them coldly as they left theclassroom for break (Binns drifting away through theblackboard), "if I refused to lend you my notes this year?"
"We'd fail our O.W.L.s," said Ron. "If you want that onyour conscience, Hermione ..."
"Well, you'd deserve it," she snapped. "You don't even tryto listen to him, do you?"
"We do try," said Ron. "We just haven't got your brains oryour memory or your concentration — you're just clevererthan we are — is it nice to rub it in?"
"Oh, don't give me that rubbish," said Hermione, but shelooked slightly mollified as she led the way out into thedamp courtyard.
A fine misty drizzle was falling, so that the peoplestanding in huddles around the yard looked blurred at theedges. Harry, Ron, and Hermione chose a secluded cornerunder a heavily dripping balcony, turning up the collars oftheir robes against the chilly September air and talkingabout what Snape was likely to set them in the first lessonof the year. They had got as far as agreeing that it was likelyto be something extremely difficult, just to catch them offguard after a two-month holiday, when someone walkedaround the corner toward them.
"Hello, Harry!"
It was Cho Chang and what was more, she was on herown again. This was most unusual: Cho was almost alwayssurrounded by a gang of giggling girls; Harry rememberedthe agony of trying to get her by herself to ask her to theYule Ball.
"Hi," said Harry, feeling his face grow hot. At least you'renot covered in Stinksap this time, he told himself. Choseemed to be thinking along the same lines.
"You got that stuff off, then?"
"Yeah," said Harry, trying to grin as though the memory oftheir last meeting was funny as opposed to mortifying. "Sodid you ... er ... have a good summer?"
The moment he had said this he wished he hadn't: Cedrichad been Cho's boyfriend and the memory of his deathmust have affected her holiday almost as badly as it hadaffected Harry's. ... Something seemed to tauten in herface, but she said, "Oh, it was all right, you know. ..."
"Is that a Tornados badge?" Ron demanded suddenly,pointing at the front of Cho's robes, to which a sky-bluebadge emblazoned with a double gold T was pinned. "Youdon't support them, do you?"
"Yeah, I do," said Cho.
"Have you always supported them, or just since theystarted winning the league?" said Ron, in what Harryconsidered an unnecessarily accusatory tone of voice.
"I've supported them since I was six," said Cho coolly."Anyway ... see you, Harry."
She walked away. Hermione waited until Cho was halfwayacross the courtyard before rounding on Ron.
"You are so tactless!"
"What? I only asked her if —"
"Couldn't you tell she wanted to talk to Harry on herown?"
"So? She could've done, I wasn't stopping —"
"What on earth were you attacking her about herQuidditch team for?"
"Attacking? I wasn't attacking her, I was only —"
"Who cares if she supports the Tornados?"
"Oh, come on, half the people you see wearing thosebadges only bought them last season —"
"But what does it matter?"
"It means they're not real fans, they're just jumping onthe bandwagon —"
"That's the bell," said Harry listlessly, because Ron andHermione were bickering too loudly to hear it. They did notstop arguing all the way down to Snape's dungeon, whichgave Harry plenty of time to reflect that between Nevilleand Ron he would be lucky ever to have two minutes'conversation with Cho that he could look back on withoutwanting to leave the country.
And yet, he thought, as they joined the queue lining upoutside Snape's classroom door, she had chosen to comeand talk to him, hadn't she? She had been Cedric'sgirlfriend; she could easily have hated Harry for coming outof the Triwizard maze alive when Cedric had died, yet shewas talking to him in a perfectly friendly way, not as thoughshe thought him mad, or a liar, or in some horrible wayresponsible for Cedric's death. ... Yes, she had definitelychosen to come and talk to him, and that made the secondtime in two days ... and at this thought, Harry's spirits rose.Even the ominous sound of Snape's dungeon door creakingopen did not puncture the small, hopeful bubble thatseemed to have swelled in his chest. He filed into theclassroom behind Ron and Hermione and followed them totheir usual table at the back, ignoring the huffy, irritablenoises now issuing from both of them.
"Settle down," said Snape coldly, shutting the door behindhim.
There was no real need for the call to order; the momentthe class had heard the door close, quiet had fallen and allfidgeting stopped. Snape's mere presence was usuallyenough to ensure a class's silence.
"Before we begin today's lesson," said Snape, sweepingover to his desk and staring around at them all, "I think itappropriate to remind you that next June you will be sittingan important examination, during which you will prove howmuch you have learned about the composition and use ofmagical potions. Moronic though some of this classundoubtedly are, I expect you to scrape an 'Acceptable' inyour O.W.L., or suffer my ... displeasure."
His gaze lingered this time upon Neville, who gulped.
"After this year, of course, many of you will cease studyingwith me," Snape went on. "I take only the very best into myN.E.W.T. Potions class, which means that some of us willcertainly be saying good-bye."
His eyes rested on Harry and his lip curled. Harry glaredback, feeling a grim pleasure at the idea that he would beable to give up Potions after fifth year.
"But we have another year to go before that happymoment of farewell," said Snape softly, "so whether you areintending to attempt N.E.W.T. or not, I advise all of you toconcentrate your efforts upon maintaining the high-passlevel I have come to expect from my O.W.L. students.
"Today we will be mixing a potion that often comes up atOrdinary Wizarding Level: the Draught of Peace, a potion tocalm anxiety and soothe agitation. Be warned: If you are tooheavy-handed with the ingredients you will put the drinkerinto a heavy and sometimes irreversible sleep, so you willneed to pay close attention to what you are doing." OnHarry's left, Hermione sat up a little straighter, herexpression one of the utmost attentiveness. "Theingredients and method" — Snape flicked his wand — "areon the blackboard" — (they appeared there) — "you willfind everything you need" — he flicked his wand again — "inthe store cupboard" — (the door of the said cupboardsprang open) — "you have an hour and a half. ... Start."
Just as Harry, Ron, and Hermione had predicted, Snapecould hardly have set them a more difficult, fiddly potion.The ingredients had to be added to the cauldron inprecisely the right order and quantities; the mixture had tobe stirred exactly the right number of times, firstly inclockwise, then in counterclockwise directions; the heat ofthe flames on which it was simmering had to be lowered toexactly the right level for a specific number of minutesbefore the final ingredient was added.
"A light silver vapor should now be rising from yourpotion," called Snape, with ten minutes left to go.
Harry, who was sweating profusely, looked desperatelyaround the dungeon. His own cauldron was issuing copiousamounts of dark gray steam; Ron's was spitting greensparks. Seamus was feverishly prodding the flames at thebase of his cauldron with the tip of his wand, as they hadgone out. The surface of Hermione's potion, however, was ashimmering mist of silver vapor, and as Snape swept by helooked down his hooked nose at it without comment, whichmeant that he could find nothing to criticize. At Harry'scauldron, however, Snape stopped, looking down at Harrywith a horrible smirk on his face.
"Potter, what is this supposed to be?"
The Slytherins at the front of the class all looked upeagerly; they loved hearing Snape taunt Harry.
"The Draught of Peace," said Harry tensely.
"Tell me, Potter," said Snape softly, "can you read?"
Draco Malfoy laughed.
"Yes, I can," said Harry, his fingers clenched tightlyaround his wand.
"Read the third line of the instructions for me, Potter."
Harry squinted at the blackboard; it was not easy to makeout the instructions through the haze of multicolored steamnow filling the dungeon.
" 'Add powdered moonstone, stir three timescounterclockwise, allow to simmer for seven minutes, thenadd two drops of syrup of hellebore.' "
His heart sank. He had not added syrup of hellebore, buthad proceeded straight to the fourth line of the instructionsafter allowing his potion to simmer for seven minutes.
"Did you do everything on the third line, Potter?"
"No," said Harry very quietly.
"I beg your pardon?"
"No," said Harry, more loudly. "I forgot the hellebore. ..."
"I know you did, Potter, which means that this mess isutterly worthless. Evanesco."
The contents of Harry's potion vanished; he was leftstanding foolishly beside an empty cauldron.
"Those of you who have managed to read the instructions,fill one flagon with a sample of your potion, label it clearlywith your name, and bring it up to my desk for testing," saidSnape. "Homework: twelve inches of parchment on theproperties of moonstone and its uses in potion-making, tobe handed in on Thursday."
While everyone around him filled their flagons, Harrycleared away his things, seething. His potion had been noworse than Ron's, which was now giving off a foul odor ofbad eggs, or Neville's, which had achieved the consistencyof just-mixed cement and which Neville was now having togouge out of his cauldron, yet it was he, Harry, who wouldbe receiving zero marks for the day's work. He stuffed hiswand back into his bag and slumped down onto his seat,watching everyone else march up to Snape's desk withfilled and corked flagons. When at long last the bell rang,Harry was first out of the dungeon and had already startedhis lunch by the time Ron and Hermione joined him in theGreat Hall. The ceiling had turned an even murkier grayduring the morning. Rain was lashing the high windows.
"That was really unfair," said Hermione consolingly, sittingdown next to Harry and helping herself to shepherd's pie."Your potion wasn't nearly as bad as Goyle's, when he put itin his flagon the whole thing shattered and set his robes onfire."
"Yeah, well," said Harry, glowering at his plate, "sincewhen has Snape ever been fair to me?"
Neither of the others answered; all three of them knewthat Snape and Harry's mutual enmity had been absolutefrom the moment Harry had set foot in Hogwarts.
"I did think he might be a bit better this year," saidHermione in a disappointed voice. "I mean ... you know ..."She looked carefully around; there were half a dozen emptyseats on either side of them and nobody was passing thetable. "... Now he's in the Order and everything."
"Poisonous toadstools don't change their spots," said Ronsagely. "Anyway, I've always thought Dumbledore wascracked trusting Snape, where's the evidence he ever reallystopped working for You-Know-Who?"
"I think Dumbledore's probably got plenty of evidence,even if he doesn't share it with you, Ron," snappedHermione.
"Oh, shut up, the pair of you," said Harry heavily, as Ronopened his mouth to argue back. Hermione and Ron bothfroze, looking angry and offended. "Can't you give it arest?" he said. "You're always having a go at each other, it'sdriving me mad." And abandoning his shepherd's pie, heswung his schoolbag back over his shoulder and left themsitting there.
He walked up the marble staircase two steps at a time,past the many students hurrying toward lunch. The angerthat had just flared so unexpectedly still blazed inside him,and the vision of Ron and Hermione's shocked facesafforded him a sense of deep satisfaction. Serve them right,he thought. Why can't they give it a rest? ... Bickering allthe time ... It's enough to drive anyone up the wall. ...
He passed the large picture of Sir Cadogan the knight ona landing; Sir Cadogan drew his sword and brandished itfiercely at Harry, who ignored him.
"Come back, you scurvy dog, stand fast and fight!" yelledSir Cadogan in a muffled voice from behind his visor, butHarry merely walked on, and when Sir Cadogan attemptedto follow him by running into a neighboring picture, he wasrebuffed by its inhabitant, a large and angry-lookingwolfhound.
Harry spent the rest of the lunch hour sitting aloneunderneath the trapdoor at the top of North Tower, andconsequently he was the first to ascend the silver ladderthat led to Sibyll Trelawney's classroom when the bell rang.
Divination was Harry's least favorite class after Potions,which was due mainly to Professor Trelawney's habit ofpredicting his premature death every few lessons. A thinwoman, heavily draped in shawls and glittering with stringsof beads, she always reminded Harry of some kind of insect,with her glasses hugely magnifying her eyes. She was busyputting copies of battered, leather-bound books on each ofthe spindly little tables with which her room was litteredwhen Harry entered the room, but so dim was the light castby the lamps covered by scarves and the low-burning,sickly-scented fire that she appeared not to notice him as hetook a seat in the shadows. The rest of the class arrivedover the next five minutes. Ron emerged from the trapdoor,looked around carefully, spotted Harry and made directlyfor him, or as directly as he could while having to wend hisway between tables, chairs, and overstuffed poufs.
"Hermione and me have stopped arguing," he said, sittingdown beside Harry.
"Good," grunted Harry.
"But Hermione says she thinks it would be nice if youstopped taking out your temper on us," said Ron.
"I'm not —"
"I'm just passing on the message," said Ron, talking overhim. "But I reckon she's right. It's not our fault how Seamusand Snape treat you."
"I never said it —"
"Good day," said Professor Trelawney in her usual misty,dreamy voice, and Harry broke off, feeling both annoyedand slightly ashamed of himself again. "And welcome backto Divination. I have, of course, been following yourfortunes most carefully over the holidays, and am delightedto see that you have all returned to Hogwarts safely — as, ofcourse, I knew you would.
"You will find on the tables before you copies of TheDream Oracle, by Inigo Imago. Dream interpretation is amost important means of divining the future and one thatmay very probably be tested in your O.W.L. Not, of course,that I believe examination passes or failures are of theremotest importance when it comes to the sacred art ofdivination. If you have the Seeing Eye, certificates andgrades matter very little. However, the headmaster likesyou to sit the examination, so ..."
Her voice trailed away delicately, leaving them all in nodoubt that Professor Trelawney considered her subjectabove such sordid matters as examinations.
"Turn, please, to the introduction and read what Imagohas to say on the matter of dream interpretation. Thendivide into pairs. Use The Dream Oracle to interpret eachother's most recent dreams. Carry on."
The one good thing to be said for this lesson was that itwas not a double period. By the time they had all finishedreading the introduction of the book, they had barely tenminutes left for dream interpretation. At the table next toHarry and Ron, Dean had paired up with Neville, whoimmediately embarked on a long-winded explanation of anightmare involving a pair of giant scissors wearing hisgrandmother's best hat; Harry and Ron merely looked ateach other glumly.
"I never remember my dreams," said Ron. "You say one."
"You must remember one of them," said Harryimpatiently.
He was not going to share his dreams with anyone. Heknew perfectly well what his regular nightmare about agraveyard meant, he did not need Ron or ProfessorTrelawney or the stupid Dream Oracle to tell him that. ...
"Well, I had one that I was playing Quidditch the othernight," said Ron, screwing up his face in an effort toremember. "What d'you reckon that means?"
"Probably that you're going to be eaten by a giantmarshmallow or something," said Harry, turning the pagesof The Dream Oracle without interest.
It was very dull work looking up bits of dreams in theOracle and Harry was not cheered up when ProfessorTrelawney set them the task of keeping a dream diary for amonth as homework. When the bell went, he and Ron ledthe way back down the ladder, Ron grumbling loudly.
"D'you realize how much homework we've got already?Binns set us a foot-and-a-half-long essay on giant wars,Snape wants a foot on the use of moonstones, and nowwe've got a month's dream diary from Trelawney! Fred andGeorge weren't wrong about O.W.L. year, were they? ThatUmbridge woman had better not give us any. ..."
When they entered the Defense Against the Dark Artsclassroom they found Professor Umbridge already seated atthe teacher's desk, wearing the fluffy pink cardigan of thenight before and the black velvet bow on top of her head.Harry was again reminded forcibly of a large fly perchedunwisely on top of an even larger toad.
The class was quiet as it entered the room; ProfessorUmbridge was, as yet, an unknown quantity and nobodyknew yet how strict a disciplinarian she was likely to be.
"Well, good afternoon!" she said when finally the wholeclass had sat down.
A few people mumbled "Good afternoon," in reply.
"Tut, tut," said Professor Umbridge. "That won't do, now,will it? I should like you, please, to reply 'Good afternoon,Professor Umbridge.' One more time, please. Goodafternoon, class!"
"Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge," they chantedback at her.
"There, now," said Professor Umbridge sweetly. "Thatwasn't too difficult, was it? Wands away and quills out,please."
Many of the class exchanged gloomy looks; the order"wands away" had never yet been followed by a lesson theyhad found interesting. Harry shoved his wand back insidehis bag and pulled out quill, ink, and parchment. ProfessorUmbridge opened her handbag, extracted her own wand,which was an unusually short one, and tapped theblackboard sharply with it; words appeared on the board atonce:
Defense Against the Dark Arts
A Return to Basic Principles.
"Well now, your teaching in this subject has been ratherdisrupted and fragmented, hasn't it?" stated ProfessorUmbridge, turning to face the class with her hands claspedneatly in front of her. "The constant changing of teachers,many of whom do not seem to have followed any Ministryapproved curriculum, has unfortunately resulted in yourbeing far below the standard we would expect to see inyour O.W.L. year.
"You will be pleased to know, however, that theseproblems are now to be rectified. We will be following acarefully structured, theory-centered, Ministry-approvedcourse of defensive magic this year. Copy down thefollowing, please."
She rapped the blackboard again; the first messagevanished and was replaced by:
Course aims:
1. Understanding the principles underlying defensivemagic.
2. Learning to recognize situations in which defensivemagic can legally be used.
3. Placing the use of defensive magic in a context forpractical use.
For a couple of minutes the room was full of the sound ofscratching quills on parchment. When everyone had copieddown Professor Umbridge's three course aims she said,"Has everybody got a copy of Defensive Magical Theory byWilbert Slinkhard?"
There was a dull murmur of assent throughout the class.
"I think we'll try that again," said Professor Umbridge."When I ask you a question, I should like you to reply 'Yes,Professor Umbridge,' or 'No, Professor Umbridge.' So, haseveryone got a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by WilbertSlinkhard?"
"Yes, Professor Umbridge," rang through the room.
"Good," said Professor Umbridge. "I should like you toturn to page five and read chapter one, 'Basics forBeginners.' There will be no need to talk."
Professor Umbridge left the blackboard and settledherself in the chair behind the teacher's desk, observingthem all with those pouchy toad's eyes. Harry turned topage five of his copy of Defensive Magical Theory andstarted to read.
It was desperately dull, quite as bad as listening toProfessor Binns. He felt his concentration sliding away fromhim; he had soon read the same line half a dozen timeswithout taking in more than the first few words. Severalsilent minutes passed. Next to him, Ron was absentmindedly turning his quill over and over in his fingers,staring at the same spot on the page. Harry looked rightand received a surprise to shake him out of his torpor.Hermione had not even opened her copy of DefensiveMagical Theory. She was staring fixedly at ProfessorUmbridge with her hand in the air.
Harry could not remember Hermione ever neglecting toread when instructed to, or indeed resisting the temptationto open any book that came under her nose. He looked ather questioningly, but she merely shook her head slightly toindicate that she was not about to answer questions, andcontinued to stare at Professor Umbridge, who was lookingjust as resolutely in another direction.
After several more minutes had passed, however, Harrywas not the only one watching Hermione. The chapter theyhad been instructed to read was so tedious that more andmore people were choosing to watch Hermione's muteattempt to catch Professor Umbridge's eye than to struggleon with "Basics for Beginners."
When more than half the class were staring at Hermionerather than at their books, Professor Umbridge seemed todecide that she could ignore the situation no longer.
"Did you want to ask something about the chapter, dear?"she asked Hermione, as though she had only just noticedher.
"Not about the chapter, no," said Hermione.
"Well, we're reading just now," said Professor Umbridge,showing her small, pointed teeth. "If you have other querieswe can deal with them at the end of class."
"I've got a query about your course aims," said Hermione.
Professor Umbridge raised her eyebrows.
"And your name is — ?"
"Hermione Granger," said Hermione.
"Well, Miss Granger, I think the course aims are perfectlyclear if you read them through carefully," said ProfessorUmbridge in a voice of determined sweetness.
"Well, I don't," said Hermione bluntly. "There's nothingwritten up there about using defensive spells."
There was a short silence in which many members of theclass turned their heads to frown at the three course aimsstill written on the blackboard.
"Using defensive spells?" Professor Umbridge repeatedwith a little laugh. "Why, I can't imagine any situationarising in my classroom that would require you to use adefensive spell, Miss Granger. You surely aren't expectingto be attacked during class?"
"We're not going to use magic?" Ron ejaculated loudly.
"Students raise their hands when they wish to speak inmy class, Mr. — ?"
"Weasley," said Ron, thrusting his hand into the air.
Professor Umbridge, smiling still more widely, turned herback on him. Harry and Hermione immediately raised theirhands too. Professor Umbridge's pouchy eyes lingered onHarry for a moment before she addressed Hermione.
"Yes, Miss Granger? You wanted to ask something else?"
"Yes," said Hermione. "Surely the whole point of DefenseAgainst the Dark Arts is to practice defensive spells?"
"Are you a Ministry-trained educational expert, MissGranger?" asked Professor Umbridge in her falsely sweetvoice.
"No, but —"
"Well then, I'm afraid you are not qualified to decide whatthe 'whole point' of any class is. Wizards much older andcleverer than you have devised our new program of study.You will be learning about defensive spells in a secure, riskfree way —"
"What use is that?" said Harry loudly. "If we're going tobe attacked it won't be in a —"
"Hand, Mr. Potter!" sang Professor Umbridge.
Harry thrust his fist in the air. Professor Umbridgepromptly turned away from him again, but now severalother people had their hands up too.
"And your name is?" Professor Umbridge said to Dean."Dean Thomas."
"Well, Mr. Thomas?""Well, it's like Harry said, isn't it?" said Dean. "If we'regoing to be attacked, it won't be risk-free —"
"I repeat," said Professor Umbridge, smiling in a veryirritating fashion at Dean, "do you expect to be attackedduring my classes?"
"No, but —"
Professor Umbridge talked over him.
"I do not wish to criticize the way things have been run inthis school," she said, an unconvincing smile stretching herwide mouth, "but you have been exposed to some veryirresponsible wizards in this class, very irresponsibleindeed — not to mention," she gave a nasty little laugh,"extremely dangerous half-breeds."
"If you mean Professor Lupin," piped up Dean Thomasangrily, "he was the best we ever —"
"Hand, Mr. Thomas! As I was saying — you have beenintroduced to spells that have been complex, inappropriateto your age group, and potentially lethal. You have beenfrightened into believing that you are likely to meet Darkattacks every other day —"
"No we haven't," Hermione said, "we just —"
"Your hand is not up, Miss Granger!"
Hermione put up her hand; Professor Umbridge turnedaway from her.
"It is my understanding that my predecessor not onlyperformed illegal curses in front of you, he actuallyperformed them on you —"
"Well, he turned out to be a maniac, didn't he?" said DeanThomas hotly. "Mind you, we still learned loads —"
"Your hand is not up, Mr. Thomas!" trilled ProfessorUmbridge. "Now, it is the view of the Ministry that atheoretical knowledge will be more than sufficient to getyou through your examination, which, after all, is whatschool is all about. And your name is?" she added, staring atParvati, whose hand had just shot up.
"Parvati Patil, and isn't there a practical bit in our DefenseAgainst the Dark Arts O.W.L.? Aren't we supposed to showthat we can actually do the countercurses and things?"
"As long as you have studied the theory hard enough,there is no reason why you should not be able to performthe spells under carefully controlled examinationconditions," said Professor Umbridge dismissively.
"Without ever practicing them before?" said Parvatiincredulously. "Are you telling us that the first time we'll getto do the spells will be during our exam?"
"I repeat, as long as you have studied the theory hardenough —"
"And what good's theory going to be in the real world?"said Harry loudly, his fist in the air again.
Professor Umbridge looked up.
"This is school, Mr. Potter, not the real world," she saidsoftly.
"So we're not supposed to be prepared for what's waitingout there?"
"There is nothing waiting out there, Mr. Potter."
"Oh yeah?" said Harry. His temper, which seemed to havebeen bubbling just beneath the surface all day, wasreaching boiling point.
"Who do you imagine wants to attack children likeyourselves?" inquired Professor Umbridge in a horriblyhoneyed voice.
"Hmm, let's think ..." said Harry in a mock thoughtfulvoice, "maybe Lord Voldemort?"
Ron gasped; Lavender Brown uttered a little scream;Neville slipped sideways off his stool. Professor Umbridge,however, did not flinch. She was staring at Harry with agrimly satisfied expression on her face.
"Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter."
The classroom was silent and still. Everyone was staringat either Umbridge or Harry.
"Now, let me make a few things quite plain."
Professor Umbridge stood up and leaned toward them,her stubby-fingered hands splayed on her desk.
"You have been told that a certain Dark wizard hasreturned from the dead —"
"He wasn't dead," said Harry angrily, "but yeah, he'sreturned!"
"Mr.-Potter-you-have-already-lost-your-House-ten-pointsdo-not-make-matters-worse-for-yourself," said ProfessorUmbridge in one breath without looking at him. "As I wassaying, you have been informed that a certain Dark wizardis at large once again. This is a lie."
"It is NOT a lie!" said Harry. "I saw him, I fought him!"
"Detention, Mr. Potter!" said Professor Umbridgetriumphantly. "Tomorrow evening. Five o'clock. My office. Irepeat, this is a lie. The Ministry of Magic guarantees thatyou are not in danger from any Dark wizard. If you are stillworried, by all means come and see me outside class hours.If someone is alarming you with fibs about reborn Darkwizards, I would like to hear about it. I am here to help. Iam your friend. And now, you will kindly continue yourreading. Page five, 'Basics for Beginners.' "
Professor Umbridge sat down behind her desk again.Harry, however, stood up. Everyone was staring at him;Seamus looked half-scared, half-fascinated.
"Harry, no!" Hermione whispered in a warning voice,tugging at his sleeve, but Harry jerked his arm out of herreach.
"So, according to you, Cedric Diggory dropped dead of hisown accord, did he?" Harry asked, his voice shaking.
There was a collective intake of breath from the class, fornone of them, apart from Ron and Hermione, had everheard Harry talk about what had happened on the nightthat Cedric had died. They stared avidly from Harry toProfessor Umbridge, who had raised her eyes and wasstaring at him without a trace of a fake smile on her face.
"Cedric Diggory's death was a tragic accident," she saidcoldly.
"It was murder," said Harry. He could feel himselfshaking. He had hardly talked to anyone about this, least ofall thirty eagerly listening classmates. "Voldemort killedhim, and you know it."
Professor Umbridge's face was quite blank. For a momenthe thought she was going to scream at him. Then she said,in her softest, most sweetly girlish voice, "Come here, Mr.Potter, dear."
He kicked his chair aside, strode around Ron andHermione and up to the teacher's desk. He could feel therest of the class holding its breath. He felt so angry he didnot care what happened next.
Professor Umbridge pulled a small roll of pink parchmentout of her handbag, stretched it out on the desk, dipped herquill into a bottle of ink, and started scribbling, hunchedover so that Harry could not see what she was writing.Nobody spoke. After a minute or so she rolled up theparchment and tapped it with her wand; it sealed itselfseamlessly so that he could not open it.
"Take this to Professor McGonagall, dear," said ProfessorUmbridge, holding out the note to him.
He took it from her without saying a word and left theroom, not even looking back at Ron and Hermione, andslamming the classroom door shut behind him. He walkedvery fast along the corridor, the note to McGonagallclutched tight in his hand, and turning a corner walked slapinto Peeves the Poltergeist, a wide-faced little man floatingon his back in midair, juggling several inkwells.
"Why, it's Potty Wee Potter!" cackled Peeves, allowing twoof the inkwells to fall to the ground where they smashedand spattered the walls with ink; Harry jumped backwardout of the way with a snarl.
"Get out of it, Peeves."
"Oooh, Crackpot's feeling cranky," said Peeves, pursuingHarry along the corridor, leering as he zoomed along abovehim. "What is it this time, my fine Potty friend? Hearingvoices? Seeing visions? Speaking in" — Peeves blew agigantic raspberry — "tongues?"
"I said, leave me ALONE!" Harry shouted, running downthe nearest flight of stairs, but Peeves merely slid down thebanister on his back beside him.
"Oh, most think he's barking, the Potty wee lad,
But some are more kindly and think he's just sad,
But Peevesy knows better and says that he's mad —"
"SHUT UP!"
A door to his left flew open and Professor McGonagallemerged from her office looking grim and slightly harassed.
"What on earth are you shouting about, Potter?" shesnapped, as Peeves cackled gleefully and zoomed out ofsight. "Why aren't you in class?"
"I've been sent to see you," said Harry stiffly.
"Sent? What do you mean, sent?"
He held out the note from Professor Umbridge. ProfessorMcGonagall took it from him, frowning, slit it open with atap of her wand, stretched it out, and began to read. Hereyes zoomed from side to side behind their squarespectacles as she read what Umbridge had written, andwith each line they became narrower.
"Come in here, Potter."
He followed her inside her study. The door closedautomatically behind him.
"Well?" said Professor McGonagall, rounding on him. "Isthis true?"
"Is what true?" Harry asked, rather more aggressivelythan he had intended. "Professor?" he added in an attemptto sound more polite.
"Is it true that you shouted at Professor Umbridge?"
"Yes," said Harry."You called her a liar?"
"Yes."
"You told her He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back?"
"Yes."
Professor McGonagall sat down behind her desk,frowning at Harry. Then she said, "Have a biscuit, Potter."
"Have — what?"
"Have a biscuit," she repeated impatiently, indicating atartan tin of cookies lying on top of one of the piles ofpapers on her desk. "And sit down."
There had been a previous occasion when Harry,expecting to be caned by Professor McGonagall, hadinstead been appointed by her to the Gryffindor Quidditchteam. He sank into a chair opposite her and helped himselfto a Ginger Newt, feeling just as confused and wrong-footedas he had done on that occasion.
Professor McGonagall set down Professor Umbridge'snote and looked very seriously at Harry.
"Potter, you need to be careful."
Harry swallowed his mouthful of Ginger Newt and staredat her. Her tone of voice was not at all what he was used to;it was not brisk, crisp, and stern; it was low and anxious andsomehow much more human than usual.
"Misbehavior in Dolores Umbridge's class could cost youmuch more than House points and a detention."
"What do you — ?"
"Potter, use your common sense," snapped ProfessorMcGonagall, with an abrupt return to her usual manner."You know where she comes from, you must know to whomshe is reporting."
The bell rang for the end of the lesson. Overhead and allaround came the elephantine sounds of hundreds ofstudents on the move.
"It says here she's given you detention every evening thisweek, starting tomorrow," Professor McGonagall said,looking down at Umbridge's note again.
"Every evening this week!" Harry repeated, horrified."But, Professor, couldn't you — ?"
"No, I couldn't," said Professor McGonagall flatly.
"But —"
"She is your teacher and has every right to give youdetention. You will go to her room at five o'clock tomorrowfor the first one. Just remember: Tread carefully aroundDolores Umbridge."
"But I was telling the truth!" said Harry, outraged."Voldemort's back, you know he is, Professor Dumbledoreknows he is —"
"For heaven's sake, Potter!" said Professor McGonagall,straightening her glasses angrily (she had winced horriblywhen he had used Voldemort's name). "Do you really thinkthis is about truth or lies? It's about keeping your headdown and your temper under control!"
She stood up, nostrils wide and mouth very thin, and hestood too.
"Have another biscuit," she said irritably, thrusting the tinat him.
"No, thanks," said Harry coldly.
"Don't be ridiculous," she snapped.
He took one.
"Thanks," he said grudgingly.
"Didn't you listen to Dolores Umbridge's speech at thestart-of-term feast, Potter?"
"Yeah," said Harry. "Yeah ... she said ... progress will beprohibited or ... well, it meant that ... that the Ministry ofMagic is trying to interfere at Hogwarts."
Professor McGonagall eyed him for a moment, thensniffed, walked around her desk, and held open the door forhim.
"Well, I'm glad you listen to Hermione Granger at anyrate," she said, pointing him out of her office.
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