Untitled Part 23
Was this why Dumbledore would no longer meet Harry'seyes? Did he expect to see Voldemort staring out of them,afraid, perhaps, that their vivid green might turn suddenlyto scarlet, with catlike slits for pupils? Harry rememberedhow the snakelike face of Voldemort had once forced itselfout of the back of Professor Quirrell's head, and he ran hishand over the back of his own, wondering what it would feellike if Voldemort burst out of his skull. ...
He felt dirty, contaminated, as though he were carryingsome deadly germ, unworthy to sit on the undergroundtrain back from the hospital with innocent, clean peoplewhose minds and bodies were free of the taint of Voldemort.... He had not merely seen the snake, he had been thesnake, he knew it now. ...
And then a truly terrible thought occurred to him, amemory bobbing to the surface of his mind, one that madehis insides writhe and squirm like serpents. ...
"What's he after apart from followers?"
"Stuff he can only get by stealth ... like a weapon.Something he didn't have last time."
I'm the weapon, Harry thought, and it was as thoughpoison were pumping through his veins, chilling him,bringing him out in a sweat as he swayed with the trainthrough the dark tunnel. I'm the one Voldemort's trying touse, that's why they've got guards around me everywhere Igo, it's not for my protection, it's for other people's, onlyit's not working, they can't have someone on me all thetime at Hogwarts. ... I did attack Mr. Weasley last night, itwas me, Voldemort made me do it and he could be insideme, listening to my thoughts right now. ...
"Are you all right, Harry, dear?" whispered Mrs. Weasley,leaning across Ginny to speak to him as the train rattledalong through its dark tunnel. "You don't look very well. Areyou feeling sick?"
They were all watching him. He shook his head violentlyand stared up at an advertisement for home insurance.
"Harry, dear, are you sure you're all right?" said Mrs.Weasley in a worried voice, as they walked around theunkempt patch of grass in the middle of Grimmauld Place."You look ever so pale. ... Are you sure you slept thismorning? You go upstairs to bed right now, and you canhave a couple of hours' sleep before dinner, all right?"
He nodded; here was a ready-made excuse not to talk toany of the others, which was precisely what he wanted, sowhen she opened the front door he proceeded straight pastthe troll's leg umbrella stand and up the stairs and hurriedinto his and Ron's bedroom.
Here he began to pace up and down, past the two bedsand Phineas Nigellus's empty portrait, his brain teemingand seething with questions and ever more dreadful ideas....
How had he become a snake? Perhaps he was anAnimagus. ... No, he couldn't be, he would know. ... perhapsVoldemort was an Animagus. ... Yes, thought Harry, thatwould fit, he would turn into a snake of course ... and whenhe's possessing me, then we both transform. ... That stilldoesn't explain how come I got to London and back to mybed in the space of about five minutes, though. ... But thenVoldemort's about the most powerful wizard in the world,apart from Dumbledore, it's probably no problem at all tohim to transport people like that. ...
And then, with a terrible stab of panic he thought, but thisis insane — if Voldemort's possessing me, I'm giving him aclear view into the headquarters of the Order of thePhoenix right now! He'll know who's in the Order andwhere Sirius is ... and I've heard loads of stuff I shouldn'thave, everything Sirius told me the first night I was here. ...
There was only one thing for it: He would have to leaveGrimmauld Place straightaway. He would spend Christmasat Hogwarts without the others, which would keep themsafe over the holidays at least. ... But no, that wouldn't do,there were still plenty of people at Hogwarts to maim andinjure, what if it was Seamus, Dean, or Neville next time?He stopped his pacing and stood staring at PhineasNigellus's empty frame. A leaden sensation was settling inthe pit of his stomach. He had no alternative: He was goingto have to return to Privet Drive, cut himself off from otherwizards entirely. ...
Well, if he had to do it, he thought, there was no pointhanging around. Trying with all his might not to think howthe Dursleys were going to react when they found him ontheir doorstep six months earlier than they had expected,he strode over to his trunk, slammed the lid shut and lockedit, then glanced around automatically for Hedwig beforeremembering that she was still at Hogwarts — well, hercage would be one less thing to carry — he seized one endof his trunk and had dragged it halfway toward the doorwhen a sneaky voice said, "Running away, are we?"
He looked around. Phineas Nigellus had appeared uponthe canvas of his portrait and was leaning against theframe, watching Harry with an amused expression on hisface.
"Not running away, no," said Harry shortly, dragging histrunk a few more feet across the room.
"I thought," said Phineas Nigellus, stroking his pointedbeard, "that to belong in Gryffindor House you weresupposed to be brave? It looks to me as though you wouldhave been better off in my own house. We Slytherins arebrave, yes, but not stupid. For instance, given the choice,we will always choose to save our own necks."
"It's not my own neck I'm saving," said Harry tersely,tugging the trunk over a patch of particularly uneven,moth-eaten carpet right in front of the door.
"Oh I see," said Phineas Nigellus, still stroking his beard."This is no cowardly flight — you are being noble."
Harry ignored him. His hand was on the doorknob whenPhineas Nigellus said lazily, "I have a message for you fromAlbus Dumbledore."
Harry spun around.
"What is it?"
"Stay where you are."
"I haven't moved!" said Harry, his hand still upon thedoorknob. "So what's the message?"
"I have just given it to you, dolt," said Phineas Nigellussmoothly. "Dumbledore says, 'Stay where you are.' "
"Why?" said Harry eagerly, dropping the end of his trunk."Why does he want me to stay? What else did he say?"
"Nothing whatsoever," said Phineas Nigellus, raising athin black eyebrow as though he found Harry impertinent.
Harry's temper rose to the surface like a snake rearingfrom long grass. He was exhausted, he was confusedbeyond measure, he had experienced terror, relief, andthen terror again in the last twelve hours, and stillDumbledore did not want to talk to him!
"So that's it, is it?" he said loudly. "Stay there? That's allanyone could tell me after I got attacked by thosedementors too! Just stay put while the grown-ups sort itout, Harry! We won't bother telling you anything, though,because your tiny little brain might not be able to cope withit!"
"You know," said Phineas Nigellus, even more loudly thanHarry, "this is precisely why I loathed being a teacher!Young people are so infernally convinced that they areabsolutely right about everything. Has it not occurred toyou, my poor puffed-up popinjay, that there might be anexcellent reason why the headmaster of Hogwarts is notconfiding every tiny detail of his plans to you? Have younever paused, while feeling hard-done-by, to note thatfollowing Dumbledore's orders has never yet led you intoharm? No. No, like all young people, you are quite sure thatyou alone feel and think, you alone recognize danger, youalone are the only one clever enough to realize what theDark Lord may be planning. ..."
"He is planning something to do with me, then?" saidHarry swiftly.
"Did I say that?" said Phineas Nigellus, idly examining hissilk gloves. "Now, if you will excuse me, I have better thingsto do than to listen to adolescent agonizing. ... Good day toyou. ..."
And he strolled into his frame and out of sight.
"Fine, go then!" Harry bellowed at the empty frame. "Andtell Dumbledore thanks for nothing!"
The empty canvas remained silent. Fuming, Harrydragged his trunk back to the foot of his bed, then threwhimself facedown upon the moth-eaten covers, his eyesshut, his body heavy and aching. ...
He felt he had journeyed miles and miles. ... It seemedimpossible that less than twenty-four hours ago Cho Changhad been approaching him under the mistletoe. ... He wasso tired. ... He was scared to sleep ... yet he did not knowhow long he could fight it. ... Dumbledore had told him tostay. ... That must mean he was allowed to sleep. ... But hewas scared. ... What if it happened again ... ?
He was sinking into shadows. ...
It was as though a film in his head had been waiting tostart. He was walking down a deserted corridor toward aplain black door, past rough stone walls, torches, and anopen doorway onto a flight of stone steps leadingdownstairs on the left. ...
He reached the black door but could not open it. ... Hestood gazing at it, desperate for entry. ... Something hewanted with all his heart lay beyond. ... A prize beyond hisdreams. ... If only his scar would stop prickling ... then hewould be able to think more clearly. ...
"Harry," said Ron's voice, from far, far away, "Mum saysdinner's ready, but she'll save you something if you want tostay in bed. ..."
Harry opened his eyes, but Ron had already left the room.He doesn't want to be on his own with me, Harry thought.Not after what he heard Moody say ...
He supposed none of them would want him thereanymore now that they knew what was inside him. ...
He would not go down to dinner; he would not inflict hiscompany upon them. He turned over onto his other sideand after a while dropped back off to sleep, waking muchlater in the early hours of the morning, with his insidesaching with hunger, and Ron snoring in the next bed.Squinting around the room he saw the dark outline ofPhineas Nigellus standing again in his portrait and itoccurred to Harry that Dumbledore had probably setPhineas Nigellus to watch over him, in case he attackedsomebody else.
The feeling of being unclean intensified. He half wishedhe had not obeyed Dumbledore and stayed. ... If this washow life was going to be in Grimmauld Place from now on,maybe he would be better off in Privet Drive after all.
Everybody else spent the following morning putting upChristmas decorations. Harry could not remember Siriusever being in such a good mood; he was actually singingcarols, apparently delighted that he was to have companyover Christmas. Harry could hear his voice echoing upthrough the floor in the cold and empty drawing roomwhere he was sitting alone, watching the sky outside thewindows growing whiter, threatening snow, all the timefeeling a savage pleasure that he was giving the others theopportunity to keep talking about him, as they were boundto be doing. When he heard Mrs. Weasley calling his namesoftly up the stairs around lunchtime he retreated fartherupstairs and ignored her.
It was around six o'clock in the evening that the doorbellrang and Mrs. Black started screaming again. Assumingthat Mundungus or some other Order member had come tocall, Harry merely settled himself more comfortably againstthe wall of Buckbeak the hippogriff's room where he washiding, trying to ignore how hungry he felt as he fedBuckbeak dead rats. It came as a slight shock whensomebody hammered hard on the door a few minutes later.
"I know you're in there," said Hermione's voice. "Will youplease come out? I want to talk to you."
"What are you doing here?" Harry asked her, pulling openthe door, as Buckbeak resumed his scratching at the strawstrewn floor for any fragments of rat he might havedropped. "I thought you were skiing with your mum anddad."
"Well, to tell the truth, skiing's not really my thing," saidHermione. "So I've come for Christmas." There was snow inher hair and her face was pink with cold. "But don't tell Ronthat, I told him it's really good because he kept laughing somuch. Anyway, Mum and Dad are a bit disappointed, butI've told them that everyone who's serious about the examsis staying at Hogwarts to study. They want me to do well,they'll understand. Anyway," she said briskly, "let's go toyour bedroom, Ron's mum's lit a fire in there and she's sentup sandwiches."
Harry followed her back to the second floor. When heentered the bedroom he was rather surprised to see bothRon and Ginny waiting for them, sitting on Ron's bed.
"I came on the Knight Bus," said Hermione airily, pullingoff her jacket before Harry had time to speak. "Dumbledoretold me what had happened first thing this morning, but Ihad to wait for term to end officially before setting off.Umbridge is already livid that you lot disappeared rightunder her nose, even though Dumbledore told her Mr.Weasley was in St. Mungo's, and he'd given you allpermission to visit. So ..."
She sat down next to Ginny, and the two girls and Ronlooked up at Harry.
"How're you feeling?" asked Hermione.
"Fine," said Harry stiffly.
"Oh, don't lie, Harry," she said impatiently. "Ron andGinny say you've been hiding from everyone since you gotback from St. Mungo's."
"They do, do they?" said Harry, glaring at Ron and Ginny.Ron looked down at his feet but Ginny seemed quiteunabashed.
"Well, you have!" she said. "And you won't look at any ofus!"
"It's you lot who won't look at me!" said Harry angrily
"Maybe you're taking it in turns to look and keep missingeach other," suggested Hermione, the corners of her mouthtwitching.
"Very funny," snapped Harry, turning away.
"Oh, stop feeling all misunderstood," said Hermionesharply. "Look, the others have told me what you overheardlast night on the Extendable Ears —"
"Yeah?" growled Harry, his hands deep in his pockets ashe watched the snow now falling thickly outside. "All beentalking about me, have you? Well, I'm getting used to it. ..."
"We wanted to talk to you, Harry," said Ginny, "but asyou've been hiding ever since we got back —"
"I didn't want anyone to talk to me," said Harry, who wasfeeling more and more nettled.
"Well, that was a bit stupid of you," said Ginny angrily,"seeing as you don't know anyone but me who's beenpossessed by You-Know-Who, and I can tell you how itfeels."
Harry remained quite still as the impact of these wordshit him. Then he turned on the spot to face her.
"I forgot," he said.
"Lucky you," said Ginny coolly.
"I'm sorry," Harry said, and he meant it. "So ... so do youthink I'm being possessed, then?"
"Well, can you remember everything you've been doing?"Ginny asked. "Are there big blank periods where you don'tknow what you've been up to?"
Harry racked his brains.
"No," he said.
"Then You-Know-Who hasn't ever possessed you," saidGinny simply. "When he did it to me, I couldn't rememberwhat I'd been doing for hours at a time. I'd find myselfsomewhere and not know how I got there."
Harry hardly dared believe her, yet his heart waslightening almost in spite of himself.
"That dream I had about your dad and the snake, though—"
"Harry, you've had these dreams before," Hermione said."You had flashes of what Voldemort was up to last year.""This was different," said Harry, shaking his head. "I wasinside that snake. It was like I was the snake. ... What ifVoldemort somehow transported me to London — ?"
"One day," said Hermione, sounding thoroughlyexasperated, "you'll read Hogwarts, A History, and perhapsthat will remind you that you can't Apparate or Disapparateinside Hogwarts. Even Voldemort couldn't just make you flyout of your dormitory, Harry."
"You didn't leave your bed, mate," said Ron. "I saw youthrashing around in your sleep about a minute before wecould wake you up. ..."
Harry started pacing up and down the room again,thinking. What they were all saying was not onlycomforting, it made sense. ... Without really thinking hetook a sandwich from the plate on the bed and crammed ithungrily into his mouth. ...
I'm not the weapon after all, thought Harry. His heartswelled with happiness and relief, and he felt like joining inas they heard Sirius tramping past their door towardBuckbeak's room, singing "God Rest Ye Merry, Hippogriffs"at the top of his voice.
How could he have dreamed of returning to Privet Drivefor Christmas? Sirius's delight at having the house fullagain, and especially at having Harry back, was infectious.He was no longer their sullen host of the summer; now heseemed determined that everyone should enjoy themselvesas much, if not more, than they would have done atHogwarts, and he worked tirelessly in the run-up toChristmas Day, cleaning and decorating with their help, sothat by the time they all went to bed on Christmas Eve thehouse was barely recognizable. The tarnished chandelierswere no longer hung with cobwebs but with garlands ofholly and gold and silver streamers; magical snow glitteredin heaps over the threadbare carpets; a great Christmastree, obtained by Mundungus and decorated with livefairies, blocked Sirius's family tree from view; and even thestuffed elf heads on the hall wall wore Father Christmashats and beards.
Harry awoke on Christmas morning to find a stack ofpresents at the foot of his bed and Ron already halfwaythrough opening his own, rather larger, pile.
"Good haul this year," he informed Harry through a cloudof paper. "Thanks for the Broom Compass, it's excellent,beats Hermione's — she's got me a homework planner —"
Harry sorted through his presents and found one withHermione's handwriting on it. She had given him too a bookthat resembled a diary, except that it said things like "Do ittoday or later you'll pay!" every time he opened a page.
Sirius and Lupin had given Harry a set of excellent booksentitled Practical Defensive Magic and Its Use Against theDark Arts, which had superb, moving color illustrations ofall the counterjinxes and hexes it described. Harry flickedthrough the first volume eagerly; he could see it was goingto be highly useful in his plans for the D.A. Hagrid had senta furry brown wallet that had fangs, which werepresumably supposed to be an antitheft device, butunfortunately prevented Harry putting any money inwithout getting his fingers ripped off. Tonks's present was asmall, working model of a Firebolt, which Harry watched flyaround the room, wishing he still had his full-size version;Ron had given him an enormous box of Every-Flavor Beans;Mr. and Mrs. Weasley the usual hand-knitted jumper andsome mince pies; and Dobby, a truly dreadful painting thatHarry suspected had been done by the elf himself. He hadjust turned it upside down to see whether it looked betterthat way when, with a loud crack, Fred and GeorgeApparated at the foot of his bed.
"Merry Christmas," said George. "Don't go downstairs fora bit."
"Why not?" said Ron.
"Mum's crying again," said Fred heavily. "Percy sent backhis Christmas jumper."
"Without a note," added George. "Hasn't asked how Dadis or visited him or anything. ..."
"We tried to comfort her," said Fred, moving around thebed to look at Harry's portrait. "Told her Percy's nothingmore than a humongous pile of rat droppings —"
"— didn't work," said George, helping himself to aChocolate Frog. "So Lupin took over. Best let him cheer herup before we go down for breakfast, I reckon."
"What's that supposed to be anyway?" asked Fred,squinting at Dobby's painting. "Looks like a gibbon with twoblack eyes."
"It's Harry!" said George, pointing at the back of thepicture. "Says so on the back!"
"Good likeness," said Fred, grinning. Harry threw his newhomework diary at him; it hit the wall opposite and fell tothe floor where it said happily, "If you've dotted the i's andcrossed the t's then you may do whatever you please!"
They got up and dressed; they could hear variousinhabitants of the house calling "Merry Christmas" to eachother. On their way downstairs they met Hermione. "Thanksfor the book, Harry!" she said happily. "I've been wantingthat New Theory of Numerology for ages! And that perfumeis really unusual, Ron."
"No problem," said Ron. "Who's that for anyway?" headded, nodding at the neatly wrapped present she wascarrying.
"Kreacher," said Hermione brightly.
"It had better not be clothes!" said Ron warningly. "Youknow what Sirius said, Kreacher knows too much, we can'tset him free!"
"It isn't clothes," said Hermione, "although if I had myway I'd certainly give him something to wear other thanthat filthy old rag. No, it's a patchwork quilt, I thought itwould brighten up his bedroom."
"What bedroom?" said Harry, dropping his voice to awhisper as they were passing the portrait of Sirius'smother.
"Well, Sirius says it's not so much a bedroom, more a kindof — den," said Hermione. "Apparently he sleeps under theboiler in that cupboard off the kitchen."
Mrs. Weasley was the only person in the basement whenthey arrived there. She was standing at the stove andsounded as though she had a bad head cold when shewished them Merry Christmas, and they all averted theireyes.
"So, this is Kreacher's bedroom?" said Ron, strolling overto a dingy door in the corner opposite the pantry whichHarry had never seen open.
"Yes," said Hermione, now sounding a little nervous. "Er... I think we'd better knock ..."
Ron rapped the door with his knuckles but there was noreply.
"He must be sneaking around upstairs," he said, andwithout further ado pulled open the door. "Urgh."
Harry peered inside. Most of the cupboard was taken upwith a very large and old-fashioned boiler, but in the foot'sspace underneath the pipes Kreacher had made himselfsomething that looked like a nest. A jumble of assorted ragsand smelly old blankets were piled on the floor and thesmall dent in the middle of it showed where Kreachercurled up to sleep every night. Here and there among thematerial were stale bread crusts and moldy old bits ofcheese. In a far corner glinted small objects and coins thatHarry guessed Kreacher had saved, magpielike, fromSirius's purge of the house, and he had also managed toretrieve the silver-framed family photographs that Siriushad thrown away over the summer. Their glass might beshattered, but still the little black-and-white people insidethem peered haughtily up at him, including — he felt a littlejolt in his stomach — the dark, heavy-lidded woman whosetrial he had witnessed in Dumbledore's Pensieve: BellatrixLestrange. By the looks of it, hers was Kreacher's favoritephotograph; he had placed it to the fore of all the othersand had mended the glass clumsily with Spellotape.
"I think I'll just leave his present here," said Hermione,laying the package neatly in the middle of the depression inthe rags and blankets and closing the door quietly. "He'llfind it later, that'll be fine. ..."
"Come to think of it," said Sirius, emerging from thepantry carrying a large turkey as they closed the cupboarddoor, "has anyone actually seen Kreacher lately?"
"I haven't seen him since the night we came back here,"said Harry. "You were ordering him out of the kitchen."
"Yeah ..." said Sirius, frowning. "You know, I think that'sthe last time I saw him, too. ... He must be hiding upstairssomewhere. ..."
"He couldn't have left, could he?" said Harry. "I mean,when you said 'out,' maybe he thought you meant, get outof the house?"
"No, no, house-elves can't leave unless they're givenclothes, they're tied to their family's house," said Sirius.
"They can leave the house if they really want to," Harrycontradicted him. "Dobby did, he left the Malfoys' to giveme warnings two years ago. He had to punish himselfafterward, but he still managed it."
Sirius looked slightly disconcerted for a moment, thensaid, "I'll look for him later, I expect I'll find him upstairscrying his eyes out over my mother's old bloomers orsomething. ... Of course, he might have crawled into theairing cupboard and died. ... But I mustn't get my hopes up...."
Fred, George, and Ron laughed; Hermione, however,looked reproachful.
Once they had had their Christmas lunch, the Weasleysand Harry and Hermione were planning to pay Mr. Weasleyanother visit, escorted by Mad-Eye and Lupin. Mundungusturned up in time for Christmas pudding and trifle, havingmanaged to "borrow" a car for the occasion, as theUnderground did not run on Christmas Day. The car, whichHarry doubted very much had been taken with theknowledge or consent of its owner, had had a similarEnlarging Spell put upon it as the Weasleys' old FordAnglia; although normally proportioned outside, ten peoplewith Mundungus driving were able to fit into it quitecomfortably. Mrs. Weasley hesitated at the point of gettinginside; Harry knew that her disapproval of Mundungus wasbattling with her dislike of traveling without magic; finallythe cold outside and her children's pleading triumphed, andshe settled herself into the backseat between Fred and Billwith good grace.
The journey to St. Mungo's was quite quick, as there wasvery little traffic on the roads. A small trickle of witches andwizards were creeping furtively up the otherwise desertedstreet to visit the hospital. Harry and the others got out ofthe car, and Mundungus drove off around the corner to waitfor them; they strolled casually toward the window wherethe dummy in green nylon stood, then, one by one, steppedthrough the glass.
The reception area looked pleasantly festive: The crystalorbs that illuminated St. Mungo's had been turned to redand gold so that they became gigantic, glowing Christmasbaubles; holly hung around every doorway, and shiningwhite Christmas trees covered in magical snow and iciclesglittered in every corner, each topped with a gleaming goldstar. It was less crowded than the last time they had beenthere, although halfway across the room Harry foundhimself shunted aside by a witch with a walnut jammed upher left nostril.
"Family argument, eh?" smirked the blonde witch behindthe desk. "You're the third I've seen today ... Spell Damage,fourth floor ..."
They found Mr. Weasley propped up in bed with theremains of his turkey dinner on a tray in his lap and arather sheepish expression on his face.
"Everything all right, Arthur?" asked Mrs. Weasley, afterthey had all greeted Mr. Weasley and handed over theirpresents.
"Fine, fine," said Mr. Weasley, a little too heartily. "You —er — haven't seen Healer Smethwyck, have you?"
"No," said Mrs. Weasley suspiciously, "why?"
"Nothing, nothing," said Mr. Weasley airily, starting tounwrap his pile of gifts. "Well, everyone had a good day?What did you all get for Christmas? Oh, Harry — this isabsolutely wonderful —"
For he had just opened Harry's gift of fuse-wire andscrewdrivers. Mrs. Weasley did not seem entirely satisfiedwith Mr. Weasley's answer. As her husband leaned over toshake Harry's hand, she peered at the bandaging under hisnightshirt.
"Arthur," she said, with a snap in her voice like amousetrap, "you've had your bandages changed. Why haveyou had your bandages changed a day early, Arthur? Theytold me they wouldn't need doing until tomorrow."
"What?" said Mr. Weasley, looking rather frightened andpulling the bed covers higher up his chest. "No, no — it'snothing — it's — I —"
He seemed to deflate under Mrs. Weasley's piercing gaze.
"Well — now don't get upset, Molly, but Augustus Pye hadan idea. ... He's the Trainee Healer, you know, lovely youngchap and very interested in ... um ... complementarymedicine. ... I mean, some of these old Muggle remedies ...well, they're called stitches, Molly, and they work very wellon — on Muggle wounds —"
Mrs. Weasley let out an ominous noise somewherebetween a shriek and a snarl. Lupin strolled away from thebed and over to the werewolf, who had no visitors and waslooking rather wistfully at the crowd around Mr. Weasley;Bill muttered something about getting himself a cup of teaand Fred and George leapt up to accompany him, grinning.
"Do you mean to tell me," said Mrs. Weasley, her voicegrowing louder with every word and apparently unawarethat her fellow visitors were scurrying for cover, "that youhave been messing about with Muggle remedies?""Not messing about, Molly, dear," said Mr. Weasleyimploringly. "It was just — just something Pye and I thoughtwe'd try — only, most unfortunately — well, with theseparticular kinds of wounds — it doesn't seem to work aswell as we'd hoped —""Meaning?"
"Well ... well, I don't know whether you know what —what stitches are?"
"It sounds as though you've been trying to sew your skinback together," said Mrs. Weasley with a snort of mirthlesslaughter, "but even you, Arthur, wouldn't be that stupid —"
"I fancy a cup of tea too," said Harry, jumping to his feet.
Hermione, Ron, and Ginny almost sprinted to the doorwith him. As it swung closed behind them, they heard Mrs.Weasley shriek, "WHAT DO YOU MEAN, THAT'S THEGENERAL IDEA?"
"Typical Dad," said Ginny, shaking her head as they set offup the corridor. "Stitches ... I ask you ..."
"Well, you know, they do work well on non-magicalwounds," said Hermione fairly. "I suppose something in thatsnake's venom dissolves them or something. ... I wonderwhere the tearoom is?"
"Fifth floor," said Harry, remembering the sign over theWelcome Witch's desk.
They walked along the corridor through a set of doubledoors and found a rickety staircase lined with moreportraits of brutal-looking Healers. As they climbed it, thevarious Healers called out to them, diagnosing oddcomplaints and suggesting horrible remedies. Ron wasseriously affronted when a medieval wizard called out thathe clearly had a bad case of spattergroit.
"And what's that supposed to be?" he asked angrily, as theHealer pursued him through six more portraits, shoving theoccupants out of the way.
" 'Tis a most grievous affliction of the skin, young master,that will leave you pockmarked and more gruesome eventhan you are now —"
"Watch who you're calling gruesome!" said Ron, his earsturning red."The only remedy is to take the liver of a toad, bind ittight about your throat, stand naked by the full moon in abarrel of eels' eyes —"
"I have not got spattergroit!""But the unsightly blemishes upon your visage, youngmaster —"
"They're freckles!" said Ron furiously. "Now get back inyour own picture and leave me alone!"
He rounded on the others, who were all keepingdeterminedly straight faces.
"What floor's this?"
"I think it's the fifth," said Hermione.
"Nah, it's the fourth," said Harry, "one more —"
But as he stepped onto the landing he came to an abrupthalt, staring at the small window set into the double doorsthat marked the start of a corridor signposted SPELLDAMAGE. A man was peering out at them all with his nosepressed against the glass. He had wavy blond hair, brightblue eyes, and a broad vacant smile that revealed dazzlinglywhite teeth.
"Blimey!" said Ron, also staring at the man.
"Oh my goodness," said Hermione suddenly, soundingbreathless. "Professor Lockhart!"
Their ex-Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher pushedopen the doors and moved toward them, wearing a longlilac dressing gown.
"Well, hello there!" he said. "I expect you'd like myautograph, would you?"
"Hasn't changed much, has he?" Harry muttered to Ginny,who grinned.
"Er — how are you, Professor?" said Ron, soundingslightly guilty. It had been Ron's malfunctioning wand thathad damaged Professor Lockhart's memory so badly that hehad landed here in the first place, though, as Lockhart hadbeen attempting to permanently wipe Harry and Ron'smemories at the time, Harry's sympathy was limited.
"I'm very well indeed, thank you!" said Lockhartexuberantly, pulling a rather battered peacock-feather quillfrom his pocket. "Now, how many autographs would youlike? I can do joined-up writing now, you know!"
"Er — we don't want any at the moment, thanks," saidRon, raising his eyebrows at Harry, who asked, "Professor,should you be wandering around the corridors? Shouldn'tyou be in a ward?"The smile faded slowly from Lockhart's face. For a fewmoments he gazed intently at Harry, then he said, "Haven'twe met?"
"Er ... yeah, we have," said Harry. "You used to teach usat Hogwarts, remember?"
"Teach?" repeated Lockhart, looking faintly unsettled."Me? Did I?"
And then the smile reappeared upon his face so suddenlyit was rather alarming. "Taught you everything you know, Iexpect, did I? Well, how about those autographs, then?Shall we say a round dozen, you can give them to all yourlittle friends then and nobody will be left out!"
But just then a head poked out of a door at the far end ofthe corridor and a voice said, "Gilderoy, you naughty boy,where have you wandered off to?"
A motherly looking Healer wearing a tinsel wreath in herhair came bustling up the corridor, smiling warmly at Harryand the others.
"Oh Gilderoy, you've got visitors! How lovely, and onChristmas Day too! Do you know, he never gets visitors,poor lamb, and I can't think why, he's such a sweetie, aren'tyou?"
"We're doing autographs!" Gilderoy told the Healer withanother glittering smile. "They want loads of them, won'ttake no for an answer! I just hope we've got enoughphotographs!"
"Listen to him," said the Healer, taking Lockhart's armand beaming fondly at him as though he were a precocioustwo-year-old. "He was rather well known a few years ago;we very much hope that this liking for giving autographs isa sign that his memory might be coming back a little bit.Will you step this way? He's in a closed ward, you know, hemust have slipped out while I was bringing in the Christmaspresents, the door's usually kept locked ... not that he'sdangerous! But," she lowered her voice to a whisper, "bit ofa danger to himself, bless him. ... Doesn't know who he is,you see, wanders off and can't remember how to get back.... It is nice of you to have come to see him —"
"Er," said Ron, gesturing uselessly at the floor above,"actually, we were just — er —"
But the Healer was smiling expectantly at them, andRon's feeble mutter of "going to have a cup of tea" trailedaway into nothingness. They looked at one another ratherhopelessly and then followed Lockhart and his Healer alongthe corridor.
"Let's not stay long," Ron said quietly.
The Healer pointed her wand at the door of the JanusThickey ward and muttered "Alohomora." The door swungopen and she led the way inside, keeping a firm grasp onGilderoy's arm until she had settled him into an armchairbeside his bed.
"This is our long-term resident ward," she informedHarry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny in a low voice. "Forpermanent spell damage, you know. Of course, withintensive remedial potions and charms and a bit of luck, wecan produce some improvement. ... Gilderoy does seem tobe getting back some sense of himself, and we've seen areal improvement in Mr. Bode, he seems to be regaining thepower of speech very well, though he isn't speaking anylanguage we recognize yet. ... Well, I must finish giving outthe Christmas presents, I'll leave you all to chat. ..."
Harry looked around; this ward bore unmistakable signsof being a permanent home to its residents. They had manymore personal effects around their beds than in Mr.Weasley's ward; the wall around Gilderoy's headboard, forinstance, was papered with pictures of himself, all beamingtoothily and waving at the new arrivals. He hadautographed many of them to himself in disjointed, childishwriting. The moment he had been deposited in his chair bythe Healer, Gilderoy pulled a fresh stack of photographstoward him, seized a quill, and started signing them allfeverishly.
"You can put them in envelopes," he said to Ginny,throwing the signed pictures into her lap one by one as hefinished them. "I am not forgotten, you know, no, I stillreceive a very great deal of fan mail. ... Gladys Gudgeonwrites weekly. ... I just wish I knew why. ..." He paused,looking faintly puzzled, then beamed again and returned tohis signing with renewed vigor. "I suspect it is simply mygood looks. ..."
A sallow-skinned, mournful-looking wizard lay in the bedopposite, staring at the ceiling; he was mumbling to himselfand seemed quite unaware of anything around him. Twobeds along was a woman whose entire head was covered infur; Harry remembered something similar happening toHermione during their second year, although fortunatelythe damage, in her case, had not been permanent. At thefar end of the ward flowery curtains had been drawnaround two beds to give the occupants and their visitorssome privacy.
"Here you are, Agnes," said the Healer brightly to thefurry-faced woman, handing her a small pile of Christmaspresents. "See, not forgotten, are you? And your son's sentan owl to say he's visiting tonight, so that's nice, isn't it?"
Agnes gave several loud barks.
"And look, Broderick, you've been sent a potted plant anda lovely calendar with a different fancy hippogriff for eachmonth, they'll brighten things up, won't they?" said theHealer, bustling along to the mumbling man, setting arather ugly plant with long, swaying tentacles on thebedside cabinet and fixing the calendar to the wall with herwand. "And — oh, Mrs. Longbottom, are you leavingalready?"
Harry's head spun round. The curtains had been drawnback from the two beds at the end of the ward and twovisitors were walking back down the aisle between thebeds: a formidable-looking old witch wearing a long greendress, a moth-eaten fox fur, and a pointed hat decoratedwith what was unmistakably a stuffed vulture and, trailingbehind her looking thoroughly depressed — Neville.
With a sudden rush of understanding, Harry realized whothe people in the end beds must be. He cast around wildlyfor some means of distracting the others so that Nevillecould leave the ward unnoticed and unquestioned, but Ronhad looked up at the sound of the name "Longbottom" too,and before Harry could stop him had called, "Neville!"
Neville jumped and cowered as though a bullet hadnarrowly missed him.
"It's us, Neville!" said Ron brightly, getting to his feet."Have you seen? Lockhart's here! Who've you beenvisiting?"
"Friends of yours, Neville, dear?" said Neville'sgrandmother graciously, bearing down upon them all.
Neville looked as though he would rather be anywhere inthe world but here. A dull purple flush was creeping up hisplump face and he was not making eye contact with any ofthem.
"Ah, yes," said his grandmother, looking closely at Harryand sticking out a shriveled, clawlike hand for him to shake."Yes, yes, I know who you are, of course. Neville speaksmost highly of you."
"Er — thanks," said Harry, shaking hands. Neville did notlook at him, but stared at his own feet, the color deepeningin his face all the while.
"And you two are clearly Weasleys," Mrs. Longbottomcontinued, proffering her hand regally to Ron and Ginny inturn. "Yes, I know your parents — not well, of course — butfine people, fine people ... and you must be HermioneGranger?"
Hermione looked rather startled that Mrs. Longbottomknew her name, but shook hands all the same.
"Yes, Neville's told me all about you. Helped him out of afew sticky spots, haven't you? He's a good boy," she said,casting a sternly appraising look down her rather bony noseat Neville, "but he hasn't got his father's talent, I'm afraidto say. ..." And she jerked her head in the direction of thetwo beds at the end of the ward, so that the stuffed vultureon her hat trembled alarmingly.
"What?" said Ron, looking amazed (Harry wanted tostamp on Ron's foot, but that sort of thing was much harderto bring off unnoticed when you were wearing jeans ratherthan robes). "Is that your dad down the end, Neville?"
"What's this?" said Mrs. Longbottom sharply. "Haven'tyou told your friends about your parents, Neville?"
Neville took a deep breath, looked up at the ceiling, andshook his head. Harry could not remember ever feelingsorrier for anyone, but he could not think of any way ofhelping Neville out of the situation.
"Well, it's nothing to be ashamed of!" said Mrs.Longbottom angrily. "You should be proud, Neville, proud!They didn't give their health and their sanity so their onlyson would be ashamed of them, you know!"
"I'm not ashamed," said Neville very faintly, still lookinganywhere but at Harry and the others. Ron was nowstanding on tiptoe to look over at the inhabitants of the twobeds.
"Well, you've got a funny way of showing it!" said Mrs.Longbottom. "My son and his wife," she said, turninghaughtily to Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, "weretortured into insanity by You-Know-Who's followers."
Hermione and Ginny both clapped their hands over theirmouths. Ron stopped craning his neck to catch a glimpse ofNeville's parents and looked mortified.
"They were Aurors, you know, and very well respectedwithin the Wizarding community," Mrs. Longbottom wenton. "Highly gifted, the pair of them. I — yes, Alice dear,what is it?"
Neville's mother had come edging down the ward in hernightdress. She no longer had the plump, happy-lookingface Harry had seen in Moody's old photograph of theoriginal Order of the Phoenix. Her face was thin and wornnow, her eyes seemed overlarge, and her hair, which hadturned white, was wispy and dead-looking. She did notseem to want to speak, or perhaps she was not able to, butshe made timid motions toward Neville, holding somethingin her outstretched hand.
"Again?" said Mrs. Longbottom, sounding slightly weary."Very well, Alice dear, very well — Neville, take it, whateverit is. ..."
But Neville had already stretched out his hand, into whichhis mother dropped an empty Droobles Blowing Gumwrapper.
"Very nice, dear," said Neville's grandmother in a falselycheery voice, patting his mother on the shoulder. ButNeville said quietly, "Thanks Mum."
His mother tottered away, back up the ward, humming toherself. Neville looked around at the others, his expressiondefiant, as though daring them to laugh, but Harry did notthink he'd ever found anything less funny in his life.
"Well, we'd better get back," sighed Mrs. Longbottom,drawing on long green gloves. "Very nice to have met youall. Neville, put that wrapper in the bin, she must havegiven you enough of them to paper your bedroom by now...."
But as they left, Harry was sure he saw Neville slip thewrapper into his pocket.
The door closed behind them.
"I never knew," said Hermione, who looked tearful.
"Nor did I," said Ron rather hoarsely.
"Nor me," whispered Ginny.
They all looked at Harry.
"I did," he said glumly. "Dumbledore told me but Ipromised I wouldn't mention it ... that's what BellatrixLestrange got sent to Azkaban for, using the CruciatusCurse on Neville's parents until they lost their minds."
"Bellatrix Lestrange did that?" whispered Hermione,horrified. "That woman Kreacher's got a photo of in hisden?"
There was a long silence, broken by Lockhart's angryvoice. "Look, I didn't learn joined-up writing for nothing,you know!"
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