Untitled Part 26
Luna said vaguely that she did not know how soon Rita'sinterview with Harry would appear in The Quibbler, thather father was expecting a lovely long article on recentsightings of Crumple-Horned Snorkacks. "And, of course,that'll be a very important story, so Harry's might have towait for the following issue," said Luna.
Harry had not found it an easy experience to talk aboutthe night when Voldemort had returned. Rita had pressedhim for every little detail, and he had given her everythinghe could remember, knowing that this was his one bigopportunity to tell the world the truth. He wondered howpeople would react to the story. He guessed that it wouldconfirm a lot of people in the view that he was completelyinsane, not least because his story would be appearingalongside utter rubbish about Crumple-Horned Snorkacks.But the breakout of Bellatrix Lestrange and her fellowDeath Eaters had given Harry a burning desire to dosomething, whether it worked or not. ...
"Can't wait to see what Umbridge thinks of you goingpublic," said Dean, sounding awestruck at dinner onMonday night. Seamus was shoveling down large amountsof chicken-and-ham pie on Dean's other side, but Harryknew he was listening.
"It's the right thing to do, Harry," said Neville, who wassitting opposite him. He was rather pale, but went on in alow voice, "It must have been ... tough ... talking about it. ...Was it?"
"Yeah," mumbled Harry, "but people have got to knowwhat Voldemort's capable of, haven't they?"
"That's right," said Neville, nodding, "and his DeathEaters too ... People should know. ..."
Neville left his sentence hanging and returned to hisbaked potato. Seamus looked up, but when he caughtHarry's eye he looked quickly back at his plate again. Aftera while Dean, Seamus, and Neville departed for thecommon room, leaving Harry and Hermione at the tablewaiting for Ron, who had not yet had dinner because ofQuidditch practice.
Cho Chang walked into the hall with her friend Marietta.Harry's stomach gave an unpleasant lurch, but she did notlook over at the Gryffindor table and sat down with herback to him.
"Oh, I forgot to ask you," said Hermione brightly, glancingover at the Ravenclaw table, "what happened on your datewith Cho? How come you were back so early?"
"Er ... well, it was ..." said Harry, pulling a dish of rhubarbcrumble toward him and helping himself to seconds, "acomplete fiasco, now that you mention it."
And he told her what had happened in Madam Puddifoot'sTea Shop.
"... so then," he finished several minutes later, as the finalbit of crumble disappeared, "she jumps up, right, and says'I'll see you around, Harry,' and runs out of the place!" Heput down his spoon and looked at Hermione. "I mean, whatwas all that about? What was going on?"
Hermione glanced over at the back of Cho's head andsighed. "Oh, Harry," she said sadly. "Well, I'm sorry, but youwere a bit tactless."
"Me, tactless?" said Harry, outraged. "One minute wewere getting on fine, next minute she was telling me thatRoger Davies asked her out, and how she used to go andsnog Cedric in that stupid tea shop — how was I supposedto feel about that?"
"Well, you see," said Hermione, with the patient air of oneexplaining that one plus one equals two to an overemotionaltoddler, "you shouldn't have told her that you wanted tomeet me halfway through your date."
"But, but," spluttered Harry, "but — you told me to meetyou at twelve and to bring her along, how was I supposed todo that without telling her — ?"
"You should have told her differently" said Hermione, stillwith that maddeningly patient air. "You should have said itwas really annoying, but I'd made you promise to comealong to the Three Broomsticks, and you really didn't wantto go, you'd much rather spend the whole day with her, butunfortunately you thought you really ought to meet me andwould she please, please come along with you, andhopefully you'd be able to get away more quickly? And itmight have been a good idea to mention how ugly you thinkI am too," Hermione added as an afterthought.
"But I don't think you're ugly," said Harry, bemused.
Hermione laughed.
"Harry, you're worse than Ron. ... Well, no, you're not,"she sighed, as Ron himself came stumping into the Hallsplattered with mud and looking grumpy. "Look — youupset Cho when you said you were going to meet me, so shetried to make you jealous. It was her way of trying to findout how much you liked her."
"Is that what she was doing?" said Harry as Ron droppedonto the bench opposite them and pulled every dish withinreach toward himself. "Well, wouldn't it have been easier ifshe'd just asked me whether I liked her better than you?"
"Girls don't often ask questions like that," said Hermione.
"Well, they should!" said Harry forcefully. "Then I could'vejust told her I fancy her, and she wouldn't have had to getherself all worked up again about Cedric dying!"
"I'm not saying what she did was sensible," saidHermione, as Ginny joined them, just as muddy as Ron andlooking equally disgruntled. "I'm just trying to make you seehow she was feeling at the time."
"You should write a book," Ron told Hermione as he cutup his potatoes, "translating mad things girls do so boys canunderstand them."
"Yeah," said Harry fervently, looking over at theRavenclaw table. Cho had just got up; still not looking athim, she left the Great Hall. Feeling rather depressed, helooked back at Ron and Ginny. "So, how was Quidditchpractice?"
"It was a nightmare," said Ron in a surly voice.
"Oh come on," said Hermione, looking at Ginny, "I'm sureit wasn't that —"
"Yes, it was," said Ginny. "It was appalling. Angelina wasnearly in tears by the end of it."
Ron and Ginny went off for baths after dinner; Harry andHermione returned to the busy Gryffindor common roomand their usual pile of homework. Harry had beenstruggling with a new star chart for Astronomy for half anhour when Fred and George turned up.
"Ron and Ginny not here?" asked Fred, looking around ashe pulled up a chair and, when Harry shook his head, hesaid, "Good. We were watching their practice. They'regoing to be slaughtered. They're complete rubbish withoutus."
"Come on, Ginny's not bad," said George fairly, sittingdown next to Fred. "Actually, I dunno how she got so good,seeing how we never let her play with us. ..."
"She's been breaking into your broom shed in the gardensince the age of six and taking each of your brooms out inturn when you weren't looking," said Hermione frombehind her tottering pile of Ancient Rune books.
"Oh," said George, looking mildly impressed. "Well —that'd explain it."
"Has Ron saved a goal yet?" asked Hermione, peeringover the top of Magical Hieroglyphs and Logograms.
"Well, he can do it if he doesn't think anyone's watchinghim," said Fred, rolling his eyes. "So all we have to do is askthe crowd to turn their backs and talk among themselvesevery time the Quaffle goes up his end on Saturday."
He got up again and moved restlessly to the window,staring out across the dark grounds.
"You know, Quidditch was about the only thing in thisplace worth staying for."
Hermione cast him a stern look.
"You've got exams coming!"
"Told you already, we're not fussed about N.E.W.T.s," saidFred. "The Snackboxes are ready to roll, we found out howto get rid of those boils, just a couple of drops of murtlapessence sorts them, Lee put us onto it. ..."
George yawned widely and looked out disconsolately atthe cloudy night sky.
"I dunno if I even want to watch this match. If ZachariasSmith beats us I might have to kill myself."
"Kill him, more like," said Fred firmly.
"That's the trouble with Quidditch," said Hermioneabsentmindedly, once again bent over her Rune translation,"it creates all this bad feeling and tension between theHouses."
She looked up to find her copy of Spellman's Syllabaryand caught Fred, George, and Harry looking at her withexpressions of mingled disgust and incredulity on theirfaces.
"Well, it does!" she said impatiently. "It's only a game,isn't it?"
"Hermione," said Harry, shaking his head, "you're goodon feelings and stuff, but you just don't understand aboutQuidditch."
"Maybe not," she said darkly, returning to her translationagain, "but at least my happiness doesn't depend on Ron'sgoalkeeping ability."
And though Harry would rather have jumped off theAstronomy Tower than admit it to her, by the time he hadwatched the game the following Saturday he would havegiven any number of Galleons not to care about Quidditcheither.
The very best thing you could say about the match wasthat it was short; the Gryffindor spectators had to endureonly twenty-two minutes of agony. It was hard to say whatthe worst thing was: Harry thought it was a close-runcontest between Ron's fourteenth failed save, Slopermissing the Bludger but hitting Angelina in the mouth withhis bat, and Kirke shrieking and falling backward off hisbroom as Zacharias Smith zoomed at him carrying theQuaffle. The miracle was that Gryffindor only lost by tenpoints: Ginny managed to snatch the Snitch from rightunder Hufflepuff Seeker Summerby's nose, so that the finalscore was two hundred and forty versus two hundred andthirty.
"Good catch," Harry told Ginny back in the common room,where the atmosphere closely resembled that of aparticularly dismal funeral.
"I was lucky," she shrugged. "It wasn't a very fast Snitchand Summerby's got a cold, he sneezed and closed his eyesat exactly the wrong moment. Anyway, once you're back onthe team —"
"Ginny, I've got a lifelong ban."
"You're banned as long as Umbridge is in the school,"Ginny corrected him. "There's a difference. Anyway, onceyou're back, I think I'll try out for Chaser. Angelina andAlicia are both leaving next year and I prefer goal-scoringto Seeking anyway."
Harry looked over at Ron, who was hunched in a corner,staring at his knees, a bottle of butterbeer clutched in hishand.
"Angelina still won't let him resign," Ginny said, as thoughreading Harry's mind. "She says she knows he's got it inhim."
Harry liked Angelina for the faith she was showing in Ron,but at the same time thought it would really be kinder to lethim leave the team. Ron had left the pitch to anotherbooming chorus of "Weasley Is Our King" sung with greatgusto by the Slytherins, who were now favorites to win theQuidditch Cup.
Fred and George wandered over.
"I haven't got the heart to take the mickey out of him,even," said Fred, looking over at Ron's crumpled figure."Mind you ... when he missed the fourteenth ..."
He made wild motions with his arms as though doing anupright doggy-paddle.
"Well, I'll save it for parties, eh?"
Ron dragged himself up to bed shortly after this. Out ofrespect for his feelings, Harry waited a while before goingup to the dormitory himself, so that Ron could pretend to beasleep if he wanted to. Sure enough, when Harry finallyentered the room Ron was snoring a little too loudly to beentirely plausible.
Harry got into bed, thinking about the match. It had beenimmensely frustrating watching from the sidelines. He wasquite impressed by Ginny's performance but he felt that ifhe had been playing he could have caught the Snitchsooner. ... There had been a moment when it had beenfluttering near Kirke's ankle; if she hadn't hesitated, shemight have been able to scrape a win for Gryffindor. ...
Umbridge had been sitting a few rows below Harry andHermione. Once or twice she had turned squatly in her seatto look at him, her wide toad's mouth stretched in what hethought had been a gloating smile. The memory of it madehim feel hot with anger as he lay there in the dark. After afew minutes, however, he remembered that he wassupposed to be emptying his mind of all emotion before heslept, as Snape kept instructing him at the end of everyOcclumency lesson.
He tried for a moment or two, but the thought of Snapeon top of memories of Umbridge merely increased his senseof grumbling resentment, and he found himself focusinginstead on how much he loathed the pair of them. Slowly,Ron's snores died away, replaced by the sound of deep, slowbreathing. It took Harry much longer to get to sleep; hisbody was tired, but it took his brain a long time to closedown.
He dreamed that Neville and Professor Sprout werewaltzing around the Room of Requirement while ProfessorMcGonagall played the bagpipes. He watched them happilyfor a while, then decided to go and find the other membersof the D.A. ...
But when he left the room he found himself facing, not thetapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, but a torch burning in itsbracket on a stone wall. He turned his head slowly to theleft. There, at the far end of the windowless passage, was aplain, black door.
He walked toward it with a sense of mounting excitement.He had the strangest feeling that this time he was going toget lucky at last, and find the way to open it. ... He was feetfrom it and saw with a leap of excitement that there was aglowing strip of faint blue light down the right-hand side. ...The door was ajar. ... He stretched out his hand to push itwide and —
Ron gave a loud, rasping, genuine snore, and Harryawoke abruptly with his right hand stretched in front of himin the darkness, to open a door that was hundreds of milesaway. He let it fall with a feeling of mingled disappointmentand guilt. He knew he should not have seen the door, but atthe same time, felt so consumed with curiosity about whatwas behind it that he could not help feeling annoyed withRon. ... If he could have saved his snore for just anotherminute ...
* * *
They entered the Great Hall for breakfast at exactly thesame moment as the post owls on Monday morning.Hermione was not the only person eagerly awaiting herDaily Prophet: Nearly everyone was eager for more newsabout the escaped Death Eaters, who, despite manyreported sightings, had still not been caught. She gave thedelivery owl a Knut and unfolded the newspaper eagerlywhile Harry helped himself to orange juice; as he had onlyreceived one note during the entire year he was sure, whenthe first owl landed with a thud in front of him, that it hadmade a mistake.
"Who're you after?" he asked it, languidly removing hisorange juice from underneath its beak and leaning forwardto see the recipient's name and address:
Harry Potter
Great Hall
Hogwarts School
Frowning, he made to take the letter from the owl, butbefore he could do so, three, four, five more owls hadfluttered down beside it and were jockeying for position,treading in the butter, knocking over the salt, and eachattempting to give him their letters first.
"What's going on?" Ron asked in amazement, as thewhole of Gryffindor table leaned forward to watch asanother seven owls landed amongst the first ones,screeching, hooting, and flapping their wings.
"Harry!" said Hermione breathlessly, plunging her handsinto the feathery mass and pulling out a screech owlbearing a long, cylindrical package. "I think I know whatthis means — open this one first!"
Harry ripped off the brown packaging. Out rolled a tightlyfurled copy of March's edition of The Quibbler. He unrolledit to see his own face grinning sheepishly at him from thefront cover. In large red letters across his picture were thewords:
HARRY POTTER SPEAKS OUT AT LAST:
THE TRUTH ABOUT HE-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED
AND THE NIGHT I SAW HIM RETURN
"It's good, isn't it?" said Luna, who had drifted over to theGryffindor table and now squeezed herself onto the benchbetween Fred and Ron. "It came out yesterday, I asked Dadto send you a free copy. I expect all these," she waved ahand at the assembled owls still scrabbling around on thetable in front of Harry, "are letters from readers."
"That's what I thought," said Hermione eagerly, "Harry,d'you mind if we — ?"
"Help yourself," said Harry, feeling slightly bemused.
Ron and Hermione both started ripping open envelopes.
"This one's from a bloke who thinks you're off yourrocker," said Ron, glancing down his letter. "Ah well ..."
"This woman recommends you try a good course of ShockSpells at St. Mungo's," said Hermione, looking disappointedand crumpling up a second.
"This one looks okay, though," said Harry slowly, scanninga long letter from a witch in Paisley. "Hey, she says shebelieves me!"
"This one's in two minds," said Fred, who had joined inthe letter-opening with enthusiasm. "Says you don't comeacross as a mad person, but he really doesn't want tobelieve You-Know-Who's back so he doesn't know what tothink now. ... Blimey, what a waste of parchment ..."
"Here's another one you've convinced, Harry!" saidHermione excitedly. " 'Having read your side of the story Iam forced to the conclusion that the Daily Prophet hastreated you very unfairly. ... Little though I want to thinkthat He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has returned, I amforced to accept that you are telling the truth. ...' Oh this iswonderful!"
"Another one who thinks you're barking," said Ron,throwing a crumpled letter over his shoulder, "but this onesays you've got her converted, and she now thinks you're areal hero — she's put in a photograph too — wow —"
"What is going on here?" said a falsely sweet, girlishvoice.
Harry looked up with his hands full of envelopes.Professor Umbridge was standing behind Fred and Luna,her bulging toad's eyes scanning the mess of owls andletters on the table in front of Harry. Behind her he sawmany of the students watching them avidly.
"Why have you got all these letters, Mr. Potter?" sheasked slowly.
"Is that a crime now?" said Fred loudly. "Getting mail?"
"Be careful, Mr. Weasley, or I shall have to put you indetention," said Umbridge. "Well, Mr. Potter?"
Harry hesitated, but he did not see how he could keepwhat he had done quiet; it was surely only a matter of timebefore a copy of The Quibbler came to Umbridge'sattention.
"People have written to me because I gave an interview,"said Harry. "About what happened to me last June."
For some reason he glanced up at the staff table as hesaid this. He had the strangest feeling that Dumbledore hadbeen watching him a second before, but when he looked,Dumbledore seemed to be absorbed in conversation withProfessor Flitwick.
"An interview?" repeated Umbridge, her voice thinnerand higher than ever. "What do you mean?"
"I mean a reporter asked me questions and I answeredthem," said Harry. "Here —"
And he threw the copy of The Quibbler at her. She caughtit and stared down at the cover. Her pale, doughy faceturned an ugly, patchy violet.
"When did you do this?" she asked, her voice tremblingslightly.
"Last Hogsmeade weekend," said Harry.
She looked up at him, incandescent with rage, themagazine shaking in her stubby fingers.
"There will be no more Hogsmeade trips for you, Mr.Potter," she whispered. "How you dare ... how you could ..."She took a deep breath. "I have tried again and again toteach you not to tell lies. The message, apparently, has stillnot sunk in. Fifty points from Gryffindor and another week'sworth of detentions."
She stalked away, clutching The Quibbler to her chest, theeyes of many students following her.
By mid-morning enormous signs had been put up all overthe school, not just on House notice boards, but in thecorridors and classrooms too.
— BY ORDER OF —
THE HIGH INQUISITOR OF HOGWARTS
Any student found in possession of the magazine TheQuibbler will be expelled.
The above is in accordance withEducational Decree Number Twenty-seven.
Signed:
Dolores Jane Umbridge
HIGH INQUISITOR
For some reason, every time Hermione caught sight ofone of these signs she beamed with pleasure.
"What exactly are you so happy about?" Harry asked her."Oh Harry, don't you see?" Hermione breathed. "If shecould have done one thing to make absolutely sure thatevery single person in this school will read your interview, itwas banning it!"
And it seemed that Hermione was quite right. By the endof that day, though Harry had not seen so much as a cornerof The Quibbler anywhere in the school, the whole placeseemed to be quoting the interview at each other; Harryheard them whispering about it as they queued up outsideclasses, discussing it over lunch and in the back of lessons,while Hermione even reported that every occupant of thecubicles in the girls' toilets had been talking about it whenshe nipped in there before Ancient Runes.
"And then they spotted me, and obviously they know Iknow you, so they were bombarding me with questions,"Hermione told Harry, her eyes shining, "and Harry, I thinkthey believe you, I really do, I think you've finally got themconvinced!"
Meanwhile Professor Umbridge was stalking the school,stopping students at random and demanding that they turnout their books and pockets. Harry knew she was lookingfor copies of The Quibbler, but the students were severalsteps ahead of her. The pages carrying Harry's interviewhad been bewitched to resemble extracts from textbooks ifanyone but themselves read it, or else wiped magicallyblank until they wanted to peruse it again. Soon it seemedthat every single person in the school had read it.
The teachers were, of course, forbidden from mentioningthe interview by Educational Decree Number Twenty-six,but they found ways to express their feelings about it all thesame. Professor Sprout awarded Gryffindor twenty pointswhen Harry passed her a watering can; a beamingProfessor Flitwick pressed a box of squeaking sugar miceon him at the end of Charms, said "Shh!" and hurried away;and Professor Trelawney broke into hysterical sobs duringDivination and announced to the startled class, and a verydisapproving Umbridge, that Harry was not going to sufferan early death after all, but would live to a ripe old age,become Minister of Magic, and have twelve children.
But what made Harry happiest was Cho catching up withhim as he was hurrying along to Transfiguration the nextday. Before he knew what had happened her hand was inhis and she was breathing in his ear, "I'm really, really sorry.That interview was so brave ... it made me cry."
He was sorry to hear she had shed even more tears overit, but very glad they were on speaking terms again, andeven more pleased when she gave him a swift kiss on thecheek and hurried off again. And unbelievably, no soonerhad he arrived outside Transfiguration than something justas good happened: Seamus stepped out of the queue toface him.
"I just wanted to say," he mumbled, squinting at Harry'sleft knee, "I believe you. And I've sent a copy of thatmagazine to me mam."
If anything more was needed to complete Harry'shappiness, it was Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle's reactions. Hesaw them with their heads together later that afternoon inthe library, together with a weedy-looking boy Hermionewhispered was called Theodore Nott. They looked aroundat Harry as he browsed the shelves for the book he neededon Partial Vanishment, and Goyle cracked his knucklesthreateningly and Malfoy whispered somethingundoubtedly malevolent to Crabbe. Harry knew perfectlywell why they were acting like this: He had named all oftheir fathers as Death Eaters.
"And the best bit is," whispered Hermione gleefully asthey left the library, "they can't contradict you, becausethey can't admit they've read the article!"
To cap it all, Luna told him over dinner that no copy of TheQuibbler had ever sold out faster.
"Dad's reprinting!" she told Harry, her eyes poppingexcitedly. "He can't believe it, he says people seem evenmore interested in this than the Crumple-HornedSnorkacks!"
Harry was a hero in the Gryffindor common room thatnight; daringly, Fred and George had put an EnlargementCharm on the front cover of The Quibbler and hung it onthe wall, so that Harry's giant head gazed down upon theproceedings, occasionally saying things like "The Ministryare morons" and "Eat dung, Umbridge" in a booming voice.Hermione did not find this very amusing; she said itinterfered with her concentration, and ended up going tobed early out of irritation. Harry had to admit that theposter was not quite as funny after an hour or two,especially when the talking spell had started to wear off, sothat it merely shouted disconnected words like "Dung" and"Umbridge" at more and more frequent intervals in aprogressively higher voice. In fact it started to make hishead ache and his scar began prickling uncomfortablyagain. To disappointed moans from the many people whowere sitting around him, asking him to relive his interviewfor the umpteenth time, he announced that he too neededan early night.
The dormitory was empty when he reached it. He restedhis forehead for a moment against the cool glass of thewindow beside his bed; it felt soothing against his scar.Then he undressed and got into bed, wishing his headachewould go away. He also felt slightly sick. He rolled over ontohis side, closed his eyes, and fell asleep almost at once. ...
He was standing in a dark, curtained room lit by a singlebranch of candles. His hands were clenched on the back ofa chair in front of him. They were long-fingered and whiteas though they had not seen sunlight for years and lookedlike large, pale spiders against the dark velvet of the chair.Beyond the chair, in a pool of light cast upon the floor bythe candles, knelt a man in black robes.
"I have been badly advised, it seems," said Harry, in ahigh, cold voice that pulsed with anger.
"Master, I crave your pardon. ..." croaked the mankneeling on the floor. The back of his head glimmered in thecandlelight. He seemed to be trembling.
"I do not blame you, Rookwood," said Harry in that cold,cruel voice.
He relinquished his grip upon the chair and walkedaround it, closer to the man cowering upon the floor, untilhe stood directly over him in the darkness, looking downfrom a far greater height than usual.
"You are sure of your facts, Rookwood?" asked Harry.
"Yes, My Lord, yes ... I used to work in the departmentafter — after all. ..."
"Avery told me Bode would be able to remove it."
"Bode could never have taken it, Master. ... Bode wouldhave known he could not. ... Undoubtedly that is why hefought so hard against Malfoy's Imperius Curse. ..."
"Stand up, Rookwood," whispered Harry.
The kneeling man almost fell over in his haste to obey. Hisface was pockmarked; the scars were thrown into relief bythe candlelight. He remained a little stooped whenstanding, as though halfway through a bow, and he dartedterrified looks up at Harry's face.
"You have done well to tell me this," said Harry. "Very well... I have wasted months on fruitless schemes, it seems. ...But no matter ... We begin again, from now. You have LordVoldemort's gratitude, Rookwood. ..."
"My Lord ... yes, My Lord," gasped Rookwood, his voicehoarse with relief.
"I shall need your help. I shall need all the informationyou can give me."
"Of course, My Lord, of course ... anything ..."
"Very well ... you may go. Send Avery to me."
Rookwood scurried backward, bowing, and disappearedthrough a door.
Left alone in the dark room, Harry turned toward thewall. A cracked, age-spotted mirror hung on the wall in theshadows. Harry moved toward it. His reflection grew largerand clearer in the darkness. ... A face whiter than a skull ...red eyes with slits for pupils ...
"NOOOOOOOOO!"
"What?" yelled a voice nearby.
Harry flailed around madly, became entangled in thehangings, and fell out of his bed. For a few seconds he didnot know where he was; he was convinced that he wasabout to see the white, skull-like face looming at him out ofthe dark again, then Ron's voice spoke very near to him.
"Will you stop acting like a maniac, and I can get you outof here!"
Ron wrenched the hangings apart, and Harry stared up athim in the moonlight, as he lay flat on his back, his scarsearing with pain. Ron looked as though he had just beengetting ready for bed; one arm was out of his robes.
"Has someone been attacked again?" asked Ron, pullingHarry roughly to his feet. "Is it Dad? Is it that snake?"
"No — everyone's fine —" gasped Harry, whose foreheadfelt as though it was on fire again. "Well ... Avery isn't. ...He's in trouble. ... He gave him the wrong information. ...He's really angry. ..."
Harry groaned and sank, shaking, onto his bed, rubbinghis scar.
"But Rookwood's going to help him now. ... He's on theright track again. ..."
"What are you talking about?" said Ron, sounding scared."D'you mean ... did you just see You-Know-Who?"
"I was You-Know-Who," said Harry, and he stretched outhis hands in the darkness and held them up to his face tocheck that they were no longer deathly white and longfingered. "He was with Rookwood, he's one of the DeathEaters who escaped from Azkaban, remember? Rookwood'sjust told him Bode couldn't have done it. ..."
"Done what?"
"Remove something. ... He said Bode would have knownhe couldn't have done it. ... Bode was under the ImperiusCurse. ... I think he said Malfoy's dad put it on him. ..."
"Bode was bewitched to remove something?" Ron said."But — Harry, that's got to be —"
"The weapon," Harry finished the sentence for him. "Iknow."
The dormitory door opened; Dean and Seamus came in.Harry swung his legs back into bed. He did not want to lookas though anything odd had just happened, seeing asSeamus had only just stopped thinking Harry was a nutter.
"Did you say," murmured Ron, putting his head close toHarry's on the pretense of helping himself to water fromthe jug on his bedside table, "that you were You-KnowWho?"
"Yeah," said Harry quietly.
Ron took an unnecessarily large gulp of water. Harry sawit spill over his chin onto his chest.
"Harry," he said, as Dean and Seamus clattered aroundnoisily, pulling off their robes, and talking, "you've got to tell—"
"I haven't got to tell anyone," said Harry shortly. "Iwouldn't have seen it at all if I could do Occlumency. I'msupposed to have learned to shut this stuff out. That's whatthey want."
By "they" he meant Dumbledore. He got back into bedand rolled over onto his side with his back to Ron and aftera while he heard Ron's mattress creak as he lay back downtoo. His scar began to burn; he bit hard on his pillow to stophimself making a noise. Somewhere, he knew, Avery wasbeing punished. ...
Harry and Ron waited until break next morning to tellHermione exactly what had happened. They wanted to beabsolutely sure they could not be overheard. Standing intheir usual corner of the cool and breezy courtyard, Harrytold her every detail of the dream he could remember.When he had finished, she said nothing at all for a fewmoments, but stared with a kind of painful intensity at Fredand George, who were both headless and selling theirmagical hats from under their cloaks on the other side ofthe yard.
"So that's why they killed him," she said quietly,withdrawing her gaze from Fred and George at last. "WhenBode tried to steal this weapon, something funny happenedto him. I think there must be defensive spells on it, oraround it, to stop people from touching it. That's why hewas in St. Mungo's, his brain had gone all funny and hecouldn't talk. But remember what the Healer told us? Hewas recovering. And they couldn't risk him getting better,could they? I mean, the shock of whatever happened whenhe touched that weapon probably made the Imperius Curselift. Once he'd got his voice back, he'd explain what he'dbeen doing, wouldn't he? They would have known he'd beensent to steal the weapon. Of course, it would have been easyfor Lucius Malfoy to put the curse on him. Never out of theMinistry, is he?"
"He was even hanging around that day I had my hearing,"said Harry. "In the — hang on ..." he said slowly. "He was inthe Department of Mysteries corridor that day! Your dadsaid he was probably trying to sneak down and find outwhat happened in my hearing, but what if —"
"Sturgis," gasped Hermione, looking thunderstruck.
"Sorry?" said Ron, looking bewildered.
"Sturgis Podmore," said Hermione, breathlessly. "Arrestedfor trying to get through a door. Lucius Malfoy got him too. Ibet he did it the day you saw him there, Harry. Sturgis hadMoody's Invisibility Cloak, right? So what if he was standingguard by the door, invisible, and Malfoy heard him move, orguessed he was there, or just did the Imperius Curse on theoff chance that a guard was there? So when Sturgis nexthad an opportunity — probably when it was his turn onguard duty again — he tried to get into the department tosteal the weapon for Voldemort — Ron, be quiet — but hegot caught and sent to Azkaban. ..."
She gazed at Harry.
"And now Rookwood's told Voldemort how to get theweapon?"
"I didn't hear all the conversation, but that's what itsounded like," said Harry. "Rookwood used to work there.... Maybe Voldemort'll send Rookwood to do it?"
Hermione nodded, apparently still lost in thought. Then,quite abruptly, she said, "But you shouldn't have seen thisat all, Harry."
"What?" he said, taken aback.
"You're supposed to be learning how to close your mind tothis sort of thing," said Hermione, suddenly stern.
"I know I am," said Harry. "But —"
"Well, I think we should just try and forget what you saw,"said Hermione firmly. "And you ought to put in a bit moreeffort on your Occlumency from now on."
Harry was so angry with her that he did not talk to her forthe rest of the day, which proved to be another bad one.When people were not discussing the escaped Death Eatersin the corridors today, they were laughing at Gryffindor'sabysmal performance in their match against Hufflepuff; theSlytherins were singing "Weasley Is Our King" so loudly andfrequently that by sundown Filch had banned it from thecorridors out of sheer irritation.
The week did not improve as it progressed: Harryreceived two more D's in Potions, was still on tenterhooksthat Hagrid might get the sack, and could not stop himselffrom dwelling on the dream in which he had seenVoldemort, though he did not bring it up with Ron andHermione again because he did not want another telling-offfrom Hermione. He wished very much that he could havetalked to Sirius about it, but that was out of the question, sohe tried to push the matter to the back of his mind.
Unfortunately, the back of his mind was no longer thesecure place it had once been.
"Get up, Potter."
A couple of weeks after his dream of Rookwood, Harrywas to be found, yet again, kneeling on the floor of Snape'soffice, trying to clear his head. He had just been forced, yetagain, to relive a stream of very early memories he had noteven realized he still had, most of them concerninghumiliations Dudley and his gang had inflicted upon him inprimary school.
"That last memory," said Snape. "What was it?"
"I don't know," said Harry, getting wearily to his feet. Hewas finding it increasingly difficult to disentangle separatememories from the rush of images and sound that Snapekept calling forth. "You mean the one where my cousin triedto make me stand in the toilet?"
"No," said Snape softly. "I mean the one concerning aman kneeling in the middle of a darkened room. ..."
"It's ... nothing," said Harry.
Snape's dark eyes bored into Harry's. Remembering whatSnape had said about eye contact being crucial toLegilimency, Harry blinked and looked away.
"How do that man and that room come to be inside yourhead, Potter?" said Snape.
"It —" said Harry, looking everywhere but at Snape, "itwas — just a dream I had."
"A dream," repeated Snape.
There was a pause during which Harry stared fixedly at alarge dead frog suspended in a purple liquid in its jar.
"You do know why we are here, don't you, Potter?" saidSnape in a low, dangerous voice. "You do know why I amgiving up my evenings to this tedious job?"
"Yes," said Harry stiffly.
"Remind me why we are here, Potter."
"So I can learn Occlumency," said Harry, now glaring at adead eel.
"Correct, Potter. And dim though you may be" — Harrylooked back at Snape, hating him — "I would have thoughtthat after two months' worth of lessons you might havemade some progress. How many other dreams about theDark Lord have you had?"
"Just that one," lied Harry.
"Perhaps," said Snape, his dark, cold eyes narrowingslightly, "perhaps you actually enjoy having these visionsand dreams, Potter. Maybe they make you feel special —important?"
"No, they don't," said Harry, his jaw set and his fingersclenched tightly around the handle of his wand.
"That is just as well, Potter," said Snape coldly, "becauseyou are neither special nor important, and it is not up toyou to find out what the Dark Lord is saying to his DeathEaters."
"No — that's your job, isn't it?" Harry shot at him.
He had not meant to say it; it had burst out of him intemper. For a long moment they stared at each other, Harryconvinced he had gone too far. But there was a curious,almost satisfied expression on Snape's face when heanswered.
"Yes, Potter," he said, his eyes glinting. "That is my job.Now, if you are ready, we will start again. ..."
He raised his wand. "One — two — three — Legilimens!"
A hundred dementors were swooping toward Harryacross the lake in the grounds. ... He screwed up his face inconcentration. ... They were coming closer. ... He could seethe dark holes beneath their hoods ... yet he could also seeSnape standing in front of him, his eyes fixed upon Harry'sface, muttering under his breath. ... And somehow, Snapewas growing clearer, and the dementors were growingfainter ...
Harry raised his own wand.
"Protego!"
Snape staggered; his wand flew upward, away fromHarry — and suddenly Harry's mind was teeming withmemories that were not his — a hook-nosed man wasshouting at a cowering woman, while a small dark-hairedboy cried in a corner. ... A greasy-haired teenager sat alonein a dark bedroom, pointing his wand at the ceiling,shooting down flies. ... A girl was laughing as a scrawny boytried to mount a bucking broomstick —
"ENOUGH!"
Harry felt as though he had been pushed hard in thechest; he took several staggering steps backward, hit someof the shelves covering Snape's walls and heard somethingcrack. Snape was shaking slightly, very white in the face.
The back of Harry's robes were damp. One of the jarsbehind him had broken when he fell against it; the pickledslimy thing within was swirling in its draining potion.
"Reparo!" hissed Snape, and the jar sealed itself oncemore. "Well, Potter ... that was certainly an improvement...." Panting slightly, Snape straightened the Pensieve inwhich he had again stored some of his thoughts beforestarting the lesson, almost as though checking that theywere still there. "I don't remember telling you to use aShield Charm ... but there is no doubt that it was effective...."
Harry did not speak; he felt that to say anything might bedangerous. He was sure he had just broken into Snape'smemories, that he had just seen scenes from Snape'schildhood, and it was unnerving to think that the cryinglittle boy who had watched his parents shouting wasactually standing in front of him with such loathing in hiseyes. ...
"Let's try again, shall we?" said Snape.
Harry felt a thrill of dread: He was about to pay for whathad just happened, he was sure of it. They moved back intoposition with the desk between them, Harry feeling he wasgoing to find it much harder to empty his mind this time. ...
"On the count of three, then," said Snape, raising hiswand once more. "One — two —"
Harry did not have time to gather himself together andattempt to clear his mind, for Snape had already cried"Legilimens!"
He was hurtling along the corridor toward theDepartment of Mysteries, past the blank stone walls, pastthe torches — the plain black door was growing everlarger; he was moving so fast he was going to collide with it,he was feet from it and he could see that chink of faint bluelight again —
The door had flown open! He was through it at last, insidea black-walled, black-floored circular room lit with blueflamed candles, and there were more doors all around him— he needed to go on — but which door ought he to take —?
"POTTER!"
Harry opened his eyes. He was flat on his back again withno memory of having gotten there; he was also panting asthough he really had run the length of the Department ofMysteries corridor, really had sprinted through the blackdoor and found the circular room. ...
"Explain yourself!" said Snape, who was standing overhim, looking furious.
"I ... dunno what happened," said Harry truthfully,standing up. There was a lump on the back of his head fromwhere he had hit the ground and he felt feverish. "I'venever seen that before. I mean, I told you, I've dreamedabout the door ... but it's never opened before. ..."
"You are not working hard enough!"
For some reason, Snape seemed even angrier than hehad done two minutes before, when Harry had seen into hisown memories.
"You are lazy and sloppy, Potter, it is small wonder thatthe Dark Lord —"
"Can you tell me something, sir?" said Harry, firing upagain. "Why do you call Voldemort the Dark Lord, I've onlyever heard Death Eaters call him that —"
Snape opened his mouth in a snarl — and a womanscreamed from somewhere outside the room.
Snape's head jerked upward; he was gazing at theceiling.
"What the — ?" he muttered.
Harry could hear a muffled commotion coming from whathe thought might be the entrance hall. Snape lookedaround at him, frowning.
"Did you see anything unusual on your way down here,Potter?"
Harry shook his head. Somewhere above them, thewoman screamed again. Snape strode to his office door, hiswand still held at the ready, and swept out of sight. Harryhesitated for a moment, then followed.
The screams were indeed coming from the entrance hall;they grew louder as Harry ran toward the stone stepsleading up from the dungeons. When he reached the top hefound the entrance hall packed. Students had comeflooding out of the Great Hall, where dinner was still inprogress, to see what was going on. Others had crammedthemselves onto the marble staircase. Harry pushedforward through a knot of tall Slytherins and saw that theonlookers had formed a great ring, some of them lookingshocked, others even frightened. Professor McGonagall wasdirectly opposite Harry on the other side of the hall; shelooked as though what she was watching made her feelfaintly sick.
Professor Trelawney was standing in the middle of theentrance hall with her wand in one hand and an emptysherry bottle in the other, looking utterly mad. Her hair wassticking up on end, her glasses were lopsided so that oneeye was magnified more than the other; her innumerableshawls and scarves were trailing haphazardly from hershoulders, giving the impression that she was falling apartat the seams. Two large trunks lay on the floor beside her,one of them upside down; it looked very much as though ithad been thrown down the stairs after her. ProfessorTrelawney was staring, apparently terrified, at somethingHarry could not see but that seemed to be standing at thefoot of the stairs.
"No!" she shrieked. "NO! This cannot be happening. ... Itcannot ... I refuse to accept it!"
"You didn't realize this was coming?" said a high girlishvoice, sounding callously amused, and Harry, movingslightly to his right, saw that Trelawney's terrifying visionwas nothing other than Professor Umbridge. "Incapablethough you are of predicting even tomorrow's weather, youmust surely have realized that your pitiful performanceduring my inspections, and lack of any improvement, wouldmake it inevitable you would be sacked?"
"You c-can't!" howled Professor Trelawney, tearsstreaming down her face from behind her enormous lenses,"you c-can't sack me! I've b-been here sixteen years! HHogwarts is m-my h-home!"
"It was your home," said Professor Umbridge, and Harrywas revolted to see the enjoyment stretching her toadlikeface as she watched Professor Trelawney sink, sobbinguncontrollably, onto one of her trunks, "until an hour ago,when the Minister of Magic countersigned the order foryour dismissal. Now kindly remove yourself from this hall.You are embarrassing us."
But she stood and watched, with an expression of gloatingenjoyment, as Professor Trelawney shuddered and moaned,rocking backward and forward on her trunk in paroxysmsof grief. Harry heard a sob to his left and looked around.Lavender and Parvati were both crying silently, their armsaround each other. Then he heard footsteps. ProfessorMcGonagall had broken away from the spectators, marchedstraight up to Professor Trelawney and was patting herfirmly on the back while withdrawing a large handkerchieffrom within her robes.
"There, there, Sibyll ... Calm down. ... Blow your nose onthis. ... It's not as bad as you think, now. ... You are notgoing to have to leave Hogwarts. ..."
"Oh really, Professor McGonagall?" said Umbridge in adeadly voice, taking a few steps forward. "And yourauthority for that statement is ... ?"
"That would be mine," said a deep voice.
The oak front doors had swung open. Students besidethem scuttled out of the way as Dumbledore appeared inthe entrance. What he had been doing out in the groundsHarry could not imagine, but there was somethingimpressive about the sight of him framed in the doorwayagainst an oddly misty night. Leaving the doors wide behindhim, he strode forward through the circle of onlookerstoward the place where Professor Trelawney sat,tearstained and trembling, upon her trunk, ProfessorMcGonagall alongside her.
"Yours, Professor Dumbledore?" said Umbridge with asingularly unpleasant little laugh. "I'm afraid you do notunderstand the position. I have here" — she pulled aparchment scroll from within her robes — "an Order ofDismissal signed by myself and the Minister of Magic.Under the terms of Educational Decree Number Twentythree, the High Inquisitor of Hogwarts has the power toinspect, place upon probation, and sack any teacher she —that is to say, I — feel is not performing up to the standardrequired by the Ministry of Magic. I have decided thatProfessor Trelawney is not up to scratch. I have dismissedher."
To Harry's very great surprise, Dumbledore continued tosmile. He looked down at Professor Trelawney, who was stillsobbing and choking on her trunk, and said, "You are quiteright, of course, Professor Umbridge. As High Inquisitor youhave every right to dismiss my teachers. You do not,however, have the authority to send them away from thecastle. I am afraid," he went on, with a courteous little bow,"that the power to do that still resides with the headmaster,and it is my wish that Professor Trelawney continue to liveat Hogwarts."
At this, Professor Trelawney gave a wild little laugh inwhich a hiccup was barely hidden.
"No — no, I'll g-go, Dumbledore! I sh-shall l-leaveHogwarts and s-seek my fortune elsewhere —"
"No," said Dumbledore sharply. "It is my wish that youremain, Sibyll."
He turned to Professor McGonagall.
"Might I ask you to escort Sibyll back upstairs, ProfessorMcGonagall?"
"Of course," said McGonagall. "Up you get, Sibyll. ..."
Professor Sprout came hurrying forward out of the crowdand grabbed Professor Trelawney's other arm. Togetherthey guided her past Umbridge and up the marble stairs.Professor Flitwick went scurrying after them, his wand heldout before him; he squeaked, "Locomotor trunks!" andProfessor Trelawney's luggage rose into the air andproceeded up the staircase after her, Professor Flitwickbringing up the rear.
Professor Umbridge was standing stock-still, staring atDumbledore, who continued to smile benignly.
"And what," she said in a whisper that neverthelesscarried all around the entrance hall, "are you going to dowith her once I appoint a new Divination teacher who needsher lodgings?"
"Oh, that won't be a problem," said Dumbledorepleasantly. "You see, I have already found us a newDivination teacher, and he will prefer lodgings on theground floor."
"You've found — ?" said Umbridge shrilly. "You've found?Might I remind you, Dumbledore, that under EducationalDecree Twenty-two —"
"— the Ministry has the right to appoint a suitablecandidate if — and only if — the headmaster is unable tofind one," said Dumbledore. "And I am happy to say that onthis occasion I have succeeded. May I introduce you?"
He turned to face the open front doors, through whichnight mist was now drifting. Harry heard hooves. There wasa shocked murmur around the hall and those nearest thedoors hastily moved even farther backward, some of themtripping over in their haste to clear a path for thenewcomer.
Through the mist came a face Harry had seen once beforeon a dark, dangerous night in the Forbidden Forest: whiteblond hair and astonishingly blue eyes, the head and torsoof a man joined to the palomino body of a horse.
"This is Firenze," said Dumbledore happily to athunderstruck Umbridge. "I think you'll find him suitable."
Bạn đang đọc truyện trên: ZingTruyen.Xyz