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+P a g e  | 2 
+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+ 
+ 
+THE OTHER MINISTER 
+It was nearing midnight and the Prime Minister was 
+sitting alone in his office, reading a long memo that 
+was slipping through his brain without leaving the 
+slightest trace of meaning behind. He was waiting for 
+a call from the President of a far distant country, and 
+between wondering when the wretched man would 
+telephone, and trying to suppress unpleasant 
+memories of what had been a very long, tiring, and 
+difficult week, there was not much space in his head 
+for anything else. The more he attempted to focus on 
+the print on the page before him, the more clearly the 
+Prime Minister could see the gloating face of one of 
+his political opponents. This particular opponent had 
+appeared on the news that very day, not only to 
+enumerate all the terrible things that had happened 
+in the last week (as though anyone needed reminding) 
+but also to explain why each and every one of them 
+was the government’s fault. 
+The Prime Minister’s pulse quickened at the very 
+thought of these accusations, for they were neither 
+fair nor true. How on earth was his government 
+P a g e  | 3 
+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+supposed to have stopped that bridge collapsing? It 
+was outrageous for anybody to suggest that they were 
+not spending enough on bridges. The bridge was 
+fewer than ten years old, and the best experts were at 
+a loss to explain why it had snapped cleanly in two, 
+sending a dozen cars into the watery depths of the 
+river below. And how dare anyone suggest that it was 
+lack of policemen that had resulted in those two very 
+nasty and well-publicized murders? Or that the 
+government should have somehow foreseen the freak 
+hurricane in the West Country that had caused so 
+much damage to both people and property? And was 
+it his fault that one of his Junior Ministers, Herbert 
+Chorley, had chosen this week to act so peculiarly 
+that he was now going to be spending a lot more time 
+with his family? 
+“A grim mood has gripped the country,” the opponent 
+had concluded, barely concealing his own broad grin. 
+And unfortunately, this was perfectly true. The Prime 
+Minister felt it himself; people really did seem more 
+miserable than usual. Even the weather was dismal; 
+all this chilly mist in the middle of July. … It wasn’t 
+right, it wasn’t normal. … 
+He turned over the second page of the memo, saw 
+how much longer it went on, and gave it up as a bad 
+job. Stretching his arms above his head he looked 
+around his office mournfully. It was a handsome 
+room, with a fine marble fireplace facing the long sash 
+windows, firmly closed against the unseasonable 
+chill. With a slight shiver, the Prime Minister got up 
+and moved over to the window, looking out at the thin 
+mist that was pressing itself against the glass. It was 
+then, as he stood with his back to the room, that he 
+heard a soft cough behind him. 
+P a g e  | 4 
+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+He froze, nose to nose with his own scared-looking 
+reflection in the dark glass. He knew that cough. He 
+had heard it before. He turned very slowly to face the 
+empty room. 
+“Hello?” he said, trying to sound braver than he felt. 
+For a brief moment he allowed himself the impossible 
+hope that nobody would answer him. However, a 
+voice responded at once, a crisp, decisive voice that 
+sounded as though it were reading a prepared 
+statement. It was coming — as the Prime Minister 
+had known at the first cough — from the froglike little 
+man wearing a long silver wig who was depicted in a 
+small, dirty oil painting in the far corner of the room. 
+“To the Prime Minister of Muggles. Urgent we meet. 
+Kindly respond immediately. Sincerely, Fudge.” 
+The man in the painting looked inquiringly at the 
+Prime Minister. 
+“Er,” said the Prime Minister, “listen. … It’s not a very 
+good time for me. … I’m waiting for a telephone call, 
+you see … from the President of —” 
+“That can be rearranged,” said the portrait at once. 
+The Prime Minister’s heart sank. He had been afraid 
+of that. 
+“But I really was rather hoping to speak —” 
+“We shall arrange for the President to forget to call. 
+He will telephone tomorrow night instead,” said the 
+little man. “Kindly respond immediately to Mr. 
+Fudge.” 
+“I … oh … very well,” said the Prime Minister weakly. 
+“Yes, I’ll see Fudge.” 
+P a g e  | 5 
+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+He hurried back to his desk, straightening his tie as 
+he went. He had barely resumed his seat, and 
+arranged his face into what he hoped was a relaxed 
+and unfazed expression, when bright green flames 
+burst into life in the empty grate beneath his marble 
+mantelpiece. He watched, trying not to betray a flicker 
+of surprise or alarm, as a portly man appeared within 
+the flames, spinning as fast as a top. Seconds later, 
+he had climbed out onto a rather fine antique rug, 
+brushing ash from the sleeves of his long pin-striped 
+cloak, a lime-green bowler hat in his hand. 
+“Ah … Prime Minister,” said Cornelius Fudge, striding 
+forward with his hand outstretched. “Good to see you 
+again.” 
+The Prime Minister could not honestly return this 
+compliment, so said nothing at all. He was not 
+remotely pleased to see Fudge, whose occasional 
+appearances, apart from being downright alarming in 
+themselves, generally meant that he was about to 
+hear some very bad news. Furthermore, Fudge was 
+looking distinctly careworn. He was thinner, balder, 
+and grayer, and his face had a crumpled look. The 
+Prime Minister had seen that kind of look in 
+politicians before, and it never boded well. 
+“How can I help you?” he said, shaking Fudge’s hand 
+very briefly and gesturing toward the hardest of the 
+chairs in front of the desk. 
+“Difficult to know where to begin,” muttered Fudge, 
+pulling up the chair, sitting down, and placing his 
+green bowler upon his knees. “What a week, what a 
+week …” 
+“Had a bad one too, have you?” asked the Prime 
+Minister stiffly, hoping to convey by this that he had 
+P a g e  | 6 
+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+quite enough on his plate already without any extra 
+helpings from Fudge. 
+“Yes, of course,” said Fudge, rubbing his eyes wearily 
+and looking morosely at the Prime Minister. “I’ve been 
+having the same week you have, Prime Minister. The 
+Brockdale Bridge … the Bones and Vance murders … 
+not to mention the ruckus in the West Country …” 
+“You — er — your — I mean to say, some of your 
+people were — were involved in those — those things, 
+were they?” 
+Fudge fixed the Prime Minister with a rather stern 
+look. “Of course they were,” he said. “Surely you’ve 
+realized what’s going on?” 
+“I …” hesitated the Prime Minister. 
+It was precisely this sort of behavior that made him 
+dislike Fudge’s visits so much. He was, after all, the 
+Prime Minister and did not appreciate being made to 
+feel like an ignorant schoolboy. But of course, it had 
+been like this from his very first meeting with Fudge 
+on his very first evening as Prime Minister. He 
+remembered it as though it were yesterday and knew 
+it would haunt him until his dying day. 
+He had been standing alone in this very office, 
+savoring the triumph that was his after so many 
+years of dreaming and scheming, when he had heard 
+a cough behind him, just like tonight, and turned to 
+find that ugly little portrait talking to him, 
+announcing that the Minister of Magic was about to 
+arrive and introduce himself. 
+Naturally, he had thought that the long campaign and 
+the strain of the election had caused him to go mad. 
+He had been utterly terrified to find a portrait talking 
+P a g e  | 7 
+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+to him, though this had been nothing to how he felt 
+when a self-proclaimed wizard had bounced out of the 
+fireplace and shaken his hand. He had remained 
+speechless throughout Fudge’s kindly explanation 
+that there were witches and wizards still living in 
+secret all over the world and his reassurances that he 
+was not to bother his head about them as the 
+Ministry of Magic took responsibility for the whole 
+Wizarding community and prevented the non-magical 
+population from getting wind of them. It was, said 
+Fudge, a difficult job that encompassed everything 
+from regulations on responsible use of broomsticks to 
+keeping the dragon population under control (the 
+Prime Minister remembered clutching the desk for 
+support at this point). Fudge had then patted the 
+shoulder of the still-dumbstruck Prime Minister in a 
+fatherly sort of way. 
+“Not to worry,” he had said, “it’s odds-on you’ll never 
+see me again. I’ll only bother you if there’s something 
+really serious going on our end, something that’s 
+likely to affect the Muggles — the non-magical 
+population, I should say. Otherwise, it’s live and let 
+live. And I must say, you’re taking it a lot better than 
+your predecessor. He tried to throw me out the 
+window, thought I was a hoax planned by the 
+opposition.” 
+At this, the Prime Minister had found his voice at last. 
+“You’re — you’re not a hoax, then?” 
+It had been his last, desperate hope. 
+“No,” said Fudge gently. “No, I’m afraid I’m not. Look.” 
+And he had turned the Prime Minister’s teacup into a 
+gerbil. 
+P a g e  | 8 
+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+“But,” said the Prime Minister breathlessly, watching 
+his teacup chewing on the corner of his next speech, 
+“but why — why has nobody told me — ?” 
+“The Minister of Magic only reveals him- or herself to 
+the Muggle Prime Minister of the day,” said Fudge, 
+poking his wand back inside his jacket. “We find it 
+the best way to maintain secrecy.” 
+“But then,” bleated the Prime Minister, “why hasn’t a 
+former Prime Minister warned me — ?” 
+At this, Fudge had actually laughed. 
+“My dear Prime Minister, are you ever going to tell 
+anybody?” 
+Still chortling, Fudge had thrown some powder into 
+the fireplace, stepped into the emerald flames, and 
+vanished with a whooshing sound. The Prime 
+Minister had stood there, quite motionless, and 
+realized that he would never, as long as he lived, dare 
+mention this encounter to a living soul, for who in the 
+wide world would believe him? 
+The shock had taken a little while to wear off. For a 
+time, he had tried to convince himself that Fudge had 
+indeed been a hallucination brought on by lack of 
+sleep during his grueling election campaign. In a vain 
+attempt to rid himself of all reminders of this 
+uncomfortable encounter, he had given the gerbil to 
+his delighted niece and instructed his private 
+secretary to take down the portrait of the ugly little 
+man who had announced Fudge’s arrival. To the 
+Prime Minister’s dismay, however, the portrait had 
+proved impossible to remove. When several 
+carpenters, a builder or two, an art historian, and the 
+Chancellor of the Exchequer had all tried 
+unsuccessfully to prise it from the wall, the Prime 
+P a g e  | 9 
+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+Minister had abandoned the attempt and simply 
+resolved to hope that the thing remained motionless 
+and silent for the rest of his term in office. 
+Occasionally he could have sworn he saw out of the 
+corner of his eye the occupant of the painting 
+yawning, or else scratching his nose; even, once or 
+twice, simply walking out of his frame and leaving 
+nothing but a stretch of muddy-brown canvas behind. 
+However, he had trained himself not to look at the 
+picture very much, and always to tell himself firmly 
+that his eyes were playing tricks on him when 
+anything like this happened. 
+Then, three years ago, on a night very like tonight, the 
+Prime Minister had been alone in his office when the 
+portrait had once again announced the imminent 
+arrival of Fudge, who had burst out of the fireplace, 
+sopping wet and in a state of considerable panic. 
+Before the Prime Minister could ask why he was 
+dripping all over the Axminster, Fudge had started 
+ranting about a prison the Prime Minister had never 
+heard of, a man named “Serious” Black, something 
+that sounded like “Hogwarts,” and a boy called Harry 
+Potter, none of which made the remotest sense to the 
+Prime Minister. 
+“… I’ve just come from Azkaban,” Fudge had panted, 
+tipping a large amount of water out of the rim of his 
+bowler hat into his pocket. “Middle of the North Sea, 
+you know, nasty flight … the dementors are in 
+uproar” — he shuddered — “they’ve never had a 
+breakout before. Anyway, I had to come to you, Prime 
+Minister. Black’s a known Muggle killer and may be 
+planning to rejoin You-Know-Who. … But of course, 
+you don’t even know who You-Know-Who is!” He had 
+gazed hopelessly at the Prime Minister for a moment, 
+then said, “Well, sit down, sit down, I’d better fill you 
+in. … Have a whiskey …” 
+P a g e  | 10 
+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+The Prime Minister rather resented being told to sit 
+down in his own office, let alone offered his own 
+whiskey, but he sat nevertheless. Fudge pulled out 
+his wand, conjured two large glasses full of amber 
+liquid out of thin air, pushed one of them into the 
+Prime Minister’s hand, and drew up a chair. 
+Fudge had talked for more than an hour. At one 
+point, he had refused to say a certain name aloud and 
+wrote it instead on a piece of parchment, which he 
+had thrust into the Prime Minister’s whiskey-free 
+hand. When at last Fudge had stood up to leave, the 
+Prime Minister had stood up too. 
+“So you think that …” He had squinted down at the 
+name in his left hand. “Lord Vol —” 
+“He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!” snarled Fudge. 
+“I’m sorry. … You think that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-
+Named is still alive, then?” 
+“Well, Dumbledore says he is,” said Fudge, as he had 
+fastened his pin-striped cloak under his chin, “but 
+we’ve never found him. If you ask me, he’s not 
+dangerous unless he’s got support, so it’s Black we 
+ought to be worrying about. You’ll put out that 
+warning, then? Excellent. Well, I hope we don’t see 
+each other again, Prime Minister! Good night.” 
+But they had seen each other again. Less than a year 
+later a harassed-looking Fudge had appeared out of 
+thin air in the cabinet room to inform the Prime 
+Minister that there had been a spot of bother at the 
+Kwidditch (or that was what it had sounded like) 
+World Cup and that several Muggles had been 
+“involved,” but that the Prime Minister was not to 
+worry, the fact that You-Know-Who’s Mark had been 
+seen again meant nothing; Fudge was sure it was an 
+P a g e  | 11 
+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+isolated incident, and the Muggle Liaison Office was 
+dealing with all memory modifications as they spoke. 
+“Oh, and I almost forgot,” Fudge had added. “We’re 
+importing three foreign dragons and a sphinx for the 
+Triwizard Tournament, quite routine, but the 
+Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical 
+Creatures tells me that it’s down in the rule book that 
+we have to notify you if we’re bringing highly 
+dangerous creatures into the country.” 
+“I — what — dragons?” spluttered the Prime Minister. 
+“Yes, three,” said Fudge. “And a sphinx. Well, good 
+day to you.” 
+The Prime Minister had hoped beyond hope that 
+dragons and sphinxes would be the worst of it, but 
+no. Less than two years later, Fudge had erupted out 
+of the fire yet again, this time with the news that 
+there had been a mass breakout from Azkaban. 
+“A mass breakout?” repeated the Prime Minister 
+hoarsely. 
+“No need to worry, no need to worry!” shouted Fudge, 
+already with one foot in the flames. “We’ll have them 
+rounded up in no time — just thought you ought to 
+know!” 
+And before the Prime Minister could shout, “Now, wait 
+just one moment!” Fudge had vanished in a shower of 
+green sparks. 
+Whatever the press and the opposition might say, the 
+Prime Minister was not a foolish man. It had not 
+escaped his notice that, despite Fudge’s assurances 
+at their first meeting, they were now seeing rather a 
+lot of each other, nor that Fudge was becoming more 
+P a g e  | 12 
+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+flustered with each visit. Little though he liked to 
+think about the Minister of Magic (or, as he always 
+called Fudge in his head, the Other Minister), the 
+Prime Minister could not help but fear that the next 
+time Fudge appeared it would be with graver news 
+still. The sight, therefore, of Fudge stepping out of the 
+fire once more, looking disheveled and fretful and 
+sternly surprised that the Prime Minister did not 
+know exactly why he was there, was about the worst 
+thing that had happened in the course of this 
+extremely gloomy week. 
+“How should I know what’s going on in the — er — 
+Wizarding community?” snapped the Prime Minister 
+now. “I have a country to run and quite enough 
+concerns at the moment without —” 
+“We have the same concerns,” Fudge interrupted. 
+“The Brockdale Bridge didn’t wear out. That wasn’t 
+really a hurricane. Those murders were not the work 
+of Muggles. And Herbert Chorley’s family would be 
+safer without him. We are currently making 
+arrangements to have him transferred to St. Mungo’s 
+Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. The move 
+should be effected tonight.” 
+“What do you … I’m afraid I … What?” blustered the 
+Prime Minister. 
+Fudge took a great, deep breath and said, “Prime 
+Minister, I am very sorry to have to tell you that he’s 
+back. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back.” 
+“Back? When you say ‘back’ … he’s alive? I mean —” 
+The Prime Minister groped in his memory for the 
+details of that horrible conversation of three years 
+previously, when Fudge had told him about the 
+wizard who was feared above all others, the wizard 
+P a g e  | 13 
+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+who had committed a thousand terrible crimes before 
+his mysterious disappearance fifteen years earlier. 
+“Yes, alive,” said Fudge. “That is — I don’t know — is 
+a man alive if he can’t be killed? I don’t really 
+understand it, and Dumbledore won’t explain 
+properly — but anyway, he’s certainly got a body and 
+is walking and talking and killing, so I suppose, for 
+the purposes of our discussion, yes, he’s alive.” 
+The Prime Minister did not know what to say to this, 
+but a persistent habit of wishing to appear well-
+informed on any subject that came up made him cast 
+around for any details he could remember of their 
+previous conversations. 
+“Is Serious Black with — er — He-Who-Must-Not-Be-
+Named?” 
+“Black? Black?” said Fudge distractedly, turning his 
+bowler rapidly in his fingers. “Sirius Black, you 
+mean? Merlin’s beard, no. Black’s dead. Turns out we 
+were — er — mistaken about Black. He was innocent 
+after all. And he wasn’t in league with He-Who-Must-
+Not-Be-Named either. I mean,” he added defensively, 
+spinning the bowler hat still faster, “all the evidence 
+pointed — we had more than fifty eyewitnesses — but 
+anyway, as I say, he’s dead. Murdered, as a matter of 
+fact. On Ministry of Magic premises. There’s going to 
+be an inquiry, actually. …” 
+To his great surprise, the Prime Minister felt a fleeting 
+stab of pity for Fudge at this point. It was, however, 
+eclipsed almost immediately by a glow of smugness at 
+the thought that, deficient though he himself might 
+be in the area of materializing out of fireplaces, there 
+had never been a murder in any of the government 
+departments under his charge. … Not yet, anyway … 
+P a g e  | 14 
+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+While the Prime Minister surreptitiously touched the 
+wood of his desk, Fudge continued, “But Black’s by-
+the-by now. The point is, we’re at war, Prime Minister, 
+and steps must be taken.” 
+“At war?” repeated the Prime Minister nervously. 
+“Surely that’s a little bit of an overstatement?” 
+“He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has now been joined by 
+those of his followers who broke out of Azkaban in 
+January,” said Fudge, speaking more and more 
+rapidly and twirling his bowler so fast that it was a 
+lime-green blur. “Since they have moved into the 
+open, they have been wreaking havoc. The Brockdale 
+Bridge — he did it, Prime Minister, he threatened a 
+mass Muggle killing unless I stood aside for him and 
+—” 
+“Good grief, so it’s your fault those people were killed 
+and I’m having to answer questions about rusted 
+rigging and corroded expansion joints and I don’t 
+know what else!” said the Prime Minister furiously. 
+“My fault!” said Fudge, coloring up. “Are you saying 
+you would have caved in to blackmail like that?” 
+“Maybe not,” said the Prime Minister, standing up 
+and striding about the room, “but I would have put all 
+my efforts into catching the blackmailer before he 
+committed any such atrocity!” 
+“Do you really think I wasn’t already making every 
+effort?” demanded Fudge heatedly. “Every Auror in 
+the Ministry was — and is — trying to find him and 
+round up his followers, but we happen to be talking 
+about one of the most powerful wizards of all time, a 
+wizard who has eluded capture for almost three 
+decades!” 
+P a g e  | 15 
+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+“So I suppose you’re going to tell me he caused the 
+hurricane in the West Country too?” said the Prime 
+Minister, his temper rising with every pace he took. It 
+was infuriating to discover the reason for all these 
+terrible disasters and not to be able to tell the public, 
+almost worse than it being the government’s fault 
+after all. 
+“That was no hurricane,” said Fudge miserably. 
+“Excuse me!” barked the Prime Minister, now 
+positively stamping up and down. “Trees uprooted, 
+roofs ripped off, lampposts bent, horrible injuries —” 
+“It was the Death Eaters,” said Fudge. “He-Who-Must-
+Not-Be-Named’s followers. And … and we suspect 
+giant involvement.” 
+The Prime Minister stopped in his tracks as though 
+he had hit an invisible wall. “What involvement?” 
+Fudge grimaced. “He used giants last time, when he 
+wanted to go for the grand effect,” he said. “The Office 
+of Misinformation has been working around the clock, 
+we’ve had teams of Obliviators out trying to modify 
+the memories of all the Muggles who saw what really 
+happened, we’ve got most of the Department for the 
+Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures running 
+around Somerset, but we can’t find the giant — it’s 
+been a disaster.” 
+“You don’t say!” said the Prime Minister furiously. 
+“I won’t deny that morale is pretty low at the 
+Ministry,” said Fudge. “What with all that, and then 
+losing Amelia Bones.” 
+“Losing who?” 
+P a g e  | 16 
+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+“Amelia Bones. Head of the Department of Magical 
+Law Enforcement. We think He-Who-Must-Not-Be-
+Named may have murdered her in person, because 
+she was a very gifted witch and — and all the 
+evidence was that she put up a real fight.” 
+Fudge cleared his throat and, with an effort, it 
+seemed, stopped spinning his bowler hat. 
+“But that murder was in the newspapers,” said the 
+Prime Minister, momentarily diverted from his anger. 
+“Our newspapers. Amelia Bones … it just said she 
+was a middle-aged woman who lived alone. It was a — 
+a nasty killing, wasn’t it? It’s had rather a lot of 
+publicity. The police are baffled, you see.” 
+Fudge sighed. “Well, of course they are,” he said. 
+“Killed in a room that was locked from the inside, 
+wasn’t she? We, on the other hand, know exactly who 
+did it, not that that gets us any further toward 
+catching him. And then there was Emmeline Vance, 
+maybe you didn’t hear about that one —” 
+“Oh yes I did!” said the Prime Minister. “It happened 
+just around the corner from here, as a matter of fact. 
+The papers had a field day with it, ‘breakdown of law 
+and order in the Prime Minister’s backyard —’ ” 
+“And as if all that wasn’t enough,” said Fudge, barely 
+listening to the Prime Minister, “we’ve got dementors 
+swarming all over the place, attacking people left, 
+right, and center. …” 
+Once upon a happier time this sentence would have 
+been unintelligible to the Prime Minister, but he was 
+wiser now. 
+“I thought dementors guard the prisoners in 
+Azkaban,” he said cautiously. 
+P a g e  | 17 
+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+“They did,” said Fudge wearily. “But not anymore. 
+They’ve deserted the prison and joined He-Who-Must-
+Not-Be-Named. I won’t pretend that wasn’t a blow.” 
+“But,” said the Prime Minister, with a sense of 
+dawning horror, “didn’t you tell me they’re the 
+creatures that drain hope and happiness out of 
+people?” 
+“That’s right. And they’re breeding. That’s what’s 
+causing all this mist.” 
+The Prime Minister sank, weak-kneed, into the 
+nearest chair. The idea of invisible creatures swooping 
+through the towns and countryside, spreading 
+despair and hopelessness in his voters, made him feel 
+quite faint. 
+“Now see here, Fudge — you’ve got to do something! 
+It’s your responsibility as Minister of Magic!” 
+“My dear Prime Minister, you can’t honestly think I’m 
+still Minister of Magic after all this? I was sacked 
+three days ago! The whole Wizarding community has 
+been screaming for my resignation for a fortnight. I’ve 
+never known them so united in my whole term of 
+office!” said Fudge, with a brave attempt at a smile. 
+The Prime Minister was momentarily lost for words. 
+Despite his indignation at the position into which he 
+had been placed, he still rather felt for the shrunken-
+looking man sitting opposite him. 
+“I’m very sorry,” he said finally. “If there’s anything I 
+can do?” 
+“It’s very kind of you, Prime Minister, but there is 
+nothing. I was sent here tonight to bring you up to 
+date on recent events and to introduce you to my 
+P a g e  | 18 
+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+successor. I rather thought he’d be here by now, but 
+of course, he’s very busy at the moment, with so 
+much going on.” 
+Fudge looked around at the portrait of the ugly little 
+man wearing the long curly silver wig, who was 
+digging in his ear with the point of a quill. Catching 
+Fudge’s eye, the portrait said, “He’ll be here in a 
+moment, he’s just finishing a letter to Dumbledore.” 
+“I wish him luck,” said Fudge, sounding bitter for the 
+first time. “I’ve been writing to Dumbledore twice a 
+day for the past fortnight, but he won’t budge. If he’d 
+just been prepared to persuade the boy, I might still 
+be … Well, maybe Scrimgeour will have more 
+success.” 
+Fudge subsided into what was clearly an aggrieved 
+silence, but it was broken almost immediately by the 
+portrait, which suddenly spoke in its crisp, official 
+voice. 
+“To the Prime Minister of Muggles. Requesting a 
+meeting. Urgent. Kindly respond immediately. Rufus 
+Scrimgeour, Minister of Magic.” 
+“Yes, yes, fine,” said the Prime Minister distractedly, 
+and he barely flinched as the flames in the grate 
+turned emerald green again, rose up, and revealed a 
+second spinning wizard in their heart, disgorging him 
+moments later onto the antique rug. 
+Fudge got to his feet and, after a moment’s hesitation, 
+the Prime Minister did the same, watching the new 
+arrival straighten up, dust down his long black robes, 
+and look around. 
+The Prime Minister’s first, foolish thought was that 
+Rufus Scrimgeour looked rather like an old lion. 
+P a g e  | 19 
+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+There were streaks of gray in his mane of tawny hair 
+and his bushy eyebrows; he had keen yellowish eyes 
+behind a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles and a certain 
+rangy, loping grace even though he walked with a 
+slight limp. There was an immediate impression of 
+shrewdness and toughness; the Prime Minister 
+thought he understood why the Wizarding community 
+preferred Scrimgeour to Fudge as a leader in these 
+dangerous times. 
+“How do you do?” said the Prime Minister politely, 
+holding out his hand. 
+Scrimgeour grasped it briefly, his eyes scanning the 
+room, then pulled out a wand from under his robes. 
+“Fudge told you everything?” he asked, striding over 
+to the door and tapping the keyhole with his wand. 
+The Prime Minister heard the lock click. 
+“Er — yes,” said the Prime Minister. “And if you don’t 
+mind, I’d rather that door remained unlocked.” 
+“I’d rather not be interrupted,” said Scrimgeour 
+shortly, “or watched,” he added, pointing his wand at 
+the windows, so that the curtains swept across them. 
+“Right, well, I’m a busy man, so let’s get down to 
+business. First of all, we need to discuss your 
+security.” 
+The Prime Minister drew himself up to his fullest 
+height and replied, “I am perfectly happy with the 
+security I’ve already got, thank you very —” 
+“Well, we’re not,” Scrimgeour cut in. “It’ll be a poor 
+lookout for the Muggles if their Prime Minister gets 
+put under the Imperius Curse. The new secretary in 
+your outer office —” 
+P a g e  | 20 
+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+“I’m not getting rid of Kingsley Shacklebolt, if that’s 
+what you’re suggesting!” said the Prime Minister 
+hotly. “He’s highly efficient, gets through twice the 
+work the rest of them —” 
+“That’s because he’s a wizard,” said Scrimgeour, 
+without a flicker of a smile. ��A highly trained Auror, 
+who has been assigned to you for your protection.” 
+“Now, wait a moment!” declared the Prime Minister. 
+“You can’t just put your people into my office, I decide 
+who works for me —” 
+“I thought you were happy with Shacklebolt?” said 
+Scrimgeour coldly. 
+“I am — that’s to say, I was —” 
+“Then there’s no problem, is there?” said Scrimgeour. 
+“I … well, as long as Shacklebolt’s work continues to 
+be … er … excellent,” said the Prime Minister lamely, 
+but Scrimgeour barely seemed to hear him. 
+“Now, about Herbert Chorley, your Junior Minister,” 
+he continued. “The one who has been entertaining the 
+public by impersonating a duck.” 
+“What about him?” asked the Prime Minister. 
+“He has clearly reacted to a poorly performed 
+Imperius Curse,” said Scrimgeour. “It’s addled his 
+brains, but he could still be dangerous.” 
+“He’s only quacking!” said the Prime Minister weakly. 
+“Surely a bit of a rest … Maybe go easy on the drink 
+…” 
+P a g e  | 21 
+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+“A team of Healers from St. Mungo’s Hospital for 
+Magical Maladies and Injuries are examining him as 
+we speak. So far he has attempted to strangle three of 
+them,” said Scrimgeour. “I think it best that we 
+remove him from Muggle society for a while.” 
+“I … well … He’ll be all right, won’t he?” said the 
+Prime Minister anxiously. 
+Scrimgeour merely shrugged, already moving back 
+toward the fireplace. 
+“Well, that’s really all I had to say. I will keep you 
+posted of developments, Prime Minister — or, at least, 
+I shall probably be too busy to come personally, in 
+which case I shall send Fudge here. He has consented 
+to stay on in an advisory capacity.” 
+Fudge attempted to smile, but was unsuccessful; he 
+merely looked as though he had a toothache. 
+Scrimgeour was already rummaging in his pocket for 
+the mysterious powder that turned the fire green. The 
+Prime Minister gazed hopelessly at the pair of them 
+for a moment, then the words he had fought to 
+suppress all evening burst from him at last. 
+“But for heaven’s sake — you’re wizards! You can do 
+magic! Surely you can sort out — well — anything!” 
+Scrimgeour turned slowly on the spot and exchanged 
+an incredulous look with Fudge, who really did 
+manage a smile this time as he said kindly, “The 
+trouble is, the other side can do magic too, Prime 
+Minister.” 
+And with that, the two wizards stepped one after the 
+other into the bright green fire and vanished. 
+P a g e  | 22 
+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+ 
+ 
+SPINNER’S END 
+Many miles away the chilly mist that had pressed 
+against the Prime Minister’s windows drifted over a 
+dirty river that wound between overgrown, rubbish-
+strewn banks. An immense chimney, relic of a 
+disused mill, reared up, shadowy and ominous. There 
+was no sound apart from the whisper of the black 
+water and no sign of life apart from a scrawny fox that 
+had slunk down the bank to nose hopefully at some 
+old fish-and-chip wrappings in the tall grass. 
+But then, with a very faint pop, a slim, hooded figure 
+appeared out of thin air on the edge of the river. The 
+fox froze, wary eyes fixed upon this strange new 
+phenomenon. The figure seemed to take its bearings 
+for a few moments, then set off with light, quick 
+strides, its long cloak rustling over the grass. 
+With a second and louder pop, another hooded figure 
+materialized. 
+“Wait!” 
+P a g e  | 23 
+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+The harsh cry startled the fox, now crouching almost 
+flat in the undergrowth. It leapt from its hiding place 
+and up the bank. There was a flash of green light, a 
+yelp, and the fox fell back to the ground, dead. 
+The second figure turned over the animal with its toe. 
+“Just a fox,” said a woman’s voice dismissively from 
+under the hood. “I thought perhaps an Auror — 
+Cissy, wait!” 
+But her quarry, who had paused and looked back at 
+the flash of light, was already scrambling up the bank 
+the fox had just fallen down. 
+“Cissy — Narcissa — listen to me —” 
+The second woman caught the first and seized her 
+arm, but the other wrenched it away. 
+“Go back, Bella!” 
+“You must listen to me!” 
+“I’ve listened already. I’ve made my decision. Leave me 
+alone!” 
+The woman named Narcissa gained the top of the 
+bank, where a line of old railings separated the river 
+from a narrow, cobbled street. The other woman, 
+Bella, followed at once. Side by side they stood 
+looking across the road at the rows and rows of 
+dilapidated brick houses, their windows dull and 
+blind in the darkness. 
+“He lives here?” asked Bella in a voice of contempt. 
+“Here? In this Muggle dunghill? We must be the first 
+of our kind ever to set foot —” 
+P a g e  | 24 
+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+But Narcissa was not listening; she had slipped 
+through a gap in the rusty railings and was already 
+hurrying across the road. 
+“Cissy, wait!” 
+Bella followed, her cloak streaming behind, and saw 
+Narcissa darting through an alley between the houses 
+into a second, almost identical street. Some of the 
+streetlamps were broken; the two women were 
+running between patches of light and deep darkness. 
+The pursuer caught up with her prey just as she 
+turned another corner, this time succeeding in 
+catching hold of her arm and swinging her around so 
+that they faced each other. 
+“Cissy, you must not do this, you can’t trust him —” 
+“The Dark Lord trusts him, doesn’t he?” 
+“The Dark Lord is … I believe … mistaken,” Bella 
+panted, and her eyes gleamed momentarily under her 
+hood as she looked around to check that they were 
+indeed alone. “In any case, we were told not to speak 
+of the plan to anyone. This is a betrayal of the Dark 
+Lord’s —” 
+“Let go, Bella!” snarled Narcissa, and she drew a 
+wand from beneath her cloak, holding it threateningly 
+in the other’s face. Bella merely laughed. 
+“Cissy, your own sister? You wouldn’t —” 
+“There is nothing I wouldn’t do anymore!” Narcissa 
+breathed, a note of hysteria in her voice, and as she 
+brought down the wand like a knife, there was 
+another flash of light. Bella let go of her sister’s arm 
+as though burned. 
+P a g e  | 25 
+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+“Narcissa!” 
+But Narcissa had rushed ahead. Rubbing her hand, 
+her pursuer followed again, keeping her distance now, 
+as they moved deeper into the deserted labyrinth of 
+brick houses. At last, Narcissa hurried up a street 
+named Spinner’s End, over which the towering mill 
+chimney seemed to hover like a giant admonitory 
+finger. Her footsteps echoed on the cobbles as she 
+passed boarded and broken windows, until she 
+reached the very last house, where a dim light 
+glimmered through the curtains in a downstairs 
+room. 
+She had knocked on the door before Bella, cursing 
+under her breath, had caught up. Together they stood 
+waiting, panting slightly, breathing in the smell of the 
+dirty river that was carried to them on the night 
+breeze. After a few seconds, they heard movement 
+behind the door and it opened a crack. A sliver of a 
+man could be seen looking out at them, a man with 
+long black hair parted in curtains around a sallow 
+face and black eyes. 
+Narcissa threw back her hood. She was so pale that 
+she seemed to shine in the darkness; the long blonde 
+hair streaming down her back gave her the look of a 
+drowned person. 
+“Narcissa!” said the man, opening the door a little 
+wider, so that the light fell upon her and her sister 
+too. “What a pleasant surprise!” 
+“Severus,” she said in a strained whisper. “May I 
+speak to you? It’s urgent.” 
+“But of course.” 
+P a g e  | 26 
+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+He stood back to allow her to pass him into the 
+house. Her still-hooded sister followed without 
+invitation. 
+“Snape,” she said curtly as she passed him. 
+“Bellatrix,” he replied, his thin mouth curling into a 
+slightly mocking smile as he closed the door with a 
+snap behind them. 
+They had stepped directly into a tiny sitting room, 
+which had the feeling of a dark, padded cell. The walls 
+were completely covered in books, most of them 
+bound in old black or brown leather; a threadbare 
+sofa, an old armchair, and a rickety table stood 
+grouped together in a pool of dim light cast by a 
+candle-filled lamp hung from the ceiling. The place 
+had an air of neglect, as though it was not usually 
+inhabited. 
+Snape gestured Narcissa to the sofa. She threw off 
+her cloak, cast it aside, and sat down, staring at her 
+white and trembling hands clasped in her lap. 
+Bellatrix lowered her hood more slowly. Dark as her 
+sister was fair, with heavily lidded eyes and a strong 
+jaw, she did not take her gaze from Snape as she 
+moved to stand behind Narcissa. 
+“So, what can I do for you?” Snape asked, settling 
+himself in the armchair opposite the two sisters. 
+“We … we are alone, aren’t we?” Narcissa asked 
+quietly. 
+“Yes, of course. Well, Wormtail’s here, but we’re not 
+counting vermin, are we?” 
+He pointed his wand at the wall of books behind him 
+and with a bang, a hidden door flew open, revealing a 
+P a g e  | 27 
+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+narrow staircase upon which a small man stood 
+frozen. 
+“As you have clearly realized, Wormtail, we have 
+guests,” said Snape lazily. 
+The man crept, hunchbacked, down the last few steps 
+and moved into the room. He had small, watery eyes, 
+a pointed nose, and wore an unpleasant simper. His 
+left hand was caressing his right, which looked as 
+though it was encased in a bright silver glove. 
+“Narcissa!” he said, in a squeaky voice. “And Bellatrix! 
+How charming —” 
+“Wormtail will get us drinks, if you’d like them,” said 
+Snape. “And then he will return to his bedroom.” 
+Wormtail winced as though Snape had thrown 
+something at him. 
+“I am not your servant!” he squeaked, avoiding 
+Snape’s eye. 
+“Really? I was under the impression that the Dark 
+Lord placed you here to assist me.” 
+“To assist, yes — but not to make you drinks and — 
+and clean your house!” 
+“I had no idea, Wormtail, that you were craving more 
+dangerous assignments,” said Snape silkily. “This can 
+be easily arranged: I shall speak to the Dark Lord —” 
+“I can speak to him myself if I want to!” 
+“Of course you can,” said Snape, sneering. “But in the 
+meantime, bring us drinks. Some of the elf-made wine 
+will do.” 
+P a g e  | 28 
+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+Wormtail hesitated for a moment, looking as though 
+he might argue, but then turned and headed through 
+a second hidden door. They heard banging and a 
+clinking of glasses. Within seconds he was back, 
+bearing a dusty bottle and three glasses upon a tray. 
+He dropped these on the rickety table and scurried 
+from their presence, slamming the book-covered door 
+behind him. 
+Snape poured out three glasses of bloodred wine and 
+handed two of them to the sisters. Narcissa 
+murmured a word of thanks, whilst Bellatrix said 
+nothing, but continued to glower at Snape. This did 
+not seem to discompose him; on the contrary, he 
+looked rather amused. 
+“The Dark Lord,” he said, raising his glass and 
+draining it. 
+The sisters copied him. Snape refilled their glasses. 
+As Narcissa took her second drink she said in a rush, 
+“Severus, I’m sorry to come here like this, but I had to 
+see you. I think you are the only one who can help me 
+—” 
+Snape held up a hand to stop her, then pointed his 
+wand again at the concealed staircase door. There 
+was a loud bang and a squeal, followed by the sound 
+of Wormtail scurrying back up the stairs. 
+“My apologies,” said Snape. “He has lately taken to 
+listening at doors, I don’t know what he means by it. 
+… You were saying, Narcissa?” 
+She took a great, shuddering breath and started 
+again. 
+“Severus, I know I ought not to be here, I have been 
+told to say nothing to anyone, but —” 
+P a g e  | 29 
+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+“Then you ought to hold your tongue!” snarled 
+Bellatrix. “Particularly in present company!” 
+“ ‘Present company’?” repeated Snape sardonically. 
+“And what am I to understand by that, Bellatrix?” 
+“That I don’t trust you, Snape, as you very well 
+know!” 
+Narcissa let out a noise that might have been a dry 
+sob and covered her face with her hands. Snape set 
+his glass down upon the table and sat back again, his 
+hands upon the arms of his chair, smiling into 
+Bellatrix’s glowering face. 
+“Narcissa, I think we ought to hear what Bellatrix is 
+bursting to say; it will save tedious interruptions. 
+Well, continue, Bellatrix,” said Snape. “Why is it that 
+you do not trust me?” 
+“A hundred reasons!” she said loudly, striding out 
+from behind the sofa to slam her glass upon the table. 
+“Where to start! Where were you when the Dark Lord 
+fell? Why did you never make any attempt to find him 
+when he vanished? What have you been doing all 
+these years that you’ve lived in Dumbledore’s pocket? 
+Why did you stop the Dark Lord procuring the 
+Sorcerer’s Stone? Why did you not return at once 
+when the Dark Lord was reborn? Where were you a 
+few weeks ago when we battled to retrieve the 
+prophecy for the Dark Lord? And why, Snape, is 
+Harry Potter still alive, when you have had him at 
+your mercy for five years?” 
+She paused, her chest rising and falling rapidly, the 
+color high in her cheeks. Behind her, Narcissa sat 
+motionless, her face still hidden in her hands. 
+Snape smiled. 
+P a g e  | 30 
+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+“Before I answer you — oh yes, Bellatrix, I am going 
+to answer! You can carry my words back to the others 
+who whisper behind my back, and carry false tales of 
+my treachery to the Dark Lord! Before I answer you, I 
+say, let me ask a question in turn. Do you really think 
+that the Dark Lord has not asked me each and every 
+one of those questions? And do you really think that, 
+had I not been able to give satisfactory answers, I 
+would be sitting here talking to you?” 
+She hesitated. 
+“I know he believes you, but …” 
+“You think he is mistaken? Or that I have somehow 
+hoodwinked him? Fooled the Dark Lord, the greatest 
+wizard, the most accomplished Legilimens the world 
+has ever seen?” 
+Bellatrix said nothing, but looked, for the first time, a 
+little discomfited. Snape did not press the point. He 
+picked up his drink again, sipped it, and continued, 
+“You ask where I was when the Dark Lord fell. I was 
+where he had ordered me to be, at Hogwarts School of 
+Witchcraft and Wizardry, because he wished me to 
+spy upon Albus Dumbledore. You know, I presume, 
+that it was on the Dark Lord’s orders that I took up 
+the post?” 
+She nodded almost imperceptibly and then opened 
+her mouth, but Snape forestalled her. 
+“You ask why I did not attempt to find him when he 
+vanished. For the same reason that Avery, Yaxley, the 
+Carrows, Greyback, Lucius” — he inclined his head 
+slightly to Narcissa — “and many others did not 
+attempt to find him. I believed him finished. I am not 
+proud of it, I was wrong, but there it is. … If he had 
+P a g e  | 31 
+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+not forgiven we who lost faith at that time, he would 
+have very few followers left.” 
+“He’d have me!” said Bellatrix passionately. “I, who 
+spent many years in Azkaban for him!” 
+“Yes, indeed, most admirable,” said Snape in a bored 
+voice. “Of course, you weren’t a lot of use to him in 
+prison, but the gesture was undoubtedly fine —” 
+“Gesture!” she shrieked; in her fury she looked 
+slightly mad. “While I endured the dementors, you 
+remained at Hogwarts, comfortably playing 
+Dumbledore’s pet!” 
+“Not quite,” said Snape calmly. “He wouldn’t give me 
+the Defense Against the Dark Arts job, you know. 
+Seemed to think it might, ah, bring about a relapse … 
+tempt me into my old ways.” 
+“This was your sacrifice for the Dark Lord, not to 
+teach your favorite subject?” she jeered. “Why did you 
+stay there all that time, Snape? Still spying on 
+Dumbledore for a master you believed dead?” 
+“Hardly,” said Snape, “although the Dark Lord is 
+pleased that I never deserted my post: I had sixteen 
+years of information on Dumbledore to give him when 
+he returned, a rather more useful welcome-back 
+present than endless reminiscences of how 
+unpleasant Azkaban is. …” 
+“But you stayed —” 
+“Yes, Bellatrix, I stayed,” said Snape, betraying a hint 
+of impatience for the first time. “I had a comfortable 
+job that I preferred to a stint in Azkaban. They were 
+rounding up the Death Eaters, you know. 
+Dumbledore’s protection kept me out of jail; it was 
+P a g e  | 32 
+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+most convenient and I used it. I repeat: The Dark 
+Lord does not complain that I stayed, so I do not see 
+why you do. 
+“I think you next wanted to know,” he pressed on, a 
+little more loudly, for Bellatrix showed every sign of 
+interrupting, “why I stood between the Dark Lord and 
+the Sorcerer’s Stone. That is easily answered. He did 
+not know whether he could trust me. He thought, like 
+you, that I had turned from faithful Death Eater to 
+Dumbledore’s stooge. He was in a pitiable condition, 
+very weak, sharing the body of a mediocre wizard. He 
+did not dare reveal himself to a former ally if that ally 
+might turn him over to Dumbledore or the Ministry. I 
+deeply regret that he did not trust me. He would have 
+returned to power three years sooner. As it was, I saw 
+only greedy and unworthy Quirrell attempting to steal 
+the stone and, I admit, I did all I could to thwart him.” 
+Bellatrix’s mouth twisted as though she had taken an 
+unpleasant dose of medicine. 
+“But you didn’t return when he came back, you didn’t 
+fly back to him at once when you felt the Dark Mark 
+burn —” 
+“Correct. I returned two hours later. I returned on 
+Dumbledore’s orders.” 
+“On Dumbledore’s — ?” she began, in tones of 
+outrage. 
+“Think!” said Snape, impatient again. “Think! By 
+waiting two hours, just two hours, I ensured that I 
+could remain at Hogwarts as a spy! By allowing 
+Dumbledore to think that I was only returning to the 
+Dark Lord’s side because I was ordered to, I have 
+been able to pass information on Dumbledore and the 
+Order of the Phoenix ever since! Consider, Bellatrix: 
+P a g e  | 33 
+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+The Dark Mark had been growing stronger for 
+months. I knew he must be about to return, all the 
+Death Eaters knew! I had plenty of time to think 
+about what I wanted to do, to plan my next move, to 
+escape like Karkaroff, didn’t I? 
+“The Dark Lord’s initial displeasure at my lateness 
+vanished entirely, I assure you, when I explained that 
+I remained faithful, although Dumbledore thought I 
+was his man. Yes, the Dark Lord thought that I had 
+left him forever, but he was wrong.” 
+“But what use have you been?” sneered Bellatrix. 
+“What useful information have we had from you?” 
+“My information has been conveyed directly to the 
+Dark Lord,” said Snape. “If he chooses not to share it 
+with you —” 
+“He shares everything with me!” said Bellatrix, firing 
+up at once. “He calls me his most loyal, his most 
+faithful —” 
+“Does he?” said Snape, his voice delicately inflected to 
+suggest his disbelief. “Does he still, after the fiasco at 
+the Ministry?” 
+“That was not my fault!” said Bellatrix, flushing. “The 
+Dark Lord has, in the past, entrusted me with his 
+most precious — if Lucius hadn’t —” 
+“Don’t you dare — don’t you dare blame my 
+husband!” said Narcissa, in a low and deadly voice, 
+looking up at her sister. 
+“There is no point apportioning blame,” said Snape 
+smoothly. “What is done, is done.” 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+“But not by you!” said Bellatrix furiously. “No, you 
+were once again absent while the rest of us ran 
+dangers, were you not, Snape?” 
+“My orders were to remain behind,” said Snape. 
+“Perhaps you disagree with the Dark Lord, perhaps 
+you think that Dumbledore would not have noticed if 
+I had joined forces with the Death Eaters to fight the 
+Order of the Phoenix? And — forgive me — you speak 
+of dangers … you were facing six teenagers, were you 
+not?” 
+“They were joined, as you very well know, by half of 
+the Order before long!” snarled Bellatrix. “And, while 
+we are on the subject of the Order, you still claim you 
+cannot reveal the whereabouts of their headquarters, 
+don’t you?” 
+“I am not the Secret-Keeper; I cannot speak the name 
+of the place. You understand how the enchantment 
+works, I think? The Dark Lord is satisfied with the 
+information I have passed him on the Order. It led, as 
+perhaps you have guessed, to the recent capture and 
+murder of Emmeline Vance, and it certainly helped 
+dispose of Sirius Black, though I give you full credit 
+for finishing him off.” 
+He inclined his head and toasted her. Her expression 
+did not soften. 
+“You are avoiding my last question, Snape. Harry 
+Potter. You could have killed him at any point in the 
+past five years. You have not done it. Why?” 
+“Have you discussed this matter with the Dark Lord?” 
+asked Snape. 
+“He … lately, we … I am asking you, Snape!” 
+P a g e  | 35 
+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+“If I had murdered Harry Potter, the Dark Lord could 
+not have used his blood to regenerate, making him 
+invincible —” 
+“You claim you foresaw his use of the boy!” she 
+jeered. 
+“I do not claim it; I had no idea of his plans; I have 
+already confessed that I thought the Dark Lord dead. 
+I am merely trying to explain why the Dark Lord is 
+not sorry that Potter survived, at least until a year 
+ago. …” 
+“But why did you keep him alive?” 
+“Have you not understood me? It was only 
+Dumbledore’s protection that was keeping me out of 
+Azkaban! Do you disagree that murdering his favorite 
+student might have turned him against me? But there 
+was more to it than that. I should remind you that 
+when Potter first arrived at Hogwarts there were still 
+many stories circulating about him, rumors that he 
+himself was a great Dark wizard, which was how he 
+had survived the Dark Lord’s attack. Indeed, many of 
+the Dark Lord’s old followers thought Potter might be 
+a standard around which we could all rally once 
+more. I was curious, I admit it, and not at all inclined 
+to murder him the moment he set foot in the castle. 
+“Of course, it became apparent to me very quickly 
+that he had no extraordinary talent at all. He has 
+fought his way out of a number of tight corners by a 
+simple combination of sheer luck and more talented 
+friends. He is mediocre to the last degree, though as 
+obnoxious and self-satisfied as was his father before 
+him. I have done my utmost to have him thrown out 
+of Hogwarts, where I believe he scarcely belongs, but 
+kill him, or allow him to be killed in front of me? I 
+P a g e  | 36 
+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+would have been a fool to risk it with Dumbledore 
+close at hand.” 
+“And through all this we are supposed to believe 
+Dumbledore has never suspected you?” asked 
+Bellatrix. “He has no idea of your true allegiance, he 
+trusts you implicitly still?” 
+“I have played my part well,” said Snape. “And you 
+overlook Dumbledore’s greatest weakness: He has to 
+believe the best of people. I spun him a tale of deepest 
+remorse when I joined his staff, fresh from my Death 
+Eater days, and he embraced me with open arms — 
+though, as I say, never allowing me nearer the Dark 
+Arts than he could help. Dumbledore has been a 
+great wizard — oh yes, he has,” (for Bellatrix had 
+made a scathing noise), “the Dark Lord acknowledges 
+it. I am pleased to say, however, that Dumbledore is 
+growing old. The duel with the Dark Lord last month 
+shook him. He has since sustained a serious injury 
+because his reactions are slower than they once were. 
+But through all these years, he has never stopped 
+trusting Severus Snape, and therein lies my great 
+value to the Dark Lord.” 
+Bellatrix still looked unhappy, though she appeared 
+unsure how best to attack Snape next. Taking 
+advantage of her silence, Snape turned to her sister. 
+“Now … you came to ask me for help, Narcissa?” 
+Narcissa looked up at him, her face eloquent with 
+despair. 
+“Yes, Severus. I — I think you are the only one who 
+can help me, I have nowhere else to turn. Lucius is in 
+jail and …” 
+P a g e  | 37 
+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+She closed her eyes and two large tears seeped from 
+beneath her eyelids. 
+“The Dark Lord has forbidden me to speak of it,” 
+Narcissa continued, her eyes still closed. “He wishes 
+none to know of the plan. It is … very secret. But —” 
+“If he has forbidden it, you ought not to speak,” said 
+Snape at once. “The Dark Lord’s word is law.” 
+Narcissa gasped as though he had doused her with 
+cold water. Bellatrix looked satisfied for the first time 
+since she had entered the house. 
+“There!” she said triumphantly to her sister. “Even 
+Snape says so: You were told not to talk, so hold your 
+silence!” 
+But Snape had gotten to his feet and strode to the 
+small window, peered through the curtains at the 
+deserted street, then closed them again with a jerk. 
+He turned around to face Narcissa, frowning. 
+“It so happens that I know of the plan,” he said in a 
+low voice. “I am one of the few the Dark Lord has told. 
+Nevertheless, had I not been in on the secret, 
+Narcissa, you would have been guilty of great 
+treachery to the Dark Lord.” 
+“I thought you must know about it!” said Narcissa, 
+breathing more freely. “He trusts you so, Severus. …” 
+“You know about the plan?” said Bellatrix, her fleeting 
+expression of satisfaction replaced by a look of 
+outrage. “You know?” 
+“Certainly,” said Snape. “But what help do you 
+require, Narcissa? If you are imagining I can persuade 
+P a g e  | 38 
+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+the Dark Lord to change his mind, I am afraid there is 
+no hope, none at all.” 
+“Severus,” she whispered, tears sliding down her pale 
+cheeks. “My son … my only son …” 
+“Draco should be proud,” said Bellatrix indifferently. 
+“The Dark Lord is granting him a great honor. And I 
+will say this for Draco: He isn’t shrinking away from 
+his duty, he seems glad of a chance to prove himself, 
+excited at the prospect —” 
+Narcissa began to cry in earnest, gazing beseechingly 
+all the while at Snape. 
+“That’s because he is sixteen and has no idea what 
+lies in store! Why, Severus? Why my son? It is too 
+dangerous! This is vengeance for Lucius’s mistake, I 
+know it!” 
+Snape said nothing. He looked away from the sight of 
+her tears as though they were indecent, but he could 
+not pretend not to hear her. 
+“That’s why he’s chosen Draco, isn’t it?” she 
+persisted. “To punish Lucius?” 
+“If Draco succeeds,” said Snape, still looking away 
+from her, “he will be honored above all others.” 
+“But he won’t succeed!” sobbed Narcissa. “How can 
+he, when the Dark Lord himself — ?” 
+Bellatrix gasped; Narcissa seemed to lose her nerve. 
+“I only meant … that nobody has yet succeeded. … 
+Severus … please … You are, you have always been, 
+Draco’s favorite teacher. … You are Lucius’s old 
+friend. … I beg you. … You are the Dark Lord’s 
+P a g e  | 39 
+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+favorite, his most trusted advisor. … Will you speak to 
+him, persuade him — ?” 
+“The Dark Lord will not be persuaded, and I am not 
+stupid enough to attempt it,” said Snape flatly. “I 
+cannot pretend that the Dark Lord is not angry with 
+Lucius. Lucius was supposed to be in charge. He got 
+himself captured, along with how many others, and 
+failed to retrieve the prophecy into the bargain. Yes, 
+the Dark Lord is angry, Narcissa, very angry indeed.” 
+“Then I am right, he has chosen Draco in revenge!” 
+choked Narcissa. “He does not mean him to succeed, 
+he wants him to be killed trying!” 
+When Snape said nothing, Narcissa seemed to lose 
+what little self-restraint she still possessed. Standing 
+up, she staggered to Snape and seized the front of his 
+robes. Her face close to his, her tears falling onto his 
+chest, she gasped, “You could do it. You could do it 
+instead of Draco, Severus. You would succeed, of 
+course you would, and he would reward you beyond 
+all of us —” 
+Snape caught hold of her wrists and removed her 
+clutching hands. Looking down into her tearstained 
+face, he said slowly, “He intends me to do it in the 
+end, I think. But he is determined that Draco should 
+try first. You see, in the unlikely event that Draco 
+succeeds, I shall be able to remain at Hogwarts a little 
+longer, fulfilling my useful role as spy.” 
+“In other words, it doesn’t matter to him if Draco is 
+killed!” 
+“The Dark Lord is very angry,” repeated Snape 
+quietly. “He failed to hear the prophecy. You know as 
+well as I do, Narcissa, that he does not forgive easily.” 
+P a g e  | 40 
+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+She crumpled, falling at his feet, sobbing and 
+moaning on the floor. 
+“My only son … my only son …” 
+“You should be proud!” said Bellatrix ruthlessly. “If I 
+had sons, I would be glad to give them up to the 
+service of the Dark Lord!” 
+Narcissa gave a little scream of despair and clutched 
+at her long blonde hair. Snape stooped, seized her by 
+the arms, lifted her up, and steered her back onto the 
+sofa. He then poured her more wine and forced the 
+glass into her hand. 
+“Narcissa, that’s enough. Drink this. Listen to me.” 
+She quieted a little; slopping wine down herself, she 
+took a shaky sip. 
+“It might be possible … for me to help Draco.” 
+She sat up, her face paper-white, her eyes huge. 
+“Severus — oh, Severus — you would help him? 
+Would you look after him, see he comes to no harm?” 
+“I can try.” 
+She flung away her glass; it skidded across the table 
+as she slid off the sofa into a kneeling position at 
+Snape’s feet, seized his hand in both of hers, and 
+pressed her lips to it. 
+“If you are there to protect him … Severus, will you 
+swear it? Will you make the Unbreakable Vow?” 
+“The Unbreakable Vow?” 
+P a g e  | 41 
+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+Snape’s expression was blank, unreadable. Bellatrix, 
+however, let out a cackle of triumphant laughter. 
+“Aren’t you listening, Narcissa? Oh, he’ll try, I’m sure. 
+… The usual empty words, the usual slithering out of 
+action … oh, on the Dark Lord’s orders, of course!” 
+Snape did not look at Bellatrix. His black eyes were 
+fixed upon Narcissa’s tear-filled blue ones as she 
+continued to clutch his hand. 
+“Certainly, Narcissa, I shall make the Unbreakable 
+Vow,” he said quietly. “Perhaps your sister will 
+consent to be our Bonder.” 
+Bellatrix’s mouth fell open. Snape lowered himself so 
+that he was kneeling opposite Narcissa. Beneath 
+Bellatrix’s astonished gaze, they grasped right hands. 
+“You will need your wand, Bellatrix,” said Snape 
+coldly. 
+She drew it, still looking astonished. 
+“And you will need to move a little closer,” he said. 
+She stepped forward so that she stood over them, and 
+placed the tip of her wand on their linked hands. 
+Narcissa spoke. 
+“Will you, Severus, watch over my son, Draco, as he 
+attempts to fulfill the Dark Lord’s wishes?” 
+“I will,” said Snape. 
+A thin tongue of brilliant flame issued from the wand 
+and wound its way around their hands like a red-hot 
+wire. 
+P a g e  | 42 
+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+“And will you, to the best of your ability, protect him 
+from harm?” 
+“I will,” said Snape. 
+A second tongue of flame shot from the wand and 
+interlinked with the first, making a fine, glowing 
+chain. 
+“And, should it prove necessary … if it seems Draco 
+will fail …” whispered Narcissa (Snape’s hand 
+twitched within hers, but he did not draw away), “will 
+you carry out the deed that the Dark Lord has 
+ordered Draco to perform?” 
+There was a moment’s silence. Bellatrix watched, her 
+wand upon their clasped hands, her eyes wide. 
+“I will,” said Snape. 
+Bellatrix’s astounded face glowed red in the blaze of a 
+third tongue of flame, which shot from the wand, 
+twisted with the others, and bound itself thickly 
+around their clasped hands, like a rope, like a fiery 
+snake. 
+P a g e  | 43 
+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+ 
+ 
+WILL AND WON’T 
+Harry Potter was snoring loudly. He had been sitting 
+in a chair beside his bedroom window for the best 
+part of four hours, staring out at the darkening street, 
+and had finally fallen asleep with one side of his face 
+pressed against the cold windowpane, his glasses 
+askew and his mouth wide open. The misty fug his 
+breath had left on the window sparkled in the orange 
+glare of the streetlamp outside, and the artificial light 
+drained his face of all color, so that he looked ghostly 
+beneath his shock of untidy black hair. 
+The room was strewn with various possessions and a 
+good smattering of rubbish. Owl feathers, apple cores, 
+and sweet wrappers littered the floor, a number of 
+spellbooks lay higgledy-piggledy among the tangled 
+robes on his bed, and a mess of newspapers sat in a 
+puddle of light on his desk. The headline of one 
+blared: 
+HARRY POTTER: THE CHOSEN ONE? 
+P a g e  | 44 
+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+Rumors continue to fly about the mysterious recent 
+disturbance at the Ministry of Magic, during which 
+He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was sighted once more. 
+“We’re not allowed to talk about it, don’t ask me 
+anything,” said one agitated Obliviator, who refused 
+to give his name as he left the Ministry last night. 
+Nevertheless, highly placed sources within the 
+Ministry have confirmed that the disturbance 
+centered on the fabled Hall of Prophecy. 
+Though Ministry spokeswizards have hitherto refused 
+even to confirm the existence of such a place, a 
+growing number of the Wizarding community believe 
+that the Death Eaters now serving sentences in 
+Azkaban for trespass and attempted theft were 
+attempting to steal a prophecy. The nature of that 
+prophecy is unknown, although speculation is rife 
+that it concerns Harry Potter, the only person ever 
+known to have survived the Killing Curse, and who is 
+also known to have been at the Ministry on the night 
+in question. Some are going so far as to call Potter 
+“the Chosen One,” believing that the prophecy names 
+him as the only one who will be able to rid us of He-
+Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. 
+The current whereabouts of the prophecy, if it exists, 
+are unknown, although (ctd. page 2, column 5) 
+A second newspaper lay beside the first. This one bore 
+the headline: 
+SCRIMGEOUR SUCCEEDS FUDGE 
+Most of this front page was taken up with a large 
+black-and-white picture of a man with a lionlike mane 
+of thick hair and a rather ravaged face. The picture 
+was moving — the man was waving at the ceiling. 
+P a g e  | 45 
+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+Rufus Scrimgeour, previously Head of the Auror office 
+in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, has 
+succeeded Cornelius Fudge as Minister of Magic. The 
+appointment has largely been greeted with 
+enthusiasm by the Wizarding community, though 
+rumors of a rift between the new Minister and Albus 
+Dumbledore, newly reinstated Chief Warlock of the 
+Wizengamot, surfaced within hours of Scrimgeour 
+taking office. 
+Scrimgeour’s representatives admitted that he had met 
+with Dumbledore at once upon taking possession of the 
+top job, but refused to comment on the topics under 
+discussion. Albus Dumbledore is known to (ctd. page 
+3, column 2) 
+To the left of this paper sat another, which had been 
+folded so that a story bearing the title MINISTRY 
+GUARANTEES STUDENTS’ SAFETY was visible. 
+Newly appointed Minister of Magic, Rufus 
+Scrimgeour, spoke today of the tough new measures 
+taken by his Ministry to ensure the safety of students 
+returning to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and 
+Wizardry this autumn. 
+“For obvious reasons, the Ministry will not be going 
+into detail about its stringent new security plans,” 
+said the Minister, although an insider confirmed that 
+measures include defensive spells and charms, a 
+complex array of countercurses, and a small task 
+force of Aurors dedicated solely to the protection of 
+Hogwarts School. 
+Most seem reassured by the new Minister’s tough 
+stand on student safety. Said Mrs. Augusta 
+Longbottom, “My grandson, Neville — a good friend of 
+Harry Potter’s, incidentally, who fought the Death 
+Eaters alongside him at the Ministry in June and — 
+P a g e  | 46 
+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+But the rest of this story was obscured by the large 
+birdcage standing on top of it. Inside it was a 
+magnificent snowy owl. Her amber eyes surveyed the 
+room imperiously, her head swiveling occasionally to 
+gaze at her snoring master. Once or twice she clicked 
+her beak impatiently, but Harry was too deeply asleep 
+to hear her. 
+A large trunk stood in the very middle of the room. Its 
+lid was open; it looked expectant; yet it was almost 
+empty but for a residue of old underwear, sweets, 
+empty ink bottles, and broken quills that coated the 
+very bottom. Nearby, on the floor, lay a purple leaflet 
+emblazoned with the words: 
+—   ISSUED ON BEHALF OF   — 
+THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC 
+PROTECTING YOUR HOME AND FAMILY 
+AGAINST DARK FORCES 
+The Wizarding community is currently under threat 
+from an organization calling itself the Death Eaters. 
+Observing the following simple security guidelines will 
+help protect you, your family, and your home from 
+attack. 
+1.      You are advised not to leave the house alone. 
+2.      Particular care should be taken during the 
+hours of darkness. Wherever possible, arrange to 
+complete journeys before night has fallen. 
+3.      Review the security arrangements around your 
+house, making sure that all family members are 
+aware of emergency measures such as Shield and 
+P a g e  | 47 
+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+Disillusionment Charms, and, in the case of underage 
+family members, Side-Along-Apparition. 
+4.      Agree on security questions with close friends 
+and family so as to detect Death Eaters masquerading 
+as others by use of the Polyjuice Potion (see page 2). 
+5.      Should you feel that a family member, 
+colleague, friend, or neighbor is acting in a strange 
+manner, contact the Magical Law Enforcement Squad 
+at once. They may have been put under the Imperius 
+Curse (see page 4). 
+6.      Should the Dark Mark appear over any dwelling 
+place or other building, DO NOT ENTER, but contact 
+the Auror office immediately. 
+7.      Unconfirmed sightings suggest that the Death 
+Eaters may now be using Inferi (see page 10). Any 
+sighting of an Inferius, or encounter with same, 
+should be reported to the Ministry IMMEDIATELY. 
+Harry grunted in his sleep and his face slid down the 
+window an inch or so, making his glasses still more 
+lopsided, but he did not wake up. An alarm clock, 
+repaired by Harry several years ago, ticked loudly on 
+the sill, showing one minute to eleven. Beside it, held 
+in place by Harry’s relaxed hand, was a piece of 
+parchment covered in thin, slanting writing. Harry 
+had read this letter so often since its arrival three 
+days ago that although it had been delivered in a 
+tightly furled scroll, it now lay quite flat. 
+Dear Harry, 
+If it is convenient to you, I shall call at number four, 
+Privet Drive this coming Friday at eleven p.m. to escort 
+you to the Burrow, where you have been invited to 
+spend the remainder of your school holidays. 
+P a g e  | 48 
+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+If you are agreeable, I should also be glad of your 
+assistance in a matter to which I hope to attend on the 
+way to the Burrow. I shall explain this more fully when 
+I see you. 
+Kindly send your answer by return of this owl. Hoping 
+to see you this Friday, 
+I am, yours most sincerely, 
+Albus Dumbledore 
+Though he already knew it by heart, Harry had been 
+stealing glances at this missive every few minutes 
+since seven o’clock that evening, when he had first 
+taken up his position beside his bedroom window, 
+which had a reasonable view of both ends of Privet 
+Drive. He knew it was pointless to keep rereading 
+Dumbledore’s words; Harry had sent back his “yes” 
+with the delivering owl, as requested, and all he could 
+do now was wait: Either Dumbledore was going to 
+come, or he was not. 
+But Harry had not packed. It just seemed too good to 
+be true that he was going to be rescued from the 
+Dursleys after a mere fortnight of their company. He 
+could not shrug off the feeling that something was 
+going to go wrong — his reply to Dumbledore’s letter 
+might have gone astray; Dumbledore could be 
+prevented from collecting him; the letter might turn 
+out not to be from Dumbledore at all, but a trick or 
+joke or trap. Harry had not been able to face packing 
+and then being let down and having to unpack again. 
+The only gesture he had made to the possibility of a 
+journey was to shut his snowy owl, Hedwig, safely in 
+her cage. 
+P a g e  | 49 
+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+The minute hand on the alarm clock reached the 
+number twelve and, at that precise moment, the 
+streetlamp outside the window went out. 
+Harry awoke as though the sudden darkness were an 
+alarm. Hastily straightening his glasses and 
+unsticking his cheek from the glass, he pressed his 
+nose against the window instead and squinted down 
+at the pavement. A tall figure in a long, billowing 
+cloak was walking up the garden path. 
+Harry jumped up as though he had received an 
+electric shock, knocked over his chair, and started 
+snatching anything and everything within reach from 
+the floor and throwing it into the trunk. Even as he 
+lobbed a set of robes, two spellbooks, and a packet of 
+crisps across the room, the doorbell rang. Downstairs 
+in the living room his Uncle Vernon shouted, “Who 
+the blazes is calling at this time of night?” 
+Harry froze with a brass telescope in one hand and a 
+pair of trainers in the other. He had completely 
+forgotten to warn the Dursleys that Dumbledore 
+might be coming. Feeling both panicky and close to 
+laughter, he clambered over the trunk and wrenched 
+open his bedroom door in time to hear a deep voice 
+say, “Good evening. You must be Mr. Dursley. I 
+daresay Harry has told you I would be coming for 
+him?” 
+Harry ran down the stairs two at a time, coming to an 
+abrupt halt several steps from the bottom, as long 
+experience had taught him to remain out of arm’s 
+reach of his uncle whenever possible. There in the 
+doorway stood a tall, thin man with waist-length 
+silver hair and beard. Half-moon spectacles were 
+perched on his crooked nose, and he was wearing a 
+long black traveling cloak and a pointed hat. Vernon 
+Dursley, whose mustache was quite as bushy as 
+P a g e  | 50 
+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+Dumbledore’s, though black, and who was wearing a 
+puce dressing gown, was staring at the visitor as 
+though he could not believe his tiny eyes. 
+“Judging by your look of stunned disbelief, Harry did 
+not warn you that I was coming,” said Dumbledore 
+pleasantly. “However, let us assume that you have 
+invited me warmly into your house. It is unwise to 
+linger overlong on doorsteps in these troubled times.” 
+He stepped smartly over the threshold and closed the 
+front door behind him. 
+“It is a long time since my last visit,” said 
+Dumbledore, peering down his crooked nose at Uncle 
+Vernon. “I must say, your agapanthus are 
+flourishing.” 
+Vernon Dursley said nothing at all. Harry did not 
+doubt that speech would return to him, and soon — 
+the vein pulsing in his uncle’s temple was reaching 
+danger point — but something about Dumbledore 
+seemed to have robbed him temporarily of breath. It 
+might have been the blatant wizardishness of his 
+appearance, but it might, too, have been that even 
+Uncle Vernon could sense that here was a man whom 
+it would be very difficult to bully. 
+“Ah, good evening Harry,” said Dumbledore, looking 
+up at him through his half-moon glasses with a most 
+satisfied expression. “Excellent, excellent.” 
+These words seemed to rouse Uncle Vernon. It was 
+clear that as far as he was concerned, any man who 
+could look at Harry and say “excellent” was a man 
+with whom he could never see eye to eye. 
+“I don’t mean to be rude —” he began, in a tone that 
+threatened rudeness in every syllable. 
+P a g e  | 51 
+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+“— yet, sadly, accidental rudeness occurs alarmingly 
+often,” Dumbledore finished the sentence gravely. 
+“Best to say nothing at all, my dear man. Ah, and this 
+must be Petunia.” 
+The kitchen door had opened, and there stood Harry’s 
+aunt, wearing rubber gloves and a housecoat over her 
+nightdress, clearly halfway through her usual pre-
+bedtime wipe-down of all the kitchen surfaces. Her 
+rather horsey face registered nothing but shock. 
+“Albus Dumbledore,” said Dumbledore, when Uncle 
+Vernon failed to effect an introduction. “We have 
+corresponded, of course.” Harry thought this an odd 
+way of reminding Aunt Petunia that he had once sent 
+her an exploding letter, but Aunt Petunia did not 
+challenge the term. “And this must be your son, 
+Dudley?” 
+Dudley had that moment peered round the living 
+room door. His large, blond head rising out of the 
+stripy collar of his pajamas looked oddly disembodied, 
+his mouth gaping in astonishment and fear. 
+Dumbledore waited a moment or two, apparently to 
+see whether any of the Dursleys were going to say 
+anything, but as the silence stretched on he smiled. 
+“Shall we assume that you have invited me into your 
+sitting room? 
+Dudley scrambled out of the way as Dumbledore 
+passed him. Harry, still clutching the telescope and 
+trainers, jumped the last few stairs and followed 
+Dumbledore, who had settled himself in the armchair 
+nearest the fire and was taking in the surroundings 
+with an expression of benign interest. He looked quite 
+extraordinarily out of place. 
+P a g e  | 52 
+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+“Aren’t — aren’t we leaving, sir?” Harry asked 
+anxiously. 
+“Yes, indeed we are, but there are a few matters we 
+need to discuss first,” said Dumbledore. “And I would 
+prefer not to do so in the open. We shall trespass 
+upon your aunt and uncle’s hospitality only a little 
+longer.” 
+“You will, will you?” 
+Vernon Dursley had entered the room, Petunia at his 
+shoulder, and Dudley skulking behind them both. 
+“Yes,” said Dumbledore simply, “I shall.” 
+He drew his wand so rapidly that Harry barely saw it; 
+with a casual flick, the sofa zoomed forward and 
+knocked the knees out from under all three of the 
+Dursleys so that they collapsed upon it in a heap. 
+Another flick of the wand and the sofa zoomed back 
+to its original position. 
+“We may as well be comfortable,” said Dumbledore 
+pleasantly. 
+As he replaced his wand in his pocket, Harry saw that 
+his hand was blackened and shriveled; it looked as 
+though his flesh had been burned away. 
+“Sir — what happened to your — ?” 
+“Later, Harry,” said Dumbledore. “Please sit down.” 
+Harry took the remaining armchair, choosing not to 
+look at the Dursleys, who seemed stunned into 
+silence. 
+P a g e  | 53 
+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+“I would assume that you were going to offer me 
+refreshment,” Dumbledore said to Uncle Vernon, “but 
+the evidence so far suggests that that would be 
+optimistic to the point of foolishness.” 
+A third twitch of the wand, and a dusty bottle and five 
+glasses appeared in midair. The bottle tipped and 
+poured a generous measure of honey-colored liquid 
+into each of the glasses, which then floated to each 
+person in the room. 
+“Madam Rosmerta’s finest oak-matured mead,” said 
+Dumbledore, raising his glass to Harry, who caught 
+hold of his own and sipped. He had never tasted 
+anything like it before, but enjoyed it immensely. The 
+Dursleys, after quick, scared looks at one another, 
+tried to ignore their glasses completely, a difficult feat, 
+as they were nudging them gently on the sides of their 
+heads. Harry could not suppress a suspicion that 
+Dumbledore was rather enjoying himself. 
+“Well, Harry,” said Dumbledore, turning toward him, 
+“a difficulty has arisen which I hope you will be able 
+to solve for us. By us, I mean the Order of the 
+Phoenix. But first of all I must tell you that Sirius’s 
+will was discovered a week ago and that he left you 
+everything he owned.” 
+Over on the sofa, Uncle Vernon’s head turned, but 
+Harry did not look at him, nor could he think of 
+anything to say except, “Oh. Right.” 
+“This is, in the main, fairly straightforward,” 
+Dumbledore went on. “You add a reasonable amount 
+of gold to your account at Gringotts, and you inherit 
+all of Sirius’s personal possessions. The slightly 
+problematic part of the legacy —” 
+P a g e  | 54 
+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+“His godfather’s dead?” said Uncle Vernon loudly from 
+the sofa. Dumbledore and Harry both turned to look 
+at him. The glass of mead was now knocking quite 
+insistently on the side of Vernon’s head; he attempted 
+to beat it away. “He’s dead? His godfather?” 
+“Yes,” said Dumbledore. He did not ask Harry why he 
+had not confided in the Dursleys. “Our problem,” he 
+continued to Harry, as if there had been no 
+interruption, “is that Sirius also left you number 
+twelve, Grimmauld Place.” 
+“He’s been left a house?” said Uncle Vernon greedily, 
+his small eyes narrowing, but nobody answered him. 
+“You can keep using it as headquarters,” said Harry. 
+“I don’t care. You can have it, I don’t really want it.” 
+Harry never wanted to set foot in number twelve, 
+Grimmauld Place again if he could help it. He thought 
+he would be haunted forever by the memory of Sirius 
+prowling its dark musty rooms alone, imprisoned 
+within the place he had wanted so desperately to 
+leave. 
+“That is generous,” said Dumbledore. “We have, 
+however, vacated the building temporarily.” 
+“Why?” 
+“Well,” said Dumbledore, ignoring the mutterings of 
+Uncle Vernon, who was now being rapped smartly 
+over the head by the persistent glass of mead, “Black 
+family tradition decreed that the house was handed 
+down the direct line, to the next male with the name 
+of ‘Black.’ Sirius was the very last of the line as his 
+younger brother, Regulus, predeceased him and both 
+were childless. While his will makes it perfectly plain 
+that he wants you to have the house, it is 
+nevertheless possible that some spell or enchantment 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+has been set upon the place to ensure that it cannot 
+be owned by anyone other than a pureblood.” 
+A vivid image of the shrieking, spitting portrait of 
+Sirius’s mother that hung in the hall of number 
+twelve, Grimmauld Place flashed into Harry’s mind. “I 
+bet there has,” he said. 
+“Quite,” said Dumbledore. “And if such an 
+enchantment exists, then the ownership of the house 
+is most likely to pass to the eldest of Sirius’s living 
+relatives, which would mean his cousin, Bellatrix 
+Lestrange.” 
+Without realizing what he was doing, Harry sprang to 
+his feet; the telescope and trainers in his lap rolled 
+across the floor. Bellatrix Lestrange, Sirius’s killer, 
+inherit his house? 
+“No,” he said. 
+“Well, obviously we would prefer that she didn’t get it 
+either,” said Dumbledore calmly. “The situation is 
+fraught with complications. We do not know whether 
+the enchantments we ourselves have placed upon it, 
+for example, making it Unplottable, will hold now that 
+ownership has passed from Sirius’s hands. It might 
+be that Bellatrix will arrive on the doorstep at any 
+moment. Naturally we had to move out until such 
+time as we have clarified the position.” 
+“But how are you going to find out if I’m allowed to 
+own it?” 
+“Fortunately,” said Dumbledore, “there is a simple 
+test.” 
+He placed his empty glass on a small table beside his 
+chair, but before he could do anything else, Uncle 
+P a g e  | 56 
+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+Vernon shouted, “Will you get these ruddy things off 
+us?” 
+Harry looked around; all three of the Dursleys were 
+cowering with their arms over their heads as their 
+glasses bounced up and down on their skulls, their 
+contents flying everywhere. 
+“Oh, I’m so sorry,” said Dumbledore politely, and he 
+raised his wand again. All three glasses vanished. 
+“But it would have been better manners to drink it, 
+you know.” 
+It looked as though Uncle Vernon was bursting with 
+any number of unpleasant retorts, but he merely 
+shrank back into the cushions with Aunt Petunia and 
+Dudley and said nothing, keeping his small piggy eyes 
+on Dumbledore’s wand. 
+“You see,” Dumbledore said, turning back to Harry 
+and again speaking as though Uncle Vernon had not 
+uttered, “if you have indeed inherited the house, you 
+have also inherited —” 
+He flicked his wand for a fifth time. There was a loud 
+crack, and a house-elf appeared, with a snout for a 
+nose, giant bat’s ears, and enormous bloodshot eyes, 
+crouching on the Dursleys’ shag carpet and covered 
+in grimy rags. Aunt Petunia let out a hair-raising 
+shriek; nothing this filthy had entered her house in 
+living memory. Dudley drew his large, bare, pink feet 
+off the floor and sat with them raised almost above 
+his head, as though he thought the creature might 
+run up his pajama trousers, and Uncle Vernon 
+bellowed, “What the hell is that?” 
+“Kreacher,” finished Dumbledore. 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+“Kreacher won’t, Kreacher won’t, Kreacher won’t!” 
+croaked the house-elf, quite as loudly as Uncle 
+Vernon, stamping his long, gnarled feet and pulling 
+his ears. “Kreacher belongs to Miss Bellatrix, oh yes, 
+Kreacher belongs to the Blacks, Kreacher wants his 
+new mistress, Kreacher won’t go to the Potter brat, 
+Kreacher won’t, won’t, won’t —” 
+“As you can see, Harry,” said Dumbledore loudly, over 
+Kreacher’s continued croaks of “won’t, won’t, won’t,” 
+“Kreacher is showing a certain reluctance to pass into 
+your ownership.” 
+“I don’t care,” said Harry again, looking with disgust 
+at the writhing, stamping house-elf. “I don’t want 
+him.” 
+“Won’t, won’t, won’t, won’t —” 
+“You would prefer him to pass into the ownership of 
+Bellatrix Lestrange? Bearing in mind that he has lived 
+at the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix for 
+the past year?” 
+“Won’t, won’t, won’t, won’t —” 
+Harry stared at Dumbledore. He knew that Kreacher 
+could not be permitted to go and live with Bellatrix 
+Lestrange, but the idea of owning him, of having 
+responsibility for the creature that had betrayed 
+Sirius, was repugnant. 
+“Give him an order,” said Dumbledore. “If he has 
+passed into your ownership, he will have to obey. If 
+not, then we shall have to think of some other means 
+of keeping him from his rightful mistress.” 
+“Won’t, won’t, won’t, WON’T!” 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+Kreacher’s voice had risen to a scream. Harry could 
+think of nothing to say, except, “Kreacher, shut up!” 
+It looked for a moment as though Kreacher was going 
+to choke. He grabbed his throat, his mouth still 
+working furiously, his eyes bulging. After a few 
+seconds of frantic gulping, he threw himself face 
+forward onto the carpet (Aunt Petunia whimpered) 
+and beat the floor with his hands and feet, giving 
+himself over to a violent, but entirely silent, tantrum. 
+“Well, that simplifies matters,” said Dumbledore 
+cheerfully. “It seems that Sirius knew what he was 
+doing. You are the rightful owner of number twelve, 
+Grimmauld Place and of Kreacher.” 
+“Do I — do I have to keep him with me?” Harry asked, 
+aghast, as Kreacher thrashed around at his feet. 
+“Not if you don’t want to,” said Dumbledore. “If I 
+might make a suggestion, you could send him to 
+Hogwarts to work in the kitchen there. In that way, 
+the other house-elves could keep an eye on him.” 
+“Yeah,” said Harry in relief, “yeah, I’ll do that. Er — 
+Kreacher — I want you to go to Hogwarts and work in 
+the kitchens there with the other house-elves.” 
+Kreacher, who was now lying flat on his back with his 
+arms and legs in the air, gave Harry one upside-down 
+look of deepest loathing and, with another loud crack, 
+vanished. 
+“Good,” said Dumbledore. “There is also the matter of 
+the hippogriff, Buckbeak. Hagrid has been looking 
+after him since Sirius died, but Buckbeak is yours 
+now, so if you would prefer to make different 
+arrangements —” 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+“No,” said Harry at once, “he can stay with Hagrid. I 
+think Buckbeak would prefer that.” 
+“Hagrid will be delighted,” said Dumbledore, smiling. 
+“He was thrilled to see Buckbeak again. Incidentally, 
+we have decided, in the interests of Buckbeak’s 
+safety, to rechristen him ‘Witherwings’ for the time 
+being, though I doubt that the Ministry would ever 
+guess he is the hippogriff they once sentenced to 
+death. Now, Harry, is your trunk packed?” 
+“Erm …” 
+“Doubtful that I would turn up?” Dumbledore 
+suggested shrewdly. 
+“I’ll just go and — er — finish off,” said Harry hastily, 
+hurrying to pick up his fallen telescope and trainers. 
+It took him a little over ten minutes to track down 
+everything he needed; at last he had managed to 
+extract his Invisibility Cloak from under the bed, 
+screwed the top back on his jar of color-change ink, 
+and forced the lid of his trunk shut on his cauldron. 
+Then, heaving his trunk in one hand and holding 
+Hedwig’s cage in the other, he made his way back 
+downstairs. 
+He was disappointed to discover that Dumbledore was 
+not waiting in the hall, which meant that he had to 
+return to the living room. 
+Nobody was talking. Dumbledore was humming 
+quietly, apparently quite at his ease, but the 
+atmosphere was thicker than cold custard, and Harry 
+did not dare look at the Dursleys as he said, 
+“Professor — I’m ready now.” 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+“Good,” said Dumbledore. “Just one last thing, then.” 
+And he turned to speak to the Dursleys once more. 
+“As you will no doubt be aware, Harry comes of age in 
+a year’s time —” 
+“No,” said Aunt Petunia, speaking for the first time 
+since Dumbledore’s arrival. 
+“I’m sorry?” said Dumbledore politely. 
+“No, he doesn’t. He’s a month younger than Dudley, 
+and Dudders doesn’t turn eighteen until the year after 
+next.” 
+“Ah,�� said Dumbledore pleasantly, “but in the 
+Wizarding world, we come of age at seventeen.” 
+Uncle Vernon muttered, “Preposterous,” but 
+Dumbledore ignored him. 
+“Now, as you already know, the wizard called Lord 
+Voldemort has returned to this country. The 
+Wizarding community is currently in a state of open 
+warfare. Harry, whom Lord Voldemort has already 
+attempted to kill on a number of occasions, is in even 
+greater danger now than the day when I left him upon 
+your doorstep fifteen years ago, with a letter 
+explaining about his parents’ murder and expressing 
+the hope that you would care for him as though he 
+were your own.” 
+Dumbledore paused, and although his voice remained 
+light and calm, and he gave no obvious sign of anger, 
+Harry felt a kind of chill emanating from him and 
+noticed that the Dursleys drew very slightly closer 
+together. 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+“You did not do as I asked. You have never treated 
+Harry as a son. He has known nothing but neglect 
+and often cruelty at your hands. The best that can be 
+said is that he has at least escaped the appalling 
+damage you have inflicted upon the unfortunate boy 
+sitting between you.” 
+Both Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon looked around 
+instinctively, as though expecting to see someone 
+other than Dudley squeezed between them. 
+“Us — mistreat Dudders? What d’you — ?” began 
+Uncle Vernon furiously, but Dumbledore raised his 
+finger for silence, a silence which fell as though he 
+had struck Uncle Vernon dumb. 
+“The magic I evoked fifteen years ago means that 
+Harry has powerful protection while he can still call 
+this house ‘home.’ However miserable he has been 
+here, however unwelcome, however badly treated, you 
+have at least, grudgingly, allowed him houseroom. 
+This magic will cease to operate the moment that 
+Harry turns seventeen; in other words, at the moment 
+he becomes a man. I ask only this: that you allow 
+Harry to return, once more, to this house, before his 
+seventeenth birthday, which will ensure that the 
+protection continues until that time.” 
+None of the Dursleys said anything. Dudley was 
+frowning slightly, as though he was still trying to 
+work out when he had ever been mistreated. Uncle 
+Vernon looked as though he had something stuck in 
+his throat; Aunt Petunia, however, was oddly flushed. 
+“Well, Harry … time for us to be off,” said Dumbledore 
+at last, standing up and straightening his long black 
+cloak. “Until we meet again,” he said to the Dursleys, 
+who looked as though that moment could wait forever 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+as far as they were concerned, and after doffing his 
+hat, he swept from the room. 
+“Bye,” said Harry hastily to the Dursleys, and followed 
+Dumbledore, who paused beside Harry’s trunk, upon 
+which Hedwig’s cage was perched. 
+“We do not want to be encumbered by these just 
+now,” he said, pulling out his wand again. “I shall 
+send them to the Burrow to await us there. However, I 
+would like you to bring your Invisibility Cloak … just 
+in case.” 
+Harry extracted his cloak from his trunk with some 
+difficulty, trying not to show Dumbledore the mess 
+within. When he had stuffed it into an inside pocket 
+of his jacket, Dumbledore waved his wand and the 
+trunk, cage, and Hedwig vanished. Dumbledore then 
+waved his wand again, and the front door opened 
+onto cool, misty darkness. 
+“And now, Harry, let us step out into the night and 
+pursue that flighty temptress, adventure.” 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+ 
+ 
+HORACE SLUGHORN 
+Despite the fact that he had spent every waking 
+moment of the past few days hoping desperately that 
+Dumbledore would indeed come to fetch him, Harry 
+felt distinctly awkward as they set off down Privet 
+Drive together. He had never had a proper 
+conversation with the headmaster outside of 
+Hogwarts before; there was usually a desk between 
+them. The memory of their last face-to-face encounter 
+kept intruding too, and it rather heightened Harry’s 
+sense of embarrassment; he had shouted a lot on that 
+occasion, not to mention done his best to smash 
+several of Dumbledore’s most prized possessions. 
+Dumbledore, however, seemed completely relaxed. 
+“Keep your wand at the ready, Harry,” he said 
+brightly. 
+“But I thought I’m not allowed to use magic outside 
+school, sir?” 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+“If there is an attack,” said Dumbledore, “I give you 
+permission to use any counterjinx or curse that might 
+occur to you. However, I do not think you need worry 
+about being attacked tonight.” 
+“Why not, sir?” 
+“You are with me,” said Dumbledore simply. “This will 
+do, Harry.” 
+He came to an abrupt halt at the end of Privet Drive. 
+“You have not, of course, passed your Apparition 
+Test,” he said. 
+“No,” said Harry. ��I thought you had to be seventeen?” 
+“You do,” said Dumbledore. “So you will need to hold 
+on to my arm very tightly. My left, if you don’t mind — 
+as you have noticed, my wand arm is a little fragile at 
+the moment.” 
+Harry gripped Dumbledore’s proffered forearm. 
+“Very good,” said Dumbledore. “Well, here we go.” 
+Harry felt Dumbledore’s arm twist away from him and 
+redoubled his grip; the next thing he knew, everything 
+went black; he was being pressed very hard from all 
+directions; he could not breathe, there were iron 
+bands tightening around his chest; his eyeballs were 
+being forced back into his head; his eardrums were 
+being pushed deeper into his skull and then — 
+He gulped great lungfuls of cold night air and opened 
+his streaming eyes. He felt as though he had just 
+been forced through a very tight rubber tube. It was a 
+few seconds before he realized that Privet Drive had 
+vanished. He and Dumbledore were now standing in 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+what appeared to be a deserted village square, in the 
+center of which stood an old war memorial and a few 
+benches. His comprehension catching up with his 
+senses, Harry realized that he had just Apparated for 
+the first time in his life. 
+“Are you all right?” asked Dumbledore, looking down 
+at him solicitously. “The sensation does take some 
+getting used to.” 
+“I’m fine,” said Harry, rubbing his ears, which felt as 
+though they had left Privet Drive rather reluctantly. 
+“But I think I might prefer brooms. …” 
+Dumbledore smiled, drew his traveling cloak a little 
+more tightly around his neck, and said, “This way.” 
+He set off at a brisk pace, past an empty inn and a 
+few houses. According to a clock on a nearby church, 
+it was almost midnight. 
+“So tell me, Harry,” said Dumbledore. “Your scar … 
+has it been hurting at all?” 
+Harry raised a hand unconsciously to his forehead 
+and rubbed the lightning-shaped mark. 
+“No,” he said, “and I’ve been wondering about that. I 
+thought it would be burning all the time now 
+Voldemort’s getting so powerful again.” 
+He glanced up at Dumbledore and saw that he was 
+wearing a satisfied expression. 
+“I, on the other hand, thought otherwise,” said 
+Dumbledore. “Lord Voldemort has finally realized the 
+dangerous access to his thoughts and feelings you 
+have been enjoying. It appears that he is now 
+employing Occlumency against you.” 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+“Well, I’m not complaining,” said Harry, who missed 
+neither the disturbing dreams nor the startling 
+flashes of insight into Voldemort’s mind. 
+They turned a corner, passing a telephone box and a 
+bus shelter. Harry looked sideways at Dumbledore 
+again. “Professor?” 
+“Harry?” 
+“Er — where exactly are we?” 
+“This, Harry, is the charming village of Budleigh 
+Babberton.” 
+“And what are we doing here?” 
+“Ah yes, of course, I haven’t told you,” said 
+Dumbledore. “Well, I have lost count of the number of 
+times I have said this in recent years, but we are, 
+once again, one member of staff short. We are here to 
+persuade an old colleague of mine to come out of 
+retirement and return to Hogwarts.” 
+“How can I help with that, sir?” 
+“Oh, I think we’ll find a use for you,” said Dumbledore 
+vaguely. “Left here, Harry.” 
+They proceeded up a steep, narrow street lined with 
+houses. All the windows were dark. The odd chill that 
+had lain over Privet Drive for two weeks persisted here 
+too. Thinking of dementors, Harry cast a look over his 
+shoulder and grasped his wand reassuringly in his 
+pocket. 
+“Professor, why couldn’t we just Apparate directly into 
+your old colleague’s house?” 
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+“Because it would be quite as rude as kicking down 
+the front door,” said Dumbledore. “Courtesy dictates 
+that we offer fellow wizards the opportunity of denying 
+us entry. In any case, most Wizarding dwellings are 
+magically protected from unwanted Apparators. At 
+Hogwarts, for instance —” 
+“— you can’t Apparate anywhere inside the buildings 
+or grounds,” said Harry quickly. “Hermione Granger 
+told me.” 
+“And she is quite right. We turn left again.” 
+The church clock chimed midnight behind them. 
+Harry wondered why Dumbledore did not consider it 
+rude to call on his old colleague so late, but now that 
+conversation had been established, he had more 
+pressing questions to ask. 
+“Sir, I saw in the Daily Prophet that Fudge has been 
+sacked. …” 
+“Correct,” said Dumbledore, now turning up a steep 
+side street. “He has been replaced, as I am sure you 
+also saw, by Rufus Scrimgeour, who used to be Head 
+of the Auror office.” 
+“Is he … Do you think he’s good?” asked Harry. 
+“An interesting question,” said Dumbledore. “He is 
+able, certainly. A more decisive and forceful 
+personality than Cornelius.” 
+“Yes, but I meant —” 
+“I know what you meant. Rufus is a man of action 
+and, having fought Dark wizards for most of his 
+working life, does not underestimate Lord Voldemort.” 
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+Harry waited, but Dumbledore did not say anything 
+about the disagreement with Scrimgeour that the 
+Daily Prophet had reported, and he did not have the 
+nerve to pursue the subject, so he changed it. “And … 
+sir … I saw about Madam Bones.” 
+“Yes,” said Dumbledore quietly. “A terrible loss. She 
+was a great witch. Just up here, I think — ouch.” 
+He had pointed with his injured hand. 
+“Professor, what happened to your — ?” 
+“I have no time to explain now,” said Dumbledore. “It 
+is a thrilling tale, I wish to do it justice.” 
+He smiled at Harry, who understood that he was not 
+being snubbed, and that he had permission to keep 
+asking questions. 
+“Sir — I got a Ministry of Magic leaflet by owl, about 
+security measures we should all take against the 
+Death Eaters. …” 
+“Yes, I received one myself,” said Dumbledore, still 
+smiling. “Did you find it useful?” 
+“Not really.” 
+“No, I thought not. You have not asked me, for 
+instance, what is my favorite flavor of jam, to check 
+that I am indeed Professor Dumbledore and not an 
+impostor.” 
+“I didn’t …” Harry began, not entirely sure whether he 
+was being reprimanded or not. 
+“For future reference, Harry, it is raspberry … 
+although of course, if I were a Death Eater, I would 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+have been sure to research my own jam preferences 
+before impersonating myself.” 
+“Er … right,” said Harry. “Well, on that leaflet, it said 
+something about Inferi. What exactly are they? The 
+leaflet wasn’t very clear.” 
+“They are corpses,” said Dumbledore calmly. “Dead 
+bodies that have been bewitched to do a Dark 
+wizard’s bidding. Inferi have not been seen for a long 
+time, however, not since Voldemort was last powerful. 
+… He killed enough people to make an army of them, 
+of course. This is the place, Harry, just here. …” 
+They were nearing a small, neat stone house set in its 
+own garden. Harry was too busy digesting the horrible 
+idea of Inferi to have much attention left for anything 
+else, but as they reached the front gate, Dumbledore 
+stopped dead and Harry walked into him. 
+“Oh dear. Oh dear, dear, dear.” 
+Harry followed his gaze up the carefully tended front 
+path and felt his heart sink. The front door was 
+hanging off its hinges. 
+Dumbledore glanced up and down the street. It 
+seemed quite deserted. 
+“Wand out and follow me, Harry,” he said quietly. 
+He opened the gate and walked swiftly and silently up 
+the garden path, Harry at his heels, then pushed the 
+front door very slowly, his wand raised and at the 
+ready. 
+“Lumos.” 
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+Dumbledore’s wand tip ignited, casting its light up a 
+narrow hallway. To the left, another door stood open. 
+Holding his illuminated wand aloft, Dumbledore 
+walked into the sitting room with Harry right behind 
+him. 
+A scene of total devastation met their eyes. A 
+grandfather clock lay splintered at their feet, its face 
+cracked, its pendulum lying a little farther away like a 
+dropped sword. A piano was on its side, its keys 
+strewn across the floor. The wreckage of a fallen 
+chandelier glittered nearby. Cushions lay deflated, 
+feathers oozing from slashes in their sides; fragments 
+of glass and china lay like powder over everything. 
+Dumbledore raised his wand even higher, so that its 
+light was thrown upon the walls, where something 
+darkly red and glutinous was spattered over the 
+wallpaper. Harry’s small intake of breath made 
+Dumbledore look around. 
+“Not pretty, is it?” he said heavily. “Yes, something 
+horrible has happened here.” 
+Dumbledore moved carefully into the middle of the 
+room, scrutinizing the wreckage at his feet. Harry 
+followed, gazing around, half-scared of what he might 
+see hidden behind the wreck of the piano or the 
+overturned sofa, but there was no sign of a body. 
+“Maybe there was a fight and — and they dragged him 
+off, Professor?” Harry suggested, trying not to imagine 
+how badly wounded a man would have to be to leave 
+those stains spattered halfway up the walls. 
+“I don’t think so,” said Dumbledore quietly, peering 
+behind an overstuffed armchair lying on its side. 
+“You mean he’s — ?” 
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+“Still here somewhere? Yes.” 
+And without warning, Dumbledore swooped, plunging 
+the tip of his wand into the seat of the overstuffed 
+armchair, which yelled, “Ouch!” 
+“Good evening, Horace,” said Dumbledore, 
+straightening up again. 
+Harry’s jaw dropped. Where a split second before 
+there had been an armchair, there now crouched an 
+enormously fat, bald, old man who was massaging his 
+lower belly and squinting up at Dumbledore with an 
+aggrieved and watery eye. 
+“There was no need to stick the wand in that hard,” 
+he said gruffly, clambering to his feet. “It hurt.” 
+The wandlight sparkled on his shiny pate, his 
+prominent eyes, his enormous, silver, walruslike 
+mustache, and the highly polished buttons on the 
+maroon velvet jacket he was wearing over a pair of 
+lilac silk pajamas. The top of his head barely reached 
+Dumbledore’s chin. 
+“What gave it away?” he grunted as he staggered to 
+his feet, still rubbing his lower belly. He seemed 
+remarkably unabashed for a man who had just been 
+discovered pretending to be an armchair. 
+“My dear Horace,” said Dumbledore, looking amused, 
+“if the Death Eaters really had come to call, the Dark 
+Mark would have been set over the house.” 
+The wizard clapped a pudgy hand to his vast 
+forehead. 
+“The Dark Mark,” he muttered. “Knew there was 
+something … ah well. Wouldn’t have had time 
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+anyway, I’d only just put the finishing touches to my 
+upholstery when you entered the room.” 
+He heaved a great sigh that made the ends of his 
+mustache flutter. 
+“Would you like my assistance clearing up?” asked 
+Dumbledore politely. 
+“Please,” said the other. 
+They stood back to back, the tall thin wizard and the 
+short round one, and waved their wands in one 
+identical sweeping motion. 
+The furniture flew back to its original places; 
+ornaments reformed in midair, feathers zoomed into 
+their cushions; torn books repaired themselves as 
+they landed upon their shelves; oil lanterns soared 
+onto side tables and reignited; a vast collection of 
+splintered silver picture frames flew glittering across 
+the room and alighted, whole and untarnished, upon 
+a desk; rips, cracks, and holes healed everywhere, 
+and the walls wiped themselves clean. 
+“What kind of blood was that, incidentally?” asked 
+Dumbledore loudly over the chiming of the newly 
+unsmashed grandfather clock. 
+“On the walls? Dragon,” shouted the wizard called 
+Horace, as, with a deafening grinding and tinkling, 
+the chandelier screwed itself back into the ceiling. 
+There was a final plunk from the piano, and silence. 
+“Yes, dragon,” repeated the wizard conversationally. 
+“My last bottle, and prices are sky-high at the 
+moment. Still, it might be reusable.” 
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+He stumped over to a small crystal bottle standing on 
+top of a sideboard and held it up to the light, 
+examining the thick liquid within. 
+“Hmm. Bit dusty.” 
+He set the bottle back on the sideboard and sighed. It 
+was then that his gaze fell upon Harry. 
+“Oho,” he said, his large round eyes flying to Harry’s 
+forehead and the lightning-shaped scar it bore. “Oho!” 
+“This,” said Dumbledore, moving forward to make the 
+introduction, “is Harry Potter. Harry, this is an old 
+friend and colleague of mine, Horace Slughorn.” 
+Slughorn turned on Dumbledore, his expression 
+shrewd. “So that’s how you thought you’d persuade 
+me, is it? Well, the answer’s no, Albus.” 
+He pushed past Harry, his face turned resolutely 
+away with the air of a man trying to resist temptation. 
+“I suppose we can have a drink, at least?” asked 
+Dumbledore. “For old time’s sake?” 
+Slughorn hesitated. 
+“All right then, one drink,” he said ungraciously. 
+Dumbledore smiled at Harry and directed him toward 
+a chair not unlike the one that Slughorn had so 
+recently impersonated, which stood right beside the 
+newly burning fire and a brightly glowing oil lamp. 
+Harry took the seat with the distinct impression that 
+Dumbledore, for some reason, wanted to keep him as 
+visible as possible. Certainly when Slughorn, who had 
+been busy with decanters and glasses, turned to face 
+the room again, his eyes fell immediately upon Harry. 
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+“Hmpf,” he said, looking away quickly as though 
+frightened of hurting his eyes. “Here —” He gave a 
+drink to Dumbledore, who had sat down without 
+invitation, thrust the tray at Harry, and then sank 
+into the cushions of the repaired sofa and a 
+disgruntled silence. His legs were so short they did 
+not touch the floor. 
+“Well, how have you been keeping, Horace?” 
+Dumbledore asked. 
+“Not so well,” said Slughorn at once. “Weak chest. 
+Wheezy. Rheumatism too. Can’t move like I used to. 
+Well, that’s to be expected. Old age. Fatigue.” 
+“And yet you must have moved fairly quickly to 
+prepare such a welcome for us at such short notice,” 
+said Dumbledore. “You can’t have had more than 
+three minutes’ warning?” 
+Slughorn said, half irritably, half proudly, “Two. 
+Didn’t hear my Intruder Charm go off, I was taking a 
+bath. Still,” he added sternly, seeming to pull himself 
+back together again, “the fact remains that I’m an old 
+man, Albus. A tired old man who’s earned the right to 
+a quiet life and a few creature comforts.” 
+He certainly had those, thought Harry, looking 
+around the room. It was stuffy and cluttered, yet 
+nobody could say it was uncomfortable; there were 
+soft chairs and footstools, drinks and books, boxes of 
+chocolates and plump cushions. If Harry had not 
+known who lived there, he would have guessed at a 
+rich, fussy old lady. 
+“You’re not yet as old as I am, Horace,” said 
+Dumbledore. 
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+“Well, maybe you ought to think about retirement 
+yourself,” said Slughorn bluntly. His pale gooseberry 
+eyes had found Dumbledore’s injured hand. 
+“Reactions not what they were, I see.” 
+“You’re quite right,” said Dumbledore serenely, 
+shaking back his sleeve to reveal the tips of those 
+burned and blackened fingers; the sight of them made 
+the back of Harry’s neck prickle unpleasantly. “I am 
+undoubtedly slower than I was. But on the other 
+hand …” 
+He shrugged and spread his hands wide, as though to 
+say that age had its compensations, and Harry 
+noticed a ring on his uninjured hand that he had 
+never seen Dumbledore wear before: It was large, 
+rather clumsily made of what looked like gold, and 
+was set with a heavy black stone that had cracked 
+down the middle. Slughorn’s eyes lingered for a 
+moment on the ring too, and Harry saw a tiny frown 
+momentarily crease his wide forehead. 
+“So, all these precautions against intruders, Horace 
+… are they for the Death Eaters’ benefit, or mine?” 
+asked Dumbledore. 
+“What would the Death Eaters want with a poor 
+broken-down old buffer like me?” demanded 
+Slughorn. 
+“I imagine that they would want you to turn your 
+considerable talents to coercion, torture, and 
+murder,” said Dumbledore. “Are you really telling me 
+that they haven’t come recruiting yet?” 
+Slughorn eyed Dumbledore balefully for a moment, 
+then muttered, “I haven’t given them the chance. I’ve 
+been on the move for a year. Never stay in one place 
+more than a week. Move from Muggle house to 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+Muggle house — the owners of this place are on 
+holiday in the Canary Islands — it’s been very 
+pleasant, I’ll be sorry to leave. It’s quite easy once you 
+know how, one simple Freezing Charm on these 
+absurd burglar alarms they use instead of 
+Sneakoscopes and make sure the neighbors don’t 
+spot you bringing in the piano.” 
+“Ingenious,” said Dumbledore. “But it sounds a rather 
+tiring existence for a broken-down old buffer in 
+search of a quiet life. Now, if you were to return to 
+Hogwarts —” 
+“If you’re going to tell me my life would be more 
+peaceful at that pestilential school, you can save your 
+breath, Albus! I might have been in hiding, but some 
+funny rumors have reached me since Dolores 
+Umbridge left! If that’s how you treat teachers these 
+days —” 
+“Professor Umbridge ran afoul of our centaur herd,” 
+said Dumbledore. “I think you, Horace, would have 
+known better than to stride into the forest and call a 
+horde of angry centaurs ‘filthy half-breeds.’ ” 
+“That’s what she did, did she?” said Slughorn. “Idiotic 
+woman. Never liked her.” 
+Harry chuckled and both Dumbledore and Slughorn 
+looked round at him. 
+“Sorry,” Harry said hastily. “It’s just — I didn’t like 
+her either.” 
+Dumbledore stood up rather suddenly. 
+“Are you leaving?” asked Slughorn at once, looking 
+hopeful. 
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+“No, I was wondering whether I might use your 
+bathroom,” said Dumbledore. 
+“Oh,” said Slughorn, clearly disappointed. “Second on 
+the left down the hall.” 
+Dumbledore strode from the room. Once the door had 
+closed behind him, there was silence. After a few 
+moments, Slughorn got to his feet but seemed 
+uncertain what to do with himself. He shot a furtive 
+look at Harry, then crossed to the fire and turned his 
+back on it, warming his wide behind. 
+“Don’t think I don’t know why he’s brought you,” he 
+said abruptly. 
+Harry merely looked at Slughorn. Slughorn’s watery 
+eyes slid over Harry’s scar, this time taking in the rest 
+of his face. 
+“You look very like your father.” 
+“Yeah, I’ve been told,” said Harry. 
+“Except for your eyes. You’ve got —” 
+“My mother’s eyes, yeah.” Harry had heard it so often 
+he found it a bit wearing. 
+“Hmpf. Yes, well. You shouldn’t have favorites as a 
+teacher, of course, but she was one of mine. Your 
+mother,” Slughorn added, in answer to Harry’s 
+questioning look. “Lily Evans. One of the brightest I 
+ever taught. Vivacious, you know. Charming girl. I 
+used to tell her she ought to have been in my House. 
+Very cheeky answers I used to get back too.” 
+“Which was your House?” 
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+“I was Head of Slytherin,” said Slughorn. “Oh, now,” 
+he went on quickly, seeing the expression on Harry’s 
+face and wagging a stubby finger at him, “don’t go 
+holding that against me! You’ll be Gryffindor like her, 
+I suppose? Yes, it usually goes in families. Not 
+always, though. Ever heard of Sirius Black? You must 
+have done — been in the papers for the last couple of 
+years — died a few weeks ago —” 
+It was as though an invisible hand had twisted 
+Harry’s intestines and held them tight. 
+“Well, anyway, he was a big pal of your father’s at 
+school. The whole Black family had been in my 
+House, but Sirius ended up in Gryffindor! Shame — 
+he was a talented boy. I got his brother, Regulus, 
+when he came along, but I’d have liked the set.” 
+He sounded like an enthusiastic collector who had 
+been outbid at auction. Apparently lost in memories, 
+he gazed at the opposite wall, turning idly on the spot 
+to ensure an even heat on his backside. 
+“Your mother was Muggle-born, of course. Couldn’t 
+believe it when I found out. Thought she must have 
+been pure-blood, she was so good.” 
+“One of my best friends is Muggle-born,” said Harry, 
+“and she’s the best in our year.” 
+“Funny how that sometimes happens, isn’t it?” said 
+Slughorn. 
+“Not really,” said Harry coldly. 
+Slughorn looked down at him in surprise. “You 
+mustn’t think I’m prejudiced!” he said. “No, no, no! 
+Haven’t I just said your mother was one of my all-time 
+favorite students? And there was Dirk Cresswell in 
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+the year after her too — now Head of the Goblin 
+Liaison Office, of course — another Muggle-born, a 
+very gifted student, and still gives me excellent inside 
+information on the goings-on at Gringotts!” 
+He bounced up and down a little, smiling in a self-
+satisfied way, and pointed at the many glittering 
+photograph frames on the dresser, each peopled with 
+tiny moving occupants. 
+“All ex-students, all signed. You’ll notice Barnabas 
+Cuffe, editor of the Daily Prophet, he’s always 
+interested to hear my take on the day’s news. And 
+Ambrosius Flume, of Honeydukes — a hamper every 
+birthday, and all because I was able to give him an 
+introduction to Ciceron Harkiss, who gave him his 
+first job! And at the back — you’ll see her if you just 
+crane your neck — that’s Gwenog Jones, who of 
+course captains the Holyhead Harpies. … People are 
+always astonished to hear I’m on first-name terms 
+with the Harpies, and free tickets whenever I want 
+them!” 
+This thought seemed to cheer him up enormously. 
+“And all these people know where to find you, to send 
+you stuff?” asked Harry, who could not help 
+wondering why the Death Eaters had not yet tracked 
+down Slughorn if hampers of sweets, Quidditch 
+tickets, and visitors craving his advice and opinions 
+could find him. 
+The smile slid from Slughorn’s face as quickly as the 
+blood from his walls. 
+“Of course not,” he said, looking down at Harry. “I 
+have been out of touch with everybody for a year.” 
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+Harry had the impression that the words shocked 
+Slughorn himself; he looked quite unsettled for a 
+moment. Then he shrugged. 
+“Still … the prudent wizard keeps his head down in 
+such times. All very well for Dumbledore to talk, but 
+taking up a post at Hogwarts just now would be 
+tantamount to declaring my public allegiance to the 
+Order of the Phoenix! And while I’m sure they’re very 
+admirable and brave and all the rest of it, I don’t 
+personally fancy the mortality rate —” 
+“You don’t have to join the Order to teach at 
+Hogwarts,” said Harry, who could not quite keep a 
+note of derision out of his voice: It was hard to 
+sympathize with Slughorn’s cosseted existence when 
+he remembered Sirius, crouching in a cave and living 
+on rats. “Most of the teachers aren’t in it, and none of 
+them has ever been killed — well, unless you count 
+Quirrell, and he got what he deserved seeing as he 
+was working with Voldemort.” 
+Harry had been sure Slughorn would be one of those 
+wizards who could not bear to hear Voldemort’s name 
+spoken aloud, and was not disappointed: Slughorn 
+gave a shudder and a squawk of protest, which Harry 
+ignored. 
+“I reckon the staff are safer than most people while 
+Dumbledore’s headmaster; he’s supposed to be the 
+only one Voldemort ever feared, isn’t he?” Harry went 
+on. 
+Slughorn gazed into space for a moment or two: He 
+seemed to be thinking over Harry’s words. 
+“Well, yes, it is true that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named 
+has never sought a fight with Dumbledore,” he 
+muttered grudgingly. “And I suppose one could argue 
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+that as I have not joined the Death Eaters, He-Who-
+Must-Not-Be-Named can hardly count me a friend … 
+in which case, I might well be safer a little closer to 
+Albus. … I cannot pretend that Amelia Bones’s death 
+did not shake me. … If she, with all her Ministry 
+contacts and protection …” 
+Dumbledore reentered the room and Slughorn 
+jumped as though he had forgotten he was in the 
+house. 
+“Oh, there you are, Albus,” he said. “You’ve been a 
+very long time. Upset stomach?” 
+“No, I was merely reading the Muggle magazines,” 
+said Dumbledore. “I do love knitting patterns. Well, 
+Harry, we have trespassed upon Horace’s hospitality 
+quite long enough; I think it is time for us to leave.” 
+Not at all reluctant to obey, Harry jumped to his feet. 
+Slughorn seemed taken aback. 
+“You’re leaving?” 
+“Yes, indeed. I think I know a lost cause when I see 
+one.” 
+“Lost… ?” 
+Slughorn seemed agitated. He twiddled his fat 
+thumbs and fidgeted as he watched Dumbledore 
+fasten his traveling cloak, and Harry zip up his jacket. 
+“Well, I’m sorry you don’t want the job, Horace,” said 
+Dumbledore, raising his uninjured hand in a farewell 
+salute. “Hogwarts would have been glad to see you 
+back again. Our greatly increased security 
+notwithstanding, you will always be welcome to visit, 
+should you wish to.” 
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+“Yes … well … very gracious … as I say …” 
+“Good-bye, then.” 
+“Bye,” said Harry. 
+They were at the front door when there was a shout 
+from behind them. 
+“All right, all right, I’ll do it!” 
+Dumbledore turned to see Slughorn standing 
+breathless in the doorway to the sitting room. 
+“You will come out of retirement?” 
+“Yes, yes,” said Slughorn impatiently. “I must be mad, 
+but yes.” 
+“Wonderful,” said Dumbledore, beaming. “Then, 
+Horace, we shall see you on the first of September.” 
+“Yes, I daresay you will,” grunted Slughorn. 
+As they set off down the garden path, Slughorn’s voice 
+floated after them, “I’ll want a pay rise, Dumbledore!” 
+Dumbledore chuckled. The garden gate swung shut 
+behind them, and they set off back down the hill 
+through the dark and the swirling mist. 
+“Well done, Harry,” said Dumbledore. 
+“I didn’t do anything,” said Harry in surprise. 
+“Oh yes you did. You showed Horace exactly how 
+much he stands to gain by returning to Hogwarts. Did 
+you like him?” 
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+“Er …” 
+Harry wasn’t sure whether he liked Slughorn or not. 
+He supposed he had been pleasant in his way, but he 
+had also seemed vain and, whatever he said to the 
+contrary, much too surprised that a Muggle-born 
+should make a good witch. 
+“Horace,” said Dumbledore, relieving Harry of the 
+responsibility to say any of this, “likes his comfort. He 
+also likes the company of the famous, the successful, 
+and the powerful. He enjoys the feeling that he 
+influences these people. He has never wanted to 
+occupy the throne himself; he prefers the backseat — 
+more room to spread out, you see. He used to 
+handpick favorites at Hogwarts, sometimes for their 
+ambition or their brains, sometimes for their charm 
+or their talent, and he had an uncanny knack for 
+choosing those who would go on to become 
+outstanding in their various fields. Horace formed a 
+kind of club of his favorites with himself at the center, 
+making introductions, forging useful contacts 
+between members, and always reaping some kind of 
+benefit in return, whether a free box of his favorite 
+crystalized pineapple or the chance to recommend the 
+next junior member of the Goblin Liaison Office.” 
+Harry had a sudden and vivid mental image of a great 
+swollen spider, spinning a web around it, twitching a 
+thread here and there to bring its large and juicy flies 
+a little closer. 
+“I tell you all this,” Dumbledore continued, “not to 
+turn you against Horace — or, as we must now call 
+him, Professor Slughorn — but to put you on your 
+guard. He will undoubtedly try to collect you, Harry. 
+You would be the jewel of his collection; ‘the Boy Who 
+Lived’ … or, as they call you these days, ‘the Chosen 
+One.’ ” 
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+At these words, a chill that had nothing to do with the 
+surrounding mist stole over Harry. He was reminded 
+of words he had heard a few weeks ago, words that 
+had a horrible and particular meaning to him: Neither 
+can live while the other survives … 
+Dumbledore had stopped walking, level with the 
+church they had passed earlier. 
+“This will do, Harry. If you will grasp my arm.” 
+Braced this time, Harry was ready for the Apparition, 
+but still found it unpleasant. When the pressure 
+disappeared and he found himself able to breathe 
+again, he was standing in a country lane beside 
+Dumbledore and looking ahead to the crooked 
+silhouette of his second favorite building in the world: 
+the Burrow. In spite of the feeling of dread that had 
+just swept through him, his spirits could not help but 
+lift at the sight of it. Ron was in there … and so was 
+Mrs. Weasley, who could cook better than anyone he 
+knew. … 
+“If you don’t mind, Harry,” said Dumbledore, as they 
+passed through the gate, “I’d like a few words with 
+you before we part. In private. Perhaps in here?” 
+Dumbledore pointed toward a run-down stone 
+outhouse where the Weasleys kept their broomsticks. 
+A little puzzled, Harry followed Dumbledore through 
+the creaking door into a space a little smaller than the 
+average cupboard. Dumbledore illuminated the tip of 
+his wand, so that it glowed like a torch, and smiled 
+down at Harry. 
+“I hope you will forgive me for mentioning it, Harry, 
+but I am pleased and a little proud at how well you 
+seem to be coping after everything that happened at 
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+the Ministry. Permit me to say that I think Sirius 
+would have been proud of you.” 
+Harry swallowed; his voice seemed to have deserted 
+him. He did not think he could stand to discuss 
+Sirius; it had been painful enough to hear Uncle 
+Vernon say “His godfather’s dead?” and even worse to 
+hear Sirius’s name thrown out casually by Slughorn. 
+“It was cruel,” said Dumbledore softly, “that you and 
+Sirius had such a short time together. A brutal 
+ending to what should have been a long and happy 
+relationship.” 
+Harry nodded, his eyes fixed resolutely on the spider 
+now climbing Dumbledore’s hat. He could tell that 
+Dumbledore understood, that he might even suspect 
+that until his letter arrived, Harry had spent nearly all 
+his time at the Dursleys’ lying on his bed, refusing 
+meals, and staring at the misted window, full of the 
+chill emptiness that he had come to associate with 
+dementors. 
+“It’s just hard,” Harry said finally, in a low voice, “to 
+realize he won’t write to me again.” 
+His eyes burned suddenly and he blinked. He felt 
+stupid for admitting it, but the fact that he had had 
+someone outside Hogwarts who cared what happened 
+to him, almost like a parent, had been one of the best 
+things about discovering his godfather … and now the 
+post owls would never bring him that comfort again. 
+… 
+“Sirius represented much to you that you had never 
+known before,” said Dumbledore gently. “Naturally, 
+the loss is devastating. …” 
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+“But while I was at the Dursleys’ …” interrupted 
+Harry, his voice growing stronger, “I realized I can’t 
+shut myself away or — or crack up. Sirius wouldn’t 
+have wanted that, would he? And anyway, life’s too 
+short. … Look at Madam Bones, look at Emmeline 
+Vance. … It could be me next, couldn’t it? But if it is,” 
+he said fiercely, now looking straight into 
+Dumbledore’s blue eyes gleaming in the wandlight, 
+“I’ll make sure I take as many Death Eaters with me 
+as I can, and Voldemort too if I can manage it.” 
+“Spoken both like your mother and father’s son and 
+Sirius’s true godson!” said Dumbledore, with an 
+approving pat on Harry’s back. “I take my hat off to 
+you — or I would, if I were not afraid of showering you 
+in spiders. 
+“And now, Harry, on a closely related subject … I 
+gather that you have been taking the Daily Prophet 
+over the last two weeks?” 
+“Yes,” said Harry, and his heart beat a little faster. 
+“Then you will have seen that there have been not so 
+much leaks as floods concerning your adventure in 
+the Hall of Prophecy?” 
+“Yes,” said Harry again. “And now everyone knows 
+that I’m the one —” 
+“No, they do not,” interrupted Dumbledore. “There are 
+only two people in the whole world who know the full 
+contents of the prophecy made about you and Lord 
+Voldemort, and they are both standing in this smelly, 
+spidery broom shed. It is true, however, that many 
+have guessed, correctly, that Voldemort sent his 
+Death Eaters to steal a prophecy, and that the 
+prophecy concerned you. 
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+“Now, I think I am correct in saying that you have not 
+told anybody that you know what the prophecy said?” 
+“No,” said Harry. 
+“A wise decision, on the whole,” said Dumbledore. 
+“Although I think you ought to relax it in favor of your 
+friends, Mr. Ronald Weasley and Miss Hermione 
+Granger. Yes,” he continued, when Harry looked 
+startled, “I think they ought to know. You do them a 
+disservice by not confiding something this important 
+to them.” 
+“I didn’t want —” 
+“— to worry or frighten them?” said Dumbledore, 
+surveying Harry over the top of his half-moon 
+spectacles. “Or perhaps, to confess that you yourself 
+are worried and frightened? You need your friends, 
+Harry. As you so rightly said, Sirius would not have 
+wanted you to shut yourself away.” 
+Harry said nothing, but Dumbledore did not seem to 
+require an answer. He continued, “On a different, 
+though related, subject, it is my wish that you take 
+private lessons with me this year.” 
+“Private — with you?” said Harry, surprised out of his 
+preoccupied silence. 
+“Yes. I think it is time that I took a greater hand in 
+your education.” 
+“What will you be teaching me, sir?” 
+“Oh, a little of this, a little of that,” said Dumbledore 
+airily. 
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+Harry waited hopefully, but Dumbledore did not 
+elaborate, so he asked something else that had been 
+bothering him slightly. 
+“If I’m having lessons with you, I won’t have to do 
+Occlumency lessons with Snape, will I?” 
+“Professor Snape, Harry — and no, you will not.” 
+“Good,” said Harry in relief, “because they were a —” 
+He stopped, careful not to say what he really thought. 
+“I think the word ‘fiasco’ would be a good one here,” 
+said Dumbledore, nodding. 
+Harry laughed. 
+“Well, that means I won’t see much of Professor 
+Snape from now on,” he said, “because he won’t let 
+me carry on Potions unless I get ‘Outstanding’ in my 
+O.W.L., which I know I haven’t.” 
+“Don’t count your owls before they are delivered,” said 
+Dumbledore gravely. “Which, now I think of it, ought 
+to be some time later today. Now, two more things, 
+Harry, before we part. 
+“Firstly, I wish you to keep your Invisibility Cloak with 
+you at all times from this moment onward. Even 
+within Hogwarts itself. Just in case, you understand 
+me?” 
+Harry nodded. 
+“And lastly, while you stay here, the Burrow has been 
+given the highest security the Ministry of Magic can 
+provide. These measures have caused a certain 
+amount of inconvenience to Arthur and Molly — all 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+their post, for instance, is being searched at the 
+Ministry before being sent on. They do not mind in 
+the slightest, for their only concern is your safety. 
+However, it would be poor repayment if you risked 
+your neck while staying with them.” 
+“I understand,” said Harry quickly. 
+“Very well, then,” said Dumbledore, pushing open the 
+broom shed door and stepping out into the yard. “I 
+see a light in the kitchen. Let us not deprive Molly 
+any longer of the chance to deplore how thin you are.” 
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+ 
+ 
+AN EXCESS OF PHLEGM 
+Harry and Dumbledore approached the back door of 
+the Burrow, which was surrounded by the familiar 
+litter of old Wellington boots and rusty cauldrons; 
+Harry could hear the soft clucking of sleepy chickens 
+coming from a distant shed. Dumbledore knocked 
+three times and Harry saw sudden movement behind 
+the kitchen window. 
+“Who’s there?” said a nervous voice he recognized as 
+Mrs. Weasley’s. “Declare yourself!” 
+“It is I, Dumbledore, bringing Harry.” 
+The door opened at once. There stood Mrs. Weasley, 
+short, plump, and wearing an old green dressing 
+gown. 
+“Harry, dear! Gracious, Albus, you gave me a fright, 
+you said not to expect you before morning!” 
+“We were lucky,” said Dumbledore, ushering Harry 
+over the threshold. “Slughorn proved much more 
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+persuadable than I had expected. Harry’s doing, of 
+course. Ah, hello, Nymphadora!” 
+Harry looked around and saw that Mrs. Weasley was 
+not alone, despite the lateness of the hour. A young 
+witch with a pale, heart-shaped face and mousy 
+brown hair was sitting at the table clutching a large 
+mug between her hands. 
+“Hello, Professor,” she said. “Wotcher, Harry.” 
+“Hi, Tonks.” 
+Harry thought she looked drawn, even ill, and there 
+was something forced in her smile. Certainly her 
+appearance was less colorful than usual without her 
+customary shade of bubble-gum-pink hair. 
+“I’d better be off,” she said quickly, standing up and 
+pulling her cloak around her shoulders. “Thanks for 
+the tea and sympathy, Molly.” 
+“Please don’t leave on my account,” said Dumbledore 
+courteously, “I cannot stay, I have urgent matters to 
+discuss with Rufus Scrimgeour.” 
+“No, no, I need to get going,” said Tonks, not meeting 
+Dumbledore’s eyes. “ ’Night —” 
+“Dear, why not come to dinner at the weekend, 
+Remus and Mad-Eye are coming — ?” 
+“No, really, Molly … thanks anyway … Good night, 
+everyone.” 
+Tonks hurried past Dumbledore and Harry into the 
+yard; a few paces beyond the doorstep, she turned on 
+the spot and vanished into thin air. Harry noticed 
+that Mrs. Weasley looked troubled. 
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+“Well, I shall see you at Hogwarts, Harry,” said 
+Dumbledore. “Take care of yourself. Molly, your 
+servant.” 
+He made Mrs. Weasley a bow and followed Tonks, 
+vanishing at precisely the same spot. Mrs. Weasley 
+closed the door on the empty yard and then steered 
+Harry by the shoulders into the full glow of the 
+lantern on the table to examine his appearance. 
+“You’re like Ron,” she sighed, looking him up and 
+down. “Both of you look as though you’ve had 
+Stretching Jinxes put on you. I swear Ron’s grown 
+four inches since I last bought him school robes. Are 
+you hungry, Harry?” 
+“Yeah, I am,” said Harry, suddenly realizing just how 
+hungry he was. 
+“Sit down, dear, I’ll knock something up.” 
+As Harry sat down, a furry ginger cat with a squashed 
+face jumped onto his knees and settled there, 
+purring. 
+“So Hermione’s here?” he asked happily as he tickled 
+Crookshanks behind the ears. 
+“Oh yes, she arrived the day before yesterday,” said 
+Mrs. Weasley, rapping a large iron pot with her wand. 
+It bounced onto the stove with a loud clang and began 
+to bubble at once. “Everyone’s in bed, of course, we 
+didn’t expect you for hours. Here you are —” 
+She tapped the pot again; it rose into the air, flew 
+toward Harry, and tipped over; Mrs. Weasley slid a 
+bowl neatly beneath it just in time to catch the 
+stream of thick, steaming onion soup. 
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+“Bread, dear?” 
+“Thanks, Mrs. Weasley.” 
+She waved her wand over her shoulder; a loaf of 
+bread and a knife soared gracefully onto the table; as 
+the loaf sliced itself and the soup pot dropped back 
+onto the stove, Mrs. Weasley sat down opposite him. 
+“So you persuaded Horace Slughorn to take the job?” 
+Harry nodded, his mouth so full of hot soup that he 
+could not speak. 
+“He taught Arthur and me,” said Mrs. Weasley. “He 
+was at Hogwarts for ages, started around the same 
+time as Dumbledore, I think. Did you like him?” 
+His mouth now full of bread, Harry shrugged and 
+gave a noncommittal jerk of the head. 
+“I know what you mean,” said Mrs. Weasley, nodding 
+wisely. “Of course he can be charming when he wants 
+to be, but Arthur’s never liked him much. The 
+Ministry’s littered with Slughorn’s old favorites, he 
+was always good at giving leg ups, but he never had 
+much time for Arthur — didn’t seem to think he was 
+enough of a highflier. Well, that just shows you, even 
+Slughorn makes mistakes. I don’t know whether 
+Ron’s told you in any of his letters — it’s only just 
+happened — but Arthur’s been promoted!” 
+It could not have been clearer that Mrs. Weasley had 
+been bursting to say this. 
+Harry swallowed a large amount of very hot soup and 
+thought he could feel his throat blistering. “That’s 
+great!” he gasped. 
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+“You are sweet,” beamed Mrs. Weasley, possibly 
+taking his watering eyes for emotion at the news. 
+“Yes, Rufus Scrimgeour has set up several new offices 
+in response to the present situation, and Arthur’s 
+heading the Office for the Detection and Confiscation 
+of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects. 
+It’s a big job, he’s got ten people reporting to him 
+now!” 
+“What exactly — ?” 
+“Well, you see, in all the panic about You-Know-Who, 
+odd things have been cropping up for sale 
+everywhere, things that are supposed to guard 
+against You-Know-Who and the Death Eaters. You 
+can imagine the kind of thing — so-called protective 
+potions that are really gravy with a bit of bubotuber 
+pus added, or instructions for defensive jinxes that 
+actually make your ears fall off. … Well, in the main 
+the perpetrators are just people like Mundungus 
+Fletcher, who’ve never done an honest day’s work in 
+their lives and are taking advantage of how frightened 
+everybody is, but every now and then something 
+really nasty turns up. The other day Arthur 
+confiscated a box of cursed Sneakoscopes that were 
+almost certainly planted by a Death Eater. So you 
+see, it’s a very important job, and I tell him it’s just 
+silly to miss dealing with spark plugs and toasters 
+and all the rest of that Muggle rubbish.” Mrs. Weasley 
+ended her speech with a stern look, as if it had been 
+Harry suggesting that it was natural to miss spark 
+plugs. 
+“Is Mr. Weasley still at work?” Harry asked. 
+“Yes, he is. As a matter of fact, he’s a tiny bit late. … 
+He said he’d be back around midnight. …” 
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+She turned to look at a large clock that was perched 
+awkwardly on top of a pile of sheets in the washing 
+basket at the end of the table. Harry recognized it at 
+once: It had nine hands, each inscribed with the 
+name of a family member, and usually hung on the 
+Weasleys’ sitting room wall, though its current 
+position suggested that Mrs. Weasley had taken to 
+carrying it around the house with her. Every single 
+one of its nine hands was now pointing at “mortal 
+peril.” 
+“It’s been like that for a while now,” said Mrs. 
+Weasley, in an unconvincingly casual voice, “ever 
+since You-Know-Who came back into the open. I 
+suppose everybody’s in mortal danger now. … I don’t 
+think it can be just our family … but I don’t know 
+anyone else who’s got a clock like this, so I can’t 
+check. Oh!” 
+With a sudden exclamation she pointed at the clock’s 
+face. Mr. Weasley’s hand had switched to “traveling.” 
+“He’s coming!” 
+And sure enough, a moment later there was a knock 
+on the back door. Mrs. Weasley jumped up and 
+hurried to it; with one hand on the doorknob and her 
+face pressed against the wood she called softly, 
+“Arthur, is that you?” 
+“Yes,” came Mr. Weasley’s weary voice. “But I would 
+say that even if I were a Death Eater, dear. Ask the 
+question!” 
+“Oh, honestly …” 
+“Molly!” 
+“All right, all right … What is your dearest ambition?” 
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+“To find out how airplanes stay up.” 
+Mrs. Weasley nodded and turned the doorknob, but 
+apparently Mr. Weasley was holding tight to it on the 
+other side, because the door remained firmly shut. 
+“Molly! I’ve got to ask you your question first!” 
+“Arthur, really, this is just silly. …” 
+“What do you like me to call you when we’re alone 
+together?” 
+Even by the dim light of the lantern Harry could tell 
+that Mrs. Weasley had turned bright red; he himself 
+felt suddenly warm around the ears and neck, and 
+hastily gulped soup, clattering his spoon as loudly as 
+he could against the bowl. 
+“Mollywobbles,” whispered a mortified Mrs. Weasley 
+into the crack at the edge of the door. 
+“Correct,” said Mr. Weasley. “Now you can let me in.” 
+Mrs. Weasley opened the door to reveal her husband, 
+a thin, balding, red-haired wizard wearing horn-
+rimmed spectacles and a long and dusty traveling 
+cloak. 
+“I still don’t see why we have to go through that every 
+time you come home,” said Mrs. Weasley, still pink in 
+the face as she helped her husband out of his cloak. 
+“I mean, a Death Eater might have forced the answer 
+out of you before impersonating you!” 
+“I know, dear, but it’s Ministry procedure, and I have 
+to set an example. Something smells good — onion 
+soup?” 
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+Mr. Weasley turned hopefully in the direction of the 
+table. 
+“Harry! We didn’t expect you until morning!” 
+They shook hands, and Mr. Weasley dropped into the 
+chair beside Harry as Mrs. Weasley set a bowl of soup 
+in front of him too. 
+“Thanks, Molly. It’s been a tough night. Some idiot’s 
+started selling Metamorph-Medals. Just sling them 
+around your neck and you’ll be able to change your 
+appearance at will. A hundred thousand disguises, all 
+for ten Galleons!” 
+“And what really happens when you put them on?” 
+“Mostly you just turn a fairly unpleasant orange color, 
+but a couple of people have also sprouted tentaclelike 
+warts all over their bodies. As if St. Mungo’s didn’t 
+have enough to do already!” 
+“It sounds like the sort of thing Fred and George 
+would find funny,” said Mrs. Weasley hesitantly. “Are 
+you sure — ?” 
+“Of course I am!” said Mr. Weasley. “The boys 
+wouldn’t do anything like that now, not when people 
+are desperate for protection!” 
+“So is that why you’re late, Metamorph-Medals?” 
+“No, we got wind of a nasty backfiring jinx down in 
+Elephant and Castle, but luckily the Magical Law 
+Enforcement Squad had sorted it out by the time we 
+got there. …” 
+Harry stifled a yawn behind his hand. 
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+“Bed,” said an undeceived Mrs. Weasley at once. “I’ve 
+got Fred and George’s room all ready for you, you’ll 
+have it to yourself.” 
+“Why, where are they?” 
+“Oh, they’re in Diagon Alley, sleeping in the little flat 
+over their joke shop as they’re so busy,” said Mrs. 
+Weasley. “I must say, I didn’t approve at first, but 
+they do seem to have a bit of a flair for business! 
+Come on, dear, your trunk’s already up there.” 
+“ ’Night, Mr. Weasley,” said Harry, pushing back his 
+chair. Crookshanks leapt lightly from his lap and 
+slunk out of the room. 
+“G’night, Harry,” said Mr. Weasley. 
+Harry saw Mrs. Weasley glance at the clock in the 
+washing basket as they left the kitchen. All the hands 
+were once again at “mortal peril.” 
+Fred and George’s bedroom was on the second floor. 
+Mrs. Weasley pointed her wand at a lamp on the 
+bedside table and it ignited at once, bathing the room 
+in a pleasant golden glow. Though a large vase of 
+flowers had been placed on a desk in front of the 
+small window, their perfume could not disguise the 
+lingering smell of what Harry thought was 
+gunpowder. A considerable amount of floor space was 
+devoted to a vast number of unmarked, sealed 
+cardboard boxes, amongst which stood Harry’s school 
+trunk. The room looked as though it was being used 
+as a temporary warehouse. 
+Hedwig hooted happily at Harry from her perch on top 
+of a large wardrobe, then took off through the 
+window; Harry knew she had been waiting to see him 
+before going hunting. Harry bade Mrs. Weasley good 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+night, put on pajamas, and got into one of the beds. 
+There was something hard inside the pillowcase. He 
+groped inside it and pulled out a sticky purple-and-
+orange sweet, which he recognized as a Puking 
+Pastille. Smiling to himself, he rolled over and was 
+instantly asleep. 
+Seconds later, or so it seemed to Harry, he was 
+awakened by what sounded like cannon fire as the 
+door burst open. Sitting bolt upright, he heard the 
+rasp of the curtains being pulled back: The dazzling 
+sunlight seemed to poke him hard in both eyes. 
+Shielding them with one hand, he groped hopelessly 
+for his glasses with the other. 
+“Wuzzgoinon?” 
+“We didn’t know you were here already!” said a loud 
+and excited voice, and he received a sharp blow to the 
+top of the head. 
+“Ron, don’t hit him!” said a girl’s voice reproachfully. 
+Harry’s hand found his glasses and he shoved them 
+on, though the light was so bright he could hardly see 
+anyway. A long, looming shadow quivered in front of 
+him for a moment; he blinked and Ron Weasley came 
+into focus, grinning down at him. 
+“All right?” 
+“Never been better,” said Harry, rubbing the top of his 
+head and slumping back onto his pillows. “You?” 
+“Not bad,” said Ron, pulling over a cardboard box and 
+sitting on it. “When did you get here? Mum’s only just 
+told us!” 
+“About one o’clock this morning.” 
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+“Were the Muggles all right? Did they treat you okay?” 
+“Same as usual,” said Harry, as Hermione perched 
+herself on the edge of his bed, “they didn’t talk to me 
+much, but I like it better that way. How’re you, 
+Hermione?” 
+“Oh, I’m fine,” said Hermione, who was scrutinizing 
+Harry as though he was sickening for something. He 
+thought he knew what was behind this, and as he 
+had no wish to discuss Sirius’s death or any other 
+miserable subject at the moment, he said, “What’s the 
+time? Have I missed breakfast?” 
+“Don’t worry about that, Mum’s bringing you up a 
+tray; she reckons you look underfed,” said Ron, 
+rolling his eyes. “So, what’s been going on?” 
+“Nothing much, I’ve just been stuck at my aunt and 
+uncle’s, haven’t I?” 
+“Come off it!” said Ron. “You’ve been off with 
+Dumbledore!” 
+“It wasn’t that exciting. He just wanted me to help 
+him persuade this old teacher to come out of 
+retirement. His name’s Horace Slughorn.” 
+“Oh,” said Ron, looking disappointed. “We thought —” 
+Hermione flashed a warning look at Ron, and Ron 
+changed tack at top speed. 
+“— we thought it’d be something like that.” 
+“You did?” said Harry, amused. 
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+“Yeah … yeah, now Umbridge has left, obviously we 
+need a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, 
+don’t we? So, er, what’s he like?” 
+“He looks a bit like a walrus, and he used to be Head 
+of Slytherin,” said Harry. “Something wrong, 
+Hermione?” 
+She was watching him as though expecting strange 
+symptoms to manifest themselves at any moment. 
+She rearranged her features hastily in an 
+unconvincing smile. 
+“No, of course not! So, um, did Slughorn seem like 
+he’ll be a good teacher?” 
+“Dunno,” said Harry. “He can’t be worse than 
+Umbridge, can he?” 
+“I know someone who’s worse than Umbridge,” said a 
+voice from the doorway. Ron’s younger sister slouched 
+into the room, looking irritable. “Hi, Harry.” 
+“What’s up with you?” Ron asked. 
+“It’s her,” said Ginny, plonking herself down on 
+Harry’s bed. “She’s driving me mad.” 
+“What’s she done now?” asked Hermione 
+sympathetically. 
+“It’s the way she talks to me — you’d think I was 
+about three!” 
+“I know,” said Hermione, dropping her voice. “She’s so 
+full of herself.” 
+Harry was astonished to hear Hermione talking about 
+Mrs. Weasley like this and could not blame Ron for 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+saying angrily, “Can’t you two lay off her for five 
+seconds?” 
+“Oh, that’s right, defend her,” snapped Ginny. “We all 
+know you can’t get enough of her.” 
+This seemed an odd comment to make about Ron’s 
+mother. Starting to feel that he was missing 
+something, Harry said, “Who are you — ?” 
+But his question was answered before he could finish 
+it. The bedroom door flew open again, and Harry 
+instinctively yanked the bedcovers up to his chin so 
+hard that Hermione and Ginny slid off the bed onto 
+the floor. 
+A young woman was standing in the doorway, a 
+woman of such breathtaking beauty that the room 
+seemed to have become strangely airless. She was tall 
+and willowy with long blonde hair and appeared to 
+emanate a faint, silvery glow. To complete this vision 
+of perfection, she was carrying a heavily laden 
+breakfast tray. 
+“ ’Arry,” she said in a throaty voice. “Eet ’as been too 
+long!” 
+As she swept over the threshold toward him, Mrs. 
+Weasley was revealed, bobbing along in her wake, 
+looking rather cross. 
+“There was no need to bring up the tray, I was just 
+about to do it myself!” 
+“Eet was no trouble,” said Fleur Delacour, setting the 
+tray across Harry’s knees and then swooping to kiss 
+him on each cheek: He felt the places where her 
+mouth had touched him burn. “I ’ave been longing to 
+see ’im. You remember my seester, Gabrielle? She 
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+never stops talking about ’Arry Potter. She will be 
+delighted to see you again.” 
+“Oh … is she here too?” Harry croaked. 
+“No, no, silly boy,” said Fleur with a tinkling laugh, “I 
+mean next summer, when we — but do you not 
+know?” 
+Her great blue eyes widened and she looked 
+reproachfully at Mrs. Weasley, who said, “We hadn’t 
+got around to telling him yet.” 
+Fleur turned back to Harry, swinging her silvery sheet 
+of hair so that it whipped Mrs. Weasley across the 
+face. 
+“Bill and I are going to be married!” 
+“Oh,” said Harry blankly. He could not help noticing 
+how Mrs. Weasley, Hermione, and Ginny were all 
+determinedly avoiding one another’s gaze. “Wow. Er 
+— congratulations!” 
+She swooped down upon him and kissed him again. 
+“Bill is very busy at ze moment, working very ’ard, 
+and I only work part-time at Gringotts for my 
+Eenglish, so he brought me ’ere for a few days to get 
+to know ’is family properly. I was so pleased to ’ear 
+you would be coming — zere isn’t much to do ’ere, 
+unless you like cooking and chickens! Well — enjoy 
+your breakfast, ’Arry!” 
+With these words she turned gracefully and seemed to 
+float out of the room, closing the door quietly behind 
+her. 
+Mrs. Weasley made a noise that sounded like “tchah!” 
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+“Mum hates her,” said Ginny quietly. 
+“I do not hate her!” said Mrs. Weasley in a cross 
+whisper. “I just think they’ve hurried into this 
+engagement, that’s all!” 
+“They’ve known each other a year,” said Ron, who 
+looked oddly groggy and was staring at the closed 
+door. 
+“Well, that’s not very long! I know why it’s happened, 
+of course. It’s all this uncertainty with You-Know-Who 
+coming back, people think they might be dead 
+tomorrow, so they’re rushing all sorts of decisions 
+they’d normally take time over. It was the same last 
+time he was powerful, people eloping left, right, and 
+center —” 
+“Including you and Dad,” said Ginny slyly. 
+“Yes, well, your father and I were made for each other, 
+what was the point in waiting?” said Mrs. Weasley. 
+“Whereas Bill and Fleur … well … what have they 
+really got in common? He’s a hardworking, down-to-
+earth sort of person, whereas she’s —” 
+“A cow,” said Ginny, nodding. “But Bill’s not that 
+down-to-earth. He’s a Curse-Breaker, isn’t he, he 
+likes a bit of adventure, a bit of glamour. … I expect 
+that’s why he’s gone for Phlegm.” 
+“Stop calling her that, Ginny,” said Mrs. Weasley 
+sharply, as Harry and Hermione laughed. “Well, I’d 
+better get on. … Eat your eggs while they’re warm, 
+Harry.” 
+Looking careworn, she left the room. Ron still seemed 
+slightly punch-drunk; he was shaking his head 
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+experimentally like a dog trying to rid its ears of 
+water. 
+“Don’t you get used to her if she’s staying in the same 
+house?” Harry asked. 
+“Well, you do,” said Ron, “but if she jumps out at you 
+unexpectedly, like then …” 
+“It’s pathetic,” said Hermione furiously, striding away 
+from Ron as far as she could go and turning to face 
+him with her arms folded once she had reached the 
+wall. 
+“You don’t really want her around forever?” Ginny 
+asked Ron incredulously. When he merely shrugged, 
+she said, “Well, Mum’s going to put a stop to it if she 
+can, I bet you anything.” 
+“How’s she going to manage that?” asked Harry. 
+“She keeps trying to get Tonks round for dinner. I 
+think she’s hoping Bill will fall for Tonks instead. I 
+hope he does, I’d much rather have her in the family.” 
+“Yeah, that’ll work,” said Ron sarcastically. “Listen, 
+no bloke in his right mind’s going to fancy Tonks 
+when Fleur’s around. I mean, Tonks is okay-looking 
+when she isn’t doing stupid things to her hair and her 
+nose, but —” 
+“She’s a damn sight nicer than Phlegm,’’ said Ginny 
+“And she’s more intelligent, she’s an Auror!” said 
+Hermione from the corner. 
+“Fleur’s not stupid, she was good enough to enter the 
+Triwizard Tournament,” said Harry. 
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+“Not you as well!” said Hermione bitterly. 
+“I suppose you like the way Phlegm says ‘’Arry,’ do 
+you?” asked Ginny scornfully. 
+“No,” said Harry, wishing he hadn’t spoken, “I was 
+just saying, Phlegm — I mean, Fleur —” 
+“I’d much rather have Tonks in the family,” said 
+Ginny. “At least she’s a laugh.” 
+“She hasn’t been much of a laugh lately,” said Ron. 
+“Every time I’ve seen her she’s looked more like 
+Moaning Myrtle.” 
+“That’s not fair,” snapped Hermione. “She still hasn’t 
+got over what happened … you know … I mean, he 
+was her cousin!” 
+Harry’s heart sank. They had arrived at Sirius. He 
+picked up a fork and began shoveling scrambled eggs 
+into his mouth, hoping to deflect any invitation to join 
+in this part of the conversation. 
+“Tonks and Sirius barely knew each other!” said Ron. 
+“Sirius was in Azkaban half her life and before that 
+their families never met —” 
+“That’s not the point,” said Hermione. “She thinks it 
+was her fault he died!” 
+“How does she work that one out?” asked Harry, in 
+spite of himself. 
+“Well, she was fighting Bellatrix Lestrange, wasn’t 
+she? I think she feels that if only she had finished her 
+off, Bellatrix couldn’t have killed Sirius.” 
+“That’s stupid,” said Ron. 
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+“It’s survivor’s guilt,” said Hermione. “I know Lupin’s 
+tried to talk her round, but she’s still really down. 
+She’s actually having trouble with her 
+Metamorphosing!” 
+“With her — ?” 
+“She can’t change her appearance like she used to,” 
+explained Hermione. “I think her powers must have 
+been affected by shock, or something.” 
+“I didn’t know that could happen,” said Harry. 
+“Nor did I,” said Hermione, “but I suppose if you’re 
+really depressed …” 
+The door opened again and Mrs. Weasley popped her 
+head in. “Ginny,” she whispered, “come downstairs 
+and help me with the lunch.” 
+“I’m talking to this lot!” said Ginny, outraged. 
+“Now!” said Mrs. Weasley, and withdrew. 
+“She only wants me there so she doesn’t have to be 
+alone with Phlegm!” said Ginny crossly. She swung 
+her long red hair around in a very good imitation of 
+Fleur and pranced across the room with her arms 
+held aloft like a ballerina. 
+“You lot had better come down quickly too,” she said 
+as she left. 
+Harry took advantage of the temporary silence to eat 
+more breakfast. Hermione was peering into Fred and 
+George’s boxes, though every now and then she cast 
+sideways looks at Harry. Ron, who was now helping 
+himself to Harry’s toast, was still gazing dreamily at 
+the door. 
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+“What’s this?” Hermione asked eventually, holding up 
+what looked like a small telescope. 
+“Dunno,” said Ron, “but if Fred and George’ve left it 
+here, it’s probably not ready for the joke shop yet, so 
+be careful.” 
+“Your mum said the shop’s going well,” said Harry. 
+“Said Fred and George have got a real flair for 
+business.” 
+“That’s an understatement,” said Ron. “They’re raking 
+in the Galleons! I can’t wait to see the place, we 
+haven’t been to Diagon Alley yet, because Mum says 
+Dad’s got to be there for extra security and he’s been 
+really busy at work, but it sounds excellent.” 
+“And what about Percy?” asked Harry; the third-
+eldest Weasley brother had fallen out with the rest of 
+the family. “Is he talking to your mum and dad 
+again?” 
+“Nope,” said Ron. 
+“But he knows your dad was right all along now 
+about Voldemort being back —” 
+“Dumbledore says people find it far easier to forgive 
+others for being wrong than being right,” said 
+Hermione. “I heard him telling your mum, Ron.” 
+“Sounds like the sort of mental thing Dumbledore 
+would say,” said Ron. 
+“He’s going to be giving me private lessons this year,” 
+said Harry conversationally. 
+Ron choked on his bit of toast, and Hermione gasped. 
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+“You kept that quiet!” said Ron. 
+“I only just remembered,” said Harry honestly. “He 
+told me last night in your broom shed.” 
+“Blimey … private lessons with Dumbledore!” said 
+Ron, looking impressed. “I wonder why he’s … ?” 
+His voice tailed away. Harry saw him and Hermione 
+exchange looks. Harry laid down his knife and fork, 
+his heart beating rather fast considering that all he 
+was doing was sitting in bed. Dumbledore had said to 
+do it. … Why not now? He fixed his eyes on his fork, 
+which was gleaming in the sunlight streaming into his 
+lap, and said, “I don’t know exactly why he’s going to 
+be giving me lessons, but I think it must be because 
+of the prophecy.” 
+Neither Ron nor Hermione spoke. Harry had the 
+impression that both had frozen. He continued, still 
+speaking to his fork, “You know, the one they were 
+trying to steal at the Ministry.” 
+“Nobody knows what it said, though,” said Hermione 
+quickly. “It got smashed.” 
+“Although the Prophet says —” began Ron, but 
+Hermione said, “Shh!” 
+“The Prophet’s got it right,” said Harry, looking up at 
+them both with a great effort: Hermione seemed 
+frightened and Ron amazed. “That glass ball that 
+smashed wasn’t the only record of the prophecy. I 
+heard the whole thing in Dumbledore’s office, he was 
+the one the prophecy was made to, so he could tell 
+me. From what it said,” Harry took a deep breath, “it 
+looks like I’m the one who’s got to finish off 
+Voldemort. … At least, it said neither of us could live 
+while the other survives.” 
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+The three of them gazed at one another in silence for 
+a moment. Then there was a loud bang and Hermione 
+vanished behind a puff of black smoke. 
+“Hermione!” shouted Harry and Ron; the breakfast 
+tray slid to the floor with a crash. 
+Hermione emerged, coughing, out of the smoke, 
+clutching the telescope and sporting a brilliantly 
+purple black eye. 
+“I squeezed it and it — it punched me!” she gasped. 
+And sure enough, they now saw a tiny fist on a long 
+spring protruding from the end of the telescope. 
+“Don’t worry,” said Ron, who was plainly trying not to 
+laugh, “Mum’ll fix that, she’s good at healing minor 
+injuries —” 
+“Oh well, never mind that now!” said Hermione 
+hastily. “Harry, oh, Harry …” 
+She sat down on the edge of his bed again. 
+“We wondered, after we got back from the Ministry … 
+Obviously, we didn’t want to say anything to you, but 
+from what Lucius Malfoy said about the prophecy, 
+how it was about you and Voldemort, well, we 
+thought it might be something like this. … Oh, Harry 
+…” She stared at him, then whispered, “Are you 
+scared?” 
+“Not as much as I was,” said Harry. “When I first 
+heard it, I was … but now, it seems as though I 
+always knew I’d have to face him in the end. …” 
+“When we heard Dumbledore was collecting you in 
+person, we thought he might be telling you something 
+P a g e  | 111 
+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+or showing you something to do with the prophecy,” 
+said Ron eagerly. “And we were kind of right, weren’t 
+we? He wouldn’t be giving you lessons if he thought 
+you were a goner, wouldn’t waste his time — he must 
+think you’ve got a chance!” 
+“That’s true,” said Hermione. “I wonder what he’ll 
+teach you, Harry? Really advanced defensive magic, 
+probably … powerful countercurses … anti-jinxes …” 
+Harry did not really listen. A warmth was spreading 
+through him that had nothing to do with the sunlight; 
+a tight obstruction in his chest seemed to be 
+dissolving. He knew that Ron and Hermione were 
+more shocked than they were letting on, but the mere 
+fact that they were still there on either side of him, 
+speaking bracing words of comfort, not shrinking 
+from him as though he were contaminated or 
+dangerous, was worth more than he could ever tell 
+them. 
+“… and evasive enchantments generally,” concluded 
+Hermione. “Well, at least you know one lesson you’ll 
+be having this year, that’s one more than Ron and 
+me. I wonder when our O.W.L. results will come?” 
+“Can’t be long now, it’s been a month,” said Ron. 
+“Hang on,” said Harry, as another part of last night’s 
+conversation came back to him. “I think Dumbledore 
+said our O.W.L. results would be arriving today!” 
+“Today?” shrieked Hermione. “Today? But why didn’t 
+you — oh my God — you should have said —” 
+She leapt to her feet. 
+“I’m going to see whether any owls have come. …” 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+But when Harry arrived downstairs ten minutes later, 
+fully dressed and carrying his empty breakfast tray, it 
+was to find Hermione sitting at the kitchen table in 
+great agitation, while Mrs. Weasley tried to lessen her 
+resemblance to half a panda. 
+“It just won’t budge,” Mrs. Weasley was saying 
+anxiously, standing over Hermione with her wand in 
+her hand and a copy of The Healer’s Helpmate open at 
+“Bruises, Cuts, and Abrasions.” “This has always 
+worked before, I just can’t understand it.” 
+“It’ll be Fred and George’s idea of a funny joke, 
+making sure it can’t come off,” said Ginny 
+“But it’s got to come off!” squeaked Hermione. “I can’t 
+go around looking like this forever!” 
+“You won’t, dear, we’ll find an antidote, don’t worry,” 
+said Mrs. Weasley soothingly. 
+“Bill told me ’ow Fred and George are very amusing!” 
+said Fleur, smiling serenely. 
+“Yes, I can hardly breathe for laughing,” snapped 
+Hermione. 
+She jumped up and started walking round and round 
+the kitchen, twisting her fingers together. 
+“Mrs. Weasley, you’re quite, quite sure no owls have 
+arrived this morning?” 
+“Yes, dear, I’d have noticed,” said Mrs. Weasley 
+patiently. “But it’s barely nine, there’s still plenty of 
+time. …” 
+“I know I messed up Ancient Runes,” muttered 
+Hermione feverishly, “I definitely made at least one 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+serious mistranslation. And the Defense Against the 
+Dark Arts practical was no good at all. I thought 
+Transfiguration went all right at the time, but looking 
+back —” 
+“Hermione, will you shut up, you’re not the only one 
+who’s nervous!” barked Ron. “And when you’ve got 
+your eleven ‘Outstanding’ O.W.L.s …” 
+“Don’t, don’t, don’t!” said Hermione, flapping her 
+hands hysterically. “I know I’ve failed everything!” 
+“What happens if we fail?” Harry asked the room at 
+large, but it was again Hermione who answered. 
+“We discuss our options with our Head of House, I 
+asked Professor McGonagall at the end of last term.” 
+Harry’s stomach squirmed. He wished he had eaten 
+less breakfast. 
+“At Beauxbatons,” said Fleur complacently, “we ’ad a 
+different way of doing things. I think eet was better. 
+We sat our examinations after six years of study, not 
+five, and then —” 
+Fleur’s words were drowned in a scream. Hermione 
+was pointing through the kitchen window. Three 
+black specks were clearly visible in the sky, growing 
+larger all the time. 
+“They’re definitely owls,” said Ron hoarsely, jumping 
+up to join Hermione at the window. 
+“And there are three of them,” said Harry, hastening 
+to her other side. 
+“One for each of us,” said Hermione in a terrified 
+whisper. “Oh no … oh no … oh no …” 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+She gripped both Harry and Ron tightly around the 
+elbows. 
+The owls were flying directly at the Burrow, three 
+handsome tawnies, each of which, it became clear as 
+they flew lower over the path leading up to the house, 
+was carrying a large square envelope. 
+“Oh no!” squealed Hermione. 
+Mrs. Weasley squeezed past them and opened the 
+kitchen window. One, two, three, the owls soared 
+through it and landed on the table in a neat line. All 
+three of them lifted their right legs. 
+Harry moved forward. The letter addressed to him 
+was tied to the leg of the owl in the middle. He untied 
+it with fumbling fingers. To his left, Ron was trying to 
+detach his own results; to his right, Hermione’s 
+hands were shaking so much she was making her 
+whole owl tremble. 
+Nobody in the kitchen spoke. At last, Harry managed 
+to detach the envelope. He slit it open quickly and 
+unfolded the parchment inside. 
+ORDINARY WIZARDING LEVEL RESULTS 
+ 
+Pass Grades  
+Fail Grades  
+Outstanding (O)  
+Poor (P)  
+Exceeds Expectations (E)Dreadful (D)
+Acceptable (A)  
+Troll (T)  
+Harry James Potter has achieved: 
+Astronomy  
+A 
+Care of Magical Creatures  
+E 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+Charms  
+E 
+Defense Against the Dark ArtsO
+Divination  
+P 
+Herbology  
+E 
+History of Magic  
+D
+Potions  
+E 
+Transfiguration  
+E 
+Harry read the parchment through several times, his 
+breathing becoming easier with each reading. It was 
+all right: He had always known that he would fail 
+Divination, and he had had no chance of passing 
+History of Magic, given that he had collapsed halfway 
+through the examination, but he had passed 
+everything else! He ran his finger down the grades … 
+he had passed well in Transfiguration and Herbology, 
+he had even exceeded expectations at Potions! And 
+best of all, he had achieved “Outstanding” at Defense 
+Against the Dark Arts! 
+He looked around. Hermione had her back to him and 
+her head bent, but Ron was looking delighted. 
+“Only failed Divination and History of Magic, and who 
+cares about them?” he said happily to Harry. “Here — 
+swap —” 
+Harry glanced down Ron’s grades: There were no 
+“Outstandings” there. … 
+“Knew you’d be top at Defense Against the Dark Arts,” 
+said Ron, punching Harry on the shoulder. “We’ve 
+done all right, haven’t we?” 
+“Well done!” said Mrs. Weasley proudly, ruffling Ron’s 
+hair. “Seven O.W.L.s, that’s more than Fred and 
+George got together!” 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+“Hermione?” said Ginny tentatively, for Hermione still 
+hadn’t turned around. “How did you do?” 
+“I — not bad,” said Hermione in a small voice. 
+“Oh, come off it,” said Ron, striding over to her and 
+whipping her results out of her hand. “Yep — nine 
+‘Outstandings’ and one ‘Exceeds Expectations’ at 
+Defense Against the Dark Arts.” He looked down at 
+her, half-amused, half-exasperated. “You’re actually 
+disappointed, aren’t you?” 
+Hermione shook her head, but Harry laughed. 
+“Well, we’re N.E.W.T. students now!” grinned Ron. 
+“Mum, are there any more sausages?” 
+Harry looked back down at his results. They were as 
+good as he could have hoped for. He felt just one tiny 
+twinge of regret. … This was the end of his ambition 
+to become an Auror. He had not secured the required 
+Potions grade. He had known all along that he 
+wouldn’t, but he still felt a sinking in his stomach as 
+he looked again at that small black E. 
+It was odd, really, seeing that it had been a Death 
+Eater in disguise who had first told Harry he would 
+make a good Auror, but somehow the idea had taken 
+hold of him, and he couldn’t really think of anything 
+else he would like to be. Moreover, it had seemed the 
+right destiny for him since he had heard the prophecy 
+a few weeks ago. … Neither can live while the other 
+survives. … Wouldn’t he be living up to the prophecy, 
+and giving himself the best chance of survival, if he 
+joined those highly trained wizards whose job it was 
+to find and kill Voldemort? 
+P a g e  | 117 
+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+ 
+ 
+DRACO’S DETOUR 
+Harry remained within the confines of the Burrow’s 
+garden over the next few weeks. He spent most of his 
+days playing two-a-side Quidditch in the Weasleys’ 
+orchard (he and Hermione against Ron and Ginny; 
+Hermione was dreadful and Ginny good, so they were 
+reasonably well matched) and his evenings eating 
+triple helpings of everything Mrs. Weasley put in front 
+of him. 
+It would have been a happy, peaceful holiday had it 
+not been for the stories of disappearances, odd 
+accidents, even of deaths now appearing almost daily 
+in the Prophet. Sometimes Bill and Mr. Weasley 
+brought home news before it even reached the paper. 
+To Mrs. Weasley’s displeasure, Harry’s sixteenth 
+birthday celebrations were marred by grisly tidings 
+brought to the party by Remus Lupin, who was 
+looking gaunt and grim, his brown hair streaked 
+liberally with gray, his clothes more ragged and 
+patched than ever. 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+“There have been another couple of dementor 
+attacks,” he announced, as Mrs. Weasley passed him 
+a large slice of birthday cake. “And they’ve found Igor 
+Karkaroff’s body in a shack up north. The Dark Mark 
+had been set over it — well, frankly, I’m surprised he 
+stayed alive for even a year after deserting the Death 
+Eaters; Sirius’s brother, Regulus, only managed a few 
+days as far as I can remember.” 
+“Yes, well,” said Mrs. Weasley, frowning, “perhaps we 
+should talk about something diff —” 
+“Did you hear about Florean Fortescue, Remus?” 
+asked Bill, who was being plied with wine by Fleur. 
+“The man who ran —” 
+“— the ice-cream place in Diagon Alley?” Harry 
+interrupted, with an unpleasant, hollow sensation in 
+the pit of his stomach. “He used to give me free ice 
+creams. What’s happened to him?” 
+“Dragged off, by the look of his place.” 
+“Why?” asked Ron, while Mrs. Weasley pointedly 
+glared at Bill. 
+“Who knows? He must’ve upset them somehow. He 
+was a good man, Florean.” 
+“Talking of Diagon Alley,” said Mr. Weasley, “looks 
+like Ollivander’s gone too.” 
+“The wandmaker?” said Ginny, looking startled. 
+“That’s the one. Shop’s empty. No sign of a struggle. 
+No one knows whether he left voluntarily or was 
+kidnapped.” 
+“But wands — what’ll people do for wands?” 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+“They’ll make do with other makers,” said Lupin. “But 
+Ollivander was the best, and if the other side have got 
+him it’s not so good for us.” 
+The day after this rather gloomy birthday tea, their 
+letters and booklists arrived from Hogwarts. Harry’s 
+included a surprise: He had been made Quidditch 
+Captain. 
+“That gives you equal status with prefects!” cried 
+Hermione happily. “You can use our special bathroom 
+now and everything!” 
+“Wow, I remember when Charlie wore one of these,” 
+said Ron, examining the badge with glee. “Harry, this 
+is so cool, you’re my Captain — if you let me back on 
+the team, I suppose, ha ha. …” 
+“Well, I don’t suppose we can put off a trip to Diagon 
+Alley much longer now you’ve got these,” sighed Mrs. 
+Weasley, looking down Ron’s booklist. “We’ll go on 
+Saturday as long as your father doesn’t have to go 
+into work again. I’m not going there without him.” 
+“Mum, d’you honestly think You-Know-Who’s going to 
+be hiding behind a bookshelf in Flourish and Blotts?” 
+sniggered Ron. 
+“Fortescue and Ollivander went on holiday, did they?” 
+said Mrs. Weasley, firing up at once. “If you think 
+security’s a laughing matter you can stay behind and 
+I’ll get your things myself —” 
+“No, I wanna come, I want to see Fred and George’s 
+shop!” said Ron hastily. 
+“Then you just buck up your ideas, young man, 
+before I decide you’re too immature to come with us!” 
+said Mrs. Weasley angrily, snatching up her clock, all 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+nine hands of which were still pointing at “mortal 
+peril,” and balancing it on top of a pile of just-
+laundered towels. “And that goes for returning to 
+Hogwarts as well!” 
+Ron turned to stare incredulously at Harry as his 
+mother hoisted the laundry basket and the teetering 
+clock into her arms and stormed out of the room. 
+“Blimey … you can’t even make a joke round here 
+anymore. …” 
+But Ron was careful not to be flippant about 
+Voldemort over the next few days. Saturday dawned 
+without any more outbursts from Mrs. Weasley, 
+though she seemed very tense at breakfast. Bill, who 
+would be staying at home with Fleur (much to 
+Hermione and Ginny’s pleasure), passed a full money 
+bag across the table to Harry. 
+“Where’s mine?” demanded Ron at once, his eyes 
+wide. 
+“That’s already Harry’s, idiot,” said Bill. “I got it out of 
+your vault for you, Harry, because it’s taking about 
+five hours for the public to get to their gold at the 
+moment, the goblins have tightened security so 
+much. Two days ago Arkie Philpott had a Probity 
+Probe stuck up his … Well, trust me, this way’s 
+easier.” 
+“Thanks, Bill,” said Harry, pocketing his gold. 
+“ ’E is always so thoughtful,” purred Fleur adoringly, 
+stroking Bill’s nose. Ginny mimed vomiting into her 
+cereal behind Fleur. Harry choked over his 
+cornflakes, and Ron thumped him on the back. 
+P a g e  | 121 
+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+It was an overcast, murky day. One of the special 
+Ministry of Magic cars, in which Harry had ridden 
+once before, was awaiting them in the front yard 
+when they emerged from the house, pulling on their 
+cloaks. 
+“It’s good Dad can get us these again,” said Ron 
+appreciatively, stretching luxuriously as the car 
+moved smoothly away from the Burrow, Bill and Fleur 
+waving from the kitchen window. He, Harry, 
+Hermione, and Ginny were all sitting in roomy 
+comfort in the wide backseat. 
+“Don’t get used to it, it’s only because of Harry,” said 
+Mr. Weasley over his shoulder. He and Mrs. Weasley 
+were in front with the Ministry driver; the front 
+passenger seat had obligingly stretched into what 
+resembled a two-seater sofa. “He’s been given top-
+grade security status. And we’ll be joining up with 
+additional security at the Leaky Cauldron too.” 
+Harry said nothing; he did not much fancy doing his 
+shopping while surrounded by a battalion of Aurors. 
+He had stowed his Invisibility Cloak in his backpack 
+and felt that, if that was good enough for 
+Dumbledore, it ought to be good enough for the 
+Ministry, though now he came to think of it, he was 
+not sure the Ministry knew about his cloak. 
+“Here you are, then,” said the driver, a surprisingly 
+short while later, speaking for the first time as he 
+slowed in Charing Cross Road and stopped outside 
+the Leaky Cauldron. “I’m to wait for you, any idea 
+how long you’ll be?” 
+“A couple of hours, I expect,” said Mr. Weasley. “Ah, 
+good, he’s here!” 
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+Harry imitated Mr. Weasley and peered through the 
+window; his heart leapt. There were no Aurors waiting 
+outside the inn, but instead the gigantic, black-
+bearded form of Rubeus Hagrid, the Hogwarts 
+gamekeeper, wearing a long beaverskin coat, beaming 
+at the sight of Harry’s face and oblivious to the 
+startled stares of passing Muggles. 
+“Harry!” he boomed, sweeping Harry into a bone-
+crushing hug the moment Harry had stepped out of 
+the car. “Buckbeak — Witherwings, I mean — yeh 
+should see him, Harry, he’s so happy ter be back in 
+the open air —” 
+“Glad he’s pleased,” said Harry, grinning as he 
+massaged his ribs. “We didn’t know ‘security’ meant 
+you!” 
+“I know, jus’ like old times, innit? See, the Ministry 
+wanted ter send a bunch o’ Aurors, but Dumbledore 
+said I’d do,” said Hagrid proudly, throwing out his 
+chest and tucking his thumbs into his pockets. “Let’s 
+get goin’ then — after yeh, Molly, Arthur —” 
+The Leaky Cauldron was, for the first time in Harry’s 
+memory, completely empty. Only Tom the landlord, 
+wizened and toothless, remained of the old crowd. He 
+looked up hopefully as they entered, but before he 
+could speak, Hagrid said importantly, “Jus’ passin’ 
+through today, Tom, sure yeh understand, Hogwarts 
+business, yeh know.” 
+Tom nodded gloomily and returned to wiping glasses; 
+Harry, Hermione, Hagrid, and the Weasleys walked 
+through the bar and out into the chilly little courtyard 
+at the back where the dustbins stood. Hagrid raised 
+his pink umbrella and rapped a certain brick in the 
+wall, which opened at once to form an archway onto a 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+winding cobbled street. They stepped through the 
+entrance and paused, looking around. 
+Diagon Alley had changed. The colorful, glittering 
+window displays of spellbooks, potion ingredients, 
+and cauldrons were lost to view, hidden behind the 
+large Ministry of Magic posters that had been pasted 
+over them. Most of these somber purple posters 
+carried blown-up versions of the security advice on 
+the Ministry pamphlets that had been sent out over 
+the summer, but others bore moving black-and-white 
+photographs of Death Eaters known to be on the 
+loose. Bellatrix Lestrange was sneering from the front 
+of the nearest apothecary. A few windows were 
+boarded up, including those of Florean Fortescue’s Ice 
+Cream Parlor. On the other hand, a number of 
+shabby-looking stalls had sprung up along the street. 
+The nearest one, which had been erected outside 
+Flourish and Blotts, under a striped, stained awning, 
+had a cardboard sign pinned to its front: 
+AMULETS 
+Effective Against Werewolves, Dementors, and Inferi 
+A seedy-looking little wizard was rattling armfuls of 
+silver symbols on chains at passersby. 
+“One for your little girl, madam?” he called at Mrs. 
+Weasley as they passed, leering at Ginny. “Protect her 
+pretty neck?” 
+“If I were on duty …” said Mr. Weasley, glaring angrily 
+at the amulet seller. 
+“Yes, but don’t go arresting anyone now, dear, we’re 
+in a hurry,” said Mrs. Weasley, nervously consulting a 
+list. “I think we’d better do Madam Malkin’s first, 
+Hermione wants new dress robes, and Ron’s showing 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+much too much ankle in his school robes, and you 
+must need new ones too, Harry, you’ve grown so 
+much — come on, everyone —” 
+“Molly, it doesn’t make sense for all of us to go to 
+Madam Malkin’s,” said Mr. Weasley. “Why don’t those 
+three go with Hagrid, and we can go to Flourish and 
+Blotts and get everyone’s schoolbooks?” 
+“I don’t know,” said Mrs. Weasley anxiously, clearly 
+torn between a desire to finish the shopping quickly 
+and the wish to stick together in a pack. “Hagrid, do 
+you think — ?” 
+“Don’ fret, they’ll be fine with me, Molly,” said Hagrid 
+soothingly, waving an airy hand the size of a dustbin 
+lid. Mrs. Weasley did not look entirely convinced, but 
+allowed the separation, scurrying off toward Flourish 
+and Blotts with her husband and Ginny while Harry, 
+Ron, Hermione, and Hagrid set off for Madam 
+Malkin’s. 
+Harry noticed that many of the people who passed 
+them had the same harried, anxious look as Mrs. 
+Weasley, and that nobody was stopping to talk 
+anymore; the shoppers stayed together in their own 
+tightly knit groups, moving intently about their 
+business. Nobody seemed to be shopping alone. 
+“Migh’ be a bit of a squeeze in there with all of us,” 
+said Hagrid, stopping outside Madam Malkin’s and 
+bending down to peer through the window. “I’ll stand 
+guard outside, all right?” 
+So Harry, Ron, and Hermione entered the little shop 
+together. It appeared, at first glance, to be empty, but 
+no sooner had the door swung shut behind them than 
+they heard a familiar voice issuing from behind a rack 
+of dress robes in spangled green and blue. 
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+“… not a child, in case you haven’t noticed, Mother. I 
+am perfectly capable of doing my shopping alone.” 
+There was a clucking noise and a voice Harry 
+recognized as that of Madam Malkin, the owner, said, 
+“Now, dear, your mother’s quite right, none of us is 
+supposed to go wandering around on our own 
+anymore, it’s nothing to do with being a child —” 
+“Watch where you’re sticking that pin, will you!” 
+A teenage boy with a pale, pointed face and white-
+blond hair appeared from behind the rack, wearing a 
+handsome set of dark green robes that glittered with 
+pins around the hem and the edges of the sleeves. He 
+strode to the mirror and examined himself; it was a 
+few moments before he noticed Harry, Ron, and 
+Hermione reflected over his shoulder. His light gray 
+eyes narrowed. 
+“If you’re wondering what the smell is, Mother, a 
+Mudblood just walked in,” said Draco Malfoy. 
+“I don’t think there’s any need for language like that!” 
+said Madam Malkin, scurrying out from behind the 
+clothes rack holding a tape measure and a wand. 
+“And I don’t want wands drawn in my shop either!” 
+she added hastily, for a glance toward the door had 
+shown her Harry and Ron both standing there with 
+their wands out and pointing at Malfoy. Hermione, 
+who was standing slightly behind them, whispered, 
+“No, don’t, honestly, it’s not worth it. …” 
+“Yeah, like you’d dare do magic out of school,” 
+sneered Malfoy. “Who blacked your eye, Granger? I 
+want to send them flowers.” 
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+“That’s quite enough!” said Madam Malkin sharply, 
+looking over her shoulder for support. “Madam — 
+please —” 
+Narcissa Malfoy strolled out from behind the clothes 
+rack. 
+“Put those away,” she said coldly to Harry and Ron. 
+“If you attack my son again, I shall ensure that it is 
+the last thing you ever do.” 
+“Really?” said Harry, taking a step forward and gazing 
+into the smoothly arrogant face that, for all its pallor, 
+still resembled her sister’s. He was as tall as she was 
+now. “Going to get a few Death Eater pals to do us in, 
+are you?” 
+Madam Malkin squealed and clutched at her heart. 
+“Really, you shouldn’t accuse — dangerous thing to 
+say — wands away, please!” 
+But Harry did not lower his wand. Narcissa Malfoy 
+smiled unpleasantly. 
+“I see that being Dumbledore’s favorite has given you 
+a false sense of security, Harry Potter. But 
+Dumbledore won’t always be there to protect you.” 
+Harry looked mockingly all around the shop. “Wow … 
+look at that … he’s not here now! So why not have a 
+go? They might be able to find you a double cell in 
+Azkaban with your loser of a husband!” 
+Malfoy made an angry movement toward Harry, but 
+stumbled over his overlong robe. Ron laughed loudly. 
+“Don’t you dare talk to my mother like that, Potter!” 
+Malfoy snarled. 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+“It’s all right, Draco,” said Narcissa, restraining him 
+with her thin white fingers upon his shoulder. “I 
+expect Potter will be reunited with dear Sirius before I 
+am reunited with Lucius.” 
+Harry raised his wand higher. 
+“Harry, no!” moaned Hermione, grabbing his arm and 
+attempting to push it down by his side. “Think. … 
+You mustn’t. … You’ll be in such trouble. …” 
+Madam Malkin dithered for a moment on the spot, 
+then seemed to decide to act as though nothing was 
+happening in the hope that it wouldn’t. She bent 
+toward Malfoy, who was still glaring at Harry. 
+“I think this left sleeve could come up a little bit more, 
+dear, let me just —” 
+“Ouch!” bellowed Malfoy, slapping her hand away. 
+“Watch where you’re putting your pins, woman! 
+Mother — I don’t think I want these anymore —” 
+He pulled the robes over his head and threw them 
+onto the floor at Madam Malkin’s feet. 
+“You’re right, Draco,” said Narcissa, with a 
+contemptuous glance at Hermione, “now I know the 
+kind of scum that shops here. … We’ll do better at 
+Twilfitt and Tatting’s.” 
+And with that, the pair of them strode out of the 
+shop, Malfoy taking care to bang as hard as he could 
+into Ron on the way out. 
+“Well, really!” said Madam Malkin, snatching up the 
+fallen robes and moving the tip of her wand over them 
+like a vacuum cleaner, so that it removed all the dust. 
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+She was distracted all through the fitting of Ron’s and 
+Harry’s new robes, tried to sell Hermione wizard’s 
+dress robes instead of witch’s, and when she finally 
+bowed them out of the shop it was with an air of 
+being glad to see the back of them. 
+“Got ev’rything?” asked Hagrid brightly when they 
+reappeared at his side. 
+“Just about,” said Harry. “Did you see the Malfoys?” 
+“Yeah,” said Hagrid, unconcerned. “Bu’ they wouldn’ 
+dare make trouble in the middle o’ Diagon Alley, 
+Harry. Don’ worry abou’ them.” 
+Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchanged looks, but 
+before they could disabuse Hagrid of this comfortable 
+notion, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Ginny appeared, all 
+clutching heavy packages of books. 
+“Everyone all right?” said Mrs. Weasley. “Got your 
+robes? Right then, we can pop in at the Apothecary 
+and Eeylops on the way to Fred and George’s — stick 
+close, now. …” 
+Neither Harry nor Ron bought any ingredients at the 
+Apothecary, seeing that they were no longer studying 
+Potions, but both bought large boxes of owl nuts for 
+Hedwig and Pigwidgeon at Eeylops Owl Emporium. 
+Then, with Mrs. Weasley checking her watch every 
+minute or so, they headed farther along the street in 
+search of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, the joke shop 
+run by Fred and George. 
+“We really haven’t got too long,” Mrs. Weasley said. 
+“So we’ll just have a quick look around and then back 
+to the car. We must be close, that’s number ninety-
+two … ninety-four …” 
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+“Whoa,” said Ron, stopping in his tracks. 
+Set against the dull, poster-muffled shop fronts 
+around them, Fred and George’s windows hit the eye 
+like a firework display. Casual passersby were looking 
+back over their shoulders at the windows, and a few 
+rather stunned-looking people had actually come to a 
+halt, transfixed. The left-hand window was dazzlingly 
+full of an assortment of goods that revolved, popped, 
+flashed, bounced, and shrieked; Harry’s eyes began to 
+water just looking at it. The right-hand window was 
+covered with a gigantic poster, purple like those of the 
+Ministry, but emblazoned with flashing yellow letters: 
+WHY ARE YOU WORRYING ABOUT 
+YOU-KNOW-WHO? 
+YOU SHOULD BE WORRYING ABOUT 
+ U-NO-POO— 
+THE CONSTIPATION SENSATION 
+THAT’S GRIPPING THE NATION! 
+Harry started to laugh. He heard a weak sort of moan 
+beside him and looked around to see Mrs. Weasley 
+gazing, dumbfounded, at the poster. Her lips moved 
+silently, mouthing the name “U-No-Poo.” 
+“They’ll be murdered in their beds!” she whispered. 
+“No they won’t!” said Ron, who, like Harry, was 
+laughing. “This is brilliant!” 
+And he and Harry led the way into the shop. It was 
+packed with customers; Harry could not get near the 
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+shelves. He stared around, looking up at the boxes 
+piled to the ceiling: Here were the Skiving Snackboxes 
+that the twins had perfected during their last, 
+unfinished year at Hogwarts; Harry noticed that the 
+Nosebleed Nougat was most popular, with only one 
+battered box left on the shelf. There were bins full of 
+trick wands, the cheapest merely turning into rubber 
+chickens or pairs of briefs when waved, the most 
+expensive beating the unwary user around the head 
+and neck, and boxes of quills, which came in Self-
+Inking, Spell-Checking, and Smart-Answer varieties. 
+A space cleared in the crowd, and Harry pushed his 
+way toward the counter, where a gaggle of delighted 
+ten-year-olds was watching a tiny little wooden man 
+slowly ascending the steps to a real set of gallows, 
+both perched on a box that read: REUSABLE 
+HANGMAN — SPELL IT OR HE’LL SWING! 
+“ ‘Patented Daydream Charms …’ ” 
+Hermione had managed to squeeze through to a large 
+display near the counter and was reading the 
+information on the back of a box bearing a highly 
+colored picture of a handsome youth and a swooning 
+girl who were standing on the deck of a pirate ship. 
+“ ‘One simple incantation and you will enter a top-
+quality, highly realistic, thirty-minute daydream, easy 
+to fit into the average school lesson and virtually 
+undetectable (side effects include vacant expression 
+and minor drooling). Not for sale to under-sixteens.’ 
+You know,” said Hermione, looking up at Harry, “that 
+really is extraordinary magic!” 
+“For that, Hermione,” said a voice behind them, “you 
+can have one for free.” 
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+A beaming Fred stood before them, wearing a set of 
+magenta robes that clashed magnificently with his 
+flaming hair. 
+“How are you, Harry?” They shook hands. “And 
+what’s happened to your eye, Hermione?” 
+“Your punching telescope,” she said ruefully. 
+“Oh blimey, I forgot about those,” said Fred. “Here —” 
+He pulled a tub out of his pocket and handed it to 
+her; she unscrewed it gingerly to reveal a thick yellow 
+paste. 
+“Just dab it on, that bruise’ll be gone within the 
+hour,” said Fred. “We had to find a decent bruise 
+remover. We’re testing most of our products on 
+ourselves.” 
+Hermione looked nervous. “It is safe, isn’t it?” she 
+asked. 
+“ ’Course it is,” said Fred bracingly. “Come on, Harry, 
+I’ll give you a tour.” 
+Harry left Hermione dabbing her black eye with paste 
+and followed Fred toward the back of the shop, where 
+he saw a stand of card and rope tricks. 
+“Muggle magic tricks!” said Fred happily, pointing 
+them out. “For freaks like Dad, you know, who love 
+Muggle stuff. It’s not a big earner, but we do fairly 
+steady business, they’re great novelties. … Oh, here’s 
+George. …” 
+Fred’s twin shook Harry’s hand energetically. 
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+“Giving him the tour? Come through the back, Harry, 
+that’s where we’re making the real money — pocket 
+anything, you, and you’ll pay in more than Galleons!” 
+he added warningly to a small boy who hastily 
+whipped his hand out of the tub labeled EDIBLE 
+DARK MARKS — THEY’LL MAKE ANYONE SICK! 
+George pushed back a curtain beside the Muggle 
+tricks and Harry saw a darker, less crowded room. 
+The packaging on the products lining these shelves 
+was more subdued. 
+“We’ve just developed this more serious line,” said 
+Fred. “Funny how it happened …” 
+“You wouldn’t believe how many people, even people 
+who work at the Ministry, can’t do a decent Shield 
+Charm,” said George. “ ’Course, they didn’t have you 
+teaching them, Harry.” 
+“That’s right. … Well, we thought Shield Hats were a 
+bit of a laugh, you know, challenge your mate to jinx 
+you while wearing it and watch his face when the jinx 
+just bounces off. But the Ministry bought five 
+hundred for all its support staff! And we’re still 
+getting massive orders!�� 
+“So we’ve expanded into a range of Shield Cloaks, 
+Shield Gloves …” 
+“… I mean, they wouldn’t help much against the 
+Unforgivable Curses, but for minor to moderate hexes 
+or jinxes …” 
+“And then we thought we’d get into the whole area of 
+Defense Against the Dark Arts, because it’s such a 
+money spinner,” continued George enthusiastically. 
+“This is cool. Look, Instant Darkness Powder, we’re 
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+importing it from Peru. Handy if you want to make a 
+quick escape.” 
+“And our Decoy Detonators are just walking off the 
+shelves, look,” said Fred, pointing at a number of 
+weird-looking black horn-type objects that were 
+indeed attempting to scurry out of sight. “You just 
+drop one surreptitiously and it’ll run off and make a 
+nice loud noise out of sight, giving you a diversion if 
+you need one. 
+“Handy,” said Harry, impressed. 
+“Here,” said George, catching a couple and throwing 
+them to Harry. 
+A young witch with short blonde hair poked her head 
+around the curtain; Harry saw that she too was 
+wearing magenta staff robes. 
+“There’s a customer out here looking for a joke 
+cauldron, Mr. Weasley and Mr. Weasley,” she said. 
+Harry found it very odd to hear Fred and George 
+called “Mr. Weasley,” but they took it in their stride. 
+“Right you are, Verity, I’m coming,” said George 
+promptly. “Harry, you help yourself to anything you 
+want, all right? No charge.” 
+“I can’t do that!” said Harry, who had already pulled 
+out his money bag to pay for the Decoy Detonators. 
+“You don’t pay here,” said Fred firmly, waving away 
+Harry’s gold. 
+“But —” 
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+“You gave us our start-up loan, we haven’t forgotten,” 
+said George sternly. “Take whatever you like, and just 
+remember to tell people where you got it, if they ask.” 
+George swept off through the curtain to help with the 
+customers, and Fred led Harry back into the main 
+part of the shop to find Hermione and Ginny still 
+poring over the Patented Daydream Charms. 
+“Haven’t you girls found our special WonderWitch 
+products yet?” asked Fred. “Follow me, ladies. …” 
+Near the window was an array of violently pink 
+products around which a cluster of excited girls was 
+giggling enthusiastically. Hermione and Ginny both 
+hung back, looking wary. 
+“There you go,” said Fred proudly. “Best range of love 
+potions you’ll find anywhere.” 
+Ginny raised an eyebrow skeptically. “Do they work?” 
+she asked. 
+“Certainly they work, for up to twenty-four hours at a 
+time depending on the weight of the boy in question 
+—” 
+“— and the attractiveness of the girl,” said George, 
+reappearing suddenly at their side. “But we’re not 
+selling them to our sister,” he added, becoming 
+suddenly stern, “not when she’s already got about five 
+boys on the go from what we’ve —” 
+“Whatever you’ve heard from Ron is a big fat lie,” said 
+Ginny calmly, leaning forward to take a small pink 
+pot off the shelf. “What’s this?” 
+“Guaranteed ten-second pimple vanisher,” said Fred. 
+“Excellent on everything from boils to blackheads, but 
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+don’t change the subject. Are you or are you not 
+currently going out with a boy called Dean Thomas?” 
+“Yes, I am,” said Ginny. “And last time I looked, he 
+was definitely one boy, not five. What are those?” 
+She was pointing at a number of round balls of fluff 
+in shades of pink and purple, all rolling around the 
+bottom of a cage and emitting high-pitched squeaks. 
+“Pygmy Puffs,” said George. “Miniature puffskeins, we 
+can’t breed them fast enough. So what about Michael 
+Corner?” 
+“I dumped him, he was a bad loser,” said Ginny, 
+putting a finger through the bars of the cage and 
+watching the Pygmy Puffs crowd around it. “They’re 
+really cute!” 
+“They’re fairly cuddly, yes,” conceded Fred. “But 
+you’re moving through boyfriends a bit fast, aren’t 
+you?” 
+Ginny turned to look at him, her hands on her hips. 
+There was such a Mrs. Weasley-ish glare on her face 
+that Harry was surprised Fred didn’t recoil. 
+“It’s none of your business. And I’ll thank you,” she 
+added angrily to Ron, who had just appeared at 
+George’s elbow, laden with merchandise, “not to tell 
+tales about me to these two!” 
+“That’s three Galleons, nine Sickles, and a Knut,” said 
+Fred, examining the many boxes in Ron’s arms. 
+“Cough up.” 
+“I’m your brother!” 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+“And that’s our stuff you’re nicking. Three Galleons, 
+nine Sickles. I’ll knock off the Knut.” 
+“But I haven’t got three Galleons, nine Sickles!” 
+“You’d better put it back then, and mind you put it on 
+the right shelves.” 
+Ron dropped several boxes, swore, and made a rude 
+hand gesture at Fred that was unfortunately spotted 
+by Mrs. Weasley, who had chosen that moment to 
+appear. 
+“If I see you do that again I’ll jinx your fingers 
+together,” she said sharply. 
+“Mum, can I have a Pygmy Puff?” said Ginny at once. 
+“A what?” said Mrs. Weasley warily. 
+“Look, they’re so sweet. …” 
+Mrs. Weasley moved aside to look at the Pygmy Puffs, 
+and Harry, Ron, and Hermione momentarily had an 
+unimpeded view out of the window. Draco Malfoy was 
+hurrying up the street alone. As he passed Weasleys’ 
+Wizard Wheezes, he glanced over his shoulder. 
+Seconds later, he moved beyond the scope of the 
+window and they lost sight of him. 
+“Wonder where his mummy is?” said Harry, frowning. 
+“Given her the slip by the looks of it,” said Ron. 
+“Why, though?” said Hermione. 
+Harry said nothing; he was thinking too hard. 
+Narcissa Malfoy would not have let her precious son 
+out of her sight willingly; Malfoy must have made a 
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+real effort to free himself from her clutches. Harry, 
+knowing and loathing Malfoy, was sure the reason 
+could not be innocent. 
+He glanced around. Mrs. Weasley and Ginny were 
+bending over the Pygmy Puffs. Mr. Weasley was 
+delightedly examining a pack of Muggle marked 
+playing cards. Fred and George were both helping 
+customers. On the other side of the glass, Hagrid was 
+standing with his back to them, looking up and down 
+the street. 
+“Get under here, quick,” said Harry, pulling his 
+Invisibility Cloak out of his bag. 
+“Oh — I don’t know, Harry,” said Hermione, looking 
+uncertainly toward Mrs. Weasley. 
+“Come on!” said Ron. 
+She hesitated for a second longer, then ducked under 
+the cloak with Harry and Ron. Nobody noticed them 
+vanish; they were all too interested in Fred and 
+George’s products. Harry, Ron, and Hermione 
+squeezed their way out of the door as quickly as they 
+could, but by the time they gained the street, Malfoy 
+had disappeared just as successfully as they had. 
+“He was going in that direction,” murmured Harry as 
+quietly as possible, so that the humming Hagrid 
+would not hear them. “C’mon.” 
+They scurried along, peering left and right, through 
+shop windows and doors, until Hermione pointed 
+ahead. 
+“That’s him, isn’t it?” she whispered. “Turning left?” 
+“Big surprise,” whispered Ron. 
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+For Malfoy had glanced around, then slid into 
+Knockturn Alley and out of sight. 
+“Quick, or we’ll lose him,” said Harry, speeding up. 
+“Our feet’ll be seen!” said Hermione anxiously, as the 
+cloak flapped a little around their ankles; it was much 
+more difficult hiding all three of them under the cloak 
+nowadays. 
+“It doesn’t matter,” said Harry impatiently. “Just 
+hurry!” 
+But Knockturn Alley, the side street devoted to the 
+Dark Arts, looked completely deserted. They peered 
+into windows as they passed, but none of the shops 
+seemed to have any customers at all. Harry supposed 
+it was a bit of a giveaway in these dangerous and 
+suspicious times to buy Dark artifacts — or at least, 
+to be seen buying them. 
+Hermione gave his arm a hard pinch. 
+“Ouch!” 
+“Shh! Look! He’s in there!” she breathed in Harry’s 
+ear. 
+They had drawn level with the only shop in 
+Knockturn Alley that Harry had ever visited, Borgin 
+and Burkes, which sold a wide variety of sinister 
+objects. There in the midst of the cases full of skulls 
+and old bottles stood Draco Malfoy with his back to 
+them, just visible beyond the very same large black 
+cabinet in which Harry had once hidden to avoid 
+Malfoy and his father. Judging by the movements of 
+Malfoy’s hands, he was talking animatedly. The 
+proprietor of the shop, Mr. Borgin, an oily-haired, 
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+stooping man, stood facing Malfoy. He was wearing a 
+curious expression of mingled resentment and fear. 
+“If only we could hear what they’re saying!” said 
+Hermione. 
+“We can!” said Ron excitedly. “Hang on — damn —” 
+He dropped a couple more of the boxes he was still 
+clutching as he fumbled with the largest. 
+“Extendable Ears, look!” 
+“Fantastic!” said Hermione, as Ron unraveled the 
+long, fleshcolored strings and began to feed them 
+toward the bottom of the door. “Oh, I hope the door 
+isn’t Imperturbable —” 
+“No!” said Ron gleefully. “Listen!” 
+They put their heads together and listened intently to 
+the ends of the strings, through which Malfoy’s voice 
+could be heard loud and clear, as though a radio had 
+been turned on. 
+“… you know how to fix it?” 
+“Possibly,” said Borgin, in a tone that suggested he 
+was unwilling to commit himself. “I’ll need to see it, 
+though. Why don’t you bring it into the shop?” 
+“I can’t,” said Malfoy. “It’s got to stay put. I just need 
+you to tell me how to do it.” 
+Harry saw Borgin lick his lips nervously. 
+“Well, without seeing it, I must say it will be a very 
+difficult job, perhaps impossible. I couldn’t guarantee 
+anything.” 
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+“No?” said Malfoy, and Harry knew, just by his tone, 
+that Malfoy was sneering. “Perhaps this will make you 
+more confident.” 
+He moved toward Borgin and was blocked from view 
+by the cabinet. Harry, Ron, and Hermione shuffled 
+sideways to try and keep him in sight, but all they 
+could see was Borgin, looking very frightened. 
+“Tell anyone,” said Malfoy, “and there will be 
+retribution. You know Fenrir Greyback? He’s a family 
+friend. He’ll be dropping in from time to time to make 
+sure you’re giving the problem your full attention.” 
+“There will be no need for —” 
+“I’ll decide that,” said Malfoy. “Well, I’d better be off. 
+And don’t forget to keep that one safe, I’ll need it.” 
+“Perhaps you’d like to take it now?” 
+“No, of course I wouldn’t, you stupid little man, how 
+would I look carrying that down the street? Just don’t 
+sell it.” 
+“Of course not … sir.” 
+Borgin made a bow as deep as the one Harry had 
+once seen him give Lucius Malfoy. 
+“Not a word to anyone, Borgin, and that includes my 
+mother, understand?” 
+“Naturally, naturally,” murmured Borgin, bowing 
+again. 
+Next moment, the bell over the door tinkled loudly as 
+Malfoy stalked out of the shop looking very pleased 
+with himself. He passed so close to Harry, Ron, and 
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+Hermione that they felt the cloak flutter around their 
+knees again. Inside the shop, Borgin remained frozen; 
+his unctuous smile had vanished; he looked worried. 
+“What was that about?” whispered Ron, reeling in the 
+Extendable Ears. 
+“Dunno,” said Harry, thinking hard. “He wants 
+something mended … and he wants to reserve 
+something in there. … Could you see what he pointed 
+at when he said ‘that one’?” 
+“No, he was behind that cabinet —” 
+“You two stay here,” whispered Hermione. 
+“What are you — ?” 
+But Hermione had already ducked out from under the 
+cloak. She checked her hair in the reflection in the 
+glass, then marched into the shop, setting the bell 
+tinkling again. Ron hastily fed the Extendable Ears 
+back under the door and passed one of the strings to 
+Harry. 
+“Hello, horrible morning, isn’t it?” Hermione said 
+brightly to Borgin, who did not answer, but cast her a 
+suspicious look. Humming cheerily, Hermione strolled 
+through the jumble of objects on display. 
+“Is this necklace for sale?” she asked, pausing beside 
+a glass-fronted case. 
+“If you’ve got one and a half thousand Galleons,” said 
+Mr. Borgin coldly. 
+“Oh — er — no, I haven’t got quite that much,” said 
+Hermione, walking on. “And … what about this lovely 
+— um — skull?” 
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+“Sixteen Galleons.” 
+“So it’s for sale, then? It isn’t being … kept for 
+anyone?” 
+Mr. Borgin squinted at her. Harry had the nasty 
+feeling he knew exactly what Hermione was up to. 
+Apparently Hermione felt she had been rumbled too 
+because she suddenly threw caution to the winds. 
+“The thing is, that — er — boy who was in here just 
+now, Draco Malfoy, well, he’s a friend of mine, and I 
+want to get him a birthday present, but if he’s already 
+reserved anything, I obviously don’t want to get him 
+the same thing, so … um …” 
+It was a pretty lame story in Harry’s opinion, and 
+apparently Borgin thought so too. 
+“Out,” he said sharply. “Get out!” 
+Hermione did not wait to be asked twice, but hurried 
+to the door with Borgin at her heels. As the bell 
+tinkled again, Borgin slammed the door behind her 
+and put up the closed sign. 
+“Ah well,” said Ron, throwing the cloak back over 
+Hermione. “Worth a try, but you were a bit obvious —
+” 
+“Well, next time you can show me how it’s done, 
+Master of Mystery!” she snapped. 
+Ron and Hermione bickered all the way back to 
+Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, where they were forced to 
+stop so that they could dodge undetected around a 
+very anxious-looking Mrs. Weasley and Hagrid, who 
+had clearly noticed their absence. Once in the shop, 
+Harry whipped off the Invisibility Cloak, hid it in his 
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+bag, and joined in with the other two when they 
+insisted, in answer to Mrs. Weasley’s accusations, 
+that they had been in the back room all along, and 
+that she could not have looked properly. 
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+ 
+ 
+THE SLUG CLUB 
+Harry spent a lot of the last week of the holidays 
+pondering the meaning of Malfoy’s behavior in 
+Knockturn Alley. What disturbed him most was the 
+satisfied look on Malfoy’s face as he had left the shop. 
+Nothing that made Malfoy look that happy could be 
+good news. To his slight annoyance, however, neither 
+Ron nor Hermione seemed quite as curious about 
+Malfoy’s activities as he was; or at least, they seemed 
+to get bored of discussing it after a few days. 
+“Yes, I’ve already agreed it was fishy, Harry,” said 
+Hermione a little impatiently. She was sitting on the 
+windowsill in Fred and George’s room with her feet up 
+on one of the cardboard boxes and had only 
+grudgingly looked up from her new copy of Advanced 
+Rune Translation. “But haven’t we agreed there could 
+be a lot of explanations?” 
+“Maybe he’s broken his Hand of Glory,” said Ron 
+vaguely, as he attempted to straighten his 
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+broomstick’s bent tail twigs. “Remember that 
+shriveled-up arm Malfoy had?” 
+“But what about when he said, ‘Don’t forget to keep 
+that one safe’?” asked Harry for the umpteenth time. 
+“That sounded to me like Borgin’s got another one of 
+the broken objects, and Malfoy wants both.” 
+“You reckon?” said Ron, now trying to scrape some 
+dirt off his broom handle. 
+“Yeah, I do,” said Harry. When neither Ron nor 
+Hermione answered, he said, “Malfoy’s father’s in 
+Azkaban. Don’t you think Malfoy’d like revenge?” 
+Ron looked up, blinking. 
+“Malfoy, revenge? What can he do about it?” 
+“That’s my point, I don’t know!” said Harry, 
+frustrated. “But he’s up to something and I think we 
+should take it seriously. His father’s a Death Eater 
+and —” 
+Harry broke off, his eyes fixed on the window behind 
+Hermione, his mouth open. A startling thought had 
+just occurred to him. 
+“Harry?” said Hermione in an anxious voice. “What’s 
+wrong?” 
+“Your scar’s not hurting again, is it?” asked Ron 
+nervously. 
+“He’s a Death Eater,” said Harry slowly. “He’s 
+replaced his father as a Death Eater!” 
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+There was a silence; then Ron erupted in laughter. 
+“Malfoy? He’s sixteen, Harry! You think You-Know-
+Who would let Malfoy join?” 
+“It seems very unlikely, Harry,” said Hermione in a 
+repressive sort of voice. “What makes you think — ?” 
+“In Madam Malkin’s. She didn’t touch him, but he 
+yelled and jerked his arm away from her when she 
+went to roll up his sleeve. It was his left arm. He’s 
+been branded with the Dark Mark.” 
+Ron and Hermione looked at each other. 
+“Well …” said Ron, sounding thoroughly unconvinced. 
+“I think he just wanted to get out of there, Harry,” 
+said Hermione. 
+“He showed Borgin something we couldn’t see,” Harry 
+pressed on stubbornly. “Something that seriously 
+scared Borgin. It was the Mark, I know it — he was 
+showing Borgin who he was dealing with, you saw 
+how seriously Borgin took him!” 
+Ron and Hermione exchanged another look. 
+“I’m not sure, Harry. …” 
+“Yeah, I still don’t reckon You-Know-Who would let 
+Malfoy join. …” 
+Annoyed, but absolutely convinced he was right, 
+Harry snatched up a pile of filthy Quidditch robes and 
+left the room; Mrs. Weasley had been urging them for 
+days not to leave their washing and packing until the 
+last moment. On the landing he bumped into Ginny, 
+who was returning to her room carrying a pile of 
+freshly laundered clothes. 
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+“I wouldn’t go in the kitchen just now,” she warned 
+him. “There’s a lot of Phlegm around.” 
+“I’ll be careful not to slip in it.” Harry smiled. 
+Sure enough, when he entered the kitchen it was to 
+find Fleur sitting at the kitchen table, in full flow 
+about plans for her wedding to Bill, while Mrs. 
+Weasley kept watch over a pile of self-peeling sprouts, 
+looking bad-tempered. 
+“… Bill and I ’ave almost decided on only two 
+bridesmaids, Ginny and Gabrielle will look very sweet 
+togezzer. I am theenking of dressing zem in pale gold 
+— pink would of course be ’orrible with Ginny’s ’air —
+” 
+“Ah, Harry!” said Mrs. Weasley loudly, cutting across 
+Fleur’s monologue. “Good, I wanted to explain about 
+the security arrangements for the journey to 
+Hogwarts tomorrow. We’ve got Ministry cars again, 
+and there will be Aurors waiting at the station —” 
+“Is Tonks going to be there?” asked Harry, handing 
+over his Quidditch things. 
+“No, I don’t think so, she’s been stationed somewhere 
+else from what Arthur said.” 
+“She has let ’erself go, zat Tonks,” Fleur mused, 
+examining her own stunning reflection in the back of 
+a teaspoon. “A big mistake if you ask —” 
+“Yes, thank you,” said Mrs. Weasley tartly, cutting 
+across Fleur again. “You’d better get on, Harry, I want 
+the trunks ready tonight, if possible, so we don’t have 
+the usual last-minute scramble.” 
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+And in fact, their departure the following morning was 
+smoother than usual. The Ministry cars glided up to 
+the front of the Burrow to find them waiting, trunks 
+packed; Hermione’s cat, Crookshanks, safely enclosed 
+in his traveling basket; and Hedwig; Ron’s owl, 
+Pigwidgeon; and Ginny’s new purple Pygmy Puff, 
+Arnold, in cages. 
+“Au revoir, ’Arry,” said Fleur throatily, kissing him 
+good-bye. Ron hurried forward, looking hopeful, but 
+Ginny stuck out her foot and Ron fell, sprawling in 
+the dust at Fleur’s feet. Furious, red-faced, and dirt-
+spattered, he hurried into the car without saying 
+good-bye. 
+There was no cheerful Hagrid waiting for them at 
+King’s Cross Station. Instead, two grim-faced, 
+bearded Aurors in dark Muggle suits moved forward 
+the moment the cars stopped and, flanking the party, 
+marched them into the station without speaking. 
+“Quick, quick, through the barrier,” said Mrs. 
+Weasley, who seemed a little flustered by this austere 
+efficiency. “Harry had better go first, with —” 
+She looked inquiringly at one of the Aurors, who 
+nodded briefly, seized Harry’s upper arm, and 
+attempted to steer him toward the barrier between 
+platforms nine and ten. 
+“I can walk, thanks,” said Harry irritably, jerking his 
+arm out of the Auror’s grip. He pushed his trolley 
+directly at the solid barrier, ignoring his silent 
+companion, and found himself, a second later, 
+standing on platform nine and three-quarters, where 
+the scarlet Hogwarts Express stood belching steam 
+over the crowd. 
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+Hermione and the Weasleys joined him within 
+seconds. Without waiting to consult his grim-faced 
+Auror, Harry motioned to Ron and Hermione to follow 
+him up the platform, looking for an empty 
+compartment. 
+“We can’t, Harry,” said Hermione, looking apologetic. 
+“Ron and I’ve got to go to the prefects’ carriage first 
+and then patrol the corridors for a bit.” 
+“Oh yeah, I forgot,” said Harry. 
+“You’d better get straight on the train, all of you, 
+you’ve only got a few minutes to go,” said Mrs. 
+Weasley, consulting her watch. “Well, have a lovely 
+term, Ron. …” 
+“Mr. Weasley, can I have a quick word?” said Harry, 
+making up his mind on the spur of the moment. 
+“Of course,” said Mr. Weasley, who looked slightly 
+surprised, but followed Harry out of earshot of the 
+others nevertheless. 
+Harry had thought it through carefully and come to 
+the conclusion that, if he was to tell anyone, Mr. 
+Weasley was the right person; firstly, because he 
+worked at the Ministry and was therefore in the best 
+position to make further investigations, and secondly, 
+because he thought that there was not too much risk 
+of Mr. Weasley exploding with anger. 
+He could see Mrs. Weasley and the grim-faced Auror 
+casting the pair of them suspicious looks as they 
+moved away. 
+“When we were in Diagon Alley,” Harry began, but Mr. 
+Weasley forestalled him with a grimace. 
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+“Am I about to discover where you, Ron, and 
+Hermione disappeared to while you were supposed to 
+be in the back room of Fred and George’s shop?” 
+“How did you — ?” 
+“Harry, please. You’re talking to the man who raised 
+Fred and George.” 
+“Er … yeah, all right, we weren’t in the back room.” 
+“Very well, then, let’s hear the worst.” 
+“Well, we followed Draco Malfoy. We used my 
+Invisibility Cloak.” 
+“Did you have any particular reason for doing so, or 
+was it a mere whim?” 
+“Because I thought Malfoy was up to something,” said 
+Harry, disregarding Mr. Weasley’s look of mingled 
+exasperation and amusement. “He’d given his mother 
+the slip and I wanted to know why.” 
+“Of course you did,” said Mr. Weasley, sounding 
+resigned. “Well? Did you find out why?” 
+“He went into Borgin and Burkes,” said Harry, “and 
+started bullying the bloke in there, Borgin, to help 
+him fix something. And he said he wanted Borgin to 
+keep something else for him. He made it sound like it 
+was the same kind of thing that needed fixing. Like 
+they were a pair. And …” 
+Harry took a deep breath. 
+“There’s something else. We saw Malfoy jump about a 
+mile when Madam Malkin tried to touch his left arm. I 
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+think he’s been branded with the Dark Mark. I think 
+he’s replaced his father as a Death Eater.” 
+Mr. Weasley looked taken aback. After a moment he 
+said, “Harry, I doubt whether You-Know-Who would 
+allow a sixteen-year-old —” 
+“Does anyone really know what You-Know-Who would 
+or wouldn’t do?” asked Harry angrily. “Mr. Weasley, 
+I’m sorry, but isn’t it worth investigating? If Malfoy 
+wants something fixing, and he needs to threaten 
+Borgin to get it done, it’s probably something Dark or 
+dangerous, isn’t it?” 
+“I doubt it, to be honest, Harry,” said Mr. Weasley 
+slowly. “You see, when Lucius Malfoy was arrested, 
+we raided his house. We took away everything that 
+might have been dangerous.” 
+“I think you missed something,” said Harry 
+stubbornly. 
+“Well, maybe,” said Mr. Weasley, but Harry could tell 
+that Mr. Weasley was humoring him. 
+There was a whistle behind them; nearly everyone 
+had boarded the train and the doors were closing. 
+“You’d better hurry,” said Mr. Weasley, as Mrs. 
+Weasley cried, “Harry, quickly!” 
+He hurried forward and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley helped 
+him load his trunk onto the train. 
+“Now, dear, you’re coming to us for Christmas, it’s all 
+fixed with Dumbledore, so we’ll see you quite soon,” 
+said Mrs. Weasley through the window, as Harry 
+slammed the door shut behind him and the train 
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+began to move. “You make sure you look after 
+yourself and —” 
+The train was gathering speed. 
+“— be good and —” 
+She was jogging to keep up now. 
+“— stay safe!” 
+Harry waved until the train had turned a corner and 
+Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were lost to view, then turned 
+to see where the others had got to. He supposed Ron 
+and Hermione were cloistered in the prefects’ 
+carriage, but Ginny was a little way along the 
+corridor, chatting to some friends. He made his way 
+toward her, dragging his trunk. 
+People stared shamelessly as he approached. They 
+even pressed their faces against the windows of their 
+compartments to get a look at him. He had expected 
+an upswing in the amount of gaping and gawping he 
+would have to endure this term after all the “Chosen 
+One” rumors in the Daily Prophet, but he did not 
+enjoy the sensation of standing in a very bright 
+spotlight. He tapped Ginny on the shoulder. 
+“Fancy trying to find a compartment?” 
+“I can’t, Harry, I said I’d meet Dean,” said Ginny 
+brightly. “See you later.” 
+“Right,” said Harry. He felt a strange twinge of 
+annoyance as she walked away, her long red hair 
+dancing behind her; he had become so used to her 
+presence over the summer that he had almost 
+forgotten that Ginny did not hang around with him, 
+Ron, and Hermione while at school. Then he blinked 
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+and looked around: He was surrounded by 
+mesmerized girls. 
+“Hi, Harry!” said a familiar voice from behind him. 
+“Neville!” said Harry in relief, turning to see a round-
+faced boy struggling toward him. 
+“Hello, Harry,” said a girl with long hair and large 
+misty eyes, who was just behind Neville. 
+“Luna, hi, how are you?” 
+“Very well, thank you,” said Luna. She was clutching 
+a magazine to her chest; large letters on the front 
+announced that there was a pair of free Spectrespecs 
+inside. 
+“Quibbler still going strong, then?” asked Harry, who 
+felt a certain fondness for the magazine, having given 
+it an exclusive interview the previous year. 
+“Oh yes, circulation’s well up,” said Luna happily. 
+“Let’s find seats,” said Harry, and the three of them 
+set off along the train through hordes of silently 
+staring students. At last they found an empty 
+compartment, and Harry hurried inside gratefully. 
+“They’re even staring at us!” said Neville, indicating 
+himself and Luna. “Because we’re with you!” 
+“They’re staring at you because you were at the 
+Ministry too,” said Harry, as he hoisted his trunk into 
+the luggage rack. “Our little adventure there was all 
+over the Daily Prophet, you must’ve seen it.” 
+“Yes, I thought Gran would be angry about all the 
+publicity,” said Neville, “but she was really pleased. 
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+Says I’m starting to live up to my dad at long last. She 
+bought me a new wand, look!” 
+He pulled it out and showed it to Harry. 
+“Cherry and unicorn hair,” he said proudly. “We think 
+it was one of the last Ollivander ever sold, he 
+vanished next day — oi, come back here, Trevor!” 
+And he dived under the seat to retrieve his toad as it 
+made one of its frequent bids for freedom. 
+“Are we still doing D.A. meetings this year, Harry?” 
+asked Luna, who was detaching a pair of psychedelic 
+spectacles from the middle of The Quibbler. 
+“No point now we’ve got rid of Umbridge, is there?” 
+said Harry, sitting down. Neville bumped his head 
+against the seat as he emerged from under it. He 
+looked most disappointed. 
+“I liked the D.A.! I learned loads with you!” 
+“I enjoyed the meetings too,” said Luna serenely. “It 
+was like having friends.” 
+This was one of those uncomfortable things Luna 
+often said and which made Harry feel a squirming 
+mixture of pity and embarrassment. Before he could 
+respond, however, there was a disturbance outside 
+their compartment door; a group of fourth-year girls 
+was whispering and giggling together on the other 
+side of the glass. 
+“You ask him!” 
+“No, you!” 
+“I’ll do it!” 
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+And one of them, a bold-looking girl with large dark 
+eyes, a prominent chin, and long black hair pushed 
+her way through the door. 
+“Hi, Harry, I’m Romilda, Romilda Vane,” she said 
+loudly and confidently. “Why don’t you join us in our 
+compartment? You don’t have to sit with them,” she 
+added in a stage whisper, indicating Neville’s bottom, 
+which was sticking out from under the seat again as 
+he groped around for Trevor, and Luna, who was now 
+wearing her free Spectrespecs, which gave her the 
+look of a demented, multicolored owl. 
+“They’re friends of mine,” said Harry coldly. 
+“Oh,” said the girl, looking very surprised. “Oh. 
+Okay.” 
+And she withdrew, sliding the door closed behind her. 
+“People expect you to have cooler friends than us,” 
+said Luna, once again displaying her knack for 
+embarrassing honesty. 
+“You are cool,” said Harry shortly. “None of them was 
+at the Ministry. They didn’t fight with me.” 
+“That’s a very nice thing to say,” beamed Luna. Then 
+she pushed her Spectrespecs farther up her nose and 
+settled down to read The Quibbler. 
+“We didn’t face him, though,” said Neville, emerging 
+from under the seat with fluff and dust in his hair 
+and a resigned-looking Trevor in his hand. “You did. 
+You should hear my gran talk about you. ‘That Harry 
+Potter’s got more backbone than the whole Ministry of 
+Magic put together!’ She’d give anything to have you 
+as a grandson. …” 
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+Harry laughed uncomfortably and changed the 
+subject to O.W.L. results as soon as he could. While 
+Neville recited his grades and wondered aloud 
+whether he would be allowed to take a 
+Transfiguration N.E.W.T. with only an “Acceptable,” 
+Harry watched him without really listening. 
+Neville’s childhood had been blighted by Voldemort 
+just as much as Harry’s had, but Neville had no idea 
+how close he had come to having Harry’s destiny. The 
+prophecy could have referred to either of them, yet, 
+for his own inscrutable reasons, Voldemort had 
+chosen to believe that Harry was the one meant. 
+Had Voldemort chosen Neville, it would be Neville 
+sitting opposite Harry bearing the lightning-shaped 
+scar and the weight of the prophecy. … Or would it? 
+Would Neville’s mother have died to save him, as Lily 
+had died for Harry? Surely she would. … But what if 
+she had been unable to stand between her son and 
+Voldemort? Would there then have been no “Chosen 
+One” at all? An empty seat where Neville now sat and 
+a scarless Harry who would have been kissed good-
+bye by his own mother, not Ron’s? 
+“You all right, Harry? You look funny,” said Neville. 
+Harry started. “Sorry — I —” 
+“Wrackspurt got you?” asked Luna sympathetically, 
+peering at Harry through her enormous colored 
+spectacles. 
+“I — what?” 
+“A Wrackspurt … They’re invisible. They float in 
+through your ears and make your brain go fuzzy,” she 
+said. “I thought I felt one zooming around in here.” 
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+She flapped her hands at thin air, as though beating 
+off large invisible moths. Harry and Neville caught 
+each other’s eyes and hastily began to talk of 
+Quidditch. 
+The weather beyond the train windows was as patchy 
+as it had been all summer; they passed through 
+stretches of the chilling mist, then out into weak, 
+clear sunlight. It was during one of the clear spells, 
+when the sun was visible almost directly overhead, 
+that Ron and Hermione entered the compartment at 
+last. 
+“Wish the lunch trolley would hurry up, I’m starving,” 
+said Ron longingly, slumping into the seat beside 
+Harry and rubbing his stomach. “Hi, Neville. Hi, 
+Luna. Guess what?” he added, turning to Harry. 
+“Malfoy’s not doing prefect duty. He’s just sitting in 
+his compartment with the other Slytherins, we saw 
+him when we passed.” 
+Harry sat up straight, interested. It was not like 
+Malfoy to pass up the chance to demonstrate his 
+power as prefect, which he had happily abused all the 
+previous year. 
+“What did he do when he saw you?” 
+“The usual,” said Ron indifferently, demonstrating a 
+rude hand gesture. “Not like him, though, is it? Well 
+— that is” — he did the hand gesture again — “but 
+why isn’t he out there bullying first years? 
+“Dunno,” said Harry, but his mind was racing. Didn’t 
+this look as though Malfoy had more important things 
+on his mind than bullying younger students? 
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+“Maybe he preferred the Inquisitorial Squad,” said 
+Hermione. “Maybe being a prefect seems a bit tame 
+after that.” 
+“I don’t think so,” said Harry. “I think he’s —” 
+But before he could expound on his theory, the 
+compartment door slid open again and a breathless 
+third-year girl stepped inside. 
+“I’m supposed to deliver these to Neville Longbottom 
+and Harry P-Potter,” she faltered, as her eyes met 
+Harry’s and she turned scarlet. She was holding out 
+two scrolls of parchment tied with violet ribbon. 
+Perplexed, Harry and Neville took the scroll addressed 
+to each of them and the girl stumbled back out of the 
+compartment. 
+“What is it?” Ron demanded, as Harry unrolled his. 
+“An invitation,” said Harry. 
+Harry, 
+I would be delighted if you would join me for a bite of 
+lunch in compartment C. 
+Sincerely, 
+Professor H. E. F. Slughorn 
+“Who’s Professor Slughorn?” asked Neville, looking 
+perplexedly at his own invitation. 
+“New teacher,” said Harry. “Well, I suppose we’ll have 
+to go, won’t we?” 
+“But what does he want me for?” asked Neville 
+nervously, as though he was expecting detention. 
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+“No idea,” said Harry, which was not entirely true, 
+though he had no proof yet that his hunch was 
+correct. “Listen,” he added, seized by a sudden brain 
+wave, “let’s go under the Invisibility Cloak, then we 
+might get a good look at Malfoy on the way, see what 
+he’s up to.” 
+This idea, however, came to nothing: The corridors, 
+which were packed with people on the lookout for the 
+lunch trolley, were impossible to negotiate while 
+wearing the cloak. Harry stowed it regretfully back in 
+his bag, reflecting that it would have been nice to 
+wear it just to avoid all the staring, which seemed to 
+have increased in intensity even since he had last 
+walked down the train. Every now and then, students 
+would hurtle out of their compartments to get a better 
+look at him. The exception was Cho Chang, who 
+darted into her compartment when she saw Harry 
+coming. As Harry passed the window, he saw her 
+deep in determined conversation with her friend 
+Marietta, who was wearing a very thick layer of 
+makeup that did not entirely obscure the odd 
+formation of pimples still etched across her face. 
+Smirking slightly, Harry pushed on. 
+When they reached compartment C, they saw at once 
+that they were not Slughorn’s only invitees, although 
+judging by the enthusiasm of Slughorn’s welcome, 
+Harry was the most warmly anticipated. 
+“Harry, m’boy!” said Slughorn, jumping up at the 
+sight of him so that his great velvet-covered belly 
+seemed to fill all the remaining space in the 
+compartment. His shiny bald head and great silvery 
+mustache gleamed as brightly in the sunlight as the 
+golden buttons on his waistcoat. “Good to see you, 
+good to see you! And you must be Mr. Longbottom!” 
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+Neville nodded, looking scared. At a gesture from 
+Slughorn, they sat down opposite each other in the 
+only two empty seats, which were nearest the door. 
+Harry glanced around at their fellow guests. He 
+recognized a Slytherin from their year, a tall black boy 
+with high cheekbones and long, slanting eyes; there 
+were also two seventh-year boys Harry did not know 
+and, squashed in the corner beside Slughorn and 
+looking as though she was not entirely sure how she 
+had got there, Ginny. 
+“Now, do you know everyone?” Slughorn asked Harry 
+and Neville. “Blaise Zabini is in your year, of course —
+” 
+Zabini did not make any sign of recognition or 
+greeting, nor did Harry or Neville: Gryffindor and 
+Slytherin students loathed each other on principle. 
+“This is Cormac McLaggen, perhaps you’ve come 
+across each other — ? No?” 
+McLaggen, a large, wiry-haired youth, raised a hand, 
+and Harry and Neville nodded back at him. 
+“— and this is Marcus Belby, I don’t know whether — 
+?” 
+Belby, who was thin and nervous-looking, gave a 
+strained smile. 
+“— and this charming young lady tells me she knows 
+you!” Slughorn finished. 
+Ginny grimaced at Harry and Neville from behind 
+Slughorn’s back. 
+“Well now, this is most pleasant,” said Slughorn 
+cozily. “A chance to get to know you all a little better. 
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+Here, take a napkin. I’ve packed my own lunch; the 
+trolley, as I remember it, is heavy on licorice wands, 
+and a poor old man’s digestive system isn’t quite up 
+to such things. … Pheasant, Belby?” 
+Belby started and accepted what looked like half a 
+cold pheasant. 
+“I was just telling young Marcus here that I had the 
+pleasure of teaching his Uncle Damocles,” Slughorn 
+told Harry and Neville, now passing around a basket 
+of rolls. “Outstanding wizard, outstanding, and his 
+Order of Merlin most well-deserved. Do you see much 
+of your uncle, Marcus?” 
+Unfortunately, Belby had just taken a large mouthful 
+of pheasant; in his haste to answer Slughorn he 
+swallowed too fast, turned purple, and began to 
+choke. 
+“Anapneo,” said Slughorn calmly, pointing his wand 
+at Belby, whose airway seemed to clear at once. 
+“Not … not much of him, no,” gasped Belby, his eyes 
+streaming. 
+“Well, of course, I daresay he’s busy,” said Slughorn, 
+looking questioningly at Belby. “I doubt he invented 
+the Wolfsbane Potion without considerable hard 
+work!” 
+“I suppose …” said Belby, who seemed afraid to take 
+another bite of pheasant until he was sure that 
+Slughorn had finished with him. “Er … he and my 
+dad don’t get on very well, you see, so I don’t really 
+know much about …” 
+His voice tailed away as Slughorn gave him a cold 
+smile and turned to McLaggen instead. 
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+“Now, you, Cormac,” said Slughorn, “I happen to 
+know you see a lot of your Uncle Tiberius, because he 
+has a rather splendid picture of the two of you 
+hunting nogtails in, I think, Norfolk?” 
+“Oh, yeah, that was fun, that was,” said McLaggen. 
+“We went with Bertie Higgs and Rufus Scrimgeour — 
+this was before he became Minister, obviously —” 
+“Ah, you know Bertie and Rufus too?” beamed 
+Slughorn, now offering around a small tray of pies; 
+somehow, Belby was missed out. “Now tell me …” 
+It was as Harry had suspected. Everyone here seemed 
+to have been invited because they were connected to 
+somebody well-known or influential — everyone 
+except Ginny. Zabini, who was interrogated after 
+McLaggen, turned out to have a famously beautiful 
+witch for a mother (from what Harry could make out, 
+she had been married seven times, each of her 
+husbands dying mysteriously and leaving her mounds 
+of gold). It was Neville’s turn next: This was a very 
+uncomfortable ten minutes, for Neville’s parents, well-
+known Aurors, had been tortured into insanity by 
+Bellatrix Lestrange and a couple of Death Eater 
+cronies. At the end of Neville’s interview, Harry had 
+the impression that Slughorn was reserving judgment 
+on Neville, yet to see whether he had any of his 
+parents’ flair. 
+“And now,” said Slughorn, shifting massively in his 
+seat with the air of a compere introducing his star 
+act. “Harry Potter! Where to begin? I feel I barely 
+scratched the surface when we met over the summer!” 
+He contemplated Harry for a moment as though he 
+was a particularly large and succulent piece of 
+pheasant, then said, “ ‘The Chosen One,’ they’re 
+calling you now!” 
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+Harry said nothing. Belby, McLaggen, and Zabini 
+were all staring at him. 
+“Of course,” said Slughorn, watching Harry closely, 
+“there have been rumors for years. … I remember 
+when — well — after that terrible night — Lily — 
+James — and you survived — and the word was that 
+you must have powers beyond the ordinary —” 
+Zabini gave a tiny little cough that was clearly 
+supposed to indicate amused skepticism. An angry 
+voice burst out from behind Slughorn. 
+“Yeah, Zabini, because you’re so talented … at posing. 
+…” 
+“Oh dear!” chuckled Slughorn comfortably, looking 
+around at Ginny, who was glaring at Zabini around 
+Slughorn’s great belly. “You want to be careful, Blaise! 
+I saw this young lady perform the most marvelous 
+Bat-Bogey Hex as I was passing her carriage! I 
+wouldn’t cross her!” 
+Zabini merely looked contemptuous. 
+“Anyway,” said Slughorn, turning back to Harry. 
+“Such rumors this summer. Of course, one doesn’t 
+know what to believe, the Prophet has been known to 
+print inaccuracies, make mistakes — but there seems 
+little doubt, given the number of witnesses, that there 
+was quite a disturbance at the Ministry and that you 
+were there in the thick of it all!” 
+Harry, who could not see any way out of this without 
+flatly lying, nodded but still said nothing. Slughorn 
+beamed at him. 
+“So modest, so modest, no wonder Dumbledore is so 
+fond — you were there, then? But the rest of the 
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+stories — so sensational, of course, one doesn’t know 
+quite what to believe — this fabled prophecy, for 
+instance —” 
+“We never heard a prophecy,” said Neville, turning 
+geranium pink as he said it. 
+“That’s right,” said Ginny staunchly. “Neville and I 
+were both there too, and all this ‘Chosen One’ rubbish 
+is just the Prophet making things up as usual.” 
+“You were both there too, were you?” said Slughorn 
+with great interest, looking from Ginny to Neville, but 
+both of them sat clamlike before his encouraging 
+smile. 
+“Yes … well … it is true that the Prophet often 
+exaggerates, of course. …” Slughorn said, sounding a 
+little disappointed. “I remember dear Gwenog telling 
+me (Gwenog Jones, I mean, of course, Captain of the 
+Holyhead Harpies) —” 
+He meandered off into a long-winded reminiscence, 
+but Harry had the distinct impression that Slughorn 
+had not finished with him, and that he had not been 
+convinced by Neville and Ginny. 
+The afternoon wore on with more anecdotes about 
+illustrious wizards Slughorn had taught, all of whom 
+had been delighted to join what he called the “Slug 
+Club” at Hogwarts. Harry could not wait to leave, but 
+couldn’t see how to do so politely. Finally the train 
+emerged from yet another long misty stretch into a 
+red sunset, and Slughorn looked around, blinking in 
+the twilight. 
+“Good gracious, it’s getting dark already! I didn’t 
+notice that they’d lit the lamps! You’d better go and 
+change into your robes, all of you. McLaggen, you 
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+must drop by and borrow that book on nogtails. 
+Harry, Blaise — any time you’re passing. Same goes 
+for you, miss,” he twinkled at Ginny. “Well, off you go, 
+off you go!” 
+As he pushed past Harry into the darkening corridor, 
+Zabini shot him a filthy look that Harry returned with 
+interest. He, Ginny, and Neville followed Zabini back 
+along the train. 
+“I’m glad that’s over,” muttered Neville. “Strange man, 
+isn’t he?” 
+“Yeah, he is a bit,” said Harry, his eyes on Zabini. 
+“How come you ended up in there, Ginny?” 
+“He saw me hex Zacharias Smith,” said Ginny. “You 
+remember that idiot from Hufflepuff who was in the 
+D.A.? He kept on and on asking about what happened 
+at the Ministry and in the end he annoyed me so 
+much I hexed him — when Slughorn came in I 
+thought I was going to get detention, but he just 
+thought it was a really good hex and invited me to 
+lunch! Mad, eh?” 
+“Better reason for inviting someone than because 
+their mother’s famous,” said Harry, scowling at the 
+back of Zabini’s head, “or because their uncle —” 
+But he broke off. An idea had just occurred to him, a 
+reckless but potentially wonderful idea. … In a 
+minute’s time, Zabini was going to reenter the 
+Slytherin sixth-year compartment and Malfoy would 
+be sitting there, thinking himself unheard by anybody 
+except fellow Slytherins. … If Harry could only enter, 
+unseen, behind him, what might he not see or hear? 
+True, there was little of the journey left — Hogsmeade 
+Station had to be less than half an hour away, 
+judging by the wildness of the scenery flashing by the 
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+windows — but nobody else seemed prepared to take 
+Harry’s suspicions seriously, so it was down to him to 
+prove them. 
+“I’ll see you two later,” said Harry under his breath, 
+pulling out his Invisibility Cloak and flinging it over 
+himself. 
+“But what’re you — ?” asked Neville. 
+“Later!” whispered Harry, darting after Zabini as 
+quietly as possible, though the rattling of the train 
+made such caution almost pointless. 
+The corridors were almost completely empty now. 
+Nearly everyone had returned to their carriages to 
+change into their school robes and pack up their 
+possessions. Though he was as close as he could get 
+to Zabini without touching him, Harry was not quick 
+enough to slip into the compartment when Zabini 
+opened the door. Zabini was already sliding it shut 
+when Harry hastily stuck out his foot to prevent it 
+closing. 
+“What’s wrong with this thing?” said Zabini angrily as 
+he smashed the sliding door repeatedly into Harry’s 
+foot. 
+Harry seized the door and pushed it open, hard; 
+Zabini, still clinging on to the handle, toppled over 
+sideways into Gregory Goyle’s lap, and in the ensuing 
+ruckus, Harry darted into the compartment, leapt 
+onto Zabini’s temporarily empty seat, and hoisted 
+himself up into the luggage rack. It was fortunate that 
+Goyle and Zabini were snarling at each other, drawing 
+all eyes onto them, for Harry was quite sure his feet 
+and ankles had been revealed as the cloak had 
+flapped around them; indeed, for one horrible 
+moment he thought he saw Malfoy’s eyes follow his 
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+trainer as it whipped upward out of sight. But then 
+Goyle slammed the door shut and flung Zabini off 
+him; Zabini collapsed into his own seat looking 
+ruffled, Vincent Crabbe returned to his comic, and 
+Malfoy, sniggering, lay back down across two seats 
+with his head in Pansy Parkinson’s lap. Harry lay 
+curled uncomfortably under the cloak to ensure that 
+every inch of him remained hidden, and watched 
+Pansy stroke the sleek blond hair off Malfoy’s 
+forehead, smirking as she did so, as though anyone 
+would have loved to have been in her place. The 
+lanterns swinging from the carriage ceiling cast a 
+bright light over the scene: Harry could read every 
+word of Crabbe’s comic directly below him. 
+“So, Zabini,” said Malfoy, “what did Slughorn want?” 
+“Just trying to make up to well-connected people,” 
+said Zabini, who was still glowering at Goyle. “Not 
+that he managed to find many.” 
+This information did not seem to please Malfoy. 
+“Who else had he invited?” he demanded. 
+“McLaggen from Gryffindor,” said Zabini. 
+“Oh yeah, his uncle’s big in the Ministry,” said 
+Malfoy. 
+“— someone else called Belby, from Ravenclaw —” 
+“Not him, he’s a prat!” said Pansy. 
+“— and Longbottom, Potter, and that Weasley girl,” 
+finished Zabini. 
+Malfoy sat up very suddenly, knocking Pansy’s hand 
+aside. 
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+“He invited Longbottom?” 
+“Well, I assume so, as Longbottom was there,” said 
+Zabini indifferently. 
+“What’s Longbottom got to interest Slughorn?” 
+Zabini shrugged. 
+“Potter, precious Potter, obviously he wanted a look at 
+‘the Chosen One,’ ” sneered Malfoy, “but that Weasley 
+girl! What’s so special about her?” 
+“A lot of boys like her,” said Pansy, watching Malfoy 
+out of the corner of her eyes for his reaction. “Even 
+you think she’s good-looking, don’t you, Blaise, and 
+we all know how hard you are to please!” 
+“I wouldn’t touch a filthy little blood traitor like her 
+whatever she looked like,” said Zabini coldly, and 
+Pansy looked pleased. Malfoy sank back across her 
+lap and allowed her to resume the stroking of his 
+hair. 
+“Well, I pity Slughorn’s taste. Maybe he’s going a bit 
+senile. Shame, my father always said he was a good 
+wizard in his day. My father used to be a bit of a 
+favorite of his. Slughorn probably hasn’t heard I’m on 
+the train, or —” 
+“I wouldn’t bank on an invitation,” said Zabini. “He 
+asked me about Nott’s father when I first arrived. 
+They used to be old friends, apparently, but when he 
+heard he’d been caught at the Ministry he didn’t look 
+happy, and Nott didn’t get an invitation, did he? I 
+don’t think Slughorn’s interested in Death Eaters.” 
+Malfoy looked angry, but forced out a singularly 
+humorless laugh. 
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+“Well, who cares what he’s interested in? What is he, 
+when you come down to it? Just some stupid 
+teacher.” Malfoy yawned ostentatiously. “I mean, I 
+might not even be at Hogwarts next year, what’s it 
+matter to me if some fat old has-been likes me or 
+not?” 
+“What do you mean, you might not be at Hogwarts 
+next year?” said Pansy indignantly, ceasing grooming 
+Malfoy at once. 
+“Well, you never know,” said Malfoy with the ghost of 
+a smirk. “I might have — er — moved on to bigger and 
+better things.” 
+Crouched in the luggage rack under his cloak, Harry’s 
+heart began to race. What would Ron and Hermione 
+say about this? Crabbe and Goyle were gawping at 
+Malfoy; apparently they had had no inkling of any 
+plans to move on to bigger and better things. Even 
+Zabini had allowed a look of curiosity to mar his 
+haughty features. Pansy resumed the slow stroking of 
+Malfoy’s hair, looking dumbfounded. 
+“Do you mean — Him?” 
+Malfoy shrugged. 
+“Mother wants me to complete my education, but 
+personally, I don’t see it as that important these days. 
+I mean, think about it. … When the Dark Lord takes 
+over, is he going to care how many O.W.L.s or 
+N.E.W.T.s anyone’s got? Of course he isn’t. … It’ll be 
+all about the kind of service he received, the level of 
+devotion he was shown.” 
+“And you think you’ll be able to do something for 
+him?” asked Zabini scathingly. “Sixteen years old and 
+not even fully qualified yet?” 
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+“I’ve just said, haven’t I? Maybe he doesn’t care if I’m 
+qualified. Maybe the job he wants me to do isn’t 
+something that you need to be qualified for,” said 
+Malfoy quietly. 
+Crabbe and Goyle were both sitting with their mouths 
+open like gargoyles. Pansy was gazing down at Malfoy 
+as though she had never seen anything so awe-
+inspiring. 
+“I can see Hogwarts,” said Malfoy, clearly relishing the 
+effect he had created as he pointed out of the 
+blackened window. “We’d better get our robes on.” 
+Harry was so busy staring at Malfoy, he did not notice 
+Goyle reaching up for his trunk; as he swung it down, 
+it hit Harry hard on the side of the head. He let out an 
+involuntary gasp of pain, and Malfoy looked up at the 
+luggage rack, frowning. 
+Harry was not afraid of Malfoy, but he still did not 
+much like the idea of being discovered hiding under 
+his Invisibility Cloak by a group of unfriendly 
+Slytherins. Eyes still watering and head still 
+throbbing, he drew his wand, careful not to 
+disarrange the cloak, and waited, breath held. To his 
+relief, Malfoy seemed to decide that he had imagined 
+the noise; he pulled on his robes like the others, 
+locked his trunk, and as the train slowed to a jerky 
+crawl, fastened a thick new traveling cloak round his 
+neck. 
+Harry could see the corridors filling up again and 
+hoped that Hermione and Ron would take his things 
+out onto the platform for him; he was stuck where he 
+was until the compartment had quite emptied. At last, 
+with a final lurch, the train came to a complete halt. 
+Goyle threw the door open and muscled his way out 
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+into a crowd of second years, punching them aside; 
+Crabbe and Zabini followed. 
+“You go on,” Malfoy told Pansy, who was waiting for 
+him with her hand held out as though hoping he 
+would hold it. “I just want to check something.” 
+Pansy left. Now Harry and Malfoy were alone in the 
+compartment. People were filing past, descending 
+onto the dark platform. Malfoy moved over to the 
+compartment door and let down the blinds, so that 
+people in the corridor beyond could not peer in. He 
+then bent down over his trunk and opened it again. 
+Harry peered down over the edge of the luggage rack, 
+his heart pumping a little faster. What had Malfoy 
+wanted to hide from Pansy? Was he about to see the 
+mysterious broken object it was so important to 
+mend? 
+“Petrificus Totalus!” 
+Without warning, Malfoy pointed his wand at Harry, 
+who was instantly paralyzed. As though in slow 
+motion, he toppled out of the luggage rack and fell, 
+with an agonizing, floor-shaking crash, at Malfoy’s 
+feet, the Invisibility Cloak trapped beneath him, his 
+whole body revealed with his legs still curled absurdly 
+into the cramped kneeling position. He couldn’t move 
+a muscle; he could only gaze up at Malfoy, who 
+smiled broadly. 
+“I thought so,” he said jubilantly. “I heard Goyle’s 
+trunk hit you. And I thought I saw something white 
+flash through the air after Zabini came back. …” 
+His eyes lingered for a moment upon Harry’s trainers. 
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+“You didn’t hear anything I care about, Potter. But 
+while I’ve got you here …” 
+And he stamped, hard, on Harry’s face. Harry felt his 
+nose break; blood spurted everywhere. 
+“That’s from my father. Now, let’s see. …” 
+Malfoy dragged the cloak out from under Harry’s 
+immobilized body and threw it over him. 
+“I don’t reckon they’ll find you till the train’s back in 
+London,” he said quietly. “See you around, Potter … 
+or not.” 
+And taking care to tread on Harry’s fingers, Malfoy 
+left the compartment. 
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+ 
+ 
+SNAPE VICTORIOUS 
+Harry could not move a muscle. He lay there beneath 
+the Invisibility Cloak feeling the blood from his nose 
+flow, hot and wet, over his face, listening to the voices 
+and footsteps in the corridor beyond. His immediate 
+thought was that someone, surely, would check the 
+compartments before the train departed again. But at 
+once came the dispiriting realization that even if 
+somebody looked into the compartment, he would be 
+neither seen nor heard. His best hope was that 
+somebody else would walk in and step on him. 
+Harry had never hated Malfoy more than as he lay 
+there, like an absurd turtle on its back, blood 
+dripping sickeningly into his open mouth. What a 
+stupid situation to have landed himself in … and now 
+the last few footsteps were dying away; everyone was 
+shuffling along the dark platform outside; he could 
+hear the scraping of trunks and the loud babble of 
+talk. 
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+Ron and Hermione would think that he had left the 
+train without them. Once they arrived at Hogwarts 
+and took their places in the Great Hall, looked up and 
+down the Gryffindor table a few times, and finally 
+realized that he was not there, he, no doubt, would be 
+halfway back to London. 
+He tried to make a sound, even a grunt, but it was 
+impossible. Then he remembered that some wizards, 
+like Dumbledore, could perform spells without 
+speaking, so he tried to summon his wand, which had 
+fallen out of his hand, by saying the words “Accio 
+Wand!” over and over again in his head, but nothing 
+happened. 
+He thought he could hear the rustling of the trees 
+that surrounded the lake, and the far-off hoot of an 
+owl, but no hint of a search being made or even (he 
+despised himself slightly for hoping it) panicked 
+voices wondering where Harry Potter had gone. A 
+feeling of hopelessness spread through him as he 
+imagined the convoy of thestral-drawn carriages 
+trundling up to the school and the muffled yells of 
+laughter issuing from whichever carriage Malfoy was 
+riding in, where he could be recounting his attack on 
+Harry to Crabbe, Goyle, Zabini, and Pansy Parkinson. 
+The train lurched, causing Harry to roll over onto his 
+side. Now he was staring at the dusty underside of 
+the seats instead of the ceiling. The floor began to 
+vibrate as the engine roared into life. The Express was 
+leaving and nobody knew he was still on it. … 
+Then he felt his Invisibility Cloak fly off him and a 
+voice overhead said, “Wotcher, Harry.” 
+There was a flash of red light and Harry’s body 
+unfroze; he was able to push himself into a more 
+dignified sitting position, hastily wipe the blood off his 
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+bruised face with the back of his hand, and raise his 
+head to look up at Tonks, who was holding the 
+Invisibility Cloak she had just pulled away. 
+“We’d better get out of here, quickly,” she said, as the 
+train windows became obscured with steam and they 
+began to move out of the station. “Come on, we’ll 
+jump.” 
+Harry hurried after her into the corridor. She pulled 
+open the train door and leapt onto the platform, 
+which seemed to be sliding underneath them as the 
+train gathered momentum. He followed her, staggered 
+a little on landing, then straightened up in time to see 
+the gleaming scarlet steam engine pick up speed, 
+round the corner, and disappear from view. 
+The cold night air was soothing on his throbbing 
+nose. Tonks was looking at him; he felt angry and 
+embarrassed that he had been discovered in such a 
+ridiculous position. Silently she handed him back the 
+Invisibility Cloak. 
+“Who did it?” 
+“Draco Malfoy,” said Harry bitterly. “Thanks for … 
+well …” 
+“No problem,” said Tonks, without smiling. From 
+what Harry could see in the darkness, she was as 
+mousy-haired and miserable-looking as she had been 
+when he had met her at the Burrow. “I can fix your 
+nose if you stand still.” 
+Harry did not think much of this idea; he had been 
+intending to visit Madam Pomfrey, the matron, in 
+whom he had a little more confidence when it came to 
+Healing Spells, but it seemed rude to say this, so he 
+stayed stock-still and closed his eyes. 
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+“Episkey,” said Tonks. 
+Harry’s nose felt very hot, and then very cold. He 
+raised a hand and felt it gingerly. It seemed to be 
+mended. 
+“Thanks a lot!” 
+“You’d better put that cloak back on, and we can walk 
+up to the school,” said Tonks, still unsmiling. As 
+Harry swung the cloak back over himself, she waved 
+her wand; an immense silvery four-legged creature 
+erupted from it and streaked off into the darkness. 
+“Was that a Patronus?” asked Harry, who had seen 
+Dumbledore send messages like this. 
+“Yes, I’m sending word to the castle that I’ve got you 
+or they’ll worry. Come on, we’d better not dawdle.” 
+They set off toward the lane that led to the school. 
+“How did you find me?” 
+“I noticed you hadn’t left the train and I knew you 
+had that cloak. I thought you might be hiding for 
+some reason. When I saw the blinds were drawn 
+down on that compartment I thought I’d check.” 
+“But what are you doing here, anyway?” Harry asked. 
+“I’m stationed in Hogsmeade now, to give the school 
+extra protection,” said Tonks. 
+“Is it just you who’s stationed up here, or — ?” 
+“No, Proudfoot, Savage, and Dawlish are here too.” 
+“Dawlish, that Auror Dumbledore attacked last year?” 
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+“That’s right.” 
+They trudged up the dark, deserted lane, following the 
+freshly made carriage tracks. Harry looked sideways 
+at Tonks under his cloak. Last year she had been 
+inquisitive (to the point of being a little annoying at 
+times), she had laughed easily, she had made jokes. 
+Now she seemed older and much more serious and 
+purposeful. Was this all the effect of what had 
+happened at the Ministry? He reflected uncomfortably 
+that Hermione would have suggested he say 
+something consoling about Sirius to her, that it 
+hadn’t been her fault at all, but he couldn’t bring 
+himself to do it. He was far from blaming her for 
+Sirius’s death; it was no more her fault than anyone 
+else’s (and much less than his), but he did not like 
+talking about Sirius if he could avoid it. And so they 
+tramped on through the cold night in silence, Tonks’s 
+long cloak whispering on the ground behind them. 
+Having always traveled there by carriage, Harry had 
+never before appreciated just how far Hogwarts was 
+from Hogsmeade Station. With great relief he finally 
+saw the tall pillars on either side of the gates, each 
+topped with a winged boar. He was cold, he was 
+hungry, and he was quite keen to leave this new, 
+gloomy Tonks behind. But when he put out a hand to 
+push open the gates, he found them chained shut. 
+“Alohomora!” he said confidently, pointing his wand at 
+the padlock, but nothing happened. 
+“That won’t work on these,” said Tonks. “Dumbledore 
+bewitched them himself.” 
+Harry looked around. 
+“I could climb a wall,” he suggested. 
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+“No, you couldn’t,” said Tonks flatly. “Anti-intruder 
+jinxes on all of them. Security’s been tightened a 
+hundredfold this summer.” 
+“Well then,” said Harry, starting to feel annoyed at her 
+lack of helpfulness, “I suppose I’ll just have to sleep 
+out here and wait for morning.” 
+“Someone’s coming down for you,” said Tonks. “Look.” 
+A lantern was bobbing at the distant foot of the 
+castle. Harry was so pleased to see it he felt he could 
+even endure Filch’s wheezy criticisms of his tardiness 
+and rants about how his timekeeping would improve 
+with the regular application of thumbscrews. It was 
+not until the glowing yellow light was ten feet away 
+from them, and Harry had pulled off his Invisibility 
+Cloak so that he could be seen, that he recognized, 
+with a rush of pure loathing, the uplit hooked nose 
+and long, black, greasy hair of Severus Snape. 
+“Well, well, well,” sneered Snape, taking out his wand 
+and tapping the padlock once, so that the chains 
+snaked backward and the gates creaked open. “Nice 
+of you to turn up, Potter, although you have evidently 
+decided that the wearing of school robes would 
+detract from your appearance.” 
+“I couldn’t change, I didn’t have my —” Harry began, 
+but Snape cut across him. 
+“There is no need to wait, Nymphadora, Potter is quite 
+— ah — safe in my hands.” 
+“I meant Hagrid to get the message,” said Tonks, 
+frowning. 
+“Hagrid was late for the start-of-term feast, just like 
+Potter here, so I took it instead. And incidentally,” 
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+said Snape, standing back to allow Harry to pass him, 
+“I was interested to see your new Patronus.” 
+He shut the gates in her face with a loud clang and 
+tapped the chains with his wand again, so that they 
+slithered, clinking, back into place. 
+“I think you were better off with the old one,” said 
+Snape, the malice in his voice unmistakable. “The 
+new one looks weak.” 
+As Snape swung the lantern about, Harry saw, 
+fleetingly, a look of shock and anger on Tonks’s face. 
+Then she was covered in darkness once more. 
+“Good night,” Harry called to her over his shoulder, as 
+he began the walk up to the school with Snape. 
+“Thanks for … everything.” 
+“See you, Harry.” 
+Snape did not speak for a minute or so. Harry felt as 
+though his body was generating waves of hatred so 
+powerful that it seemed incredible that Snape could 
+not feel them burning him. He had loathed Snape 
+from their first encounter, but Snape had placed 
+himself forever and irrevocably beyond the possibility 
+of Harry’s forgiveness by his attitude toward Sirius. 
+Whatever Dumbledore said, Harry had had time to 
+think over the summer, and had concluded that 
+Snape’s snide remarks to Sirius about remaining 
+safely hidden while the rest of the Order of the 
+Phoenix were off fighting Voldemort had probably 
+been a powerful factor in Sirius rushing off to the 
+Ministry the night that he had died. Harry clung to 
+this notion, because it enabled him to blame Snape, 
+which felt satisfying, and also because he knew that if 
+anyone was not sorry that Sirius was dead, it was the 
+man now striding next to him in the darkness. 
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+“Fifty points from Gryffindor for lateness, I think,” 
+said Snape. “And, let me see, another twenty for your 
+Muggle attire. You know, I don’t believe any House 
+has ever been in negative figures this early in the 
+term: We haven’t even started pudding. You might 
+have set a record, Potter.” 
+The fury and hatred bubbling inside Harry seemed to 
+blaze white-hot, but he would rather have been 
+immobilized all the way back to London than tell 
+Snape why he was late. 
+“I suppose you wanted to make an entrance, did 
+you?” Snape continued. “And with no flying car 
+available you decided that bursting into the Great 
+Hall halfway through the feast ought to create a 
+dramatic effect.” 
+Still Harry remained silent, though he thought his 
+chest might explode. He knew that Snape had come 
+to fetch him for this, for the few minutes when he 
+could needle and torment Harry without anyone else 
+listening. 
+They reached the castle steps at last and as the great 
+oaken front doors swung open into the vast flagged 
+entrance hall, a burst of talk and laughter and of 
+tinkling plates and glasses greeted them through the 
+doors standing open into the Great Hall. Harry 
+wondered whether he could slip his Invisibility Cloak 
+back on, thereby gaining his seat at the long 
+Gryffindor table (which, inconveniently, was the 
+farthest from the entrance hall) without being noticed. 
+As though he had read Harry’s mind, however, Snape 
+said, “No cloak. You can walk in so that everyone sees 
+you, which is what you wanted, I’m sure.” 
+Harry turned on the spot and marched straight 
+through the open doors: anything to get away from 
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+Snape. The Great Hall, with its four long House tables 
+and its staff table set at the top of the room, was 
+decorated as usual with floating candles that made 
+the plates below glitter and glow. It was all a 
+shimmering blur to Harry, however, who walked so 
+fast that he was passing the Hufflepuff table before 
+people really started to stare, and by the time they 
+were standing up to get a good look at him, he had 
+spotted Ron and Hermione, sped along the benches 
+toward them, and forced his way in between them. 
+“Where’ve you — blimey, what’ve you done to your 
+face?” said Ron, goggling at him along with everyone 
+else in the vicinity. 
+“Why, what’s wrong with it?” said Harry, grabbing a 
+spoon and squinting at his distorted reflection. 
+“You’re covered in blood!” said Hermione. “Come here 
+—” 
+She raised her wand, said “Tergeo!” and siphoned off 
+the dried blood. 
+“Thanks,” said Harry, feeling his now clean face. 
+“How’s my nose looking?” 
+“Normal,” said Hermione anxiously. “Why shouldn’t 
+it? Harry, what happened? We’ve been terrified!” 
+“I’ll tell you later,” said Harry curtly. He was very 
+conscious that Ginny, Neville, Dean, and Seamus 
+were listening in; even Nearly Headless Nick, the 
+Gryffindor ghost, had come floating along the bench 
+to eavesdrop. 
+“But —” said Hermione. 
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+“Not now, Hermione,” said Harry, in a darkly 
+significant voice. He hoped very much that they would 
+all assume he had been involved in something heroic, 
+preferably involving a couple of Death Eaters and a 
+dementor. Of course, Malfoy would spread the story 
+as far and wide as he could, but there was always a 
+chance it wouldn’t reach too many Gryffindor ears. 
+He reached across Ron for a couple of chicken legs 
+and a handful of chips, but before he could take them 
+they vanished, to be replaced with puddings. 
+“You missed the Sorting, anyway,” said Hermione, as 
+Ron dived for a large chocolate gateau. 
+“Hat say anything interesting?” asked Harry, taking a 
+piece of treacle tart. 
+“More of the same, really … advising us all to unite in 
+the face of our enemies, you know.” 
+“Dumbledore mentioned Voldemort at all?” 
+“Not yet, but he always saves his proper speech for 
+after the feast, doesn’t he? It can’t be long now.” 
+“Snape said Hagrid was late for the feast —” 
+“You’ve seen Snape? How come?” said Ron between 
+frenzied mouthfuls of gateau. 
+“Bumped into him,” said Harry evasively. 
+“Hagrid was only a few minutes late,” said Hermione. 
+“Look, he’s waving at you, Harry.” 
+Harry looked up at the staff table and grinned at 
+Hagrid, who was indeed waving at him. Hagrid had 
+never quite managed to comport himself with the 
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+dignity of Professor McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor 
+House, the top of whose head came up to somewhere 
+between Hagrid’s elbow and shoulder as they were 
+sitting side by side, and who was looking 
+disapprovingly at this enthusiastic greeting. Harry 
+was surprised to see the Divination teacher, Professor 
+Trelawney, sitting on Hagrid’s other side; she rarely 
+left her tower room, and he had never seen her at the 
+start-of-term feast before. She looked as odd as ever, 
+glittering with beads and trailing shawls, her eyes 
+magnified to enormous size by her spectacles. Having 
+always considered her a bit of a fraud, Harry had 
+been shocked to discover at the end of the previous 
+term that it had been she who had made the 
+prediction that caused Lord Voldemort to kill Harry’s 
+parents and attack Harry himself. The knowledge had 
+made him even less eager to find himself in her 
+company, but thankfully, this year he would be 
+dropping Divination. Her great beaconlike eyes 
+swiveled in his direction; he hastily looked away 
+toward the Slytherin table. Draco Malfoy was miming 
+the shattering of a nose to raucous laughter and 
+applause. Harry dropped his gaze to his treacle tart, 
+his insides burning again. What he would not give to 
+fight Malfoy one-on-one … 
+“So what did Professor Slughorn want?” Hermione 
+asked. 
+“To know what really happened at the Ministry,” said 
+Harry. 
+“Him and everyone else here,” sniffed Hermione. 
+“People were interrogating us about it on the train, 
+weren’t they, Ron?” 
+“Yeah,” said Ron. “All wanting to know if you really 
+are ‘the Chosen One’ —” 
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+“There has been much talk on that very subject even 
+amongst the ghosts,” interrupted Nearly Headless 
+Nick, inclining his barely connected head toward 
+Harry so that it wobbled dangerously on its ruff. “I am 
+considered something of a Potter authority; it is 
+widely known that we are friendly. I have assured the 
+spirit community that I will not pester you for 
+information, however. ‘Harry Potter knows that he 
+can confide in me with complete confidence,’ I told 
+them. ‘I would rather die than betray his trust.’ ” 
+“That’s not saying much, seeing as you’re already 
+dead,” Ron observed. 
+“Once again, you show all the sensitivity of a blunt 
+axe,” said Nearly Headless Nick in affronted tones, 
+and he rose into the air and glided back toward the 
+far end of the Gryffindor table just as Dumbledore got 
+to his feet at the staff table. The talk and laughter 
+echoing around the Hall died away almost instantly. 
+“The very best of evenings to you!” he said, smiling 
+broadly, his arms opened wide as though to embrace 
+the whole room. 
+“What happened to his hand?” gasped Hermione. 
+She was not the only one who had noticed. 
+Dumbledore’s right hand was as blackened and dead-
+looking as it had been on the night he had come to 
+fetch Harry from the Dursleys. Whispers swept the 
+room; Dumbledore, interpreting them correctly, 
+merely smiled and shook his purple-and-gold sleeve 
+over his injury. 
+“Nothing to worry about,” he said airily. “Now … to 
+our new students, welcome, to our old students, 
+welcome back! Another year full of magical education 
+awaits you …” 
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+“His hand was like that when I saw him over the 
+summer,” Harry whispered to Hermione. “I thought 
+he’d have cured it by now, though … or Madam 
+Pomfrey would’ve done.” 
+“It looks as if it’s died,” said Hermione, with a 
+nauseated expression. “But there are some injuries 
+you can’t cure … old curses … and there are poisons 
+without antidotes. …” 
+“… and Mr. Filch, our caretaker, has asked me to say 
+that there is a blanket ban on any joke items bought 
+at the shop called Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. 
+“Those wishing to play for their House Quidditch 
+teams should give their names to their Heads of 
+House as usual. We are also looking for new 
+Quidditch commentators, who should do likewise. 
+“We are pleased to welcome a new member of staff 
+this year. Professor Slughorn” — Slughorn stood up, 
+his bald head gleaming in the candlelight, his big 
+waistcoated belly casting the table below into shadow 
+— “is a former colleague of mine who has agreed to 
+resume his old post of Potions master.” 
+“Potions?” 
+“Potions?” 
+The word echoed all over the Hall as people wondered 
+whether they had heard right. 
+“Potions?” said Ron and Hermione together, turning 
+to stare at Harry. “But you said —” 
+“Professor Snape, meanwhile,” said Dumbledore, 
+raising his voice so that it carried over all the 
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+muttering, “will be taking over the position of Defense 
+Against the Dark Arts teacher.” 
+“No!” said Harry, so loudly that many heads turned in 
+his direction. He did not care; he was staring up at 
+the staff table, incensed. How could Snape be given 
+the Defense Against the Dark Arts job after all this 
+time? Hadn’t it been widely known for years that 
+Dumbledore did not trust him to do it? 
+“But Harry, you said that Slughorn was going to be 
+teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts!” said 
+Hermione. 
+“I thought he was!” said Harry, racking his brains to 
+remember when Dumbledore had told him this, but 
+now that he came to think of it, he was unable to 
+recall Dumbledore ever telling him what Slughorn 
+would be teaching. 
+Snape, who was sitting on Dumbledore’s right, did 
+not stand up at the mention of his name; he merely 
+raised a hand in lazy acknowledgment of the applause 
+from the Slytherin table, yet Harry was sure he could 
+detect a look of triumph on the features he loathed so 
+much. 
+“Well, there’s one good thing,” he said savagely. 
+“Snape’ll be gone by the end of the year.” 
+“What do you mean?” asked Ron. 
+“That job’s jinxed. No one’s lasted more than a year. 
+… Quirrell actually died doing it. … Personally, I’m 
+going to keep my fingers crossed for another death. 
+…” 
+“Harry!” said Hermione, shocked and reproachful. 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+“He might just go back to teaching Potions at the end 
+of the year,” said Ron reasonably. “That Slughorn 
+bloke might not want to stay long-term. Moody 
+didn’t.” 
+Dumbledore cleared his throat. Harry, Ron, and 
+Hermione were not the only ones who had been 
+talking; the whole Hall had erupted in a buzz of 
+conversation at the news that Snape had finally 
+achieved his heart’s desire. Seemingly oblivious to the 
+sensational nature of the news he had just imparted, 
+Dumbledore said nothing more about staff 
+appointments, but waited a few seconds to ensure 
+that the silence was absolute before continuing. 
+“Now, as everybody in this Hall knows, Lord 
+Voldemort and his followers are once more at large 
+and gaining in strength.” 
+The silence seemed to tauten and strain as 
+Dumbledore spoke. Harry glanced at Malfoy. Malfoy 
+was not looking at Dumbledore, but making his fork 
+hover in midair with his wand, as though he found 
+the headmaster’s words unworthy of his attention. 
+“I cannot emphasize strongly enough how dangerous 
+the present situation is, and how much care each of 
+us at Hogwarts must take to ensure that we remain 
+safe. The castle’s magical fortifications have been 
+strengthened over the summer, we are protected in 
+new and more powerful ways, but we must still guard 
+scrupulously against carelessness on the part of any 
+student or member of staff. I urge you, therefore, to 
+abide by any security restrictions that your teachers 
+might impose upon you, however irksome you might 
+find them — in particular, the rule that you are not to 
+be out of bed after hours. I implore you, should you 
+notice anything strange or suspicious within or 
+outside the castle, to report it to a member of staff 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+immediately. I trust you to conduct yourselves, 
+always, with the utmost regard for your own and 
+others’ safety.” 
+Dumbledore’s blue eyes swept over the students 
+before he smiled once more. 
+“But now, your beds await, as warm and comfortable 
+as you could possibly wish, and I know that your top 
+priority is to be well-rested for your lessons tomorrow. 
+Let us therefore say good night. Pip pip!” 
+With the usual deafening scraping noise, the benches 
+were moved back and the hundreds of students began 
+to file out of the Great Hall toward their dormitories. 
+Harry, who was in no hurry at all to leave with the 
+gawping crowd, nor to get near enough to Malfoy to 
+allow him to retell the story of the nose-stamping, 
+lagged behind, pretending to retie the lace on his 
+trainer, allowing most of the Gryffindors to draw 
+ahead of him. Hermione had darted ahead to fulfill 
+her prefect’s duty of shepherding the first years, but 
+Ron remained with Harry. 
+“What really happened to your nose?” he asked, once 
+they were at the very back of the throng pressing out 
+of the Hall, and out of earshot of anyone else. 
+Harry told him. It was a mark of the strength of their 
+friendship that Ron did not laugh. 
+“I saw Malfoy miming something to do with a nose,” 
+he said darkly. 
+“Yeah, well, never mind that,” said Harry bitterly. 
+“Listen to what he was saying before he found out I 
+was there. …” 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+Harry had expected Ron to be stunned by Malfoy’s 
+boasts. With what Harry considered pure 
+pigheadedness, however, Ron was unimpressed. 
+“Come on, Harry, he was just showing off for 
+Parkinson. … What kind of mission would You-Know-
+Who have given him?” 
+“How d’you know Voldemort doesn’t need someone at 
+Hogwarts? It wouldn’t be the first —” 
+“I wish yeh’d stop sayin’ tha’ name, Harry,” said a 
+reproachful voice behind them. Harry looked over his 
+shoulder to see Hagrid shaking his head. 
+“Dumbledore uses that name,” said Harry stubbornly. 
+“Yeah, well, tha’s Dumbledore, innit?” said Hagrid 
+mysteriously. “So how come yeh were late, Harry? I 
+was worried.” 
+“Got held up on the train,” said Harry. “Why were you 
+late?” 
+“I was with Grawp,” said Hagrid happily. “Los’ track o’ 
+the time. He’s got a new home up in the mountains 
+now, Dumbledore fixed it — nice big cave. He’s much 
+happier than he was in the forest. We were havin’ a 
+good chat.” 
+“Really?” said Harry, taking care not to catch Ron’s 
+eye; the last time he had met Hagrid’s half-brother, a 
+vicious giant with a talent for ripping up trees by the 
+roots, his vocabulary had comprised five words, two of 
+which he was unable to pronounce properly. 
+“Oh yeah, he’s really come on,” said Hagrid proudly. 
+“Yeh’ll be amazed. I’m thinkin’ o’ trainin’ him up as 
+me assistant.” 
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+Ron snorted loudly, but managed to pass it off as a 
+violent sneeze. They were now standing beside the 
+oak front doors. 
+“Anyway, I’ll see yeh tomorrow, firs’ lesson’s straight 
+after lunch. Come early an’ yeh can say hello ter Buck 
+— I mean, Witherwings!” 
+Raising an arm in cheery farewell, he headed out of 
+the front doors into the darkness. 
+Harry and Ron looked at each other. Harry could tell 
+that Ron was experiencing the same sinking feeling as 
+himself. 
+“You’re not taking Care of Magical Creatures, are 
+you?” 
+Ron shook his head. “And you’re not either, are you?” 
+Harry shook his head too. 
+“And Hermione,” said Ron, “she’s not, is she?” 
+Harry shook his head again. Exactly what Hagrid 
+would say when he realized his three favorite 
+students had given up his subject, he did not like to 
+think. 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+ 
+ 
+THE HALF-BLOOD PRINCE 
+Harry and Ron met Hermione in the common room 
+before breakfast next morning. Hoping for some 
+support for his theory, Harry lost no time in telling 
+Hermione what he had overheard Malfoy saying on 
+the Hogwarts Express. 
+“But he was obviously showing off for Parkinson, 
+wasn’t he?” interjected Ron quickly, before Hermione 
+could say anything. 
+“Well,” she said uncertainly, “I don’t know. … It would 
+be like Malfoy to make himself seem more important 
+than he is … but that’s a big lie to tell. …” 
+“Exactly,” said Harry, but he could not press the 
+point, because so many people were trying to listen in 
+to his conversation, not to mention staring at him and 
+whispering behind their hands. 
+“It’s rude to point,” Ron snapped at a particularly 
+minuscule first-year boy as they joined the queue to 
+climb out of the portrait hole. The boy, who had been 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+muttering something about Harry behind his hand to 
+his friend, promptly turned scarlet and toppled out of 
+the hole in alarm. Ron sniggered. 
+“I love being a sixth year. And we’re going to be 
+getting free time this year. Whole periods when we 
+can just sit up here and relax.” 
+“We’re going to need that time for studying, Ron!” said 
+Hermione, as they set off down the corridor. 
+“Yeah, but not today,” said Ron. “Today’s going to be 
+a real doss, I reckon.” 
+“Hold it!” said Hermione, throwing out an arm and 
+halting a passing fourth year, who was attempting to 
+push past her with a lime-green disk clutched tightly 
+in his hand. “Fanged Frisbees are banned, hand it 
+over,” she told him sternly. The scowling boy handed 
+over the snarling Frisbee, ducked under her arm, and 
+took off after his friends. Ron waited for him to 
+vanish, then tugged the Frisbee from Hermione’s grip. 
+“Excellent, I’ve always wanted one of these.” 
+Hermione’s remonstration was drowned by a loud 
+giggle; Lavender Brown had apparently found Ron’s 
+remark highly amusing. She continued to laugh as 
+she passed them, glancing back at Ron over her 
+shoulder. Ron looked rather pleased with himself. 
+The ceiling of the Great Hall was serenely blue and 
+streaked with frail, wispy clouds, just like the squares 
+of sky visible through the high mullioned windows. 
+While they tucked into porridge and eggs and bacon, 
+Harry and Ron told Hermione about their 
+embarrassing conversation with Hagrid the previous 
+evening. 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+“But he can’t really think we’d continue Care of 
+Magical Creatures!” she said, looking distressed. “I 
+mean, when has any of us expressed … you know … 
+any enthusiasm?” 
+“That’s it, though, innit?” said Ron, swallowing an 
+entire fried egg whole. “We were the ones who made 
+the most effort in classes because we like Hagrid. But 
+he thinks we liked the stupid subject. D’you reckon 
+anyone’s going to go on to N.E.W.T.?” 
+Neither Harry nor Hermione answered; there was no 
+need. They knew perfectly well that nobody in their 
+year would want to continue Care of Magical 
+Creatures. They avoided Hagrid’s eye and returned 
+his cheery wave only halfheartedly when he left the 
+staff table ten minutes later. 
+After they had eaten, they remained in their places, 
+awaiting Professor McGonagall’s descent from the 
+staff table. The distribution of class schedules was 
+more complicated than usual this year, for Professor 
+McGonagall needed first to confirm that everybody 
+had achieved the necessary O.W.L. grades to continue 
+with their chosen N.E.W.T.s. 
+Hermione was immediately cleared to continue with 
+Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, 
+Transfiguration, Herbology, Arithmancy, Ancient 
+Runes, and Potions, and shot off to a first-period 
+Ancient Runes class without further ado. Neville took 
+a little longer to sort out; his round face was anxious 
+as Professor McGonagall looked down his application 
+and then consulted his O.W.L. results. 
+“Herbology, fine,” she said. “Professor Sprout will be 
+delighted to see you back with an ‘Outstanding’ 
+O.W.L. And you qualify for Defense Against the Dark 
+Arts with ‘Exceeds Expectations.’ But the problem is 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+Transfiguration. I’m sorry, Longbottom, but an 
+Acceptable’ really isn’t good enough to continue to 
+N.E.W.T level. I just don’t think you’d be able to cope 
+with the coursework.” 
+Neville hung his head. Professor McGonagall peered 
+at him through her square spectacles. 
+“Why do you want to continue with Transfiguration, 
+anyway? I’ve never had the impression that you 
+particularly enjoyed it.” 
+Neville looked miserable and muttered something 
+about “my grandmother wants.” 
+“Hmph,” snorted Professor McGonagall. “It’s high time 
+your grandmother learned to be proud of the 
+grandson she’s got, rather than the one she thinks 
+she ought to have — particularly after what happened 
+at the Ministry.” 
+Neville turned very pink and blinked confusedly; 
+Professor McGonagall had never paid him a 
+compliment before. 
+“I’m sorry, Longbottom, but I cannot let you into my 
+N.E.W.T. class. I see that you have an ‘Exceeds 
+Expectations’ in Charms, however — why not try for a 
+N.E.W.T. in Charms?” 
+“My grandmother thinks Charms is a soft option,” 
+mumbled Neville. 
+“Take Charms,” said Professor McGonagall, “and I 
+shall drop Augusta a line reminding her that just 
+because she failed her Charms O.W.L., the subject is 
+not necessarily worthless.” Smiling slightly at the look 
+of delighted incredulity on Neville’s face, Professor 
+McGonagall tapped a blank schedule with the tip of 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+her wand and handed it, now carrying details of his 
+new classes, to Neville. 
+Professor McGonagall turned next to Parvati Patil, 
+whose first question was whether Firenze, the 
+handsome centaur, was still teaching Divination. 
+“He and Professor Trelawney are dividing classes 
+between them this year,” said Professor McGonagall, 
+a hint of disapproval in her voice; it was common 
+knowledge that she despised the subject of 
+Divination. “The sixth year is being taken by Professor 
+Trelawney.” 
+Parvati set off for Divination five minutes later looking 
+slightly crestfallen. 
+“So, Potter, Potter …” said Professor McGonagall, 
+consulting her notes as she turned to Harry. 
+“Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, 
+Transfiguration … all fine. I must say, I was pleased 
+with your Transfiguration mark, Potter, very pleased. 
+Now, why haven’t you applied to continue with 
+Potions? I thought it was your ambition to become an 
+Auror?” 
+“It was, but you told me I had to get an ‘Outstanding’ 
+in my O.W.L., Professor.” 
+“And so you did when Professor Snape was teaching 
+the subject. Professor Slughorn, however, is perfectly 
+happy to accept N.E.W.T students with ‘Exceeds 
+Expectations’ at O.W.L. Do you wish to proceed with 
+Potions?” 
+“Yes,” said Harry, “but I didn’t buy the books or any 
+ingredients or anything —” 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+“I’m sure Professor Slughorn will be able to lend you 
+some,” said Professor McGonagall. “Very well, Potter, 
+here is your schedule. Oh, by the way — twenty 
+hopefuls have already put down their names for the 
+Gryffindor Quidditch team. I shall pass the list to you 
+in due course and you can fix up trials at your 
+leisure.” 
+A few minutes later, Ron was cleared to do the same 
+subjects as Harry, and the two of them left the table 
+together. 
+“Look,” said Ron delightedly, gazing at his schedule, 
+“we’ve got a free period now … and a free period after 
+break … and after lunch … excellent!” 
+They returned to the common room, which was empty 
+apart from a half dozen seventh years, including Katie 
+Bell, the only remaining member of the original 
+Gryffindor Quidditch team that Harry had joined in 
+his first year. 
+“I thought you’d get that, well done,” she called over, 
+pointing at the Captain’s badge on Harry’s chest. “Tell 
+me when you call trials!” 
+“Don’t be stupid,” said Harry, “you don’t need to try 
+out, I’ve watched you play for five years. …” 
+“You mustn’t start off like that,” she said warningly. 
+“For all you know, there’s someone much better than 
+me out there. Good teams have been ruined before 
+now because Captains just kept playing the old faces, 
+or letting in their friends. …” 
+Ron looked a little uncomfortable and began playing 
+with the Fanged Frisbee Hermione had taken from the 
+fourth-year student. It zoomed around the common 
+room, snarling and attempting to take bites of the 
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+tapestry. Crookshanks’s yellow eyes followed it and he 
+hissed when it came too close. 
+An hour later they reluctantly left the sunlit common 
+room for the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom 
+four floors below. Hermione was already queuing 
+outside, carrying an armful of heavy books and 
+looking put-upon. 
+“We got so much homework for Runes,” she said 
+anxiously, when Harry and Ron joined her. “A fifteen-
+inch essay, two translations, and I’ve got to read 
+these by Wednesday!” 
+“Shame,” yawned Ron. 
+“You wait,” she said resentfully. “I bet Snape gives us 
+loads.” 
+The classroom door opened as she spoke, and Snape 
+stepped into the corridor, his sallow face framed as 
+ever by two curtains of greasy black hair. Silence fell 
+over the queue immediately. 
+“Inside,” he said. 
+Harry looked around as they entered. Snape had 
+imposed his personality upon the room already; it 
+was gloomier than usual, as curtains had been drawn 
+over the windows, and was lit by candlelight. New 
+pictures adorned the walls, many of them showing 
+people who appeared to be in pain, sporting grisly 
+injuries or strangely contorted body parts. Nobody 
+spoke as they settled down, looking around at the 
+shadowy, gruesome pictures. 
+“I have not asked you to take out your books,” said 
+Snape, closing the door and moving to face the class 
+from behind his desk; Hermione hastily dropped her 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+copy of Confronting the Faceless back into her bag 
+and stowed it under her chair. “I wish to speak to 
+you, and I want your fullest attention.” 
+His black eyes roved over their upturned faces, 
+lingering for a fraction of a second longer on Harry’s 
+than anyone else’s. 
+“You have had five teachers in this subject so far, I 
+believe.” 
+You believe … like you haven’t watched them all come 
+and go, Snape, hoping you’d be next, thought Harry 
+scathingly. 
+“Naturally, these teachers will all have had their own 
+methods and priorities. Given this confusion I am 
+surprised so many of you scraped an O.W.L. in this 
+subject. I shall be even more surprised if all of you 
+manage to keep up with the N.E.W.T. work, which will 
+be much more advanced.” 
+Snape set off around the edge of the room, speaking 
+now in a lower voice; the class craned their necks to 
+keep him in view. 
+“The Dark Arts,” said Snape, “are many, varied, ever-
+changing, and eternal. Fighting them is like fighting a 
+many-headed monster, which, each time a neck is 
+severed, sprouts a head even fiercer and cleverer than 
+before. You are fighting that which is unfixed, 
+mutating, indestructible.” 
+Harry stared at Snape. It was surely one thing to 
+respect the Dark Arts as a dangerous enemy, another 
+to speak of them, as Snape was doing, with a loving 
+caress in his voice? 
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+“Your defenses,” said Snape, a little louder, “must 
+therefore be as flexible and inventive as the arts you 
+seek to undo. These pictures” — he indicated a few of 
+them as he swept past — “give a fair representation of 
+what happens to those who suffer, for instance, the 
+Cruciatus Curse” — he waved a hand toward a witch 
+who was clearly shrieking in agony — “feel the 
+Dementor’s Kiss” — a wizard lying huddled and 
+blank-eyed, slumped against a wall — “or provoke the 
+aggression of the Inferius” — a bloody mass upon the 
+ground. 
+“Has an Inferius been seen, then?” said Parvati Patil 
+in a high-pitched voice. “Is it definite, is he using 
+them?” 
+“The Dark Lord has used Inferi in the past,” said 
+Snape, “which means you would be well-advised to 
+assume he might use them again. Now …” 
+He set off again around the other side of the 
+classroom toward his desk, and again, they watched 
+him as he walked, his dark robes billowing behind 
+him. 
+“… you are, I believe, complete novices in the use of 
+nonverbal spells. What is the advantage of a 
+nonverbal spell?” 
+Hermione’s hand shot into the air. Snape took his 
+time looking around at everybody else, making sure 
+he had no choice, before saying curtly, “Very well — 
+Miss Granger?” 
+“Your adversary has no warning about what kind of 
+magic you’re about to perform,” said Hermione, 
+“which gives you a split-second advantage.” 
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+“An answer copied almost word for word from The 
+Standard Book of Spells, Grade Six,” said Snape 
+dismissively (over in the corner, Malfoy sniggered), 
+“but correct in essentials. Yes, those who progress to 
+using magic without shouting incantations gain an 
+element of surprise in their spell-casting. Not all 
+wizards can do this, of course; it is a question of 
+concentration and mind power which some” — his 
+gaze lingered maliciously upon Harry once more — 
+“lack.” 
+Harry knew Snape was thinking of their disastrous 
+Occlumency lessons of the previous year. He refused 
+to drop his gaze, but glowered at Snape until Snape 
+looked away. 
+“You will now divide,” Snape went on, “into pairs. One 
+partner will attempt to jinx the other without 
+speaking. The other will attempt to repel the jinx in 
+equal silence. Carry on.” 
+Although Snape did not know it, Harry had taught at 
+least half the class (everyone who had been a member 
+of the D.A.) how to perform a Shield Charm the 
+previous year. None of them had ever cast the charm 
+without speaking, however. A reasonable amount of 
+cheating ensued; many people were merely 
+whispering the incantation instead of saying it aloud. 
+Typically, ten minutes into the lesson Hermione 
+managed to repel Neville’s muttered Jelly-Legs Jinx 
+without uttering a single word, a feat that would 
+surely have earned her twenty points for Gryffindor 
+from any reasonable teacher, thought Harry bitterly, 
+but which Snape ignored. He swept between them as 
+they practiced, looking just as much like an 
+overgrown bat as ever, lingering to watch Harry and 
+Ron struggling with the task. 
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+Ron, who was supposed to be jinxing Harry, was 
+purple in the face, his lips tightly compressed to save 
+himself from the temptation of muttering the 
+incantation. Harry had his wand raised, waiting on 
+tenterhooks to repel a jinx that seemed unlikely ever 
+to come. 
+“Pathetic, Weasley,” said Snape, after a while. “Here 
+— let me show you —” 
+He turned his wand on Harry so fast that Harry 
+reacted instinctively; all thought of nonverbal spells 
+forgotten, he yelled, “Protego!” 
+His Shield Charm was so strong Snape was knocked 
+off-balance and hit a desk. The whole class had 
+looked around and now watched as Snape righted 
+himself, scowling. 
+“Do you remember me telling you we are practicing 
+nonverbal spells, Potter?” 
+“Yes,” said Harry stiffly. 
+“Yes, sir.” 
+“There’s no need to call me ‘sir,’ Professor.” 
+The words had escaped him before he knew what he 
+was saying. Several people gasped, including 
+Hermione. Behind Snape, however, Ron, Dean, and 
+Seamus grinned appreciatively. 
+“Detention, Saturday night, my office,” said Snape. “I 
+do not take cheek from anyone, Potter … not even ‘the 
+Chosen One.’ ” 
+“That was brilliant, Harry!” chortled Ron, once they 
+were safely on their way to break a short while later. 
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+“You really shouldn’t have said it,” said Hermione, 
+frowning at Ron. “What made you?” 
+“He tried to jinx me, in case you didn’t notice!” fumed 
+Harry. “I had enough of that during those 
+Occlumency lessons! Why doesn’t he use another 
+guinea pig for a change? What’s Dumbledore playing 
+at, anyway, letting him teach Defense? Did you hear 
+him talking about the Dark Arts? He loves them! All 
+that unfixed, indestructible stuff —” 
+“Well,” said Hermione, “I thought he sounded a bit 
+like you.” 
+“Like me?” 
+“Yes, when you were telling us what it’s like to face 
+Voldemort. You said it wasn’t just memorizing a 
+bunch of spells, you said it was just you and your 
+brains and your guts — well, wasn’t that what Snape 
+was saying? That it really comes down to being brave 
+and quick-thinking?” 
+Harry was so disarmed that she had thought his 
+words as well worth memorizing as The Standard 
+Book of Spells that he did not argue. 
+“Harry! Hey, Harry!” 
+Harry looked around; Jack Sloper, one of the Beaters 
+on last year’s Gryffindor Quidditch team, was 
+hurrying toward him holding a roll of parchment. 
+“For you,” panted Sloper. “Listen, I heard you’re the 
+new Captain. When’re you holding trials?” 
+“I’m not sure yet,” said Harry, thinking privately that 
+Sloper would be very lucky to get back on the team. 
+“I’ll let you know.” 
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+“Oh, right. I was hoping it’d be this weekend —” 
+But Harry was not listening; he had just recognized 
+the thin, slanting writing on the parchment. Leaving 
+Sloper in mid-sentence, he hurried away with Ron 
+and Hermione, unrolling the parchment as he went. 
+Dear Harry, 
+I would like to start our private lessons this Saturday. 
+Kindly come along to my office at 8 p.m. I hope you are 
+enjoying your first day back at school. 
+Yours sincerely, 
+Albus Dumbledore 
+P.S. I enjoy Acid Pops. 
+“He enjoys Acid Pops?” said Ron, who had read the 
+message over Harry’s shoulder and was looking 
+perplexed. 
+“It’s the password to get past the gargoyle outside his 
+study,” said Harry in a low voice. “Ha! Snape’s not 
+going to be pleased. … I won’t be able to do his 
+detention!” 
+He, Ron, and Hermione spent the whole of break 
+speculating on what Dumbledore would teach Harry. 
+Ron thought it most likely to be spectacular jinxes 
+and hexes of the type the Death Eaters would not 
+know. Hermione said such things were illegal, and 
+thought it much more likely that Dumbledore wanted 
+to teach Harry advanced Defensive magic. After 
+break, she went off to Arithmancy while Harry and 
+Ron returned to the common room, where they 
+grudgingly started Snape’s homework. This turned 
+out to be so complex that they still had not finished 
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+when Hermione joined them for their after-lunch free 
+period (though she considerably speeded up the 
+process). They had only just finished when the bell 
+rang for the afternoon’s double Potions and they beat 
+the familiar path down to the dungeon classroom that 
+had, for so long, been Snape’s. 
+When they arrived in the corridor they saw that there 
+were only a dozen people progressing to N.E.W.T. 
+level. Crabbe and Goyle had evidently failed to achieve 
+the required O.W.L. grade, but four Slytherins had 
+made it through, including Malfoy. Four Ravenclaws 
+were there, and one Hufflepuff, Ernie Macmillan, 
+whom Harry liked despite his rather pompous 
+manner. 
+“Harry,” Ernie said portentously, holding out his hand 
+as Harry approached, “didn’t get a chance to speak in 
+Defense Against the Dark Arts this morning. Good 
+lesson, I thought, but Shield Charms are old hat, of 
+course, for us old D.A. lags … And how are you, Ron 
+— Hermione?” 
+Before they could say more than “fine,” the dungeon 
+door opened and Slughorn’s belly preceded him out of 
+the door. As they filed into the room, his great walrus 
+mustache curved above his beaming mouth, and he 
+greeted Harry and Zabini with particular enthusiasm. 
+The dungeon was, most unusually, already full of 
+vapors and odd smells. Harry, Ron, and Hermione 
+sniffed interestedly as they passed large, bubbling 
+cauldrons. The four Slytherins took a table together, 
+as did the four Ravenclaws. This left Harry, Ron, and 
+Hermione to share a table with Ernie. They chose the 
+one nearest a gold-colored cauldron that was emitting 
+one of the most seductive scents Harry had ever 
+inhaled: Somehow it reminded him simultaneously of 
+treacle tart, the woody smell of a broomstick handle, 
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+and something flowery he thought he might have 
+smelled at the Burrow. He found that he was 
+breathing very slowly and deeply and that the potion’s 
+fumes seemed to be filling him up like drink. A great 
+contentment stole over him; he grinned across at Ron, 
+who grinned back lazily. 
+“Now then, now then, now then,” said Slughorn, 
+whose massive outline was quivering through the 
+many shimmering vapors. “Scales out, everyone, and 
+potion kits, and don’t forget your copies of Advanced 
+Potion-Making. …” 
+“Sir?” said Harry, raising his hand. 
+“Harry, m’boy?” 
+“I haven’t got a book or scales or anything — nor’s 
+Ron — we didn’t realize we’d be able to do the 
+N.E.W.T., you see —” 
+“Ah, yes, Professor McGonagall did mention … not to 
+worry, my dear boy, not to worry at all. You can use 
+ingredients from the store cupboard today, and I’m 
+sure we can lend you some scales, and we’ve got a 
+small stock of old books here, they’ll do until you can 
+write to Flourish and Blotts. …” 
+Slughorn strode over to a corner cupboard and, after 
+a moment’s foraging, emerged with two very battered-
+looking copies of Advanced Potion-Making by Libatius 
+Borage, which he gave to Harry and Ron along with 
+two sets of tarnished scales. 
+“Now then,” said Slughorn, returning to the front of 
+the class and inflating his already bulging chest so 
+that the buttons on his waistcoat threatened to burst 
+off, “I’ve prepared a few potions for you to have a look 
+at, just out of interest, you know. These are the kind 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+of thing you ought to be able to make after completing 
+your N.E.W.T.s. You ought to have heard of ’em, even 
+if you haven’t made ’em yet. Anyone tell me what this 
+one is?” 
+He indicated the cauldron nearest the Slytherin table. 
+Harry raised himself slightly in his seat and saw what 
+looked like plain water boiling away inside it. 
+Hermione’s well-practiced hand hit the air before 
+anybody else’s; Slughorn pointed at her. 
+“It’s Veritaserum, a colorless, odorless potion that 
+forces the drinker to tell the truth,” said Hermione. 
+“Very good, very good!” said Slughorn happily. “Now,” 
+he continued, pointing at the cauldron nearest the 
+Ravenclaw table, “this one here is pretty well known. 
+… Featured in a few Ministry leaflets lately too … Who 
+can — ?” 
+Hermione’s hand was fastest once more. 
+“It’s Polyjuice Potion, sir,” she said. 
+Harry too had recognized the slow-bubbling, mudlike 
+substance in the second cauldron, but did not resent 
+Hermione getting the credit for answering the 
+question; she, after all, was the one who had 
+succeeded in making it, back in their second year. 
+“Excellent, excellent! Now, this one here … yes, my 
+dear?” said Slughorn, now looking slightly bemused, 
+as Hermione’s hand punched the air again. 
+“It’s Amortentia!” 
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+“It is indeed. It seems almost foolish to ask,” said 
+Slughorn, who was looking mightily impressed, “but I 
+assume you know what it does?” 
+“It’s the most powerful love potion in the world!” said 
+Hermione. 
+“Quite right! You recognized it, I suppose, by its 
+distinctive mother-of-pearl sheen?” 
+“And the steam rising in characteristic spirals,” said 
+Hermione enthusiastically, “and it’s supposed to 
+smell differently to each of us, according to what 
+attracts us, and I can smell freshly mown grass and 
+new parchment and —” 
+But she turned slightly pink and did not complete the 
+sentence. 
+“May I ask your name, my dear?” said Slughorn, 
+ignoring Hermione’s embarrassment. 
+“Hermione Granger, sir.” 
+“Granger? Granger? Can you possibly be related to 
+Hector Dagworth-Granger, who founded the Most 
+Extraordinary Society of Potioneers?” 
+“No, I don’t think so, sir. I’m Muggle-born, you see.” 
+Harry saw Malfoy lean close to Nott and whisper 
+something; both of them sniggered, but Slughorn 
+showed no dismay; on the contrary, he beamed and 
+looked from Hermione to Harry, who was sitting next 
+to her. 
+“Oho! ‘One of my best friends is Muggle-born, and 
+she’s the best in our year!’ I’m assuming this is the 
+very friend of whom you spoke, Harry?” 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+“Yes, sir,” said Harry. 
+“Well, well, take twenty well-earned points for 
+Gryffindor, Miss Granger,” said Slughorn genially. 
+Malfoy looked rather as he had done the time 
+Hermione had punched him in the face. Hermione 
+turned to Harry with a radiant expression and 
+whispered, “Did you really tell him I’m the best in the 
+year? Oh, Harry!” 
+“Well, what’s so impressive about that?” whispered 
+Ron, who for some reason looked annoyed. “You are 
+the best in the year — I’d’ve told him so if he’d asked 
+me!” 
+Hermione smiled but made a “shhing” gesture, so that 
+they could hear what Slughorn was saying. Ron 
+looked slightly disgruntled. 
+“Amortentia doesn’t really create love, of course. It is 
+impossible to manufacture or imitate love. No, this 
+will simply cause a powerful infatuation or obsession. 
+It is probably the most dangerous and powerful 
+potion in this room — oh yes,” he said, nodding 
+gravely at Malfoy and Nott, both of whom were 
+smirking skeptically. “When you have seen as much 
+of life as I have, you will not underestimate the power 
+of obsessive love. … 
+“And now,” said Slughorn, “it is time for us to start 
+work.” 
+“Sir, you haven’t told us what’s in this one,” said 
+Ernie Macmillan, pointing at a small black cauldron 
+standing on Slughorn’s desk. The potion within was 
+splashing about merrily; it was the color of molten 
+gold, and large drops were leaping like goldfish above 
+the surface, though not a particle had spilled. 
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+“Oho,” said Slughorn again. Harry was sure that 
+Slughorn had not forgotten the potion at all, but had 
+waited to be asked for dramatic effect. “Yes. That. 
+Well, that one, ladies and gentlemen, is a most 
+curious little potion called Felix Felicis. I take it,” he 
+turned, smiling, to look at Hermione, who had let out 
+an audible gasp, “that you know what Felix Felicis 
+does, Miss Granger?” 
+“It’s liquid luck,” said Hermione excitedly. “It makes 
+you lucky!” 
+The whole class seemed to sit up a little straighter. 
+Now all Harry could see of Malfoy was the back of his 
+sleek blond head, because he was at last giving 
+Slughorn his full and undivided attention. 
+“Quite right, take another ten points for Gryffindor. 
+Yes, it’s a funny little potion, Felix Felicis,” said 
+Slughorn. “Desperately tricky to make, and 
+disastrous to get wrong. However, if brewed correctly, 
+as this has been, you will find that all your endeavors 
+tend to succeed … at least until the effects wear off.” 
+“Why don’t people drink it all the time, sir?” said 
+Terry Boot eagerly. 
+“Because if taken in excess, it causes giddiness, 
+recklessness, and dangerous overconfidence,” said 
+Slughorn. “Too much of a good thing, you know … 
+highly toxic in large quantities. But taken sparingly, 
+and very occasionally …” 
+“Have you ever taken it, sir?” asked Michael Corner 
+with great interest. 
+“Twice in my life,” said Slughorn. “Once when I was 
+twenty-four, once when I was fifty-seven. Two 
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+tablespoonfuls taken with breakfast. Two perfect 
+days.” 
+He gazed dreamily into the distance. Whether he was 
+playacting or not, thought Harry, the effect was good. 
+“And that,” said Slughorn, apparently coming back to 
+earth, “is what I shall be offering as a prize in this 
+lesson.” 
+There was silence in which every bubble and gurgle of 
+the surrounding potions seemed magnified tenfold. 
+“One tiny bottle of Felix Felicis,” said Slughorn, taking 
+a minuscule glass bottle with a cork in it out of his 
+pocket and showing it to them all. “Enough for twelve 
+hours’ luck. From dawn till dusk, you will be lucky in 
+everything you attempt. 
+“Now, I must give you warning that Felix Felicis is a 
+banned substance in organized competitions … 
+sporting events, for instance, examinations, or 
+elections. So the winner is to use it on an ordinary 
+day only … and watch how that ordinary day becomes 
+extraordinary! 
+“So,” said Slughorn, suddenly brisk, “how are you to 
+win my fabulous prize? Well, by turning to page ten of 
+Advanced Potion-Making. We have a little over an hour 
+left to us, which should be time for you to make a 
+decent attempt at the Draught of Living Death. I know 
+it is more complex than anything you have attempted 
+before, and I do not expect a perfect potion from 
+anybody. The person who does best, however, will win 
+little Felix here. Off you go!” 
+There was a scraping as everyone drew their 
+cauldrons toward them and some loud clunks as 
+people began adding weights to their scales, but 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+nobody spoke. The concentration within the room was 
+almost tangible. Harry saw Malfoy riffling feverishly 
+through his copy of Advanced Potion-Making. It could 
+not have been clearer that Malfoy really wanted that 
+lucky day. Harry bent swiftly over the tattered book 
+Slughorn had lent him. 
+To his annoyance he saw that the previous owner had 
+scribbled all over the pages, so that the margins were 
+as black as the printed portions. Bending low to 
+decipher the ingredients (even here, the previous 
+owner had made annotations and crossed things out) 
+Harry hurried off toward the store cupboard to find 
+what he needed. As he dashed back to his cauldron, 
+he saw Malfoy cutting up valerian roots as fast as he 
+could. 
+Everyone kept glancing around at what the rest of the 
+class was doing; this was both an advantage and a 
+disadvantage of Potions, that it was hard to keep your 
+work private. Within ten minutes, the whole place 
+was full of bluish steam. Hermione, of course, seemed 
+to have progressed furthest. Her potion already 
+resembled the “smooth, black currant-colored liquid” 
+mentioned as the ideal halfway stage. 
+Having finished chopping his roots, Harry bent low 
+over his book again. It was really very irritating, 
+having to try and decipher the directions under all the 
+stupid scribbles of the previous owner, who for some 
+reason had taken issue with the order to cut up the 
+sopophorous bean and had written in the alternative 
+instruction: 
+Crush with flat side of silver dagger, 
+releases juice better than cutting. 
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+“Sir, I think you knew my grandfather, Abraxas 
+Malfoy?” 
+Harry looked up; Slughorn was just passing the 
+Slytherin table. 
+“Yes,” said Slughorn, without looking at Malfoy, “I 
+was sorry to hear he had died, although of course it 
+wasn’t unexpected, dragon pox at his age. …” 
+And he walked away. Harry bent back over his 
+cauldron, smirking. He could tell that Malfoy had 
+expected to be treated like Harry or Zabini; perhaps 
+even hoped for some preferential treatment of the type 
+he had learned to expect from Snape. It looked as 
+though Malfoy would have to rely on nothing but 
+talent to win the bottle of Felix Felicis. 
+The sopophorous bean was proving very difficult to 
+cut up. Harry turned to Hermione. 
+“Can I borrow your silver knife?” 
+She nodded impatiently, not taking her eyes off her 
+potion, which was still deep purple, though according 
+to the book ought to be turning a light shade of lilac 
+by now. 
+Harry crushed his bean with the flat side of the 
+dagger. To his astonishment, it immediately exuded 
+so much juice he was amazed the shriveled bean 
+could have held it all. Hastily scooping it all into the 
+cauldron he saw, to his surprise, that the potion 
+immediately turned exactly the shade of lilac 
+described by the textbook. 
+His annoyance with the previous owner vanishing on 
+the spot, Harry now squinted at the next line of 
+instructions. According to the book, he had to stir 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+counterclockwise until the potion turned clear as 
+water. According to the addition the previous owner 
+had made, however, he ought to add a clockwise stir 
+after every seventh counterclockwise stir. Could the 
+old owner be right twice? 
+Harry stirred counterclockwise, held his breath, and 
+stirred once clockwise. The effect was immediate. The 
+potion turned palest pink. 
+“How are you doing that?” demanded Hermione, who 
+was red-faced and whose hair was growing bushier 
+and bushier in the fumes from her cauldron; her 
+potion was still resolutely purple. 
+“Add a clockwise stir —” 
+“No, no, the book says counterclockwise!” she 
+snapped. 
+Harry shrugged and continued what he was doing. 
+Seven stirs counterclockwise, one clockwise, pause … 
+seven stirs counterclockwise, one stir clockwise … 
+Across the table, Ron was cursing fluently under his 
+breath; his potion looked like liquid licorice. Harry 
+glanced around. As far as he could see, no one else’s 
+potion had turned as pale as his. He felt elated, 
+something that had certainly never happened before 
+in this dungeon. 
+“And time’s … up!” called Slughorn. “Stop stirring, 
+please!” 
+Slughorn moved slowly among the tables, peering into 
+cauldrons. He made no comment, but occasionally 
+gave the potions a stir or a sniff. At last he reached 
+the table where Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ernie 
+were sitting. He smiled ruefully at the tarlike 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+substance in Ron’s cauldron. He passed over Ernie’s 
+navy concoction. Hermione’s potion he gave an 
+approving nod. Then he saw Harry’s, and a look of 
+incredulous delight spread over his face. 
+“The clear winner!” he cried to the dungeon. 
+“Excellent, excellent, Harry! Good lord, it’s clear 
+you’ve inherited your mother’s talent. She was a dab 
+hand at Potions, Lily was! Here you are, then, here 
+you are — one bottle of Felix Felicis, as promised, and 
+use it well!” 
+Harry slipped the tiny bottle of golden liquid into his 
+inner pocket, feeling an odd combination of delight at 
+the furious looks on the Slytherins’ faces and guilt at 
+the disappointed expression on Hermione’s. Ron 
+looked simply dumbfounded. 
+“How did you do that?” he whispered to Harry as they 
+left the dungeon. 
+“Got lucky, I suppose,” said Harry, because Malfoy 
+was within earshot. 
+Once they were securely ensconced at the Gryffindor 
+table for dinner, however, he felt safe enough to tell 
+them. Hermione’s face became stonier with every 
+word he uttered. 
+“I s’pose you think I cheated?” he finished, aggravated 
+by her expression. 
+“Well, it wasn’t exactly your own work, was it?” she 
+said stiffly. 
+“He only followed different instructions to ours,” said 
+Ron. “Could’ve been a catastrophe, couldn’t it? But he 
+took a risk and it paid off.” He heaved a sigh. 
+“Slughorn could’ve handed me that book, but no, I get 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+the one no one’s ever written on. Puked on, by the 
+look of page fifty-two, but —” 
+“Hang on,” said a voice close by Harry’s left ear and 
+he caught a sudden waft of that flowery smell he had 
+picked up in Slughorn’s dungeon. He looked around 
+and saw that Ginny had joined them. “Did I hear 
+right? You’ve been taking orders from something 
+someone wrote in a book, Harry?” 
+She looked alarmed and angry. Harry knew what was 
+on her mind at once. 
+“It’s nothing,” he said reassuringly, lowering his voice. 
+“It’s not like, you know, Riddle’s diary. It’s just an old 
+textbook someone’s scribbled on.” 
+“But you’re doing what it says?” 
+“I just tried a few of the tips written in the margins, 
+honestly, Ginny, there’s nothing funny —” 
+“Ginny’s got a point,” said Hermione, perking up at 
+once. “We ought to check that there’s nothing odd 
+about it. I mean, all these funny instructions, who 
+knows?” 
+“Hey!” said Harry indignantly, as she pulled his copy 
+of Advanced Potion-Making out of his bag and raised 
+her wand. 
+“Specialis Revelio!” she said, rapping it smartly on the 
+front cover. 
+Nothing whatsoever happened. The book simply lay 
+there, looking old and dirty and dog-eared. 
+“Finished?” said Harry irritably. “Or d’you want to 
+wait and see if it does a few backflips?” 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+“It seems all right,” said Hermione, still staring at the 
+book suspiciously. “I mean, it really does seem to be 
+… just a textbook.” 
+“Good. Then I’ll have it back,” said Harry, snatching it 
+off the table, but it slipped from his hand and landed 
+open on the floor. 
+Nobody else was looking. Harry bent low to retrieve 
+the book, and as he did so, he saw something 
+scribbled along the bottom of the back cover in the 
+same small, cramped handwriting as the instructions 
+that had won him his bottle of Felix Felicis, now 
+safely hidden inside a pair of socks in his trunk 
+upstairs. 
+This Book is the Property of the Half-Blood Prince. 
+P a g e  | 217 
+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+ 
+ 
+THE HOUSE OF GAUNT 
+For the rest of the week’s Potions lessons Harry 
+continued to follow the Half-Blood Prince’s 
+instructions wherever they deviated from Libatius 
+Borage’s, with the result that by their fourth lesson 
+Slughorn was raving about Harry’s abilities, saying 
+that he had rarely taught anyone so talented. Neither 
+Ron nor Hermione was delighted by this. Although 
+Harry had offered to share his book with both of 
+them, Ron had more difficulty deciphering the 
+handwriting than Harry did, and could not keep 
+asking Harry to read aloud or it might look 
+suspicious. Hermione, meanwhile, was resolutely 
+plowing on with what she called the “official” 
+instructions, but becoming increasingly bad-tempered 
+as they yielded poorer results than the Prince’s. 
+Harry wondered vaguely who the Half-Blood Prince 
+had been. Although the amount of homework they 
+had been given prevented him from reading the whole 
+of his copy of Advanced Potion-Making, he had 
+skimmed through it sufficiently to see that there was 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+barely a page on which the Prince had not made 
+additional notes, not all of them concerned with 
+potion-making. Here and there were directions for 
+what looked like spells that the Prince had made up 
+himself. 
+“Or herself,” said Hermione irritably, overhearing 
+Harry pointing some of these out to Ron in the 
+common room on Saturday evening. “It might have 
+been a girl. I think the handwriting looks more like a 
+girl’s than a boy’s.” 
+“The Half-Blood Prince, he was called,” Harry said. 
+“How many girls have been Princes?” 
+Hermione seemed to have no answer to this. She 
+merely scowled and twitched her essay on The 
+Principles of Rematerialization away from Ron, who 
+was trying to read it upside down. 
+Harry looked at his watch and hurriedly put the old 
+copy of Advanced Potion-Making back into his bag. 
+“It’s five to eight, I’d better go, I’ll be late for 
+Dumbledore.” 
+“Ooooh!” gasped Hermione, looking up at once. “Good 
+luck! We’ll wait up, we want to hear what he teaches 
+you!” 
+“Hope it goes okay,” said Ron, and the pair of them 
+watched Harry leave through the portrait hole. 
+Harry proceeded through deserted corridors, though 
+he had to step hastily behind a statue when Professor 
+Trelawney appeared around a corner, muttering to 
+herself as she shuffled a pack of dirty-looking playing 
+cards, reading them as she walked. 
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+“Two of spades: conflict,” she murmured, as she 
+passed the place where Harry crouched, hidden. 
+“Seven of spades: an ill omen. Ten of spades: violence. 
+Knave of spades: a dark young man, possibly 
+troubled, one who dislikes the questioner —” 
+She stopped dead, right on the other side of Harry’s 
+statue. 
+“Well, that can’t be right,” she said, annoyed, and 
+Harry heard her reshuffling vigorously as she set off 
+again, leaving nothing but a whiff of cooking sherry 
+behind her. Harry waited until he was quite sure she 
+had gone, then hurried off again until he reached the 
+spot in the seventh-floor corridor where a single 
+gargoyle stood against the wall. 
+“Acid Pops,” said Harry, and the gargoyle leapt aside; 
+the wall behind it slid apart, and a moving spiral 
+stone staircase was revealed, onto which Harry 
+stepped, so that he was carried in smooth circles up 
+to the door with the brass knocker that led to 
+Dumbledore’s office. 
+Harry knocked. 
+“Come in,” said Dumbledore’s voice. 
+“Good evening, sir,” said Harry, walking into the 
+headmaster’s office. 
+“Ah, good evening, Harry. Sit down,” said 
+Dumbledore, smiling. “I hope you’ve had an enjoyable 
+first week back at school?” 
+“Yes, thanks, sir,” said Harry. 
+“You must have been busy, a detention under your 
+belt already!” 
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+“Er,” began Harry awkwardly, but Dumbledore did 
+not look too stern. 
+“I have arranged with Professor Snape that you will 
+do your detention next Saturday instead.” 
+“Right,” said Harry, who had more pressing matters 
+on his mind than Snape’s detention, and now looked 
+around surreptitiously for some indication of what 
+Dumbledore was planning to do with him this 
+evening. The circular office looked just as it always 
+did; the delicate silver instruments stood on spindle-
+legged tables, puffing smoke and whirring; portraits of 
+previous headmasters and headmistresses dozed in 
+their frames, and Dumbledore’s magnificent phoenix, 
+Fawkes, stood on his perch behind the door, watching 
+Harry with bright interest. It did not even look as 
+though Dumbledore had cleared a space for dueling 
+practice. 
+“So, Harry,” said Dumbledore, in a businesslike voice. 
+“You have been wondering, I am sure, what I have 
+planned for you during these — for want of a better 
+word — lessons?” 
+“Yes, sir.” 
+“Well, I have decided that it is time, now that you 
+know what prompted Lord Voldemort to try and kill 
+you fifteen years ago, for you to be given certain 
+information.” 
+There was a pause. 
+“You said, at the end of last term, you were going to 
+tell me everything,” said Harry. It was hard to keep a 
+note of accusation from his voice. “Sir,” he added. 
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+“And so I did,” said Dumbledore placidly. “I told you 
+everything I know. From this point forth, we shall be 
+leaving the firm foundation of fact and journeying 
+together through the murky marshes of memory into 
+thickets of wildest guesswork. From here on in, 
+Harry, I may be as woefully wrong as Humphrey 
+Belcher, who believed the time was ripe for a cheese 
+cauldron.” 
+“But you think you’re right?” said Harry. 
+“Naturally I do, but as I have already proven to you, I 
+make mistakes like the next man. In fact, being — 
+forgive me — rather cleverer than most men, my 
+mistakes tend to be correspondingly huger.” 
+“Sir,” said Harry tentatively, “does what you’re going 
+to tell me have anything to do with the prophecy? Will 
+it help me … survive?” 
+“It has a very great deal to do with the prophecy,” said 
+Dumbledore, as casually as if Harry had asked him 
+about the next day’s weather, “and I certainly hope 
+that it will help you to survive.” 
+Dumbledore got to his feet and walked around the 
+desk, past Harry, who turned eagerly in his seat to 
+watch Dumbledore bending over the cabinet beside 
+the door. When Dumbledore straightened up, he was 
+holding a familiar shallow stone basin etched with 
+odd markings around its rim. He placed the Pensieve 
+on the desk in front of Harry. 
+“You look worried.” 
+Harry had indeed been eyeing the Pensieve with some 
+apprehension. His previous experiences with the odd 
+device that stored and revealed thoughts and 
+memories, though highly instructive, had also been 
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+uncomfortable. The last time he had disturbed its 
+contents, he had seen much more than he would 
+have wished. But Dumbledore was smiling. 
+“This time, you enter the Pensieve with me … and, 
+even more unusually, with permission.” 
+“Where are we going, sir?” 
+“For a trip down Bob Ogden’s memory lane,” said 
+Dumbledore, pulling from his pocket a crystal bottle 
+containing a swirling silvery-white substance. 
+“Who was Bob Ogden?” 
+“He was employed by the Department of Magical Law 
+Enforcement,” said Dumbledore. “He died some time 
+ago, but not before I had tracked him down and 
+persuaded him to confide these recollections to me. 
+We are about to accompany him on a visit he made in 
+the course of his duties. If you will stand, Harry …” 
+But Dumbledore was having difficulty pulling out the 
+stopper of the crystal bottle: His injured hand seemed 
+stiff and painful. 
+“Shall — shall I, sir?” 
+“No matter, Harry —” 
+Dumbledore pointed his wand at the bottle and the 
+cork flew out. 
+“Sir — how did you injure your hand?” Harry asked 
+again, looking at the blackened fingers with a mixture 
+of revulsion and pity. 
+“Now is not the moment for that story, Harry. Not yet. 
+We have an appointment with Bob Ogden.” 
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+Dumbledore tipped the silvery contents of the bottle 
+into the Pensieve, where they swirled and shimmered, 
+neither liquid nor gas. 
+“After you,” said Dumbledore, gesturing toward the 
+bowl. 
+Harry bent forward, took a deep breath, and plunged 
+his face into the silvery substance. He felt his feet 
+leave the office floor; he was falling, falling through 
+whirling darkness and then, quite suddenly, he was 
+blinking in dazzling sunlight. Before his eyes had 
+adjusted, Dumbledore landed beside him. 
+They were standing in a country lane bordered by 
+high, tangled hedgerows, beneath a summer sky as 
+bright and blue as a forget-me-not. Some ten feet in 
+front of them stood a short, plump man wearing 
+enormously thick glasses that reduced his eyes to 
+molelike specks. He was reading a wooden signpost 
+that was sticking out of the brambles on the left-hand 
+side of the road. Harry knew this must be Ogden; he 
+was the only person in sight, and he was also wearing 
+the strange assortment of clothes so often chosen by 
+inexperienced wizards trying to look like Muggles: in 
+this case, a frock coat and spats over a striped one-
+piece bathing costume. Before Harry had time to do 
+more than register his bizarre appearance, however, 
+Ogden had set off at a brisk walk down the lane. 
+Dumbledore and Harry followed. As they passed the 
+wooden sign, Harry looked up at its two arms. The 
+one pointing back the way they had come read: 
+GREAT HANGLETON, 5 MILES. The arm pointing 
+after Ogden said LITTLE HANGLETON, 1 MILE. 
+They walked a short way with nothing to see but the 
+hedgerows, the wide blue sky overhead and the 
+swishing, frock-coated figure ahead. Then the lane 
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+curved to the left and fell away, sloping steeply down 
+a hillside, so that they had a sudden, unexpected 
+view of a whole valley laid out in front of them. Harry 
+could see a village, undoubtedly Little Hangleton, 
+nestled between two steep hills, its church and 
+graveyard clearly visible. Across the valley, set on the 
+opposite hillside, was a handsome manor house 
+surrounded by a wide expanse of velvety green lawn. 
+Ogden had broken into a reluctant trot due to the 
+steep downward slope. Dumbledore lengthened his 
+stride, and Harry hurried to keep up. He thought 
+Little Hangleton must be their final destination and 
+wondered, as he had done on the night they had 
+found Slughorn, why they had to approach it from 
+such a distance. He soon discovered that he was 
+mistaken in thinking that they were going to the 
+village, however. The lane curved to the right and 
+when they rounded the corner, it was to see the very 
+edge of Ogden’s frock coat vanishing through a gap in 
+the hedge. 
+Dumbledore and Harry followed him onto a narrow 
+dirt track bordered by higher and wilder hedgerows 
+than those they had left behind. The path was 
+crooked, rocky, and potholed, sloping downhill like 
+the last one, and it seemed to be heading for a patch 
+of dark trees a little below them. Sure enough, the 
+track soon opened up at the copse, and Dumbledore 
+and Harry came to a halt behind Ogden, who had 
+stopped and drawn his wand. 
+Despite the cloudless sky, the old trees ahead cast 
+deep, dark, cool shadows, and it was a few seconds 
+before Harry’s eyes discerned the building half-hidden 
+amongst the tangle of trunks. It seemed to him a very 
+strange location to choose for a house, or else an odd 
+decision to leave the trees growing nearby, blocking 
+all light and the view of the valley below. He wondered 
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+whether it was inhabited; its walls were mossy and so 
+many tiles had fallen off the roof that the rafters were 
+visible in places. Nettles grew all around it, their tips 
+reaching the windows, which were tiny and thick with 
+grime. Just as he had concluded that nobody could 
+possibly live there, however, one of the windows was 
+thrown open with a clatter, and a thin trickle of steam 
+or smoke issued from it, as though somebody was 
+cooking. 
+Ogden moved forward quietly and, it seemed to Harry, 
+rather cautiously. As the dark shadows of the trees 
+slid over him, he stopped again, staring at the front 
+door, to which somebody had nailed a dead snake. 
+Then there was a rustle and a crack, and a man in 
+rags dropped from the nearest tree, landing on his 
+feet right in front of Ogden, who leapt backward so 
+fast he stood on the tails of his frock coat and 
+stumbled. 
+“You’re not welcome.” 
+The man standing before them had thick hair so 
+matted with dirt it could have been any color. Several 
+of his teeth were missing. His eyes were small and 
+dark and stared in opposite directions. He might have 
+looked comical, but he did not; the effect was 
+frightening, and Harry could not blame Ogden for 
+backing away several more paces before he spoke. 
+“Er — good morning. I’m from the Ministry of Magic 
+—” 
+“You’re not welcome.” 
+“Er — I’m sorry — I don’t understand you,” said 
+Ogden nervously. 
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+Harry thought Ogden was being extremely dim; the 
+stranger was making himself very clear in Harry’s 
+opinion, particularly as he was brandishing a wand in 
+one hand and a short and rather bloody knife in the 
+other. 
+“You understand him, I’m sure, Harry?” said 
+Dumbledore quietly. 
+“Yes, of course,” said Harry, slightly nonplussed. 
+“Why can’t Ogden — ?” 
+But as his eyes found the dead snake on the door 
+again, he suddenly understood. 
+“He’s speaking Parseltongue?” 
+“Very good,” said Dumbledore, nodding and smiling. 
+The man in rags was now advancing on Ogden, knife 
+in one hand, wand in the other. 
+“Now, look —” Ogden began, but too late: There was a 
+bang, and Ogden was on the ground, clutching his 
+nose, while a nasty yellowish goo squirted from 
+between his fingers. 
+“Morfin!” said a loud voice. 
+An elderly man had come hurrying out of the cottage, 
+banging the door behind him so that the dead snake 
+swung pathetically. This man was shorter than the 
+first, and oddly proportioned; his shoulders were very 
+broad and his arms overlong, which, with his bright 
+brown eyes, short scrubby hair, and wrinkled face, 
+gave him the look of a powerful, aged monkey. He 
+came to a halt beside the man with the knife, who 
+was now cackling with laughter at the sight of Ogden 
+on the ground. 
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+“Ministry, is it?” said the older man, looking down at 
+Ogden. 
+“Correct!” said Ogden angrily, dabbing his face. “And 
+you, I take it, are Mr. Gaunt?” 
+“S’right,” said Gaunt. “Got you in the face, did he?” 
+“Yes, he did!” snapped Ogden. 
+“Should’ve made your presence known, shouldn’t 
+you?” said Gaunt aggressively. “This is private 
+property. Can’t just walk in here and not expect my 
+son to defend himself.” 
+“Defend himself against what, man?” said Ogden, 
+clambering back to his feet. 
+“Busybodies. Intruders. Muggles and filth.” 
+Ogden pointed his wand at his own nose, which was 
+still issuing large amounts of what looked like yellow 
+pus, and the flow stopped at once. Mr. Gaunt spoke 
+out of the corner of his mouth to Morfin. 
+“Get in the house. Don’t argue.” 
+This time, ready for it, Harry recognized Parseltongue; 
+even while he could understand what was being said, 
+he distinguished the weird hissing noise that was all 
+Ogden could hear. Morfin seemed to be on the point 
+of disagreeing, but when his father cast him a 
+threatening look he changed his mind, lumbering 
+away to the cottage with an odd rolling gait and 
+slamming the front door behind him, so that the 
+snake swung sadly again. 
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+“It’s your son I’m here to see, Mr. Gaunt,” said Ogden, 
+as he mopped the last of the pus from the front of his 
+coat. “That was Morfin, wasn’t it?” 
+“Ar, that was Morfin,” said the old man indifferently. 
+“Are you pure-blood?” he asked, suddenly aggressive. 
+“That’s neither here nor there,” said Ogden coldly, 
+and Harry felt his respect for Ogden rise. Apparently 
+Gaunt felt rather differently. He squinted into Ogden’s 
+face and muttered, in what was clearly supposed to 
+be an offensive tone, “Now I come to think about it, 
+I’ve seen noses like yours down in the village.” 
+“I don’t doubt it, if your son’s been let loose on them,” 
+said Ogden. “Perhaps we could continue this 
+discussion inside?” 
+“Inside?” 
+“Yes, Mr. Gaunt. I’ve already told you. I’m here about 
+Morfin. We sent an owl —” 
+“I’ve no use for owls,” said Gaunt. “I don’t open 
+letters.” 
+“Then you can hardly complain that you get no 
+warning of visitors,” said Ogden tartly. “I am here 
+following a serious breach of Wizarding law, which 
+occurred here in the early hours of this morning —” 
+“All right, all right, all right!” bellowed Gaunt. “Come 
+in the bleeding house, then, and much good it’ll do 
+you!” 
+The house seemed to contain three tiny rooms. Two 
+doors led off the main room, which served as kitchen 
+and living room combined. Morfin was sitting in a 
+filthy armchair beside the smoking fire, twisting a live 
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+adder between his thick fingers and crooning softly at 
+it in Parseltongue: 
+Hissy, hissy, little snakey, 
+Slither on the floor, 
+You be good to Morfin 
+Or he’ll nail you to the door. 
+There was a scuffling noise in the corner beside the 
+open window, and Harry realized that there was 
+somebody else in the room, a girl whose ragged gray 
+dress was the exact color of the dirty stone wall 
+behind her. She was standing beside a steaming pot 
+on a grimy black stove, and was fiddling around with 
+the shelf of squalid-looking pots and pans above it. 
+Her hair was lank and dull and she had a plain, pale, 
+rather heavy face. Her eyes, like her brother’s, stared 
+in opposite directions. She looked a little cleaner than 
+the two men, but Harry thought he had never seen a 
+more defeated-looking person. 
+“M’daughter, Merope,” said Gaunt grudgingly, as 
+Ogden looked inquiringly toward her. 
+“Good morning,” said Ogden. 
+She did not answer, but with a frightened glance at 
+her father turned her back on the room and 
+continued shifting the pots on the shelf behind her. 
+“Well, Mr. Gaunt,” said Ogden, “to get straight to the 
+point, we have reason to believe that your son, 
+Morfin, performed magic in front of a Muggle late last 
+night.” 
+There was a deafening clang. Merope had dropped 
+one of the pots. 
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+“Pick it up!” Gaunt bellowed at her. “That’s it, grub on 
+the floor like some filthy Muggle, what’s your wand 
+for, you useless sack of muck?” 
+“Mr. Gaunt, please!” said Ogden in a shocked voice, 
+as Merope, who had already picked up the pot, 
+flushed blotchily scarlet, lost her grip on the pot 
+again, drew her wand shakily from her pocket, 
+pointed it at the pot, and muttered a hasty, inaudible 
+spell that caused the pot to shoot across the floor 
+away from her, hit the opposite wall, and crack in 
+two. 
+Morfin let out a mad cackle of laughter. Gaunt 
+screamed, “Mend it, you pointless lump, mend it!” 
+Merope stumbled across the room, but before she had 
+time to raise her wand, Ogden had lifted his own and 
+said firmly, “Reparo.” The pot mended itself instantly. 
+Gaunt looked for a moment as though he was going to 
+shout at Ogden, but seemed to think better of it: 
+Instead, he jeered at his daughter, “Lucky the nice 
+man from the Ministry’s here, isn’t it? Perhaps he’ll 
+take you off my hands, perhaps he doesn’t mind dirty 
+Squibs. …” 
+Without looking at anybody or thanking Ogden, 
+Merope picked up the pot and returned it, hands 
+trembling, to its shelf. She then stood quite still, her 
+back against the wall between the filthy window and 
+the stove, as though she wished for nothing more 
+than to sink into the stone and vanish. 
+“Mr. Gaunt,” Ogden began again, “as I’ve said: the 
+reason for my visit —” 
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+“I heard you the first time!” snapped Gaunt. “And so 
+what? Morfin gave a Muggle a bit of what was coming 
+to him — what about it, then?” 
+“Morfin has broken Wizarding law,” said Ogden 
+sternly. 
+“ ‘Morfin has broken Wizarding law.’ ” Gaunt imitated 
+Ogden’s voice, making it pompous and singsong. 
+Morfin cackled again. “He taught a filthy Muggle a 
+lesson, that’s illegal now, is it?” 
+“Yes,” said Ogden. “I’m afraid it is.” 
+He pulled from an inside pocket a small scroll of 
+parchment and unrolled it. 
+���What’s that, then, his sentence?” said Gaunt, his 
+voice rising angrily. 
+“It is a summons to the Ministry for a hearing —” 
+“Summons! Summons? Who do you think you are, 
+summoning my son anywhere?” 
+“I’m Head of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad,” 
+said Ogden. 
+“And you think we’re scum, do you?” screamed 
+Gaunt, advancing on Ogden now, with a dirty yellow-
+nailed finger pointing at his chest. “Scum who’ll come 
+running when the Ministry tells ’em to? Do you know 
+who you’re talking to, you filthy little Mudblood, do 
+you? 
+“I was under the impression that I was speaking to 
+Mr. Gaunt,” said Ogden, looking wary, but standing 
+his ground. 
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+“That’s right!” roared Gaunt. For a moment, Harry 
+thought Gaunt was making an obscene hand gesture, 
+but then realized that he was showing Ogden the 
+ugly, black-stoned ring he was wearing on his middle 
+finger, waving it before Ogden’s eyes. “See this? See 
+this? Know what it is? Know where it came from? 
+Centuries it’s been in our family, that’s how far back 
+we go, and pure-blood all the way! Know how much 
+I’ve been offered for this, with the Peverell coat of 
+arms engraved on the stone?” 
+“I’ve really no idea,” said Ogden, blinking as the ring 
+sailed within an inch of his nose, “and it’s quite 
+beside the point, Mr. Gaunt. Your son has committed 
+—” 
+With a howl of rage, Gaunt ran toward his daughter. 
+For a split second, Harry thought he was going to 
+throttle her as his hand flew to her throat; next 
+moment, he was dragging her toward Ogden by a gold 
+chain around her neck. 
+“See this?” he bellowed at Ogden, shaking a heavy 
+gold locket at him, while Merope spluttered and 
+gasped for breath. 
+“I see it, I see it!” said Ogden hastily. 
+“Slytherin’s!” yelled Gaunt. “Salazar Slytherin’s! We’re 
+his last living descendants, what do you say to that, 
+eh?” 
+“Mr. Gaunt, your daughter!” said Ogden in alarm, but 
+Gaunt had already released Merope; she staggered 
+away from him, back to her corner, massaging her 
+neck and gulping for air. 
+“So!” said Gaunt triumphantly, as though he had just 
+proved a complicated point beyond all possible 
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+dispute. “Don’t you go talking to us as if we’re dirt on 
+your shoes! Generations of purebloods, wizards all — 
+more than you can say, I don’t doubt!” 
+And he spat on the floor at Ogden’s feet. Morfin 
+cackled again. Merope, huddled beside the window, 
+her head bowed and her face hidden by her lank hair, 
+said nothing. 
+“Mr. Gaunt,” said Ogden doggedly, “I am afraid that 
+neither your ancestors nor mine have anything to do 
+with the matter in hand. I am here because of Morfin, 
+Morfin and the Muggle he accosted late last night. 
+Our information” — he glanced down at his scroll of 
+parchment — “is that Morfin performed a jinx or hex 
+on the said Muggle, causing him to erupt in highly 
+painful hives.” 
+Morfin giggled. 
+“Be quiet, boy,” snarled Gaunt in Parseltongue, and 
+Morfin fell silent again. 
+“And so what if he did, then?” Gaunt said defiantly to 
+Ogden. “I expect you’ve wiped the Muggle’s filthy face 
+clean for him, and his memory to boot —” 
+“That’s hardly the point, is it, Mr. Gaunt?” said 
+Ogden. “This was an unprovoked attack on a 
+defenseless —” 
+“Ar, I had you marked out as a Muggle-lover the 
+moment I saw you,” sneered Gaunt, and he spat on 
+the floor again. 
+“This discussion is getting us nowhere,” said Ogden 
+firmly. “It is clear from your son’s attitude that he 
+feels no remorse for his actions.” He glanced down at 
+his scroll of parchment again. “Morfin will attend a 
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+hearing on the fourteenth of September to answer the 
+charges of using magic in front of a Muggle and 
+causing harm and distress to that same Mugg —” 
+Ogden broke off. The jingling, clopping sounds of 
+horses and loud, laughing voices were drifting in 
+through the open window. Apparently the winding 
+lane to the village passed very close to the copse 
+where the house stood. Gaunt froze, listening, his 
+eyes wide. Morfin hissed and turned his face toward 
+the sounds, his expression hungry. Merope raised her 
+head. Her face, Harry saw, was starkly white. 
+“My God, what an eyesore!” rang out a girl’s voice, as 
+clearly audible through the open window as if she had 
+stood in the room beside them. “Couldn’t your father 
+have that hovel cleared away, Tom?” 
+“It’s not ours,” said a young man’s voice. “Everything 
+on the other side of the valley belongs to us, but that 
+cottage belongs to an old tramp called Gaunt, and his 
+children. The son’s quite mad, you should hear some 
+of the stories they tell in the village —” 
+The girl laughed. The jingling, clopping noises were 
+growing louder and louder. Morfin made to get out of 
+his armchair. 
+“Keep your seat,” said his father warningly, in 
+Parseltongue. 
+“Tom,” said the girl’s voice again, now so close they 
+were clearly right beside the house, “I might be wrong 
+— but has somebody nailed a snake to that door?” 
+“Good lord, you’re right!” said the man’s voice. “That’ll 
+be the son, I told you he’s not right in the head. Don’t 
+look at it, Cecilia, darling.” 
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+The jingling and clopping sounds were now growing 
+fainter again. 
+“ ‘Darling,’ ” whispered Morfin in Parseltongue, 
+looking at his sister. “ ‘Darling,’ he called her. So he 
+wouldn’t have you anyway.” 
+Merope was so white Harry felt sure she was going to 
+faint. 
+“What’s that?” said Gaunt sharply, also in 
+Parseltongue, looking from his son to his daughter. 
+“What did you say, Morfin?” 
+“She likes looking at that Muggle,” said Morfin, a 
+vicious expression on his face as he stared at his 
+sister, who now looked terrified. “Always in the 
+garden when he passes, peering through the hedge at 
+him, isn’t she? And last night —” 
+Merope shook her head jerkily, imploringly, but 
+Morfin went on ruthlessly, “Hanging out of the 
+window waiting for him to ride home, wasn’t she?” 
+“Hanging out of the window to look at a Muggle?” said 
+Gaunt quietly. 
+All three of the Gaunts seemed to have forgotten 
+Ogden, who was looking both bewildered and irritated 
+at this renewed outbreak of incomprehensible hissing 
+and rasping. 
+“Is it true?” said Gaunt in a deadly voice, advancing a 
+step or two toward the terrified girl. “My daughter — 
+pure-blooded descendant of Salazar Slytherin — 
+hankering after a filthy, dirt-veined Muggle?” 
+Merope shook her head frantically, pressing herself 
+into the wall, apparently unable to speak. 
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+“But I got him, Father!” cackled Morfin. “I got him as 
+he went by and he didn’t look so pretty with hives all 
+over him, did he, Merope?” 
+“You disgusting little Squib, you filthy little blood 
+traitor!” roared Gaunt, losing control, and his hands 
+closed around his daughter’s throat. 
+Both Harry and Ogden yelled “No!” at the same time; 
+Ogden raised his wand and cried, “Relashio!” Gaunt 
+was thrown backward, away from his daughter; he 
+tripped over a chair and fell flat on his back. With a 
+roar of rage, Morfin leapt out of his chair and ran at 
+Ogden, brandishing his bloody knife and firing hexes 
+indiscriminately from his wand. 
+Ogden ran for his life. Dumbledore indicated that they 
+ought to follow and Harry obeyed, Merope’s screams 
+echoing in his ears. 
+Ogden hurtled up the path and erupted onto the main 
+lane, his arms over his head, where he collided with 
+the glossy chestnut horse ridden by a very handsome, 
+dark-haired young man. Both he and the pretty girl 
+riding beside him on a gray horse roared with 
+laughter at the sight of Ogden, who bounced off the 
+horse’s flank and set off again, his frock coat flying, 
+covered from head to foot in dust, running pell-mell 
+up the lane. 
+“I think that will do, Harry,” said Dumbledore. He 
+took Harry by the elbow and tugged. Next moment, 
+they were both soaring weightlessly through 
+darkness, until they landed squarely on their feet, 
+back in Dumbledore’s now twilit office. 
+“What happened to the girl in the cottage?” said Harry 
+at once, as Dumbledore lit extra lamps with a flick of 
+his wand. “Merope, or whatever her name was?” 
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+“Oh, she survived,” said Dumbledore, reseating 
+himself behind his desk and indicating that Harry 
+should sit down too. “Ogden Apparated back to the 
+Ministry and returned with reinforcements within 
+fifteen minutes. Morfin and his father attempted to 
+fight, but both were overpowered, removed from the 
+cottage, and subsequently convicted by the 
+Wizengamot. Morfin, who already had a record of 
+Muggle attacks, was sentenced to three years in 
+Azkaban. Marvolo, who had injured several Ministry 
+employees in addition to Ogden, received six months.” 
+“Marvolo?” Harry repeated wonderingly. 
+“That’s right,” said Dumbledore, smiling in approval. 
+“I am glad to see you’re keeping up.” 
+“That old man was — ?” 
+“Voldemort’s grandfather, yes,” said Dumbledore. 
+“Marvolo, his son, Morfin, and his daughter, Merope, 
+were the last of the Gaunts, a very ancient Wizarding 
+family noted for a vein of instability and violence that 
+flourished through the generations due to their habit 
+of marrying their own cousins. Lack of sense coupled 
+with a great liking for grandeur meant that the family 
+gold was squandered several generations before 
+Marvolo was born. He, as you saw, was left in squalor 
+and poverty, with a very nasty temper, a fantastic 
+amount of arrogance and pride, and a couple of 
+family heirlooms that he treasured just as much as 
+his son, and rather more than his daughter.” 
+“So Merope,” said Harry, leaning forward in his chair 
+and staring at Dumbledore, “so Merope was … Sir, 
+does that mean she was … Voldemort’s mother?” 
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+“It does,” said Dumbledore. “And it so happens that 
+we also had a glimpse of Voldemort’s father. I wonder 
+whether you noticed?” 
+“The Muggle Morfin attacked? The man on the 
+horse?” 
+“Very good indeed,” said Dumbledore, beaming. “Yes, 
+that was Tom Riddle senior, the handsome Muggle 
+who used to go riding past the Gaunt cottage and for 
+whom Merope Gaunt cherished a secret, burning 
+passion.” 
+“And they ended up married?” Harry said in disbelief, 
+unable to imagine two people less likely to fall in love. 
+“I think you are forgetting,” said Dumbledore, “that 
+Merope was a witch. I do not believe that her magical 
+powers appeared to their best advantage when she 
+was being terrorized by her father. Once Marvolo and 
+Morfin were safely in Azkaban, once she was alone 
+and free for the first time in her life, then, I am sure, 
+she was able to give full rein to her abilities and to 
+plot her escape from the desperate life she had led for 
+eighteen years. 
+“Can you not think of any measure Merope could 
+have taken to make Tom Riddle forget his Muggle 
+companion, and fall in love with her instead?” 
+“The Imperius Curse?” Harry suggested. “Or a love 
+potion?” 
+“Very good. Personally, I am inclined to think that she 
+used a love potion. I am sure it would have seemed 
+more romantic to her, and I do not think it would 
+have been very difficult, some hot day, when Riddle 
+was riding alone, to persuade him to take a drink of 
+water. In any case, within a few months of the scene 
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+we have just witnessed, the village of Little Hangleton 
+enjoyed a tremendous scandal. You can imagine the 
+gossip it caused when the squire’s son ran off with 
+the tramp’s daughter, Merope. 
+“But the villagers’ shock was nothing to Marvolo’s. He 
+returned from Azkaban, expecting to find his 
+daughter dutifully awaiting his return with a hot meal 
+ready on his table. Instead, he found a clear inch of 
+dust and her note of farewell, explaining what she 
+had done. 
+“From all that I have been able to discover, he never 
+mentioned her name or existence from that time 
+forth. The shock of her desertion may have 
+contributed to his early death — or perhaps he had 
+simply never learned to feed himself. Azkaban had 
+greatly weakened Marvolo, and he did not live to see 
+Morfin return to the cottage.” 
+“And Merope? She … she died, didn’t she? Wasn’t 
+Voldemort brought up in an orphanage?” 
+“Yes, indeed,” said Dumbledore. “We must do a 
+certain amount of guessing here, although I do not 
+think it is difficult to deduce what happened. You see, 
+within a few months of their runaway marriage, Tom 
+Riddle reappeared at the manor house in Little 
+Hangleton without his wife. The rumor flew around 
+the neighborhood that he was talking of being 
+‘hoodwinked’ and ‘taken in.’ What he meant, I am 
+sure, is that he had been under an enchantment that 
+had now lifted, though I daresay he did not dare use 
+those precise words for fear of being thought insane. 
+When they heard what he was saying, however, the 
+villagers guessed that Merope had lied to Tom Riddle, 
+pretending that she was going to have his baby, and 
+that he had married her for this reason.” 
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+“But she did have his baby.” 
+“But not until a year after they were married. Tom 
+Riddle left her while she was still pregnant.” 
+“What went wrong?” asked Harry. “Why did the love 
+potion stop working?” 
+“Again, this is guesswork,” said Dumbledore, “but I 
+believe that Merope, who was deeply in love with her 
+husband, could not bear to continue enslaving him by 
+magical means. I believe that she made the choice to 
+stop giving him the potion. Perhaps, besotted as she 
+was, she had convinced herself that he would by now 
+have fallen in love with her in return. Perhaps she 
+thought he would stay for the baby’s sake. If so, she 
+was wrong on both counts. He left her, never saw her 
+again, and never troubled to discover what became of 
+his son.” 
+The sky outside was inky black and the lamps in 
+Dumbledore’s office seemed to glow more brightly 
+than before. 
+“I think that will do for tonight, Harry,” said 
+Dumbledore after a moment or two. 
+“Yes, sir,” said Harry. 
+He got to his feet, but did not leave. 
+“Sir … is it important to know all this about 
+Voldemort’s past?” 
+“Very important, I think,” said Dumbledore. 
+“And it … it’s got something to do with the prophecy?” 
+“It has everything to do with the prophecy.” 
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+“Right,” said Harry, a little confused, but reassured 
+all the same. 
+He turned to go, then another question occurred to 
+him, and he turned back again. “Sir, am I allowed to 
+tell Ron and Hermione everything you’ve told me?” 
+Dumbledore considered him for a moment, then said, 
+“Yes, I think Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger have 
+proved themselves trustworthy. But Harry, I am going 
+to ask you to ask them not to repeat any of this to 
+anybody else. It would not be a good idea if word got 
+around how much I know, or suspect, about Lord 
+Voldemort’s secrets.” 
+“No, sir, I’ll make sure it’s just Ron and Hermione. 
+Good night.” 
+He turned away again, and was almost at the door 
+when he saw it. Sitting on one of the little spindle-
+legged tables that supported so many frail-looking 
+silver instruments, was an ugly gold ring set with a 
+large, cracked, black stone. 
+“Sir,” said Harry, staring at it. “That ring —” 
+“Yes?” said Dumbledore. 
+“You were wearing it when we visited Professor 
+Slughorn that night.” 
+“So I was,” Dumbledore agreed. 
+“But isn’t it … sir, isn’t it the same ring Marvolo 
+Gaunt showed Ogden?” 
+Dumbledore bowed his head. “The very same.” 
+“But how come — ? Have you always had it?” 
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+“No, I acquired it very recently,” said Dumbledore. “A 
+few days before I came to fetch you from your aunt 
+and uncle’s, in fact.” 
+“That would be around the time you injured your 
+hand, then, sir?” 
+“Around that time, yes, Harry.” 
+Harry hesitated. Dumbledore was smiling. 
+“Sir, how exactly — ?” 
+“Too late, Harry! You shall hear the story another 
+time. Good night.” 
+“Good night, sir.” 
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+ 
+ 
+HERMIONE’S HELPING HAND 
+As Hermione had predicted, the sixth years’ free 
+periods were not the hours of blissful relaxation Ron 
+had anticipated, but times in which to attempt to 
+keep up with the vast amount of homework they were 
+being set. Not only were they studying as though they 
+had exams every day, but the lessons themselves had 
+become more demanding than ever before. Harry 
+barely understood half of what Professor McGonagall 
+said to them these days; even Hermione had had to 
+ask her to repeat instructions once or twice. 
+Incredibly, and to Hermione’s increasing resentment, 
+Harry’s best subject had suddenly become Potions, 
+thanks to the Half-Blood Prince. 
+Nonverbal spells were now expected, not only in 
+Defense Against the Dark Arts, but in Charms and 
+Transfiguration too. Harry frequently looked over at 
+his classmates in the common room or at mealtimes 
+to see them purple in the face and straining as 
+though they had overdosed on U-No-Poo; but he knew 
+that they were really struggling to make spells work 
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+without saying incantations aloud. It was a relief to 
+get outside into the greenhouses; they were dealing 
+with more dangerous plants than ever in Herbology, 
+but at least they were still allowed to swear loudly if 
+the Venomous Tentacula seized them unexpectedly 
+from behind. 
+One result of their enormous workload and the frantic 
+hours of practicing nonverbal spells was that Harry, 
+Ron, and Hermione had so far been unable to find 
+time to go and visit Hagrid. He had stopped coming to 
+meals at the staff table, an ominous sign, and on the 
+few occasions when they had passed him in the 
+corridors or out in the grounds, he had mysteriously 
+failed to notice them or hear their greetings. 
+“We’ve got to go and explain,” said Hermione, looking 
+up at Hagrid’s huge empty chair at the staff table the 
+following Saturday at breakfast. 
+“We’ve got Quidditch tryouts this morning!” said Ron. 
+“And we’re supposed to be practicing that Aguamenti 
+Charm from Flitwick! Anyway, explain what? How are 
+we going to tell him we hated his stupid subject?” 
+“We didn’t hate it!” said Hermione. 
+“Speak for yourself, I haven’t forgotten the skrewts,” 
+said Ron darkly. “And I’m telling you now, we’ve had a 
+narrow escape. You didn’t hear him going on about 
+his gormless brother — we’d have been teaching 
+Grawp how to tie his shoelaces if we’d stayed.” 
+“I hate not talking to Hagrid,” said Hermione, looking 
+upset. 
+“We’ll go down after Quidditch,” Harry assured her. 
+He too was missing Hagrid, although like Ron he 
+thought that they were better off without Grawp in 
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+their lives. “But trials might take all morning, the 
+number of people who have applied.” He felt slightly 
+nervous at confronting the first hurdle of his 
+Captaincy. “I dunno why the team’s this popular all of 
+a sudden.” 
+“Oh, come on, Harry,” said Hermione, suddenly 
+impatient. “It’s not Quidditch that’s popular, it’s you! 
+You’ve never been more interesting, and frankly, 
+you’ve never been more fanciable.” 
+Ron gagged on a large piece of kipper. Hermione 
+spared him one look of disdain before turning back to 
+Harry. 
+“Everyone knows you’ve been telling the truth now, 
+don’t they? The whole Wizarding world has had to 
+admit that you were right about Voldemort being back 
+and that you really have fought him twice in the last 
+two years and escaped both times. And now they’re 
+calling you ‘the Chosen One’ — well, come on, can’t 
+you see why people are fascinated by you?” 
+Harry was finding the Great Hall very hot all of a 
+sudden, even though the ceiling still looked cold and 
+rainy. 
+“And you’ve been through all that persecution from 
+the Ministry when they were trying to make out you 
+were unstable and a liar. You can still see the marks 
+on the back of your hand where that evil woman 
+made you write with your own blood, but you stuck to 
+your story anyway. …” 
+“You can still see where those brains got hold of me in 
+the Ministry, look,” said Ron, shaking back his 
+sleeves. 
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+“And it doesn’t hurt that you’ve grown about a foot 
+over the summer either,” Hermione finished, ignoring 
+Ron. 
+“I’m tall,” said Ron inconsequentially. 
+The post owls arrived, swooping down through rain-
+flecked windows, scattering everyone with droplets of 
+water. Most people were receiving more post than 
+usual; anxious parents were keen to hear from their 
+children and to reassure them, in turn, that all was 
+well at home. Harry had received no mail since the 
+start of term; his only regular correspondent was now 
+dead and although he had hoped that Lupin might 
+write occasionally, he had so far been disappointed. 
+He was very surprised, therefore, to see the snowy 
+white Hedwig circling amongst all the brown and gray 
+owls. She landed in front of him carrying a large, 
+square package. A moment later, an identical package 
+landed in front of Ron, crushing beneath it his 
+minuscule and exhausted owl, Pigwidgeon. 
+“Ha!” said Harry, unwrapping the parcel to reveal a 
+new copy of Advanced Potion-Making, fresh from 
+Flourish and Blotts. 
+“Oh good,” said Hermione, delighted. “Now you can 
+give that graffitied copy back.” 
+“Are you mad?” said Harry. “I’m keeping it! Look, I’ve 
+thought it out —” 
+He pulled the old copy of Advanced Potion-Making out 
+of his bag and tapped the cover with his wand, 
+muttering, “Diffindo!” The cover fell off. He did the 
+same thing with the brand-new book (Hermione 
+looked scandalized). He then swapped the covers, 
+tapped each, and said, “Reparo!” 
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+There sat the Prince’s copy, disguised as a new book, 
+and there sat the fresh copy from Flourish and Blotts, 
+looking thoroughly secondhand. 
+“I’ll give Slughorn back the new one, he can’t 
+complain, it cost nine Galleons.” 
+Hermione pressed her lips together, looking angry 
+and disapproving, but was distracted by a third owl 
+landing in front of her carrying that day’s copy of the 
+Daily Prophet. She unfolded it hastily and scanned 
+the front page. 
+“Anyone we know dead?” asked Ron in a determinedly 
+casual voice; he posed the same question every time 
+Hermione opened her paper. 
+“No, but there have been more dementor attacks,” 
+said Hermione. “And an arrest.” 
+“Excellent, who?” said Harry, thinking of Bellatrix 
+Lestrange. 
+“Stan Shunpike,” said Hermione. 
+“What?” said Harry, startled. 
+“ ‘Stanley Shunpike, conductor on the popular 
+Wizarding conveyance the Knight Bus, has been 
+arrested on suspicion of Death Eater activity. Mr. 
+Shunpike, 21, was taken into custody late last night 
+after a raid on his Clapham home …’ ” 
+“Stan Shunpike, a Death Eater?” said Harry, 
+remembering the spotty youth he had first met three 
+years before. “No way!” 
+“He might have been put under the Imperius Curse,” 
+said Ron reasonably. “You never can tell.” 
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+“It doesn’t look like it,” said Hermione, who was still 
+reading. “It says here he was arrested after he was 
+overheard talking about the Death Eaters’ secret 
+plans in a pub.” She looked up with a troubled 
+expression on her face. “If he was under the Imperius 
+Curse, he’d hardly stand around gossiping about 
+their plans, would he?” 
+“It sounds like he was trying to make out he knew 
+more than he did,” said Ron. “Isn’t he the one who 
+claimed he was going to become Minister of Magic 
+when he was trying to chat up those veela?” 
+“Yeah, that’s him,” said Harry. “I dunno what they’re 
+playing at, taking Stan seriously.” 
+“They probably want to look as though they’re doing 
+something,” said Hermione, frowning. “People are 
+terrified — you know the Patil twins’ parents want 
+them to go home? And Eloise Midgen has already 
+been withdrawn. Her father picked her up last night.” 
+“What!” said Ron, goggling at Hermione. “But 
+Hogwarts is safer than their homes, bound to be! 
+We’ve got Aurors, and all those extra protective spells, 
+and we’ve got Dumbledore!” 
+“I don’t think we’ve got him all the time,” said 
+Hermione very quietly, glancing toward the staff table 
+over the top of the Prophet. “Haven’t you noticed? His 
+seat’s been empty as often as Hagrid’s this past 
+week.” 
+Harry and Ron looked up at the staff table. The 
+headmaster’s chair was indeed empty. Now Harry 
+came to think of it, he had not seen Dumbledore 
+since their private lesson a week ago. 
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+“I think he’s left the school to do something with the 
+Order,” said Hermione in a low voice. “I mean … it’s 
+all looking serious, isn’t it? 
+Harry and Ron did not answer, but Harry knew that 
+they were all thinking the same thing. There had been 
+a horrible incident the day before, when Hannah 
+Abbott had been taken out of Herbology to be told her 
+mother had been found dead. They had not seen 
+Hannah since. 
+When they left the Gryffindor table five minutes later 
+to head down to the Quidditch pitch, they passed 
+Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil. Remembering what 
+Hermione had said about the Patil twins’ parents 
+wanting them to leave Hogwarts, Harry was 
+unsurprised to see that the two best friends were 
+whispering together, looking distressed. What did 
+surprise him was that when Ron drew level with 
+them, Parvati suddenly nudged Lavender, who looked 
+around and gave Ron a wide smile. Ron blinked at 
+her, then returned the smile uncertainly. His walk 
+instantly became something more like a strut. Harry 
+resisted the temptation to laugh, remembering that 
+Ron had refrained from doing so after Malfoy had 
+broken Harry’s nose; Hermione, however, looked cold 
+and distant all the way down to the stadium through 
+the cool, misty drizzle, and departed to find a place in 
+the stands without wishing Ron good luck. 
+As Harry had expected, the trials took most of the 
+morning. Half of Gryffindor House seemed to have 
+turned up, from first years who were nervously 
+clutching a selection of the dreadful old school 
+brooms, to seventh years who towered over the rest, 
+looking coolly intimidating. The latter included a 
+large, wiry-haired boy Harry recognized immediately 
+from the Hogwarts Express. 
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+“We met on the train, in old Sluggy’s compartment,” 
+he said confidently, stepping out of the crowd to 
+shake Harry’s hand. “Cormac McLaggen, Keeper.” 
+“You didn’t try out last year, did you?” asked Harry, 
+taking note of the breadth of McLaggen and thinking 
+that he would probably block all three goal hoops 
+without even moving. 
+“I was in the hospital wing when they held the trials,” 
+said McLaggen, with something of a swagger. “Ate a 
+pound of doxy eggs for a bet.” 
+“Right,” said Harry. “Well … if you wait over there …” 
+He pointed over to the edge of the pitch, close to 
+where Hermione was sitting. He thought he saw a 
+flicker of annoyance pass over McLaggen’s face and 
+wondered whether McLaggen expected preferential 
+treatment because they were both “old Sluggy’s” 
+favorites. 
+Harry decided to start with a basic test, asking all 
+applicants for the team to divide into groups of ten 
+and fly once around the pitch. This was a good 
+decision: The first ten was made up of first years and 
+it could not have been plainer that they had hardly 
+ever flown before. Only one boy managed to remain 
+airborne for more than a few seconds, and he was so 
+surprised he promptly crashed into one of the goal 
+posts. 
+The second group was comprised of ten of the silliest 
+girls Harry had ever encountered, who, when he blew 
+his whistle, merely fell about giggling and clutching 
+one another. Romilda Vane was amongst them. When 
+he told them to leave the pitch, they did so quite 
+cheerfully and went to sit in the stands to heckle 
+everyone else. 
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+The third group had a pileup halfway around the 
+pitch. Most of the fourth group had come without 
+broomsticks. The fifth group were Hufflepuffs. 
+“If there’s anyone else here who’s not from 
+Gryffindor,” roared Harry, who was starting to get 
+seriously annoyed, “leave now, please!” 
+There was a pause, then a couple of little Ravenclaws 
+went sprinting off the pitch, snorting with laughter. 
+After two hours, many complaints, and several 
+tantrums, one involving a crashed Comet Two Sixty 
+and several broken teeth, Harry had found himself 
+three Chasers: Katie Bell, returned to the team after 
+an excellent trial; a new find called Demelza Robins, 
+who was particularly good at dodging Bludgers; and 
+Ginny Weasley, who had outflown all the competition 
+and scored seventeen goals to boot. Pleased though 
+he was with his choices, Harry had also shouted 
+himself hoarse at the many complainers and was now 
+enduring a similar battle with the rejected Beaters. 
+“That’s my final decision and if you don’t get out of 
+the way for the Keepers I’ll hex you,” he bellowed. 
+Neither of his chosen Beaters had the old brilliance of 
+Fred and George, but he was still reasonably pleased 
+with them: Jimmy Peakes, a short but broad-chested 
+third-year boy who had managed to raise a lump the 
+size of an egg on the back of Harry’s head with a 
+ferociously hit Bludger, and Ritchie Coote, who looked 
+weedy but aimed well. They now joined Katie, 
+Demelza, and Ginny in the stands to watch the 
+selection of their last team member. 
+Harry had deliberately left the trial of the Keepers 
+until last, hoping for an emptier stadium and less 
+pressure on all concerned. Unfortunately, however, all 
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+the rejected players and a number of people who had 
+come down to watch after a lengthy breakfast had 
+joined the crowd by now, so that it was larger than 
+ever. As each Keeper flew up to the goal hoops, the 
+crowd roared and jeered in equal measure. Harry 
+glanced over at Ron, who had always had a problem 
+with nerves; Harry had hoped that winning their final 
+match last term might have cured it, but apparently 
+not: Ron was a delicate shade of green. 
+None of the first five applicants saved more than two 
+goals apiece. To Harry’s great disappointment, 
+Cormac McLaggen saved four penalties out of five. On 
+the last one, however, he shot off in completely the 
+wrong direction; the crowd laughed and booed and 
+McLaggen returned to the ground grinding his teeth. 
+Ron looked ready to pass out as he mounted his 
+Cleansweep Eleven. “Good luck!” cried a voice from 
+the stands. Harry looked around, expecting to see 
+Hermione, but it was Lavender Brown. He would have 
+quite liked to have hidden his face in his hands, as 
+she did a moment later, but thought that as the 
+Captain he ought to show slightly more grit, and so 
+turned to watch Ron do his trial. 
+Yet he need not have worried: Ron saved one, two, 
+three, four, five penalties in a row. Delighted, and 
+resisting joining in the cheers of the crowd with 
+difficulty, Harry turned to McLaggen to tell him that, 
+most unfortunately, Ron had beaten him, only to find 
+McLaggen’s red face inches from his own. He stepped 
+back hastily. 
+“His sister didn’t really try,” said McLaggen 
+menacingly. There was a vein pulsing in his temple 
+like the one Harry had often admired in Uncle 
+Vernon’s. “She gave him an easy save.” 
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+“Rubbish,” said Harry coldly. “That was the one he 
+nearly missed.” 
+McLaggen took a step nearer Harry, who stood his 
+ground this time. 
+“Give me another go.” 
+“No,” said Harry. “You’ve had your go. You saved four. 
+Ron saved five. Ron’s Keeper, he won it fair and 
+square. Get out of my way.” 
+He thought for a moment that McLaggen might punch 
+him, but he contented himself with an ugly grimace 
+and stormed away, growling what sounded like 
+threats to thin air. 
+Harry turned around to find his new team beaming at 
+him. 
+“Well done,” he croaked. “You flew really well —” 
+“You did brilliantly, Ron!” 
+This time it really was Hermione running toward 
+them from the stands; Harry saw Lavender walking 
+off the pitch, arm in arm with Parvati, a rather 
+grumpy expression on her face. Ron looked extremely 
+pleased with himself and even taller than usual as he 
+grinned at the team and at Hermione. 
+After fixing the time of their first full practice for the 
+following Thursday, Harry, Ron, and Hermione bade 
+good-bye to the rest of the team and headed off 
+toward Hagrid’s. A watery sun was trying to break 
+through the clouds now and it had stopped drizzling 
+at last. Harry felt extremely hungry; he hoped there 
+would be something to eat at Hagrid’s. 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+“I thought I was going to miss that fourth penalty,” 
+Ron was saying happily. “Tricky shot from Demelza, 
+did you see, had a bit of spin on it —” 
+“Yes, yes, you were magnificent,” said Hermione, 
+looking amused. 
+“I was better than that McLaggen anyway,” said Ron 
+in a highly satisfied voice. “Did you see him 
+lumbering off in the wrong direction on his fifth? 
+Looked like he’d been Confunded. …” 
+To Harry’s surprise, Hermione turned a very deep 
+shade of pink at these words. Ron noticed nothing; he 
+was too busy describing each of his other penalties in 
+loving detail. 
+The great gray hippogriff, Buckbeak, was tethered in 
+front of Hagrid’s cabin. He clicked his razor-sharp 
+beak at their approach and turned his huge head 
+toward them. 
+“Oh dear,” said Hermione nervously. “He’s still a bit 
+scary, isn’t he?” 
+“Come off it, you’ve ridden him, haven’t you?” said 
+Ron. 
+Harry stepped forward and bowed low to the 
+hippogriff without breaking eye contact or blinking. 
+After a few seconds, Buckbeak sank into a bow too. 
+“How are you?” Harry asked him in a low voice, 
+moving forward to stroke the feathery head. “Missing 
+him? But you’re okay here with Hagrid, aren’t you?” 
+“Oi!” said a loud voice. 
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+Hagrid had come striding around the corner of his 
+cabin wearing a large flowery apron and carrying a 
+sack of potatoes. His enormous boarhound, Fang, 
+was at his heels; Fang gave a booming bark and 
+bounded forward. 
+“Git away from him! He’ll have yer fingers — oh. It’s 
+yeh lot.” 
+Fang was jumping up at Hermione and Ron, 
+attempting to lick their ears. Hagrid stood and looked 
+at them all for a split second, then turned and strode 
+into his cabin, slamming the door behind him. 
+“Oh dear!” said Hermione, looking stricken. 
+“Don’t worry about it,” said Harry grimly. He walked 
+over to the door and knocked loudly. 
+“Hagrid! Open up, we want to talk to you!” 
+There was no sound from within. 
+“If you don’t open the door, we’ll blast it open!” Harry 
+said, pulling out his wand. 
+“Harry!” said Hermione, sounding shocked. “You can’t 
+possibly —” 
+“Yeah, I can!” said Harry. “Stand back —” 
+But before he could say anything else, the door flew 
+open again as Harry had known it would, and there 
+stood Hagrid, glowering down at him and looking, 
+despite the flowery apron, positively alarming. 
+“I’m a teacher!” he roared at Harry. “A teacher, Potter! 
+How dare yeh threaten ter break down my door!” 
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+“I’m sorry, sir,” said Harry, emphasizing the last word 
+as he stowed his wand inside his robes. 
+Hagrid looked stunned. “Since when have yeh called 
+me ‘sir’?” 
+“Since when have you called me ‘Potter’?” 
+“Oh, very clever,” growled Hagrid. “Very amusin’. 
+That’s me outsmarted, innit? All righ’, come in then, 
+yeh ungrateful little …” 
+Mumbling darkly, he stood back to let them pass. 
+Hermione scurried in after Harry, looking rather 
+frightened. 
+“Well?” said Hagrid grumpily, as Harry, Ron, and 
+Hermione sat down around his enormous wooden 
+table, Fang laying his head immediately upon Harry’s 
+knee and drooling all over his robes. “What’s this? 
+Feelin’ sorry for me? Reckon I’m lonely or summat?” 
+“No,” said Harry at once. “We wanted to see you.” 
+“We’ve missed you!” said Hermione tremulously. 
+“Missed me, have yeh?” snorted Hagrid. “Yeah. Righ’.” 
+He stomped around, brewing up tea in his enormous 
+copper kettle, muttering all the while. Finally he 
+slammed down three bucket-sized mugs of 
+mahogany-brown tea in front of them and a plate of 
+his rock cakes. Harry was hungry enough even for 
+Hagrid’s cooking, and took one at once. 
+“Hagrid,” said Hermione timidly, when he joined them 
+at the table and started peeling his potatoes with a 
+brutality that suggested that each tuber had done 
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+him a great personal wrong, “we really wanted to 
+carry on with Care of Magical Creatures, you know.” 
+Hagrid gave another great snort. Harry rather thought 
+some bogeys landed on the potatoes, and was 
+inwardly thankful that they were not staying for 
+dinner. 
+“We did!” said Hermione. “But none of us could fit it 
+into our schedules!” 
+“Yeah. Righ’,” said Hagrid again. 
+There was a funny squelching sound and they all 
+looked around: Hermione let out a tiny shriek, and 
+Ron leapt out of his seat and hurried around the table 
+away from the large barrel standing in the corner that 
+they had only just noticed. It was full of what looked 
+like foot-long maggots, slimy, white, and writhing. 
+“What are they, Hagrid?” asked Harry, trying to sound 
+interested rather than revolted, but putting down his 
+rock cake all the same. 
+“Jus’ giant grubs,” said Hagrid. 
+“And they grow into … ?” said Ron, looking 
+apprehensive. 
+“They won’ grow inter nuthin’,” said Hagrid. “I got ’em 
+ter feed ter Aragog.” 
+And without warning, he burst into tears. 
+“Hagrid!” cried Hermione, leaping up, hurrying 
+around the table the long way to avoid the barrel of 
+maggots, and putting an arm around his shaking 
+shoulders. “What is it?” 
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+“It’s … him …” gulped Hagrid, his beetle-black eyes 
+streaming as he mopped his face with his apron. “It’s 
+… Aragog. … I think he���s dyin’. … He got ill over the 
+summer an’ he’s not gettin’ better. … I don’ know 
+what I’ll do if he … if he … We’ve bin tergether so 
+long. …” 
+Hermione patted Hagrid’s shoulder, looking at a 
+complete loss for anything to say. Harry knew how 
+she felt. He had known Hagrid to present a vicious 
+baby dragon with a teddy bear, seen him croon over 
+giant scorpions with suckers and stingers, attempt to 
+reason with his brutal giant of a half-brother, but this 
+was perhaps the most incomprehensible of all his 
+monster fancies: the gigantic talking spider, Aragog, 
+who dwelled deep in the Forbidden Forest and which 
+he and Ron had only narrowly escaped four years 
+previously. 
+“Is there — is there anything we can do?” Hermione 
+asked, ignoring Ron’s frantic grimaces and head-
+shakings. 
+“I don’ think there is, Hermione,” choked Hagrid, 
+attempting to stem the flood of his tears. “See, the 
+rest o’ the tribe … Aragog’s family … they’re gettin’ a 
+bit funny now he’s ill … bit restive …” 
+“Yeah, I think we saw a bit of that side of them,” said 
+Ron in an undertone. 
+“… I don’ reckon it’d be safe fer anyone but me ter go 
+near the colony at the mo’,” Hagrid finished, blowing 
+his nose hard on his apron and looking up. “But 
+thanks fer offerin’, Hermione. … It means a lot. …” 
+After that, the atmosphere lightened considerably, for 
+although neither Harry nor Ron had shown any 
+inclination to go and feed giant grubs to a murderous, 
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+gargantuan spider, Hagrid seemed to take it for 
+granted that they would have liked to have done and 
+became his usual self once more. 
+“Ar, I always knew yeh’d find it hard ter squeeze me 
+inter yer timetables,” he said gruffly, pouring them 
+more tea. “Even if yeh applied fer Time-Turners —” 
+“We couldn’t have done,” said Hermione. “We 
+smashed the entire stock of Ministry Time-Turners 
+when we were there last summer. It was in the Daily 
+Prophet.” 
+“Ar, well then,” said Hagrid. “There’s no way yeh 
+could’ve done it. … I’m sorry I’ve bin — yeh know — 
+I’ve jus’ bin worried abou’ Aragog … an’ I did wonder 
+whether, if Professor Grubbly-Plank had bin teachin’ 
+yeh —” 
+At which all three of them stated categorically and 
+untruthfully that Professor Grubbly-Plank, who had 
+substituted for Hagrid a few times, was a dreadful 
+teacher, with the result that by the time Hagrid waved 
+them off the premises at dusk, he looked quite 
+cheerful. 
+“I’m starving,” said Harry, once the door had closed 
+behind them and they were hurrying through the 
+dark and deserted grounds; he had abandoned the 
+rock cake after an ominous cracking noise from one 
+of his back teeth. “And I’ve got that detention with 
+Snape tonight, I haven’t got much time for dinner. …” 
+As they came into the castle they spotted Cormac 
+McLaggen entering the Great Hall. It took him two 
+attempts to get through the doors; he ricocheted off 
+the frame on the first attempt. Ron merely guffawed 
+gloatingly and strode off into the Hall after him, but 
+Harry caught Hermione’s arm and held her back. 
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+“What?” said Hermione defensively. 
+“If you ask me,” said Harry quietly, “McLaggen looks 
+like he was Confunded this morning. And he was 
+standing right in front of where you were sitting.” 
+Hermione blushed. 
+“Oh, all right then, I did it,” she whispered. “But you 
+should have heard the way he was talking about Ron 
+and Ginny! Anyway, he’s got a nasty temper, you saw 
+how he reacted when he didn’t get in — you wouldn’t 
+have wanted someone like that on the team.” 
+“No,” said Harry. “No, I suppose that’s true. But 
+wasn’t that dishonest, Hermione? I mean, you’re a 
+prefect, aren’t you?” 
+“Oh, be quiet,” she snapped, as he smirked. 
+“What are you two doing?” demanded Ron, 
+reappearing in the doorway to the Great Hall and 
+looking suspicious. 
+“Nothing,” said Harry and Hermione together, and 
+they hurried after Ron. The smell of roast beef made 
+Harry’s stomach ache with hunger, but they had 
+barely taken three steps toward the Gryffindor table 
+when Professor Slughorn appeared in front of them, 
+blocking their path. 
+“Harry, Harry, just the man I was hoping to see!” he 
+boomed genially, twiddling the ends of his walrus 
+mustache and puffing out his enormous belly. “I was 
+hoping to catch you before dinner! What do you say to 
+a spot of supper tonight in my rooms instead? We’re 
+having a little party, just a few rising stars, I’ve got 
+McLaggen coming and Zabini, the charming Melinda 
+Bobbin — I don’t know whether you know her? Her 
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+family owns a large chain of apothecaries — and, of 
+course, I hope very much that Miss Granger will favor 
+me by coming too.” 
+Slughorn made Hermione a little bow as he finished 
+speaking. It was as though Ron was not present; 
+Slughorn did not so much as look at him. 
+“I can’t come, Professor,” said Harry at once. “I’ve got 
+a detention with Professor Snape.” 
+“Oh dear!” said Slughorn, his face falling comically. 
+“Dear, dear, I was counting on you, Harry! Well, now, 
+I’ll just have to have a word with Severus and explain 
+the situation. I’m sure I’ll be able to persuade him to 
+postpone your detention. Yes, I’ll see you both later!” 
+He bustled away out of the Hall. 
+“He’s got no chance of persuading Snape,” said Harry, 
+the moment Slughorn was out of earshot. “This 
+detention’s already been postponed once; Snape did it 
+for Dumbledore, but he won’t do it for anyone else.” 
+“Oh, I wish you could come, I don’t want to go on my 
+own!” said Hermione anxiously; Harry knew that she 
+was thinking about McLaggen. 
+“I doubt you’ll be alone, Ginny’ll probably be invited,” 
+snapped Ron, who did not seem to have taken kindly 
+to being ignored by Slughorn. 
+After dinner they made their way back to Gryffindor 
+Tower. The common room was very crowded, as most 
+people had finished dinner by now, but they managed 
+to find a free table and sat down; Ron, who had been 
+in a bad mood ever since the encounter with 
+Slughorn, folded his arms and frowned at the ceiling. 
+Hermione reached out for a copy of the Evening 
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+Prophet, which somebody had left abandoned on a 
+chair. 
+“Anything new?” said Harry. 
+“Not really …” Hermione had opened the newspaper 
+and was scanning the inside pages. “Oh, look, your 
+dad’s in here, Ron — he’s all right!” she added 
+quickly, for Ron had looked around in alarm. “It just 
+says he’s been to visit the Malfoys’ house. ‘This 
+second search of the Death Eater’s residence does not 
+seem to have yielded any results. Arthur Weasley of 
+the Office for the Detection and Confiscation of 
+Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects 
+said that his team had been acting upon a confidential 
+tip-off.’ ” 
+“Yeah, mine!” said Harry. “I told him at King’s Cross 
+about Malfoy and that thing he was trying to get 
+Borgin to fix! Well, if it’s not at their house, he must 
+have brought whatever it is to Hogwarts with him —” 
+“But how can he have done, Harry?” said Hermione, 
+putting down the newspaper with a surprised look. 
+“We were all searched when we arrived, weren’t we?” 
+“Were you?” said Harry, taken aback. “I wasn’t!” 
+“Oh no, of course you weren’t, I forgot you were late. 
+… Well, Filch ran over all of us with Secrecy Sensors 
+when we got into the entrance hall. Any Dark object 
+would have been found, I know for a fact Crabbe had 
+a shrunken head confiscated. So you see, Malfoy can’t 
+have brought in anything dangerous!” 
+Momentarily stymied, Harry watched Ginny Weasley 
+playing with Arnold the Pygmy Puff for a while before 
+seeing a way around this objection. 
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+“Someone’s sent it to him by owl, then,” he said. “His 
+mother or someone.” 
+“All the owls are being checked too,” said Hermione. 
+“Filch told us so when he was jabbing those Secrecy 
+Sensors everywhere he could reach.” 
+Really stumped this time, Harry found nothing else to 
+say. There did not seem to be any way Malfoy could 
+have brought a dangerous or Dark object into the 
+school. He looked hopefully at Ron, who was sitting 
+with his arms folded, staring over at Lavender Brown. 
+“Can you think of any way Malfoy — ?” 
+“Oh, drop it, Harry,” said Ron. 
+“Listen, it’s not my fault Slughorn invited Hermione 
+and me to his stupid party, neither of us wanted to 
+go, you know!” said Harry, firing up. 
+“Well, as I’m not invited to any parties,” said Ron, 
+getting to his feet again, “I think I’ll go to bed.” 
+He stomped off toward the door to the boys’ 
+dormitories, leaving Harry and Hermione staring after 
+him. 
+“Harry?” said the new Chaser, Demelza Robins, 
+appearing suddenly at his shoulder. “I’ve got a 
+message for you.” 
+“From Professor Slughorn?” asked Harry, sitting up 
+hopefully. 
+“No … from Professor Snape,” said Demelza. Harry’s 
+heart sank. “He says you’re to come to his office at 
+half past eight tonight to do your detention — er — no 
+matter how many party invitations you’ve received. 
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+And he wanted you to know you’ll be sorting out 
+rotten flobberworms from good ones, to use in Potions 
+and — and he says there’s no need to bring protective 
+gloves.” 
+“Right,” said Harry grimly. “Thanks a lot, Demelza.” 
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+ 
+ 
+SILVER AND OPALS 
+Where was Dumbledore, and what was he doing? 
+Harry caught sight of the headmaster only twice over 
+the next few weeks. He rarely appeared at meals 
+anymore, and Harry was sure Hermione was right in 
+thinking that he was leaving the school for days at a 
+time. Had Dumbledore forgotten the lessons he was 
+supposed to be giving Harry? Dumbledore had said 
+that the lessons were leading to something to do with 
+the prophecy; Harry had felt bolstered, comforted, 
+and now he felt slightly abandoned. 
+Halfway through October came their first trip of the 
+term to Hogsmeade. Harry had wondered whether 
+these trips would still be allowed, given the 
+increasingly tight security measures around the 
+school, but was pleased to know that they were going 
+ahead; it was always good to get out of the castle 
+grounds for a few hours. 
+Harry woke early on the morning of the trip, which 
+was proving stormy, and whiled away the time until 
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+breakfast by reading his copy of Advanced Potion-
+Making. He did not usually lie in bed reading his 
+textbooks; that sort of behavior, as Ron rightly said, 
+was indecent in anybody except Hermione, who was 
+simply weird that way. Harry felt, however, that the 
+Half-Blood Prince’s copy of Advanced Potion-Making 
+hardly qualified as a textbook. The more Harry pored 
+over the book, the more he realized how much was in 
+there, not only the handy hints and shortcuts on 
+potions that were earning him such a glowing 
+reputation with Slughorn, but also the imaginative 
+little jinxes and hexes scribbled in the margins, which 
+Harry was sure, judging by the crossings-out and 
+revisions, that the Prince had invented himself. 
+Harry had already attempted a few of the Prince’s self-
+invented spells. There had been a hex that caused 
+toenails to grow alarmingly fast (he had tried this on 
+Crabbe in the corridor, with very entertaining results); 
+a jinx that glued the tongue to the roof of the mouth 
+(which he had twice used, to general applause, on an 
+unsuspecting Argus Filch); and, perhaps most useful 
+of all, Muffliato, a spell that filled the ears of anyone 
+nearby with an unidentifiable buzzing, so that lengthy 
+conversations could be held in class without being 
+overheard. The only person who did not find these 
+charms amusing was Hermione, who maintained a 
+rigidly disapproving expression throughout and 
+refused to talk at all if Harry had used the Muffliato 
+spell on anyone in the vicinity. 
+Sitting up in bed, Harry turned the book sideways so 
+as to examine more closely the scribbled instructions 
+for a spell that seemed to have caused the Prince 
+some trouble. There were many crossings-out and 
+alterations, but finally, crammed into a corner of the 
+page, the scribble: 
+Levicorpus (nvbl) 
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+While the wind and sleet pounded relentlessly on the 
+windows, and Neville snored loudly, Harry stared at 
+the letters in brackets. Nvbl … that had to mean 
+“nonverbal.” Harry rather doubted he would be able 
+to bring off this particular spell; he was still having 
+difficulty with nonverbal spells, something Snape had 
+been quick to comment on in every D.A.D.A. class. On 
+the other hand, the Prince had proved a much more 
+effective teacher than Snape so far. 
+Pointing his wand at nothing in particular, he gave it 
+an upward flick and said Levicorpus! inside his head. 
+“Aaaaaaaargh!” 
+There was a flash of light and the room was full of 
+voices: Everyone had woken up as Ron had let out a 
+yell. Harry sent Advanced Potion-Making flying in 
+panic; Ron was dangling upside down in midair as 
+though an invisible hook had hoisted him up by the 
+ankle. 
+“Sorry!” yelled Harry, as Dean and Seamus roared 
+with laughter, and Neville picked himself up from the 
+floor, having fallen out of bed. “Hang on — I’ll let you 
+down —” 
+He groped for the potion book and riffled through it in 
+a panic, trying to find the right page; at last he 
+located it and deciphered one cramped word 
+underneath the spell: Praying that this was the 
+counter-jinx, Harry thought Liberacorpus! with all his 
+might. 
+There was another flash of light, and Ron fell in a 
+heap onto his mattress. 
+“Sorry,” repeated Harry weakly, while Dean and 
+Seamus continued to roar with laughter. 
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+“Tomorrow,” said Ron in a muffled voice, “I’d rather 
+you set the alarm clock.” 
+By the time they had got dressed, padding themselves 
+out with several of Mrs. Weasley’s hand-knitted 
+sweaters and carrying cloaks, scarves, and gloves, 
+Ron’s shock had subsided and he had decided that 
+Harry’s new spell was highly amusing; so amusing, in 
+fact, that he lost no time in regaling Hermione with 
+the story as they sat down for breakfast. 
+“… and then there was another flash of light and I 
+landed on the bed again!” Ron grinned, helping 
+himself to sausages. 
+Hermione had not cracked a smile during this 
+anecdote, and now turned an expression of wintry 
+disapproval upon Harry. 
+“Was this spell, by any chance, another one from that 
+potion book of yours?” she asked. 
+Harry frowned at her. 
+“Always jump to the worst conclusion, don’t you?” 
+“Was it?” 
+“Well … yeah, it was, but so what?” 
+“So you just decided to try out an unknown, 
+handwritten incantation and see what would 
+happen?” 
+“Why does it matter if it’s handwritten?” said Harry, 
+preferring not to answer the rest of the question. 
+“Because it’s probably not Ministry of Magic–
+approved,” said Hermione. “And also,” she added, as 
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+Harry and Ron rolled their eyes, “because I’m starting 
+to think this Prince character was a bit dodgy.” 
+Both Harry and Ron shouted her down at once. 
+“It was a laugh!” said Ron, upending a ketchup bottle 
+over his sausages. “Just a laugh, Hermione, that’s 
+all!” 
+“Dangling people upside down by the ankle?” said 
+Hermione. “Who puts their time and energy into 
+making up spells like that?” 
+“Fred and George,” said Ron, shrugging, “it’s their 
+kind of thing. And, er —” 
+“My dad,” said Harry. He had only just remembered. 
+“What?” said Ron and Hermione together. 
+“My dad used this spell,” said Harry. “I — Lupin told 
+me.” 
+This last part was not true; in fact, Harry had seen 
+his father use the spell on Snape, but he had never 
+told Ron and Hermione about that particular 
+excursion into the Pensieve. Now, however, a 
+wonderful possibility occurred to him. Could the Half-
+Blood Prince possibly be — ? 
+“Maybe your dad did use it, Harry,” said Hermione, 
+“but he’s not the only one. We’ve seen a whole bunch 
+of people use it, in case you’ve forgotten. Dangling 
+people in the air. Making them float along, asleep, 
+helpless.” 
+Harry stared at her. With a sinking feeling, he too 
+remembered the behavior of the Death Eaters at the 
+Quidditch World Cup. Ron came to his aid. 
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+“That was different,” he said robustly. “They were 
+abusing it. Harry and his dad were just having a 
+laugh. You don’t like the Prince, Hermione,” he added, 
+pointing a sausage at her sternly, “because he’s better 
+than you at Potions —” 
+“It’s got nothing to do with that!” said Hermione, her 
+cheeks reddening. “I just think it’s very irresponsible 
+to start performing spells when you don’t even know 
+what they’re for, and stop talking about ‘the Prince’ as 
+if it’s his title, I bet it’s just a stupid nickname, and it 
+doesn’t seem as though he was a very nice person to 
+me!” 
+“I don’t see where you get that from,” said Harry 
+heatedly. “If he’d been a budding Death Eater he 
+wouldn’t have been boasting about being ‘half-blood,’ 
+would he?” 
+Even as he said it, Harry remembered that his father 
+had been pure-blood, but he pushed the thought out 
+of his mind; he would worry about that later. … 
+“The Death Eaters can’t all be pure-blood, there aren’t 
+enough pure-blood wizards left,” said Hermione 
+stubbornly. “I expect most of them are half-bloods 
+pretending to be pure. It’s only Muggle-borns they 
+hate, they’d be quite happy to let you and Ron join 
+up.” 
+“There is no way they’d let me be a Death Eater!” said 
+Ron indignantly, a bit of sausage flying off the fork he 
+was now brandishing at Hermione and hitting Ernie 
+Macmillan on the head. “My whole family are blood 
+traitors! That’s as bad as Muggle-borns to Death 
+Eaters!” 
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+“And they’d love to have me,” said Harry sarcastically. 
+“We’d be best pals if they didn’t keep trying to do me 
+in.” 
+This made Ron laugh; even Hermione gave a grudging 
+smile, and a distraction arrived in the shape of Ginny. 
+“Hey, Harry, I’m supposed to give you this.” 
+It was a scroll of parchment with Harry’s name 
+written upon it in familiar thin, slanting writing. 
+“Thanks, Ginny … It’s Dumbledore’s next lesson!” 
+Harry told Ron and Hermione, pulling open the 
+parchment and quickly reading its contents. “Monday 
+evening!” He felt suddenly light and happy. “Want to 
+join us in Hogsmeade, Ginny?” he asked. 
+“I’m going with Dean — might see you there,” she 
+replied, waving at them as she left. 
+Filch was standing at the oak front doors as usual, 
+checking off the names of people who had permission 
+to go into Hogsmeade. The process took even longer 
+than normal as Filch was triple-checking everybody 
+with his Secrecy Sensor. 
+“What does it matter if we’re smuggling Dark stuff 
+OUT?” demanded Ron, eyeing the long thin Secrecy 
+Sensor with apprehension. “Surely you ought to be 
+checking what we bring back IN?�� 
+His cheek earned him a few extra jabs with the 
+Sensor, and he was still wincing as they stepped out 
+into the wind and sleet. 
+The walk into Hogsmeade was not enjoyable. Harry 
+wrapped his scarf over his lower face; the exposed 
+part soon felt both raw and numb. The road to the 
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+village was full of students bent double against the 
+bitter wind. More than once Harry wondered whether 
+they might not have had a better time in the warm 
+common room, and when they finally reached 
+Hogsmeade and saw that Zonko’s Joke Shop had 
+been boarded up, Harry took it as confirmation that 
+this trip was not destined to be fun. Ron pointed, with 
+a thickly gloved hand, toward Honeydukes, which was 
+mercifully open, and Harry and Hermione staggered 
+in his wake into the crowded shop. 
+“Thank God,” shivered Ron as they were enveloped by 
+warm, toffee-scented air. “Let’s stay here all 
+afternoon.” 
+“Harry, m’boy!” said a booming voice from behind 
+them. 
+“Oh no,” muttered Harry. The three of them turned to 
+see Professor Slughorn, who was wearing an 
+enormous furry hat and an overcoat with matching 
+fur collar, clutching a large bag of crystalized 
+pineapple, and occupying at least a quarter of the 
+shop. 
+“Harry, that’s three of my little suppers you’ve missed 
+now!” said Slughorn, poking him genially in the chest. 
+“It won’t do, m’boy, I’m determined to have you! Miss 
+Granger loves them, don’t you?” 
+“Yes,” said Hermione helplessly, “they’re really —” 
+“So why don’t you come along, Harry?” demanded 
+Slughorn. 
+“Well, I’ve had Quidditch practice, Professor,” said 
+Harry, who had indeed been scheduling practices 
+every time Slughorn had sent him a little, violet 
+ribbon-adorned invitation. This strategy meant that 
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+Ron was not left out, and they usually had a laugh 
+with Ginny, imagining Hermione shut up with 
+McLaggen and Zabini. 
+“Well, I certainly expect you to win your first match 
+after all this hard work!” said Slughorn. “But a little 
+recreation never hurt anybody. Now, how about 
+Monday night, you can’t possibly want to practice in 
+this weather. …” 
+“I can’t, Professor, I’ve got — er — an appointment 
+with Professor Dumbledore that evening.” 
+“Unlucky again!” cried Slughorn dramatically. “Ah, 
+well … you can’t evade me forever, Harry!” 
+And with a regal wave, he waddled out of the shop, 
+taking as little notice of Ron as though he had been a 
+display of Cockroach Clusters. 
+“I can’t believe you’ve wriggled out of another one,” 
+said Hermione, shaking her head. “They’re not that 
+bad, you know. … They’re even quite fun sometimes. 
+…” But then she caught sight of Ron’s expression. 
+“Oh, look — they’ve got deluxe sugar quills — those 
+would last hours!” 
+Glad that Hermione had changed the subject, Harry 
+showed much more interest in the new extra-large 
+sugar quills than he would normally have done, but 
+Ron continued to look moody and merely shrugged 
+when Hermione asked him where he wanted to go 
+next. 
+“Let’s go to the Three Broomsticks,” said Harry. “It’ll 
+be warm.” 
+They bundled their scarves back over their faces and 
+left the sweetshop. The bitter wind was like knives on 
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+their faces after the sugary warmth of Honeydukes. 
+The street was not very busy; nobody was lingering to 
+chat, just hurrying toward their destinations. The 
+exceptions were two men a little ahead of them, 
+standing just outside the Three Broomsticks. One was 
+very tall and thin; squinting through his rain-washed 
+glasses Harry recognized the barman who worked in 
+the other Hogsmeade pub, the Hog’s Head. As Harry, 
+Ron, and Hermione drew closer, the barman drew his 
+cloak more tightly around his neck and walked away, 
+leaving the shorter man to fumble with something in 
+his arms. They were barely feet from him when Harry 
+realized who the man was. 
+“Mundungus!” 
+The squat, bandy-legged man with long, straggly, 
+ginger hair jumped and dropped an ancient suitcase, 
+which burst open, releasing what looked like the 
+entire contents of a junk shop window. 
+“Oh, ’ello, ’Arry,” said Mundungus Fletcher, with a 
+most unconvincing stab at airiness. “Well, don’t let 
+me keep ya.” 
+And he began scrabbling on the ground to retrieve the 
+contents of his suitcase with every appearance of a 
+man eager to be gone. 
+“Are you selling this stuff?” asked Harry, watching 
+Mundungus grab an assortment of grubby-looking 
+objects from the ground. 
+“Oh, well, gotta scrape a living,” said Mundungus. 
+“Gimme that!” 
+Ron had stooped down and picked up something 
+silver. 
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+“Hang on,” Ron said slowly. “This looks familiar —” 
+“Thank you!” said Mundungus, snatching the goblet 
+out of Ron’s hand and stuffing it back into the case. 
+“Well, I’ll see you all — OUCH!” 
+Harry had pinned Mundungus against the wall of the 
+pub by the throat. Holding him fast with one hand, he 
+pulled out his wand. 
+“Harry!” squealed Hermione. 
+“You took that from Sirius’s house,” said Harry, who 
+was almost nose to nose with Mundungus and was 
+breathing in an unpleasant smell of old tobacco and 
+spirits. “That had the Black family crest on it.” 
+“I — no — what — ?” spluttered Mundungus, who 
+was slowly turning purple. 
+“What did you do, go back the night he died and strip 
+the place?” snarled Harry. 
+“I — no —” 
+“Give it to me!” 
+“Harry, you mustn’t!” shrieked Hermione, as 
+Mundungus started to turn blue. 
+There was a bang, and Harry felt his hands fly off 
+Mundungus’s throat. Gasping and spluttering, 
+Mundungus seized his fallen case, then — CRACK — 
+he Disapparated. 
+Harry swore at the top of his voice, spinning on the 
+spot to see where Mundungus had gone. 
+“COME BACK, YOU THIEVING — !” 
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+“There’s no point, Harry.” 
+Tonks had appeared out of nowhere, her mousy hair 
+wet with sleet. 
+“Mundungus will probably be in London by now. 
+There’s no point yelling.” 
+“He’s nicked Sirius’s stuff! Nicked it!” 
+“Yes, but still,” said Tonks, who seemed perfectly 
+untroubled by this piece of information. “You should 
+get out of the cold.” 
+She watched them go through the door of the Three 
+Broomsticks. 
+The moment he was inside, Harry burst out, “He was 
+nicking Sirius’s stuff!” 
+“I know, Harry, but please don’t shout, people are 
+staring,” whispered Hermione. “Go and sit down, I’ll 
+get you a drink.” 
+Harry was still fuming when Hermione returned to 
+their table a few minutes later holding three bottles of 
+butterbeer. 
+“Can’t the Order control Mundungus?” Harry 
+demanded of the other two in a furious whisper. 
+“Can’t they at least stop him stealing everything that’s 
+not fixed down when he’s at headquarters?” 
+“Shh!” said Hermione desperately, looking around to 
+make sure nobody was listening; there were a couple 
+of warlocks sitting close by who were staring at Harry 
+with great interest, and Zabini was lolling against a 
+pillar not far away. “Harry, I’d be annoyed too, I know 
+it’s your things he’s stealing —” 
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+Harry gagged on his butterbeer; he had momentarily 
+forgotten that he owned number twelve, Grimmauld 
+Place. 
+“Yeah, it’s my stuff!” he said. “No wonder he wasn’t 
+pleased to see me! Well, I’m going to tell Dumbledore 
+what’s going on, he’s the only one who scares 
+Mundungus.” 
+“Good idea,” whispered Hermione, clearly pleased that 
+Harry was calming down. “Ron, what are you staring 
+at?” 
+“Nothing,” said Ron, hastily looking away from the 
+bar, but Harry knew he was trying to catch the eye of 
+the curvy and attractive barmaid, Madam Rosmerta, 
+for whom he had long nursed a soft spot. 
+“I expect ‘nothing’s’ in the back getting more 
+firewhisky,” said Hermione waspishly. 
+Ron ignored this jibe, sipping his drink in what he 
+evidently considered to be a dignified silence. Harry 
+was thinking about Sirius, and how he had hated 
+those silver goblets anyway. Hermione drummed her 
+fingers on the table, her eyes flickering between Ron 
+and the bar. The moment Harry drained the last 
+drops in his bottle she said, “Shall we call it a day 
+and go back to school, then?” 
+The other two nodded; it had not been a fun trip and 
+the weather was getting worse the longer they stayed. 
+Once again they drew their cloaks tightly around 
+them, rearranged their scarves, pulled on their gloves, 
+then followed Katie Bell and a friend out of the pub 
+and back up the High Street. Harry’s thoughts 
+strayed to Ginny as they trudged up the road to 
+Hogwarts through the frozen slush. They had not met 
+up with her, undoubtedly, thought Harry, because 
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+she and Dean were cozily closeted in Madam 
+Puddifoot’s Tea Shop, that haunt of happy couples. 
+Scowling, he bowed his head against the swirling sleet 
+and trudged on. 
+It was a little while before Harry became aware that 
+the voices of Katie Bell and her friend, which were 
+being carried back to him on the wind, had become 
+shriller and louder. Harry squinted at their indistinct 
+figures. The two girls were having an argument about 
+something Katie was holding in her hand. “It’s 
+nothing to do with you, Leanne!” Harry heard Katie 
+say. 
+They rounded a corner in the lane, sleet coming thick 
+and fast, blurring Harry’s glasses. Just as he raised a 
+gloved hand to wipe them, Leanne made to grab hold 
+of the package Katie was holding; Katie tugged it back 
+and the package fell to the ground. 
+At once, Katie rose into the air, not as Ron had done, 
+suspended comically by the ankle, but gracefully, her 
+arms outstretched, as though she was about to fly. 
+Yet there was something wrong, something eerie. … 
+Her hair was whipped around her by the fierce wind, 
+but her eyes were closed and her face was quite 
+empty of expression. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and 
+Leanne had all halted in their tracks, watching. 
+Then, six feet above the ground, Katie let out a 
+terrible scream. Her eyes flew open but whatever she 
+could see, or whatever she was feeling, was clearly 
+causing her terrible anguish. She screamed and 
+screamed; Leanne started to scream too and seized 
+Katie’s ankles, trying to tug her back to the ground. 
+Harry, Ron, and Hermione rushed forward to help, 
+but even as they grabbed Katie’s legs, she fell on top 
+of them; Harry and Ron managed to catch her but she 
+was writhing so much they could hardly hold her. 
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+Instead they lowered her to the ground where she 
+thrashed and screamed, apparently unable to 
+recognize any of them. 
+Harry looked around; the landscape seemed deserted. 
+“Stay there!” he shouted at the others over the 
+howling wind. “I’m going for help!” 
+He began to sprint toward the school; he had never 
+seen anyone behave as Katie had just behaved and 
+could not think what had caused it; he hurtled 
+around a bend in the lane and collided with what 
+seemed to be an enormous bear on its hind legs. 
+“Hagrid!” he panted, disentangling himself from the 
+hedgerow into which he had fallen. 
+“Harry!” said Hagrid, who had sleet trapped in his 
+eyebrows and beard, and was wearing his great, 
+shaggy beaverskin coat. “Jus’ bin visitin’ Grawp, he’s 
+comin’ on so well yeh wouldn’ —” 
+“Hagrid, someone’s hurt back there, or cursed, or 
+something —” 
+“Wha?” said Hagrid, bending lower to hear what 
+Harry was saying over the raging wind. 
+“Someone’s been cursed!” bellowed Harry. 
+“Cursed? Who’s bin cursed — not Ron? Hermione?” 
+“No, it’s not them, it’s Katie Bell — this way …” 
+Together they ran back along the lane. It took them 
+no time to find the little group of people around Katie, 
+who was still writhing and screaming on the ground; 
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+Ron, Hermione, and Leanne were all trying to quiet 
+her. 
+“Get back!” shouted Hagrid. “Lemme see her!” 
+“Something’s happened to her!” sobbed Leanne. “I 
+don’t know what —” 
+Hagrid stared at Katie for a second, then without a 
+word, bent down, scooped her into his arms, and ran 
+off toward the castle with her. Within seconds, Katie’s 
+piercing screams had died away and the only sound 
+was the roar of the wind. 
+Hermione hurried over to Katie’s wailing friend and 
+put an arm around her. 
+“It’s Leanne, isn’t it?” 
+The girl nodded. 
+“Did it just happen all of a sudden, or — ?” 
+“It was when that package tore,” sobbed Leanne, 
+pointing at the now sodden brown-paper package on 
+the ground, which had split open to reveal a greenish 
+glitter. Ron bent down, his hand outstretched, but 
+Harry seized his arm and pulled him back. 
+“Don’t touch it!” 
+He crouched down. An ornate opal necklace was 
+visible, poking out of the paper. 
+“I’ve seen that before,” said Harry, staring at the 
+thing. “It was on display in Borgin and Burkes ages 
+ago. The label said it was cursed. Katie must have 
+touched it.” He looked up at Leanne, who had started 
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+to shake uncontrollably. “How did Katie get hold of 
+this?” 
+“Well, that’s why we were arguing. She came back 
+from the bathroom in the Three Broomsticks holding 
+it, said it was a surprise for somebody at Hogwarts 
+and she had to deliver it. She looked all funny when 
+she said it. … Oh no, oh no, I bet she’d been 
+Imperiused and I didn’t realize!” 
+Leanne shook with renewed sobs. Hermione patted 
+her shoulder gently. 
+“She didn’t say who’d given it to her, Leanne?” 
+“No … she wouldn’t tell me … and I said she was 
+being stupid and not to take it up to school, but she 
+just wouldn’t listen and … and then I tried to grab it 
+from her … and — and —” 
+Leanne let out a wail of despair. 
+“We’d better get up to school,” said Hermione, her 
+arm still around Leanne. “We’ll be able to find out 
+how she is. Come on. …” 
+Harry hesitated for a moment, then pulled his scarf 
+from around his face and, ignoring Ron’s gasp, 
+carefully covered the necklace in it and picked it up. 
+“We’ll need to show this to Madam Pomfrey,” he said. 
+As they followed Hermione and Leanne up the road, 
+Harry was thinking furiously. They had just entered 
+the grounds when he spoke, unable to keep his 
+thoughts to himself any longer. 
+“Malfoy knows about this necklace. It was in a case at 
+Borgin and Burkes four years ago, I saw him having a 
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+good look at it while I was hiding from him and his 
+dad. This is what he was buying that day when we 
+followed him! He remembered it and he went back for 
+it!” 
+“I — I dunno, Harry,” said Ron hesitantly. “Loads of 
+people go to Borgin and Burkes … and didn’t that girl 
+say Katie got it in the girls’ bathroom?” 
+“She said she came back from the bathroom with it, 
+she didn’t necessarily get it in the bathroom itself —” 
+“McGonagall!” said Ron warningly. 
+Harry looked up. Sure enough, Professor McGonagall 
+was hurrying down the stone steps through swirling 
+sleet to meet them. 
+“Hagrid says you four saw what happened to Katie 
+Bell — upstairs to my office at once, please! What’s 
+that you’re holding, Potter?” 
+“It’s the thing she touched,” said Harry. 
+“Good lord,” said Professor McGonagall, looking 
+alarmed as she took the necklace from Harry. “No, no, 
+Filch, they’re with me!” she added hastily, as Filch 
+came shuffling eagerly across the entrance hall 
+holding his Secrecy Sensor aloft. “Take this necklace 
+to Professor Snape at once, but be sure not to touch 
+it, keep it wrapped in the scarf!” 
+Harry and the others followed Professor McGonagall 
+upstairs and into her office. The sleet-spattered 
+windows were rattling in their frames, and the room 
+was chilly despite the fire crackling in the grate. 
+Professor McGonagall closed the door and swept 
+around her desk to face Harry, Ron, Hermione, and 
+the still sobbing Leanne. 
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+“Well?” she said sharply. “What happened?” 
+Haltingly, and with many pauses while she attempted 
+to control her crying, Leanne told Professor 
+McGonagall how Katie had gone to the bathroom in 
+the Three Broomsticks and returned holding the 
+unmarked package, how Katie had seemed a little 
+odd, and how they had argued about the advisability 
+of agreeing to deliver unknown objects, the argument 
+culminating in the tussle over the parcel, which tore 
+open. At this point, Leanne was so overcome, there 
+was no getting another word out of her. 
+“All right,” said Professor McGonagall, not unkindly, 
+“go up to the hospital wing, please, Leanne, and get 
+Madam Pomfrey to give you something for shock.” 
+When she had left the room, Professor McGonagall 
+turned back to Harry, Ron, and Hermione. 
+“What happened when Katie touched the necklace?” 
+“She rose up in the air,” said Harry, before either Ron 
+or Hermione could speak, “and then began to scream, 
+and collapsed. Professor, can I see Professor 
+Dumbledore, please?” 
+“The headmaster is away until Monday, Potter,” said 
+Professor McGonagall, looking surprised. 
+“Away?” Harry repeated angrily. 
+“Yes, Potter, away!” said Professor McGonagall tartly. 
+“But anything you have to say about this horrible 
+business can be said to me, I’m sure!” 
+For a split second, Harry hesitated. Professor 
+McGonagall did not invite confidences; Dumbledore, 
+though in many ways more intimidating, still seemed 
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+less likely to scorn a theory, however wild. This was a 
+life-and-death matter, though, and no moment to 
+worry about being laughed at. 
+“I think Draco Malfoy gave Katie that necklace, 
+Professor.” 
+On one side of him, Ron rubbed his nose in apparent 
+embarrassment; on the other, Hermione shuffled her 
+feet as though quite keen to put a bit of distance 
+between herself and Harry. 
+“That is a very serious accusation, Potter,” said 
+Professor McGonagall, after a shocked pause. “Do you 
+have any proof?” 
+“No,” said Harry, “but …” and he told her about 
+following Malfoy to Borgin and Burkes and the 
+conversation they had overheard between him and 
+Mr. Borgin. 
+When he had finished speaking, Professor 
+McGonagall looked slightly confused. 
+“Malfoy took something to Borgin and Burkes for 
+repair?” 
+“No, Professor, he just wanted Borgin to tell him how 
+to mend something, he didn’t have it with him. But 
+that’s not the point, the thing is that he bought 
+something at the same time, and I think it was that 
+necklace —” 
+“You saw Malfoy leaving the shop with a similar 
+package?” 
+“No, Professor, he told Borgin to keep it in the shop 
+for him —” 
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+“But Harry,” Hermione interrupted, “Borgin asked 
+him if he wanted to take it with him, and Malfoy said 
+no —” 
+“Because he didn’t want to touch it, obviously!” said 
+Harry angrily. 
+“What he actually said was, ‘How would I look 
+carrying that down the street?’ ” said Hermione. 
+“Well, he would look a bit of a prat carrying a 
+necklace,” interjected Ron. 
+“Oh, Ron,” said Hermione despairingly, “it would be 
+all wrapped up, so he wouldn’t have to touch it, and 
+quite easy to hide inside a cloak, so nobody would see 
+it! I think whatever he reserved at Borgin and Burkes 
+was noisy or bulky, something he knew would draw 
+attention to him if he carried it down the street — and 
+in any case,” she pressed on loudly, before Harry 
+could interrupt, “I asked Borgin about the necklace, 
+don’t you remember? When I went in to try and find 
+out what Malfoy had asked him to keep, I saw it 
+there. And Borgin just told me the price, he didn’t say 
+it was already sold or anything —” 
+“Well, you were being really obvious, he realized what 
+you were up to within about five seconds, of course 
+he wasn’t going to tell you — anyway, Malfoy could’ve 
+sent off for it since —” 
+“That’s enough!” said Professor McGonagall, as 
+Hermione opened her mouth to retort, looking 
+furious. “Potter, I appreciate you telling me this, but 
+we cannot point the finger of blame at Mr. Malfoy 
+purely because he visited the shop where this 
+necklace might have been purchased. The same is 
+probably true of hundreds of people —” 
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+“— that’s what I said —” muttered Ron. 
+“— and in any case, we have put stringent security 
+measures in place this year. I do not believe that 
+necklace can possibly have entered this school 
+without our knowledge —” 
+“But —” 
+“— and what is more,” said Professor McGonagall, 
+with an air of awful finality, “Mr. Malfoy was not in 
+Hogsmeade today.” 
+Harry gaped at her, deflating. 
+“How do you know, Professor?” 
+“Because he was doing detention with me. He has 
+now failed to complete his Transfiguration homework 
+twice in a row. So, thank you for telling me your 
+suspicions, Potter,” she said as she marched past 
+them, “but I need to go up to the hospital wing now to 
+check on Katie Bell. Good day to you all.” 
+She held open her office door. They had no choice but 
+to file past her without another word. 
+Harry was angry with the other two for siding with 
+McGonagall; nevertheless, he felt compelled to join in 
+once they started discussing what had happened. 
+“So who do you reckon Katie was supposed to give the 
+necklace to?” asked Ron, as they climbed the stairs to 
+the common room. 
+“Goodness only knows,” said Hermione. “But whoever 
+it was has had a narrow escape. No one could have 
+opened that package without touching the necklace.” 
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+“It could’ve been meant for loads of people,” said 
+Harry. “Dumbledore — the Death Eaters would love to 
+get rid of him, he must be one of their top targets. Or 
+Slughorn — Dumbledore reckons Voldemort really 
+wanted him and they can’t be pleased that he’s sided 
+with Dumbledore. Or —” 
+“Or you,” said Hermione, looking troubled. 
+“Couldn’t have been,” said Harry, “or Katie would’ve 
+just turned around in the lane and given it to me, 
+wouldn’t she? I was behind her all the way out of the 
+Three Broomsticks. It would have made much more 
+sense to deliver the parcel outside Hogwarts, what 
+with Filch searching everyone who goes in and out. I 
+wonder why Malfoy told her to take it into the castle?” 
+“Harry, Malfoy wasn’t in Hogsmeade!” said Hermione, 
+actually stamping her foot in frustration. 
+“He must have used an accomplice, then,” said Harry. 
+“Crabbe or Goyle — or, come to think of it, another 
+Death Eater, he’ll have loads better cronies than 
+Crabbe and Goyle now he’s joined up —” 
+Ron and Hermione exchanged looks that plainly said 
+There’s no point arguing with him. 
+“Dilligrout,” said Hermione firmly as they reached the 
+Fat Lady. 
+The portrait swung open to admit them to the 
+common room. It was quite full and smelled of damp 
+clothing; many people seemed to have returned from 
+Hogsmeade early because of the bad weather. There 
+was no buzz of fear or speculation, however: Clearly, 
+the news of Katie’s fate had not yet spread. 
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+“It wasn’t a very slick attack, really, when you stop 
+and think about it,” said Ron, casually turfing a first 
+year out of one of the good armchairs by the fire so 
+that he could sit down. “The curse didn’t even make it 
+into the castle. Not what you’d call foolproof.” 
+“You’re right,” said Hermione, prodding Ron out of the 
+chair with her foot and offering it to the first year 
+again. “It wasn’t very well thought-out at all.” 
+“But since when has Malfoy been one of the world’s 
+great thinkers?” asked Harry. 
+Neither Ron nor Hermione answered him. 
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+ 
+ 
+THE SECRET RIDDLE 
+Katie was removed to St. Mungo’s Hospital for 
+Magical Maladies and Injuries the following day, by 
+which time the news that she had been cursed had 
+spread all over the school, though the details were 
+confused and nobody other than Harry, Ron, 
+Hermione, and Leanne seemed to know that Katie 
+herself had not been the intended target. 
+“Oh, and Malfoy knows, of course,” said Harry to Ron 
+and Hermione, who continued their new policy of 
+feigning deafness whenever Harry mentioned his 
+Malfoy-Is-a-Death-Eater theory. 
+Harry had wondered whether Dumbledore would 
+return from wherever he had been in time for Monday 
+night’s lesson, but having had no word to the 
+contrary, he presented himself outside Dumbledore’s 
+office at eight o’clock, knocked, and was told to enter. 
+There sat Dumbledore looking unusually tired; his 
+hand was as black and burned as ever, but he smiled 
+when he gestured to Harry to sit down. The Pensieve 
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+was sitting on the desk again, casting silvery specks 
+of light over the ceiling. 
+“You have had a busy time while I have been away,” 
+Dumbledore said. “I believe you witnessed Katie’s 
+accident.” 
+“Yes, sir. How is she?” 
+“Still very unwell, although she was relatively lucky. 
+She appears to have brushed the necklace with the 
+smallest possible amount of skin: There was a tiny 
+hole in her glove. Had she put it on, had she even 
+held it in her ungloved hand, she would have died, 
+perhaps instantly. Luckily Professor Snape was able 
+to do enough to prevent a rapid spread of the curse —
+” 
+“Why him?” asked Harry quickly. “Why not Madam 
+Pomfrey?” 
+“Impertinent,” said a soft voice from one of the 
+portraits on the wall, and Phineas Nigellus Black, 
+Sirius’s great-great-grandfather, raised his head from 
+his arms where he had appeared to be sleeping. “I 
+would not have permitted a student to question the 
+way Hogwarts operated in my day.” 
+“Yes, thank you, Phineas,” said Dumbledore 
+quellingly. “Professor Snape knows much more about 
+the Dark Arts than Madam Pomfrey, Harry. Anyway, 
+the St. Mungo’s staff are sending me hourly reports, 
+and I am hopeful that Katie will make a full recovery 
+in time.” 
+“Where were you this weekend, sir?” Harry asked, 
+disregarding a strong feeling that he might be 
+pushing his luck, a feeling apparently shared by 
+Phineas Nigellus, who hissed softly. 
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+“I would rather not say just now,” said Dumbledore. 
+“However, I shall tell you in due course.” 
+“You will?” said Harry, startled. 
+“Yes, I expect so,” said Dumbledore, withdrawing a 
+fresh bottle of silver memories from inside his robes 
+and uncorking it with a prod of his wand. 
+“Sir,” said Harry tentatively, “I met Mundungus in 
+Hogsmeade.” 
+“Ah yes, I am already aware that Mundungus has 
+been treating your inheritance with light-fingered 
+contempt,” said Dumbledore, frowning a little. “He 
+has gone to ground since you accosted him outside 
+the Three Broomsticks; I rather think he dreads 
+facing me. However, rest assured that he will not be 
+making away with any more of Sirius’s old 
+possessions.” 
+“That mangy old half-blood has been stealing Black 
+heirlooms?” said Phineas Nigellus, incensed; and he 
+stalked out of his frame, undoubtedly to visit his 
+portrait in number twelve, Grimmauld Place. 
+“Professor,” said Harry, after a short pause, “did 
+Professor McGonagall tell you what I told her after 
+Katie got hurt? About Draco Malfoy?” 
+“She told me of your suspicions, yes,” said 
+Dumbledore. 
+“And do you — ?” 
+“I shall take all appropriate measures to investigate 
+anyone who might have had a hand in Katie’s 
+accident,” said Dumbledore. “But what concerns me 
+now, Harry, is our lesson.” 
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+Harry felt slightly resentful at this: If their lessons 
+were so very important, why had there been such a 
+long gap between the first and second? However, he 
+said no more about Draco Malfoy, but watched as 
+Dumbledore poured the fresh memories into the 
+Pensieve and began swirling the stone basin once 
+more between his long-fingered hands. 
+“You will remember, I am sure, that we left the tale of 
+Lord Voldemort’s beginnings at the point where the 
+handsome Muggle, Tom Riddle, had abandoned his 
+witch wife, Merope, and returned to his family home 
+in Little Hangleton. Merope was left alone in London, 
+expecting the baby who would one day become Lord 
+Voldemort.” 
+“How do you know she was in London, sir?” 
+“Because of the evidence of one Caractacus Burke,” 
+said Dumbledore, “who, by an odd coincidence, 
+helped found the very shop whence came the 
+necklace we have just been discussing.” 
+He swilled the contents of the Pensieve as Harry had 
+seen him swill them before, much as a gold 
+prospector sifts for gold. Up out of the swirling, silvery 
+mass rose a little old man revolving slowly in the 
+Pensieve, silver as a ghost but much more solid, with 
+a thatch of hair that completely covered his eyes. 
+“Yes, we acquired it in curious circumstances. It was 
+brought in by a young witch just before Christmas, 
+oh, many years ago now. She said she needed the 
+gold badly, well, that much was obvious. Covered in 
+rags and pretty far along … Going to have a baby, see. 
+She said the locket had been Slytherin’s. Well, we 
+hear that sort of story all the time, ‘Oh, this was 
+Merlin’s, this was, his favorite teapot,’ but when I 
+looked at it, it had his mark all right, and a few 
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+simple spells were enough to tell me the truth. Of 
+course, that made it near enough priceless. She didn’t 
+seem to have any idea how much it was worth. Happy 
+to get ten Galleons for it. Best bargain we ever made!” 
+Dumbledore gave the Pensieve an extra-vigorous 
+shake and Caractacus Burke descended back into the 
+swirling mass of memory from whence he had come. 
+“He only gave her ten Galleons?” said Harry 
+indignantly. 
+“Caractacus Burke was not famed for his generosity,” 
+said Dumbledore. “So we know that, near the end of 
+her pregnancy, Merope was alone in London and in 
+desperate need of gold, desperate enough to sell her 
+one and only valuable possession, the locket that was 
+one of Marvolo’s treasured family heirlooms.” 
+“But she could do magic!” said Harry impatiently. 
+“She could have got food and everything for herself by 
+magic, couldn’t she?” 
+“Ah,” said Dumbledore, “perhaps she could. But it is 
+my belief — I am guessing again, but I am sure I am 
+right — that when her husband abandoned her, 
+Merope stopped using magic. I do not think that she 
+wanted to be a witch any longer. Of course, it is also 
+possible that her unrequited love and the attendant 
+despair sapped her of her powers; that can happen. 
+In any case, as you are about to see, Merope refused 
+to raise her wand even to save her own life.” 
+“She wouldn’t even stay alive for her son?” 
+Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. “Could you possibly 
+be feeling sorry for Lord Voldemort?” 
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+“No,” said Harry quickly, “but she had a choice, didn’t 
+she, not like my mother —” 
+“Your mother had a choice too,” said Dumbledore 
+gently. “Yes, Merope Riddle chose death in spite of a 
+son who needed her, but do not judge her too 
+harshly, Harry. She was greatly weakened by long 
+suffering and she never had your mother’s courage. 
+And now, if you will stand …” 
+“Where are we going?” Harry asked, as Dumbledore 
+joined him at the front of the desk. 
+“This time,” said Dumbledore, “we are going to enter 
+my memory. I think you will find it both rich in detail 
+and satisfyingly accurate. After you, Harry …” 
+Harry bent over the Pensieve; his face broke the cool 
+surface of the memory and then he was falling 
+through darkness again. … Seconds later, his feet hit 
+firm ground; he opened his eyes and found that he 
+and Dumbledore were standing in a bustling, old-
+fashioned London street. 
+“There I am,” said Dumbledore brightly, pointing 
+ahead of them to a tall figure crossing the road in 
+front of a horse-drawn milk cart. 
+This younger Albus Dumbledore’s long hair and beard 
+were auburn. Having reached their side of the street, 
+he strode off along the pavement, drawing many 
+curious glances due to the flamboyantly cut suit of 
+plum velvet that he was wearing. 
+“Nice suit, sir,” said Harry, before he could stop 
+himself, but Dumbledore merely chuckled as they 
+followed his younger self a short distance, finally 
+passing through a set of iron gates into a bare 
+courtyard that fronted a rather grim, square building 
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+surrounded by high railings. He mounted the few 
+steps leading to the front door and knocked once. 
+After a moment or two, the door was opened by a 
+scruffy girl wearing an apron. 
+“Good afternoon. I have an appointment with a Mrs. 
+Cole, who, I believe, is the matron here?” 
+“Oh,” said the bewildered-looking girl, taking in 
+Dumbledore’s eccentric appearance. “Um … just a 
+mo’ … MRS. COLE!” she bellowed over her shoulder. 
+Harry heard a distant voice shouting something in 
+response. The girl turned back to Dumbledore. “Come 
+in, she’s on ’er way.” 
+Dumbledore stepped into a hallway tiled in black and 
+white; the whole place was shabby but spotlessly 
+clean. Harry and the older Dumbledore followed. 
+Before the front door had closed behind them, a 
+skinny, harassed-looking woman came scurrying 
+toward them. She had a sharp-featured face that 
+appeared more anxious than unkind, and she was 
+talking over her shoulder to another aproned helper 
+as she walked toward Dumbledore. 
+“… and take the iodine upstairs to Martha, Billy 
+Stubbs has been picking his scabs and Eric Whalley’s 
+oozing all over his sheets — chicken pox on top of 
+everything else,” she said to nobody in particular, and 
+then her eyes fell upon Dumbledore and she stopped 
+dead in her tracks, looking as astonished as if a 
+giraffe had just crossed her threshold. 
+“Good afternoon,” said Dumbledore, holding out his 
+hand. 
+Mrs. Cole simply gaped. 
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+“My name is Albus Dumbledore. I sent you a letter 
+requesting an appointment and you very kindly 
+invited me here today.” 
+Mrs. Cole blinked. Apparently deciding that 
+Dumbledore was not a hallucination, she said feebly, 
+“Oh yes. Well — well then — you’d better come into 
+my room. Yes.” 
+She led Dumbledore into a small room that seemed 
+part sitting room, part office. It was as shabby as the 
+hallway and the furniture was old and mismatched. 
+She invited Dumbledore to sit on a rickety chair and 
+seated herself behind a cluttered desk, eyeing him 
+nervously. 
+“I am here, as I told you in my letter, to discuss Tom 
+Riddle and arrangements for his future,” said 
+Dumbledore. 
+“Are you family?” asked Mrs. Cole. 
+“No, I am a teacher,” said Dumbledore. “I have come 
+to offer Tom a place at my school.” 
+“What school’s this, then?” 
+“It is called Hogwarts,” said Dumbledore. 
+“And how come you’re interested in Tom?” 
+“We believe he has qualities we are looking for.” 
+“You mean he’s won a scholarship? How can he have 
+done? He’s never been entered for one.” 
+“Well, his name has been down for our school since 
+birth —” 
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+“Who registered him? His parents?” 
+There was no doubt that Mrs. Cole was an 
+inconveniently sharp woman. Apparently Dumbledore 
+thought so too, for Harry now saw him slip his wand 
+out of the pocket of his velvet suit, at the same time 
+picking up a piece of perfectly blank paper from Mrs. 
+Cole’s desktop. 
+“Here,” said Dumbledore, waving his wand once as he 
+passed her the piece of paper, “I think this will make 
+everything clear.” 
+Mrs. Cole’s eyes slid out of focus and back again as 
+she gazed intently at the blank paper for a moment. 
+“That seems perfectly in order,” she said placidly, 
+handing it back. Then her eyes fell upon a bottle of 
+gin and two glasses that had certainly not been 
+present a few seconds before. 
+“Er — may I offer you a glass of gin?” she said in an 
+extra-refined voice. 
+“Thank you very much,” said Dumbledore, beaming. 
+It soon became clear that Mrs. Cole was no novice 
+when it came to gin drinking. Pouring both of them a 
+generous measure, she drained her own glass in one 
+gulp. Smacking her lips frankly, she smiled at 
+Dumbledore for the first time, and he didn’t hesitate 
+to press his advantage. 
+“I was wondering whether you could tell me anything 
+of Tom Riddle’s history? I think he was born here in 
+the orphanage?” 
+“That’s right,” said Mrs. Cole, helping herself to more 
+gin. “I remember it clear as anything, because I’d just 
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+started here myself. New Year’s Eve and bitter cold, 
+snowing, you know. Nasty night. And this girl, not 
+much older than I was myself at the time, came 
+staggering up the front steps. Well, she wasn’t the 
+first. We took her in, and she had the baby within the 
+hour. And she was dead in another hour.” 
+Mrs. Cole nodded impressively and took another 
+generous gulp of gin. 
+“Did she say anything before she died?” asked 
+Dumbledore. “Anything about the boy’s father, for 
+instance?” 
+“Now, as it happens, she did,” said Mrs. Cole, who 
+seemed to be rather enjoying herself now, with the gin 
+in her hand and an eager audience for her story. “I 
+remember she said to me, ‘I hope he looks like his 
+papa,’ and I won’t lie, she was right to hope it, 
+because she was no beauty — and then she told me 
+he was to be named Tom, for his father, and Marvolo, 
+for her father — yes, I know, funny name, isn’t it? We 
+wondered whether she came from a circus — and she 
+said the boy’s surname was to be Riddle. And she 
+died soon after that without another word. 
+“Well, we named him just as she’d said, it seemed so 
+important to the poor girl, but no Tom nor Marvolo 
+nor any kind of Riddle ever came looking for him, nor 
+any family at all, so he stayed in the orphanage and 
+he’s been here ever since.” 
+Mrs. Cole helped herself, almost absentmindedly, to 
+another healthy measure of gin. Two pink spots had 
+appeared high on her cheekbones. Then she said, 
+“He’s a funny boy.” 
+“Yes,” said Dumbledore. “I thought he might be.” 
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+“He was a funny baby too. He hardly ever cried, you 
+know. And then, when he got a little older, he was … 
+odd.” 
+“Odd in what way?” asked Dumbledore gently. 
+“Well, he —” 
+But Mrs. Cole pulled up short, and there was nothing 
+blurry or vague about the inquisitorial glance she 
+shot Dumbledore over her gin glass. 
+“He’s definitely got a place at your school, you say?” 
+“Definitely,” said Dumbledore. 
+“And nothing I say can change that?” 
+“Nothing,” said Dumbledore. 
+“You’ll be taking him away, whatever?” 
+“Whatever,” repeated Dumbledore gravely. 
+She squinted at him as though deciding whether or 
+not to trust him. Apparently she decided she could, 
+because she said in a sudden rush, “He scares the 
+other children.” 
+“You mean he is a bully?” asked Dumbledore. 
+“I think he must be,” said Mrs. Cole, frowning 
+slightly, “but it’s very hard to catch him at it. There 
+have been incidents. … Nasty things …” 
+Dumbledore did not press her, though Harry could 
+tell that he was interested. She took yet another gulp 
+of gin and her rosy cheeks grew rosier still. 
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+“Billy Stubbs’s rabbit … well, Tom said he didn’t do it 
+and I don’t see how he could have done, but even so, 
+it didn’t hang itself from the rafters, did it?” 
+“I shouldn’t think so, no,” said Dumbledore quietly. 
+“But I’m jiggered if I know how he got up there to do 
+it. All I know is he and Billy had argued the day 
+before. And then” — Mrs. Cole took another swig of 
+gin, slopping a little over her chin this time — “on the 
+summer outing — we take them out, you know, once 
+a year, to the countryside or to the seaside — well, 
+Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop were never quite 
+right afterwards, and all we ever got out of them was 
+that they’d gone into a cave with Tom Riddle. He 
+swore they’d just gone exploring, but something 
+happened in there, I’m sure of it. And, well, there 
+have been a lot of things, funny things. …” 
+She looked around at Dumbledore again, and though 
+her cheeks were flushed, her gaze was steady. “I don’t 
+think many people will be sorry to see the back of 
+him.” 
+“You understand, I’m sure, that we will not be 
+keeping him permanently?” said Dumbledore. “He will 
+have to return here, at the very least, every summer.” 
+“Oh, well, that’s better than a whack on the nose with 
+a rusty poker,” said Mrs. Cole with a slight hiccup. 
+She got to her feet, and Harry was impressed to see 
+that she was quite steady, even though two-thirds of 
+the gin was now gone. “I suppose you’d like to see 
+him?” 
+“Very much,” said Dumbledore, rising too. 
+She led him out of her office and up the stone stairs, 
+calling out instructions and admonitions to helpers 
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+and children as she passed. The orphans, Harry saw, 
+were all wearing the same kind of grayish tunic. They 
+looked reasonably well-cared for, but there was no 
+denying that this was a grim place in which to grow 
+up. 
+“Here we are,” said Mrs. Cole, as they turned off the 
+second landing and stopped outside the first door in a 
+long corridor. She knocked twice and entered. 
+“Tom? You’ve got a visitor. This is Mr. Dumberton — 
+sorry, Dunderbore. He’s come to tell you — well, I’ll 
+let him do it.” 
+Harry and the two Dumbledores entered the room, 
+and Mrs. Cole closed the door on them. It was a small 
+bare room with nothing in it except an old wardrobe, 
+a wooden chair, and an iron bedstead. A boy was 
+sitting on top of the gray blankets, his legs stretched 
+out in front of him, holding a book. 
+There was no trace of the Gaunts in Tom Riddle’s 
+face. Merope had got her dying wish: He was his 
+handsome father in miniature, tall for eleven years 
+old, dark-haired, and pale. His eyes narrowed slightly 
+as he took in Dumbledore’s eccentric appearance. 
+There was a moment’s silence. 
+“How do you do, Tom?” said Dumbledore, walking 
+forward and holding out his hand. 
+The boy hesitated, then took it, and they shook 
+hands. Dumbledore drew up the hard wooden chair 
+beside Riddle, so that the pair of them looked rather 
+like a hospital patient and visitor. 
+“I am Professor Dumbledore.” 
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+“ ‘Professor’?” repeated Riddle. He looked wary. “Is 
+that like ‘doctor’? What are you here for? Did she get 
+you in to have a look at me?” 
+He was pointing at the door through which Mrs. Cole 
+had just left. 
+“No, no,” said Dumbledore, smiling. 
+“I don’t believe you,” said Riddle. “She wants me 
+looked at, doesn’t she? Tell the truth!” 
+He spoke the last three words with a ringing force 
+that was almost shocking. It was a command, and it 
+sounded as though he had given it many times 
+before. His eyes had widened and he was glaring at 
+Dumbledore, who made no response except to 
+continue smiling pleasantly. After a few seconds 
+Riddle stopped glaring, though he looked, if anything, 
+warier still. 
+“Who are you?” 
+“I have told you. My name is Professor Dumbledore 
+and I work at a school called Hogwarts. I have come 
+to offer you a place at my school — your new school, 
+if you would like to come.” 
+Riddle’s reaction to this was most surprising. He leapt 
+from the bed and backed away from Dumbledore, 
+looking furious. 
+“You can’t kid me! The asylum, that’s where you’re 
+from, isn’t it? ‘Professor,’ yes, of course — well, I’m 
+not going, see? That old cat’s the one who should be 
+in the asylum. I never did anything to little Amy 
+Benson or Dennis Bishop, and you can ask them, 
+they’ll tell you!” 
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+“I am not from the asylum,” said Dumbledore 
+patiently. “I am a teacher and, if you will sit down 
+calmly, I shall tell you about Hogwarts. Of course, if 
+you would rather not come to the school, nobody will 
+force you —” 
+“I’d like to see them try,” sneered Riddle. 
+“Hogwarts,” Dumbledore went on, as though he had 
+not heard Riddle’s last words, “is a school for people 
+with special abilities —” 
+“I’m not mad!” 
+“I know that you are not mad. Hogwarts is not a 
+school for mad people. It is a school of magic.” 
+There was silence. Riddle had frozen, his face 
+expressionless, but his eyes were flickering back and 
+forth between each of Dumbledore’s, as though trying 
+to catch one of them lying. 
+“Magic?” he repeated in a whisper. 
+“That’s right,” said Dumbledore. 
+“It’s … it’s magic, what I can do?” 
+“What is it that you can do?” 
+“All sorts,” breathed Riddle. A flush of excitement was 
+rising up his neck into his hollow cheeks; he looked 
+fevered. “I can make things move without touching 
+them. I can make animals do what I want them to do, 
+without training them. I can make bad things happen 
+to people who annoy me. I can make them hurt if I 
+want to.” 
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+His legs were trembling. He stumbled forward and sat 
+down on the bed again, staring at his hands, his head 
+bowed as though in prayer. 
+“I knew I was different,” he whispered to his own 
+quivering fingers. “I knew I was special. Always, I 
+knew there was something.” 
+“Well, you were quite right,” said Dumbledore, who 
+was no longer smiling, but watching Riddle intently. 
+“You are a wizard.” 
+Riddle lifted his head. His face was transfigured: 
+There was a wild happiness upon it, yet for some 
+reason it did not make him better looking; on the 
+contrary, his finely carved features seemed somehow 
+rougher, his expression almost bestial. 
+“Are you a wizard too?” 
+“Yes, I am.” 
+“Prove it,” said Riddle at once, in the same 
+commanding tone he had used when he had said, 
+“Tell the truth.” 
+Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. “If, as I take it, you 
+are accepting your place at Hogwarts —” 
+“Of course I am!” 
+“Then you will address me as ‘Professor’ or ‘sir.’ ” 
+Riddle’s expression hardened for the most fleeting 
+moment before he said, in an unrecognizably polite 
+voice, “I’m sorry, sir. I meant — please, Professor, 
+could you show me — ?” 
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+Harry was sure that Dumbledore was going to refuse, 
+that he would tell Riddle there would be plenty of time 
+for practical demonstrations at Hogwarts, that they 
+were currently in a building full of Muggles and must 
+therefore be cautious. To his great surprise, however, 
+Dumbledore drew his wand from an inside pocket of 
+his suit jacket, pointed it at the shabby wardrobe in 
+the corner, and gave the wand a casual flick. 
+The wardrobe burst into flames. 
+Riddle jumped to his feet; Harry could hardly blame 
+him for howling in shock and rage; all his worldly 
+possessions must be in there. But even as Riddle 
+rounded on Dumbledore, the flames vanished, leaving 
+the wardrobe completely undamaged. 
+Riddle stared from the wardrobe to Dumbledore; then, 
+his expression greedy, he pointed at the wand. 
+“Where can I get one of them?” 
+“All in good time,” said Dumbledore. “I think there is 
+something trying to get out of your wardrobe.” 
+And sure enough, a faint rattling could be heard from 
+inside it. For the first time, Riddle looked frightened. 
+“Open the door,” said Dumbledore. 
+Riddle hesitated, then crossed the room and threw 
+open the wardrobe door. On the topmost shelf, above 
+a rail of threadbare clothes, a small cardboard box 
+was shaking and rattling as though there were several 
+frantic mice trapped inside it. 
+“Take it out,” said Dumbledore. 
+Riddle took down the quaking box. He looked 
+unnerved. 
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+“Is there anything in that box that you ought not to 
+have?” asked Dumbledore. 
+Riddle threw Dumbledore a long, clear, calculating 
+look. “Yes, I suppose so, sir,” he said finally, in an 
+expressionless voice. 
+“Open it,” said Dumbledore. 
+Riddle took off the lid and tipped the contents onto 
+his bed without looking at them. Harry, who had 
+expected something much more exciting, saw a mess 
+of small, everyday objects: a yo-yo, a silver thimble, 
+and a tarnished mouth organ among them. Once free 
+of the box, they stopped quivering and lay quite still 
+upon the thin blankets. 
+“You will return them to their owners with your 
+apologies,” said Dumbledore calmly, putting his wand 
+back into his jacket. “I shall know whether it has 
+been done. And be warned: Thieving is not tolerated 
+at Hogwarts.” 
+Riddle did not look remotely abashed; he was still 
+staring coldly and appraisingly at Dumbledore. At last 
+he said in a colorless voice, “Yes, sir.” 
+“At Hogwarts,” Dumbledore went on, “we teach you 
+not only to use magic, but to control it. You have — 
+inadvertently, I am sure — been using your powers in 
+a way that is neither taught nor tolerated at our 
+school. You are not the first, nor will you be the last, 
+to allow your magic to run away with you. But you 
+should know that Hogwarts can expel students, and 
+the Ministry of Magic — yes, there is a Ministry — will 
+punish lawbreakers still more severely. All new 
+wizards must accept that, in entering our world, they 
+abide by our laws.” 
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+“Yes, sir,” said Riddle again. 
+It was impossible to tell what he was thinking; his 
+face remained quite blank as he put the little cache of 
+stolen objects back into the cardboard box. When he 
+had finished, he turned to Dumbledore and said 
+baldly, “I haven’t got any money.” 
+“That is easily remedied,” said Dumbledore, drawing a 
+leather money-pouch from his pocket. “There is a 
+fund at Hogwarts for those who require assistance to 
+buy books and robes. You might have to buy some of 
+your spellbooks and so on secondhand, but —” 
+“Where do you buy spellbooks?” interrupted Riddle, 
+who had taken the heavy money bag without 
+thanking Dumbledore, and was now examining a fat 
+gold Galleon. 
+“In Diagon Alley,” said Dumbledore. “I have your list 
+of books and school equipment with me. I can help 
+you find everything —” 
+“You’re coming with me?” asked Riddle, looking up. 
+“Certainly, if you —” 
+“I don’t need you,” said Riddle. “I’m used to doing 
+things for myself, I go round London on my own all 
+the time. How do you get to this Diagon Alley — sir?” 
+he added, catching Dumbledore’s eye. 
+Harry thought that Dumbledore would insist upon 
+accompanying Riddle, but once again he was 
+surprised. Dumbledore handed Riddle the envelope 
+containing his list of equipment, and after telling 
+Riddle exactly how to get to the Leaky Cauldron from 
+the orphanage, he said, “You will be able to see it, 
+although Muggles around you — non-magical people, 
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+that is — will not. Ask for Tom the barman — easy 
+enough to remember, as he shares your name —” 
+Riddle gave an irritable twitch, as though trying to 
+displace an irksome fly. 
+“You dislike the name ‘Tom’?” 
+“There are a lot of Toms,” muttered Riddle. Then, as 
+though he could not suppress the question, as 
+though it burst from him in spite of himself, he 
+asked, “Was my father a wizard? He was called Tom 
+Riddle too, they’ve told me.” 
+“I’m afraid I don’t know,” said Dumbledore, his voice 
+gentle. 
+“My mother can’t have been magic, or she wouldn’t 
+have died,” said Riddle, more to himself than 
+Dumbledore. “It must’ve been him. So — when I’ve got 
+all my stuff — when do I come to this Hogwarts?” 
+“All the details are on the second piece of parchment 
+in your envelope,” said Dumbledore. “You will leave 
+from King’s Cross Station on the first of September. 
+There is a train ticket in there too.” 
+Riddle nodded. Dumbledore got to his feet and held 
+out his hand again. Taking it, Riddle said, “I can 
+speak to snakes. I found out when we’ve been to the 
+country on trips — they find me, they whisper to me. 
+Is that normal for a wizard?” 
+Harry could tell that he had withheld mention of this 
+strangest power until that moment, determined to 
+impress. 
+“It is unusual,” said Dumbledore, after a moment’s 
+hesitation, “but not unheard of.” 
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+His tone was casual but his eyes moved curiously 
+over Riddle’s face. They stood for a moment, man and 
+boy, staring at each other. Then the handshake was 
+broken; Dumbledore was at the door. 
+“Good-bye, Tom. I shall see you at Hogwarts.” 
+“I think that will do,” said the white-haired 
+Dumbledore at Harry’s side, and seconds later, they 
+were soaring weightlessly through darkness once 
+more, before landing squarely in the present-day 
+office. 
+“Sit down,” said Dumbledore, landing beside Harry. 
+Harry obeyed, his mind still full of what he had just 
+seen. 
+“He believed it much quicker than I did — I mean, 
+when you told him he was a wizard,” said Harry. “I 
+didn’t believe Hagrid at first, when he told me.” 
+“Yes, Riddle was perfectly ready to believe that he was 
+— to use his word — ‘special,’ ” said Dumbledore. 
+“Did you know — then?” asked Harry. 
+“Did I know that I had just met the most dangerous 
+Dark wizard of all time?” said Dumbledore. “No, I had 
+no idea that he was to grow up to be what he is. 
+However, I was certainly intrigued by him. I returned 
+to Hogwarts intending to keep an eye upon him, 
+something I should have done in any case, given that 
+he was alone and friendless, but which, already, I felt 
+I ought to do for others’ sake as much as his. 
+“His powers, as you heard, were surprisingly well-
+developed for such a young wizard and — most 
+interestingly and ominously of all — he had already 
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+discovered that he had some measure of control over 
+them, and begun to use them consciously. And as 
+you saw, they were not the random experiments 
+typical of young wizards: He was already using magic 
+against other people, to frighten, to punish, to 
+control. The little stories of the strangled rabbit and 
+the young boy and girl he lured into a cave were most 
+suggestive. … ‘I can make them hurt if I want to. …’ ” 
+“And he was a Parselmouth,” interjected Harry. 
+“Yes, indeed; a rare ability, and one supposedly 
+connected with the Dark Arts, although as we know, 
+there are Parselmouths among the great and the good 
+too. In fact, his ability to speak to serpents did not 
+make me nearly as uneasy as his obvious instincts for 
+cruelty, secrecy, and domination. 
+“Time is making fools of us again,” said Dumbledore, 
+indicating the dark sky beyond the windows. “But 
+before we part, I want to draw your attention to 
+certain features of the scene we have just witnessed, 
+for they have a great bearing on the matters we shall 
+be discussing in future meetings. 
+“Firstly, I hope you noticed Riddle’s reaction when I 
+mentioned that another shared his first name, ‘Tom’?” 
+Harry nodded. 
+“There he showed his contempt for anything that tied 
+him to other people, anything that made him 
+ordinary. Even then, he wished to be different, 
+separate, notorious. He shed his name, as you know, 
+within a few short years of that conversation and 
+created the mask of ‘Lord Voldemort’ behind which he 
+has been hidden for so long. 
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+“I trust that you also noticed that Tom Riddle was 
+already highly self-sufficient, secretive, and, 
+apparently, friendless? He did not want help or 
+companionship on his trip to Diagon Alley. He 
+preferred to operate alone. The adult Voldemort is the 
+same. You will hear many of his Death Eaters 
+claiming that they are in his confidence, that they 
+alone are close to him, even understand him. They 
+are deluded. Lord Voldemort has never had a friend, 
+nor do I believe that he has ever wanted one. 
+“And lastly — I hope you are not too sleepy to pay 
+attention to this, Harry — the young Tom Riddle liked 
+to collect trophies. You saw the box of stolen articles 
+he had hidden in his room. These were taken from 
+victims of his bullying behavior, souvenirs, if you will, 
+of particularly unpleasant bits of magic. Bear in mind 
+this magpie-like tendency, for this, particularly, will 
+be important later. 
+“And now, it really is time for bed.” 
+Harry got to his feet. As he walked across the room, 
+his eyes fell upon the little table on which Marvolo 
+Gaunt’s ring had rested last time, but the ring was no 
+longer there. 
+“Yes, Harry?” said Dumbledore, for Harry had come to 
+a halt. 
+“The ring’s gone,” said Harry, looking around. “But I 
+thought you might have the mouth organ or 
+something.” 
+Dumbledore beamed at him, peering over the top of 
+his half-moon spectacles. 
+“Very astute, Harry, but the mouth organ was only 
+ever a mouth organ.” 
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+And on that enigmatic note he waved to Harry, who 
+understood himself to be dismissed. 
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+ 
+ 
+FELIX FELICIS 
+Harry had Herbology first thing the following 
+morning. He had been unable to tell Ron and 
+Hermione about his lesson with Dumbledore over 
+breakfast for fear of being overheard, but he filled 
+them in as they walked across the vegetable patch 
+toward the greenhouses. The weekend’s brutal wind 
+had died out at last; the weird mist had returned and 
+it took them a little longer than usual to find the 
+correct greenhouse. 
+“Wow, scary thought, the boy You-Know-Who,” said 
+Ron quietly, as they took their places around one of 
+the gnarled Snargaluff stumps that formed this term’s 
+project, and began pulling on their protective gloves. 
+“But I still don’t get why Dumbledore’s showing you 
+all this. I mean, it’s really interesting and everything, 
+but what’s the point?” 
+“Dunno,” said Harry, inserting a gum shield. “But he 
+says it’s all important and it’ll help me survive.” 
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+“I think it’s fascinating,” said Hermione earnestly. “It 
+makes absolute sense to know as much about 
+Voldemort as possible. How else will you find out his 
+weaknesses?” 
+“So how was Slughorn’s latest party?” Harry asked 
+her thickly through the gum shield. 
+“Oh, it was quite fun, really,” said Hermione, now 
+putting on protective goggles. “I mean, he drones on 
+about famous ex-pupils a bit, and he absolutely 
+fawns on McLaggen because he’s so well-connected, 
+but he gave us some really nice food and he 
+introduced us to Gwenog Jones.” 
+“Gwenog Jones?” said Ron, his eyes widening under 
+his own goggles. “The Gwenog Jones? Captain of the 
+Holyhead Harpies?” 
+“That’s right,” said Hermione. “Personally, I thought 
+she was a bit full of herself, but —” 
+“Quite enough chat over here!” said Professor Sprout 
+briskly, bustling over and looking stern. “You’re 
+lagging behind, everybody else has started, and 
+Neville’s already got his first pod!” 
+They looked around; sure enough, there sat Neville 
+with a bloody lip and several nasty scratches along 
+the side of his face, but clutching an unpleasantly 
+pulsating green object about the size of a grapefruit. 
+“Okay, Professor, we’re starting now!” said Ron, 
+adding quietly, when she had turned away again, 
+“should’ve used Muffliato, Harry.” 
+“No, we shouldn’t!” said Hermione at once, looking, as 
+she always did, intensely cross at the thought of the 
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+Half-Blood Prince and his spells. “Well, come on … 
+we’d better get going. …” 
+She gave the other two an apprehensive look; they all 
+took deep breaths and then dived at the gnarled 
+stump between them. 
+It sprang to life at once; long, prickly, bramblelike 
+vines flew out of the top and whipped through the air. 
+One tangled itself in Hermione’s hair, and Ron beat it 
+back with a pair of secateurs; Harry succeeded in 
+trapping a couple of vines and knotting them 
+together; a hole opened in the middle of all the 
+tentaclelike branches; Hermione plunged her arm 
+bravely into this hole, which closed like a trap around 
+her elbow; Harry and Ron tugged and wrenched at 
+the vines, forcing the hole to open again, and 
+Hermione snatched her arm free, clutching in her 
+fingers a pod just like Neville’s. At once, the prickly 
+vines shot back inside, and the gnarled stump sat 
+there looking like an innocently dead lump of wood. 
+“You know, I don’t think I’ll be having any of these in 
+my garden when I’ve got my own place,” said Ron, 
+pushing his goggles up onto his forehead and wiping 
+sweat from his face. 
+“Pass me a bowl,” said Hermione, holding the 
+pulsating pod at arm’s length; Harry handed one over 
+and she dropped the pod into it with a look of disgust 
+on her face. 
+“Don’t be squeamish, squeeze it out, they’re best 
+when they’re fresh!” called Professor Sprout. 
+“Anyway,” said Hermione, continuing their 
+interrupted conversation as though a lump of wood 
+had not just attacked them, “Slughorn’s going to have 
+a Christmas party, Harry, and there’s no way you’ll be 
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+able to wriggle out of this one because he actually 
+asked me to check your free evenings, so he could be 
+sure to have it on a night you can come.” 
+Harry groaned. Meanwhile, Ron, who was attempting 
+to burst the pod in the bowl by putting both hands on 
+it, standing up, and squashing it as hard as he could, 
+said angrily, “And this is another party just for 
+Slughorn’s favorites, is it?” 
+“Just for the Slug Club, yes,” said Hermione. 
+The pod flew out from under Ron’s fingers and hit the 
+greenhouse glass, rebounding onto the back of 
+Professor Sprout’s head and knocking off her old, 
+patched hat. Harry went to retrieve the pod; when he 
+got back, Hermione was saying, “Look, I didn’t make 
+up the name ‘Slug Club’ —” 
+“ ‘Slug Club,’ ” repeated Ron with a sneer worthy of 
+Malfoy. “It’s pathetic. Well, I hope you enjoy your 
+party. Why don’t you try hooking up with McLaggen, 
+then Slughorn can make you King and Queen Slug —
+” 
+“We’re allowed to bring guests,” said Hermione, who 
+for some reason had turned a bright, boiling scarlet, 
+“and I was going to ask you to come, but if you think 
+it’s that stupid then I won’t bother!” 
+Harry suddenly wished the pod had flown a little 
+farther, so that he need not have been sitting here 
+with the pair of them. Unnoticed by either, he seized 
+the bowl that contained the pod and began to try and 
+open it by the noisiest and most energetic means he 
+could think of; unfortunately, he could still hear every 
+word of their conversation. 
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+“You were going to ask me?” asked Ron, in a 
+completely different voice. 
+“Yes,” said Hermione angrily. “But obviously if you’d 
+rather I hooked up with McLaggen …” 
+There was a pause while Harry continued to pound 
+the resilient pod with a trowel. 
+“No, I wouldn’t,” said Ron, in a very quiet voice. 
+Harry missed the pod, hit the bowl, and shattered it. 
+“Reparo,” he said hastily, poking the pieces with his 
+wand, and the bowl sprang back together again. The 
+crash, however, appeared to have awoken Ron and 
+Hermione to Harry’s presence. Hermione looked 
+flustered and immediately started fussing about for 
+her copy of Flesh-Eating Trees of the World to find out 
+the correct way to juice Snargaluff pods; Ron, on the 
+other hand, looked sheepish but also rather pleased 
+with himself. 
+“Hand that over, Harry,” said Hermione hurriedly. “It 
+says we’re supposed to puncture them with 
+something sharp. …” 
+Harry passed her the pod in the bowl; he and Ron 
+both snapped their goggles back over their eyes and 
+dived, once more, for the stump. 
+It was not as though he was really surprised, thought 
+Harry, as he wrestled with a thorny vine intent upon 
+throttling him; he had had an inkling that this might 
+happen sooner or later. But he was not sure how he 
+felt about it. … He and Cho were now too 
+embarrassed to look at each other, let alone talk to 
+each other; what if Ron and Hermione started going 
+out together, then split up? Could their friendship 
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+survive it? Harry remembered the few weeks when 
+they had not been talking to each other in the third 
+year; he had not enjoyed trying to bridge the distance 
+between them. And then, what if they didn’t split up? 
+What if they became like Bill and Fleur, and it 
+became excruciatingly embarrassing to be in their 
+presence, so that he was shut out for good? 
+“Gotcha!” yelled Ron, pulling a second pod from the 
+stump just as Hermione managed to burst the first 
+one open, so that the bowl was full of tubers wriggling 
+like pale green worms. 
+The rest of the lesson passed without further mention 
+of Slughorn’s party. Although Harry watched his two 
+friends more closely over the next few days, Ron and 
+Hermione did not seem any different except that they 
+were a little politer to each other than usual. Harry 
+supposed he would just have to wait to see what 
+happened under the influence of butterbeer in 
+Slughorn’s dimly lit room on the night of the party. In 
+the meantime, however, he had more pressing 
+worries. 
+Katie Bell was still in St. Mungo’s Hospital with no 
+prospect of leaving, which meant that the promising 
+Gryffindor team Harry had been training so carefully 
+since September was one Chaser short. He kept 
+putting off replacing Katie in the hope that she would 
+return, but their opening match against Slytherin was 
+looming, and he finally had to accept that she would 
+not be back in time to play. 
+Harry did not think he could stand another full-
+House tryout. With a sinking feeling that had little to 
+do with Quidditch, he cornered Dean Thomas after 
+Transfiguration one day. Most of the class had 
+already left, although several twittering yellow birds 
+were still zooming around the room, all of Hermione’s 
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+creation; nobody else had succeeded in conjuring so 
+much as a feather from thin air. 
+“Are you still interested in playing Chaser?” 
+“Wha — ? Yeah, of course!” said Dean excitedly. Over 
+Dean’s shoulder, Harry saw Seamus Finnigan 
+slamming his books into his bag, looking sour. One of 
+the reasons why Harry would have preferred not to 
+have to ask Dean to play was that he knew Seamus 
+would not like it. On the other hand, he had to do 
+what was best for the team, and Dean had outflown 
+Seamus at the tryouts. 
+“Well then, you’re in,” said Harry. “There’s a practice 
+tonight, seven o’clock.” 
+“Right,” said Dean. “Cheers, Harry! Blimey, I can’t 
+wait to tell Ginny!” 
+He sprinted out of the room, leaving Harry and 
+Seamus alone together, an uncomfortable moment 
+made no easier when a bird dropping landed on 
+Seamus’s head as one of Hermione’s canaries whizzed 
+over them. 
+Seamus was not the only person disgruntled by the 
+choice of Katie’s substitute. There was much 
+muttering in the common room about the fact that 
+Harry had now chosen two of his classmates for the 
+team. As Harry had endured much worse mutterings 
+than this in his school career, he was not particularly 
+bothered, but all the same, the pressure was 
+increasing to provide a win in the upcoming match 
+against Slytherin. If Gryffindor won, Harry knew that 
+the whole House would forget that they had criticized 
+him and swear that they had always known it was a 
+great team. If they lost … well, Harry thought wryly, 
+he had still endured worse mutterings. … 
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+Harry had no reason to regret his choice once he saw 
+Dean fly that evening; he worked well with Ginny and 
+Demelza. The Beaters, Peakes and Coote, were getting 
+better all the time. The only problem was Ron. 
+Harry had known all along that Ron was an 
+inconsistent player who suffered from nerves and a 
+lack of confidence, and unfortunately, the looming 
+prospect of the opening game of the season seemed to 
+have brought out all his old insecurities. After letting 
+in half a dozen goals, most of them scored by Ginny, 
+his technique became wilder and wilder, until he 
+finally punched an oncoming Demelza Robins in the 
+mouth. 
+“It was an accident, I’m sorry, Demelza, really sorry!” 
+Ron shouted after her as she zigzagged back to the 
+ground, dripping blood everywhere. “I just —” 
+“Panicked,” Ginny said angrily, landing next to 
+Demelza and examining her fat lip. “You prat, Ron, 
+look at the state of her!” 
+“I can fix that,” said Harry, landing beside the two 
+girls, pointing his wand at Demelza’s mouth, and 
+saying “Episkey.” “And Ginny, don’t call Ron a prat, 
+you’re not the Captain of this team —” 
+“Well, you seemed too busy to call him a prat and I 
+thought someone should —” 
+Harry forced himself not to laugh. 
+“In the air, everyone, let’s go. …” 
+Overall it was one of the worst practices they had had 
+all term, though Harry did not feel that honesty was 
+the best policy when they were this close to the 
+match. 
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+“Good work, everyone, I think we’ll flatten Slytherin,” 
+he said bracingly and the Chasers and Beaters left 
+the changing room looking reasonably happy with 
+themselves. 
+“I played like a sack of dragon dung,” said Ron in a 
+hollow voice when the door had swung shut behind 
+Ginny. 
+“No, you didn’t,” said Harry firmly. “You’re the best 
+Keeper I tried out, Ron. Your only problem is nerves.” 
+He kept up a relentless flow of encouragement all the 
+way back to the castle, and by the time they reached 
+the second floor, Ron was looking marginally more 
+cheerful. When Harry pushed open the tapestry to 
+take their usual shortcut up to Gryffindor Tower, 
+however, they found themselves looking at Dean and 
+Ginny, who were locked in a close embrace and 
+kissing fiercely as though glued together. 
+It was as though something large and scaly erupted 
+into life in Harry’s stomach, clawing at his insides: 
+Hot blood seemed to flood his brain, so that all 
+thought was extinguished, replaced by a savage urge 
+to jinx Dean into a jelly. Wrestling with this sudden 
+madness, he heard Ron’s voice as though from a great 
+distance away. 
+“Oi!” 
+Dean and Ginny broke apart and looked around. 
+“What?” said Ginny. 
+“I don’t want to find my own sister snogging people in 
+public!” 
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+“This was a deserted corridor till you came butting 
+in!” said Ginny. 
+Dean was looking embarrassed. He gave Harry a 
+shifty grin that Harry did not return, as the newborn 
+monster inside him was roaring for Dean’s instant 
+dismissal from the team. 
+“Er … c’mon, Ginny,” said Dean, “let’s go back to the 
+common room. …” 
+“You go!” said Ginny. “I want a word with my dear 
+brother!” 
+Dean left, looking as though he was not sorry to 
+depart the scene. 
+“Right,” said Ginny, tossing her long red hair out of 
+her face and glaring at Ron, “let’s get this straight 
+once and for all. It is none of your business who I go 
+out with or what I do with them, Ron —” 
+“Yeah, it is!” said Ron, just as angrily. “D’you think I 
+want people saying my sister’s a —” 
+“A what?” shouted Ginny, drawing her wand. “A what, 
+exactly?” 
+“He doesn’t mean anything, Ginny —” said Harry 
+automatically, though the monster was roaring its 
+approval of Ron’s words. 
+“Oh yes he does!” she said, flaring up at Harry. “Just 
+because he’s never snogged anyone in his life, just 
+because the best kiss he’s ever had is from our Auntie 
+Muriel —” 
+“Shut your mouth!” bellowed Ron, bypassing red and 
+turning maroon. 
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+“No, I will not!” yelled Ginny, beside herself. “I’ve seen 
+you with Phlegm, hoping she’ll kiss you on the cheek 
+every time you see her, it’s pathetic! If you went out 
+and got a bit of snogging done yourself, you wouldn’t 
+mind so much that everyone else does it!” 
+Ron had pulled out his wand too; Harry stepped 
+swiftly between them. 
+“You don’t know what you’re talking about!” Ron 
+roared, trying to get a clear shot at Ginny around 
+Harry, who was now standing in front of her with his 
+arms outstretched. “Just because I don’t do it in 
+public — !” 
+Ginny screamed with derisive laughter, trying to push 
+Harry out of the way. 
+“Been kissing Pigwidgeon, have you? Or have you got 
+a picture of Auntie Muriel stashed under your 
+pillow?” 
+“You—” 
+A streak of orange light flew under Harry’s left arm 
+and missed Ginny by inches; Harry pushed Ron up 
+against the wall. 
+“Don’t be stupid —” 
+“Harry’s snogged Cho Chang!” shouted Ginny, who 
+sounded close to tears now. “And Hermione snogged 
+Viktor Krum, it’s only you who acts like it’s something 
+disgusting, Ron, and that’s because you’ve got about 
+as much experience as a twelve-year-old!” 
+And with that, she stormed away. Harry quickly let go 
+of Ron; the look on his face was murderous. They 
+both stood there, breathing heavily, until Mrs. Norris, 
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+Filch’s cat, appeared around the corner, which broke 
+the tension. 
+“C’mon,” said Harry, as the sound of Filch’s shuffling 
+feet reached their ears. 
+They hurried up the stairs and along a seventh-floor 
+corridor. “Oi, out of the way!” Ron barked at a small 
+girl who jumped in fright and dropped a bottle of 
+toadspawn. 
+Harry hardly noticed the sound of shattering glass; he 
+felt disoriented, dizzy; being struck by a lightning bolt 
+must be something like this. It’s just because she’s 
+Ron’s sister, he told himself. You just didn’t like seeing 
+her kissing Dean because she’s Ron’s sister. … 
+But unbidden into his mind came an image of that 
+same deserted corridor with himself kissing Ginny 
+instead. … The monster in his chest purred … but 
+then he saw Ron ripping open the tapestry curtain 
+and drawing his wand on Harry, shouting things like 
+“betrayal of trust” … “supposed to be my friend” … 
+“D’you think Hermione did snog Krum?” Ron asked 
+abruptly, as they approached the Fat Lady. Harry 
+gave a guilty start and wrenched his imagination 
+away from a corridor in which no Ron intruded, in 
+which he and Ginny were quite alone — 
+“What?” he said confusedly. “Oh … er …” 
+The honest answer was “yes,” but he did not want to 
+give it. However, Ron seemed to gather the worst from 
+the look on Harry’s face. 
+“Dilligrout,” he said darkly to the Fat Lady, and they 
+climbed through the portrait hole into the common 
+room. 
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+Neither of them mentioned Ginny or Hermione again; 
+indeed, they barely spoke to each other that evening 
+and got into bed in silence, each absorbed in his own 
+thoughts. 
+Harry lay awake for a long time, looking up at the 
+canopy of his four-poster and trying to convince 
+himself that his feelings for Ginny were entirely elder-
+brotherly. They had lived, had they not, like brother 
+and sister all summer, playing Quidditch, teasing 
+Ron, and having a laugh about Bill and Phlegm? He 
+had known Ginny for years now. … It was natural 
+that he should feel protective … natural that he 
+should want to look out for her … want to rip Dean 
+limb from limb for kissing her … No … he would have 
+to control that particular brotherly feeling. … 
+Ron gave a great grunting snore. 
+She’s Ron’s sister, Harry told himself firmly. Ron’s 
+sister. She’s out-of-bounds. He would not risk his 
+friendship with Ron for anything. He punched his 
+pillow into a more comfortable shape and waited for 
+sleep to come, trying his utmost not to allow his 
+thoughts to stray anywhere near Ginny. 
+Harry awoke next morning feeling slightly dazed and 
+confused by a series of dreams in which Ron had 
+chased him with a Beater’s bat, but by midday he 
+would have happily exchanged the dream Ron for the 
+real one, who was not only cold-shouldering Ginny 
+and Dean, but also treating a hurt and bewildered 
+Hermione with an icy, sneering indifference. What 
+was more, Ron seemed to have become, overnight, as 
+touchy and ready to lash out as the average Blast-
+Ended Skrewt. Harry spent the day attempting to 
+keep the peace between Ron and Hermione with no 
+success; finally, Hermione departed for bed in high 
+dudgeon, and Ron stalked off to the boys’ dormitory 
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+after swearing angrily at several frightened first years 
+for looking at him. 
+To Harry’s dismay, Ron’s new aggression did not wear 
+off over the next few days. Worse still, it coincided 
+with an even deeper dip in his Keeping skills, which 
+made him still more aggressive, so that during the 
+final Quidditch practice before Saturday’s match, he 
+failed to save every single goal the Chasers aimed at 
+him, but bellowed at everybody so much that he 
+reduced Demelza Robins to tears. 
+“You shut up and leave her alone!” shouted Peakes, 
+who was about two-thirds Ron’s height, though 
+admittedly carrying a heavy bat. 
+“ENOUGH!” bellowed Harry, who had seen Ginny 
+glowering in Ron’s direction and, remembering her 
+reputation as an accomplished caster of the Bat-
+Bogey Hex, soared over to intervene before things got 
+out of hand. “Peakes, go and pack up the Bludgers. 
+Demelza, pull yourself together, you played really well 
+today. Ron …” he waited until the rest of the team 
+were out of earshot before saying it, “you’re my best 
+mate, but carry on treating the rest of them like this 
+and I’m going to kick you off the team.” 
+He really thought for a moment that Ron might hit 
+him, but then something much worse happened: Ron 
+seemed to sag on his broom; all the fight went out of 
+him and he said, “I resign. I’m pathetic.” 
+“You’re not pathetic and you’re not resigning!” said 
+Harry fiercely, seizing Ron by the front of his robes. 
+“You can save anything when you’re on form, it’s a 
+mental problem you’ve got!” 
+“You calling me mental?” 
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+“Yeah, maybe I am!” 
+They glared at each other for a moment, then Ron 
+shook his head wearily. “I know you haven’t got any 
+time to find another Keeper, so I’ll play tomorrow, but 
+if we lose, and we will, I’m taking myself off the team.” 
+Nothing Harry said made any difference. He tried 
+boosting Ron’s confidence all through dinner, but Ron 
+was too busy being grumpy and surly with Hermione 
+to notice. Harry persisted in the common room that 
+evening, but his assertion that the whole team would 
+be devastated if Ron left was somewhat undermined 
+by the fact that the rest of the team was sitting in a 
+huddle in a distant corner, clearly muttering about 
+Ron and casting him nasty looks. Finally Harry tried 
+getting angry again in the hope of provoking Ron into 
+a defiant, and hopefully goal-saving, attitude, but this 
+strategy did not appear to work any better than 
+encouragement; Ron went to bed as dejected and 
+hopeless as ever. 
+Harry lay awake for a very long time in the darkness. 
+He did not want to lose the upcoming match; not only 
+was it his first as Captain, but he was determined to 
+beat Draco Malfoy at Quidditch even if he could not 
+yet prove his suspicions about him. Yet if Ron played 
+as he had done in the last few practices, their 
+chances of winning were very slim. … 
+If only there was something he could do to make Ron 
+pull himself together … make him play at the top of 
+his form … something that would ensure that Ron 
+had a really good day. … 
+And the answer came to Harry in one, sudden, 
+glorious stroke of inspiration. 
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+Breakfast was the usual excitable affair next morning; 
+the Slytherins hissed and booed loudly as every 
+member of the Gryffindor team entered the Great 
+Hall. Harry glanced at the ceiling and saw a clear, 
+pale blue sky: a good omen. 
+The Gryffindor table, a solid mass of red and gold, 
+cheered as Harry and Ron approached. Harry grinned 
+and waved; Ron grimaced weakly and shook his head. 
+“Cheer up, Ron!” called Lavender. “I know you’ll be 
+brilliant!” 
+Ron ignored her. 
+“Tea?” Harry asked him. “Coffee? Pumpkin juice?” 
+“Anything,” said Ron glumly, taking a moody bite of 
+toast. 
+A few minutes later Hermione, who had become so 
+tired of Ron’s recent unpleasant behavior that she 
+had not come down to breakfast with them, paused 
+on her way up the table. 
+“How are you both feeling?” she asked tentatively, her 
+eyes on the back of Ron’s head. 
+“Fine,” said Harry, who was concentrating on handing 
+Ron a glass of pumpkin juice. “There you go, Ron. 
+Drink up.” 
+Ron had just raised the glass to his lips when 
+Hermione spoke sharply. 
+“Don’t drink that, Ron!” 
+Both Harry and Ron looked up at her. 
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+“Why not?” said Ron. 
+Hermione was now staring at Harry as though she 
+could not believe her eyes. 
+“You just put something in that drink.” 
+“Excuse me?” said Harry. 
+“You heard me. I saw you. You just tipped something 
+into Ron’s drink. You’ve got the bottle in your hand 
+right now!” 
+“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Harry, 
+stowing the little bottle hastily in his pocket. 
+“Ron, I warn you, don’t drink it!” Hermione said 
+again, alarmed, but Ron picked up the glass, drained 
+it in one gulp, and said, “Stop bossing me around, 
+Hermione.” 
+She looked scandalized. Bending low so that only 
+Harry could hear her, she hissed, “You should be 
+expelled for that. I’d never have believed it of you, 
+Harry!” 
+“Hark who’s talking,” he whispered back. “Confunded 
+anyone lately?” 
+She stormed up the table away from them. Harry 
+watched her go without regret. Hermione had never 
+really understood what a serious business Quidditch 
+was. He then looked around at Ron, who was 
+smacking his lips. 
+“Nearly time,” said Harry blithely. 
+The frosty grass crunched underfoot as they strode 
+down to the stadium. 
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+“Pretty lucky the weather’s this good, eh?” Harry 
+asked Ron. 
+“Yeah,” said Ron, who was pale and sick-looking. 
+Ginny and Demelza were already wearing their 
+Quidditch robes and waiting in the changing room. 
+“Conditions look ideal,” said Ginny, ignoring Ron. 
+“And guess what? That Slytherin Chaser Vaisey — he 
+took a Bludger in the head yesterday during their 
+practice, and he’s too sore to play! And even better 
+than that — Malfoy’s gone off sick too!” 
+“What?” said Harry, wheeling around to stare at her. 
+“He’s ill? What’s wrong with him?” 
+“No idea, but it’s great for us,” said Ginny brightly. 
+“They’re playing Harper instead; he’s in my year and 
+he’s an idiot.” 
+Harry smiled back vaguely, but as he pulled on his 
+scarlet robes his mind was far from Quidditch. Malfoy 
+had once before claimed he could not play due to 
+injury, but on that occasion he had made sure the 
+whole match was rescheduled for a time that suited 
+the Slytherins better. Why was he now happy to let a 
+substitute go on? Was he really ill, or was he faking? 
+“Fishy, isn’t it?” he said in an undertone to Ron. 
+“Malfoy not playing?” 
+“Lucky, I call it,” said Ron, looking slightly more 
+animated. “And Vaisey off too, he’s their best goal 
+scorer, I didn’t fancy — hey!” he said suddenly, 
+freezing halfway through pulling on his Keeper’s 
+gloves and staring at Harry. 
+“What?” 
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+“I … you …” Ron had dropped his voice, he looked 
+both scared and excited. “My drink … my pumpkin 
+juice … you didn’t … ?” 
+Harry raised his eyebrows, but said nothing except, 
+“We’ll be starting in about five minutes, you’d better 
+get your boots on.” 
+They walked out onto the pitch to tumultuous roars 
+and boos. One end of the stadium was solid red and 
+gold; the other, a sea of green and silver. Many 
+Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws had taken sides too: 
+Amidst all the yelling and clapping Harry could 
+distinctly hear the roar of Luna Lovegood’s famous 
+lion-topped hat. 
+Harry stepped up to Madam Hooch, the referee, who 
+was standing ready to release the balls from the crate. 
+“Captains shake hands,” she said, and Harry had his 
+hand crushed by the new Slytherin Captain, 
+Urquhart. “Mount your brooms. On the whistle … 
+three … two … one …” 
+The whistle sounded, Harry and the others kicked off 
+hard from the frozen ground, and they were away. 
+Harry soared around the perimeter of the grounds, 
+looking around for the Snitch and keeping one eye on 
+Harper, who was zigzagging far below him. Then a 
+voice that was jarringly different to the usual 
+commentator’s started up. 
+“Well, there they go, and I think we’re all surprised to 
+see the team that Potter’s put together this year. 
+Many thought, given Ronald Weasley’s patchy 
+performance as Keeper last year, that he might be off 
+the team, but of course, a close personal friendship 
+with the Captain does help. …” 
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+These words were greeted with jeers and applause 
+from the Slytherin end of the pitch. Harry craned 
+around on his broom to look toward the 
+commentator’s podium. A tall, skinny blond boy with 
+an upturned nose was standing there, talking into the 
+magical megaphone that had once been Lee Jordan’s; 
+Harry recognized Zacharias Smith, a Hufflepuff player 
+whom he heartily disliked. 
+“Oh, and here comes Slytherin’s first attempt on goal, 
+it’s Urquhart streaking down the pitch and —” 
+Harry’s stomach turned over. 
+“— Weasley saves it, well, he’s bound to get lucky 
+sometimes, I suppose. …” 
+“That’s right, Smith, he is,” muttered Harry, grinning 
+to himself, as he dived amongst the Chasers with his 
+eyes searching all around for some hint of the elusive 
+Snitch. 
+With half an hour of the game gone, Gryffindor were 
+leading sixty points to zero, Ron having made some 
+truly spectacular saves, some by the very tips of his 
+gloves, and Ginny having scored four of Gryffindor’s 
+six goals. This effectively stopped Zacharias 
+wondering loudly whether the two Weasleys were only 
+there because Harry liked them, and he started on 
+Peakes and Coote instead. 
+“Of course, Coote isn’t really the usual build for a 
+Beater,” said Zacharias loftily, “they’ve generally got a 
+bit more muscle —” 
+“Hit a Bludger at him!” Harry called to Coote as he 
+zoomed past, but Coote, grinning broadly, chose to 
+aim the next Bludger at Harper instead, who was just 
+passing Harry in the opposite direction. Harry was 
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+pleased to hear the dull thunk that meant the 
+Bludger had found its mark. 
+It seemed as though Gryffindor could do no wrong. 
+Again and again they scored, and again and again, at 
+the other end of the pitch, Ron saved goals with 
+apparent ease. He was actually smiling now, and 
+when the crowd greeted a particularly good save with 
+a rousing chorus of the old favorite “Weasley Is Our 
+King,” he pretended to conduct them from on high. 
+“Thinks he’s something special today, doesn’t he?” 
+said a snide voice, and Harry was nearly knocked off 
+his broom as Harper collided with him hard and 
+deliberately. “Your blood-traitor pal …” 
+Madam Hooch’s back was turned, and though 
+Gryffindors below shouted in anger, by the time she 
+looked around, Harper had already sped off. His 
+shoulder aching, Harry raced after him, determined to 
+ram him back. … 
+“And I think Harper of Slytherin’s seen the Snitch!” 
+said Zacharias Smith through his megaphone. “Yes, 
+he’s certainly seen something Potter hasn’t!” 
+Smith really was an idiot, thought Harry, hadn’t he 
+noticed them collide? But next moment, his stomach 
+seemed to drop out of the sky — Smith was right and 
+Harry was wrong: Harper had not sped upward at 
+random; he had spotted what Harry had not: The 
+Snitch was speeding along high above them, glinting 
+brightly against the clear blue sky. 
+Harry accelerated; the wind was whistling in his ears 
+so that it drowned all sound of Smith’s commentary 
+or the crowd, but Harper was still ahead of him, and 
+Gryffindor was only a hundred points up; if Harper 
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+got there first Gryffindor had lost … and now Harper 
+was feet from it, his hand outstretched. … 
+“Oi, Harper!” yelled Harry in desperation. “How much 
+did Malfoy pay you to come on instead of him?” 
+He did not know what made him say it, but Harper 
+did a double-take; he fumbled the Snitch, let it slip 
+through his fingers, and shot right past it. Harry 
+made a great swipe for the tiny, fluttering ball and 
+caught it. 
+“YES!” Harry yelled. Wheeling around, he hurtled 
+back toward the ground, the Snitch held high in his 
+hand. As the crowd realized what had happened, a 
+great shout went up that almost drowned the sound 
+of the whistle that signaled the end of the game. 
+“Ginny, where’re you going?” yelled Harry, who had 
+found himself trapped in the midst of a mass midair 
+hug with the rest of the team, but Ginny sped right 
+on past them until, with an almighty crash, she 
+collided with the commentator’s podium. As the 
+crowd shrieked and laughed, the Gryffindor team 
+landed beside the wreckage of wood under which 
+Zacharias was feebly stirring; Harry heard Ginny 
+saying blithely to an irate Professor McGonagall, 
+“Forgot to brake, Professor, sorry.” 
+Laughing, Harry broke free of the rest of the team and 
+hugged Ginny, but let go very quickly. Avoiding her 
+gaze, he clapped a cheering Ron on the back instead 
+as, all enmity forgotten, the Gryffindor team left the 
+pitch arm in arm, punching the air and waving to 
+their supporters. 
+The atmosphere in the changing room was jubilant. 
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+“Party up in the common room, Seamus said!” yelled 
+Dean exuberantly. “C’mon, Ginny, Demelza!” 
+Ron and Harry were the last two in the changing 
+room. They were just about to leave when Hermione 
+entered. She was twisting her Gryffindor scarf in her 
+hands and looked upset but determined. 
+“I want a word with you, Harry.” She took a deep 
+breath. “You shouldn’t have done it. You heard 
+Slughorn, it’s illegal.” 
+“What are you going to do, turn us in?” demanded 
+Ron. 
+“What are you two talking about?” asked Harry, 
+turning away to hang up his robes so that neither of 
+them would see him grinning. 
+“You know perfectly well what we’re talking about!” 
+said Hermione shrilly. “You spiked Ron’s juice with 
+lucky potion at breakfast! Felix Felicis!” 
+“No, I didn’t,” said Harry, turning back to face them 
+both. 
+“Yes you did, Harry, and that’s why everything went 
+right, there were Slytherin players missing and Ron 
+saved everything!” 
+“I didn’t put it in!” said Harry, grinning broadly. He 
+slipped his hand inside his jacket pocket and drew 
+out the tiny bottle that Hermione had seen in his 
+hand that morning. It was full of golden potion and 
+the cork was still tightly sealed with wax. “I wanted 
+Ron to think I’d done it, so I faked it when I knew you 
+were looking.” He looked at Ron. “You saved 
+everything because you felt lucky. You did it all 
+yourself.” 
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+He pocketed the potion again. 
+“There really wasn’t anything in my pumpkin juice?” 
+Ron said, astounded. “But the weather’s good … and 
+Vaisey couldn’t play. … I honestly haven’t been given 
+lucky potion?” 
+Harry shook his head. Ron gaped at him for a 
+moment, then rounded on Hermione, imitating her 
+voice. “You added Felix Felicis to Ron’s juice this 
+morning, that’s why he saved everything! See! I can 
+save goals without help, Hermione!” 
+“I never said you couldn’t — Ron, you thought you’d 
+been given it too!” 
+But Ron had already strode past her out of the door 
+with his broomstick over his shoulder. 
+“Er,” said Harry into the sudden silence; he had not 
+expected his plan to backfire like this, “shall … shall 
+we go up to the party, then?” 
+“You go!” said Hermione, blinking back tears. “I’m 
+sick of Ron at the moment, I don’t know what I’m 
+supposed to have done. …” 
+And she stormed out of the changing room too. 
+Harry walked slowly back up the grounds toward the 
+castle through the crowd, many of whom shouted 
+congratulations at him, but he felt a great sense of 
+letdown; he had been sure that if Ron won the match, 
+he and Hermione would be friends again immediately. 
+He did not see how he could possibly explain to 
+Hermione that what she had done to offend Ron was 
+kiss Viktor Krum, not when the offense had occurred 
+so long ago. 
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+Harry could not see Hermione at the Gryffindor 
+celebration party, which was in full swing when he 
+arrived. Renewed cheers and clapping greeted his 
+appearance, and he was soon surrounded by a mob of 
+people congratulating him. What with trying to shake 
+off the Creevey brothers, who wanted a blow-by-blow 
+match analysis, and the large group of girls that 
+encircled him, laughing at his least amusing 
+comments and batting their eyelids, it was some time 
+before he could try and find Ron. At last, he 
+extricated himself from Romilda Vane, who was 
+hinting heavily that she would like to go to Slughorn’s 
+Christmas party with him. As he was ducking toward 
+the drinks table, he walked straight into Ginny, 
+Arnold the Pygmy Puff riding on her shoulder and 
+Crookshanks mewing hopefully at her heels. 
+“Looking for Ron?” she asked, smirking. “He’s over 
+there, the filthy hypocrite.” 
+Harry looked into the corner she was indicating. 
+There, in full view of the whole room, stood Ron 
+wrapped so closely around Lavender Brown it was 
+hard to tell whose hands were whose. 
+“It looks like he’s eating her face, doesn’t it?” said 
+Ginny dispassionately. “But I suppose he’s got to 
+refine his technique somehow. Good game, Harry.” 
+She patted him on the arm; Harry felt a swooping 
+sensation in his stomach, but then she walked off to 
+help herself to more butterbeer. Crookshanks trotted 
+after her, his yellow eyes fixed upon Arnold. 
+Harry turned away from Ron, who did not look like he 
+would be surfacing soon, just as the portrait hole was 
+closing. With a sinking feeling, he thought he saw a 
+mane of bushy brown hair whipping out of sight. 
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+He darted forward, sidestepped Romilda Vane again, 
+and pushed open the portrait of the Fat Lady. The 
+corridor outside seemed to be deserted. 
+“Hermione?” 
+He found her in the first unlocked classroom he tried. 
+She was sitting on the teacher’s desk, alone except for 
+a small ring of twittering yellow birds circling her 
+head, which she had clearly just conjured out of 
+midair. Harry could not help admiring her spell-work 
+at a time like this. 
+“Oh, hello, Harry,” she said in a brittle voice. “I was 
+just practicing.” 
+“Yeah … they’re — er — really good. …” said Harry. 
+He had no idea what to say to her. He was just 
+wondering whether there was any chance that she 
+had not noticed Ron, that she had merely left the 
+room because the party was a little too rowdy, when 
+she said, in an unnaturally high-pitched voice, “Ron 
+seems to be enjoying the celebrations.” 
+“Er … does he?” said Harry. 
+“Don’t pretend you didn’t see him,” said Hermione. 
+“He wasn’t exactly hiding it, was — ?” 
+The door behind them burst open. To Harry’s horror, 
+Ron came in, laughing, pulling Lavender by the hand. 
+“Oh,” he said, drawing up short at the sight of Harry 
+and Hermione. 
+“Oops!” said Lavender, and she backed out of the 
+room, giggling. The door swung shut behind her. 
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+There was a horrible, swelling, billowing silence. 
+Hermione was staring at Ron, who refused to look at 
+her, but said with an odd mixture of bravado and 
+awkwardness, “Hi, Harry! Wondered where you’d got 
+to!” 
+Hermione slid off the desk. The little flock of golden 
+birds continued to twitter in circles around her head 
+so that she looked like a strange, feathery model of 
+the solar system. 
+“You shouldn’t leave Lavender waiting outside,” she 
+said quietly. “She’ll wonder where you’ve gone.” 
+She walked very slowly and erectly toward the door. 
+Harry glanced at Ron, who was looking relieved that 
+nothing worse had happened. 
+“Oppugno!” came a shriek from the doorway. 
+Harry spun around to see Hermione pointing her 
+wand at Ron, her expression wild: The little flock of 
+birds was speeding like a hail of fat golden bullets 
+toward Ron, who yelped and covered his face with his 
+hands, but the birds attacked, pecking and clawing at 
+every bit of flesh they could reach. 
+“Gerremoffme!” he yelled, but with one last look of 
+vindictive fury, Hermione wrenched open the door 
+and disappeared through it. Harry thought he heard a 
+sob before it slammed. 
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+ 
+ 
+THE UNBREAKABLE VOW 
+Snow was swirling against the icy windows once 
+more; Christmas was approaching fast. Hagrid had 
+already single-handedly delivered the usual twelve 
+Christmas trees for the Great Hall; garlands of holly 
+and tinsel had been twisted around the banisters of 
+the stairs; everlasting candles glowed from inside the 
+helmets of suits of armor and great bunches of 
+mistletoe had been hung at intervals along the 
+corridors. Large groups of girls tended to converge 
+underneath the mistletoe bunches every time Harry 
+went past, which caused blockages in the corridors; 
+fortunately, however, Harry’s frequent nighttime 
+wanderings had given him an unusually good 
+knowledge of the castle’s secret passageways, so that 
+he was able, without too much difficulty, to navigate 
+mistletoe-free routes between classes. 
+Ron, who might once have found the necessity of 
+these detours a cause for jealousy rather than 
+hilarity, simply roared with laughter about it all. 
+Although Harry much preferred this new laughing, 
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+joking Ron to the moody, aggressive model he had 
+been enduring for the last few weeks, the improved 
+Ron came at a heavy price. Firstly, Harry had to put 
+up with the frequent presence of Lavender Brown, 
+who seemed to regard any moment that she was not 
+kissing Ron as a moment wasted; and secondly, 
+Harry found himself once more the best friend of two 
+people who seemed unlikely ever to speak to each 
+other again. 
+Ron, whose hands and forearms still bore scratches 
+and cuts from Hermione’s bird attack, was taking a 
+defensive and resentful tone. 
+“She can’t complain,” he told Harry. “She snogged 
+Krum. So she’s found out someone wants to snog me 
+too. Well, it’s a free country. I haven’t done anything 
+wrong.” 
+Harry did not answer, but pretended to be absorbed 
+in the book they were supposed to have read before 
+Charms next morning (Quintessence: A Quest). 
+Determined as he was to remain friends with both 
+Ron and Hermione, he was spending a lot of time with 
+his mouth shut tight. 
+“I never promised Hermione anything,” Ron mumbled. 
+“I mean, all right, I was going to go to Slughorn’s 
+Christmas party with her, but she never said … just 
+as friends … I’m a free agent. …” 
+Harry turned a page of Quintessence, aware that Ron 
+was watching him. Ron’s voice tailed away in mutters, 
+barely audible over the loud crackling of the fire, 
+though Harry thought he caught the words “Krum” 
+and “can’t complain” again. 
+Hermione’s schedule was so full that Harry could only 
+talk to her properly in the evenings, when Ron was, in 
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+any case, so tightly wrapped around Lavender that he 
+did not notice what Harry was doing. Hermione 
+refused to sit in the common room while Ron was 
+there, so Harry generally joined her in the library, 
+which meant that their conversations were held in 
+whispers. 
+“He’s at perfect liberty to kiss whomever he likes,” 
+said Hermione, while the librarian, Madam Pince, 
+prowled the shelves behind them. “I really couldn’t 
+care less.” 
+She raised her quill and dotted an i so ferociously 
+that she punctured a hole in her parchment. Harry 
+said nothing. He thought his voice might soon vanish 
+from lack of use. He bent a little lower over Advanced 
+Potion-Making and continued to make notes on 
+Everlasting Elixirs, occasionally pausing to decipher 
+the Prince’s useful additions to Libatius Borage’s text. 
+“And incidentally,” said Hermione, after a few 
+moments, “you need to be careful.” 
+“For the last time,” said Harry, speaking in a slightly 
+hoarse whisper after three-quarters of an hour of 
+silence, “I am not giving back this book, I’ve learned 
+more from the Half-Blood Prince than Snape or 
+Slughorn have taught me in —” 
+“I’m not talking about your stupid so-called Prince,” 
+said Hermione, giving his book a nasty look as though 
+it had been rude to her. “I’m talking about earlier. I 
+went into the girls’ bathroom just before I came in 
+here and there were about a dozen girls in there, 
+including that Romilda Vane, trying to decide how to 
+slip you a love potion. They’re all hoping they’re going 
+to get you to take them to Slughorn’s party, and they 
+all seem to have bought Fred and George’s love 
+potions, which I’m afraid to say probably work —” 
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+“Why didn’t you confiscate them then?” demanded 
+Harry. It seemed extraordinary that Hermione’s mania 
+for upholding rules could have abandoned her at this 
+crucial juncture. 
+“They didn’t have the potions with them in the 
+bathroom,” said Hermione scornfully. “They were just 
+discussing tactics. As I doubt whether even the Half-
+Blood Prince” — she gave the book another nasty look 
+— “could dream up an antidote for a dozen different 
+love potions at once, I’d just invite someone to go with 
+you, that’ll stop all the others thinking they’ve still got 
+a chance. It’s tomorrow night, they’re getting 
+desperate.” 
+“There isn’t anyone I want to invite,” mumbled Harry, 
+who was still trying not to think about Ginny any 
+more than he could help, despite the fact that she 
+kept cropping up in his dreams in ways that made 
+him devoutly thankful that Ron could not perform 
+Legilimency. 
+“Well, just be careful what you drink, because 
+Romilda Vane looked like she meant business,” said 
+Hermione grimly. 
+She hitched up the long roll of parchment on which 
+she was writing her Arithmancy essay and continued 
+to scratch away with her quill. Harry watched her 
+with his mind a long way away. 
+“Hang on a moment,” he said slowly. “I thought Filch 
+had banned anything bought at Weasleys’ Wizard 
+Wheezes?” 
+“And when has anyone ever paid attention to what 
+Filch has banned?” asked Hermione, still 
+concentrating on her essay. 
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+“But I thought all the owls were being searched. So 
+how come these girls are able to bring love potions 
+into school?” 
+“Fred and George send them disguised as perfumes 
+and cough potions,” said Hermione. “It’s part of their 
+Owl Order Service.” 
+“You know a lot about it.” 
+Hermione gave him the kind of nasty look she had 
+just given his copy of Advanced Potion-Making. 
+“It was all on the back of the bottles they showed 
+Ginny and me in the summer,” she said coldly. “I 
+don’t go around putting potions in people’s drinks … 
+or pretending to, either, which is just as bad. …” 
+“Yeah, well, never mind that,” said Harry quickly. 
+“The point is, Filch is being fooled, isn’t he? These 
+girls are getting stuff into the school disguised as 
+something else! So why couldn’t Malfoy have brought 
+the necklace into the school — ?” 
+“Oh, Harry … not that again …” 
+“Come on, why not?” demanded Harry. 
+“Look,” sighed Hermione, “Secrecy Sensors detect 
+jinxes, curses, and concealment charms, don’t they? 
+They’re used to find Dark Magic and Dark objects. 
+They’d have picked up a powerful curse, like the one 
+on that necklace, within seconds. But something 
+that’s just been put in the wrong bottle wouldn’t 
+register — and anyway, love potions aren’t Dark or 
+dangerous —” 
+“Easy for you to say,” muttered Harry, thinking of 
+Romilda Vane. 
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+“— so it would be down to Filch to realize it wasn’t a 
+cough potion, and he’s not a very good wizard, I doubt 
+he can tell one potion from —” 
+Hermione stopped dead; Harry had heard it too. 
+Somebody had moved close behind them among the 
+dark bookshelves. They waited, and a moment later 
+the vulturelike countenance of Madam Pince 
+appeared around the corner, her sunken cheeks, her 
+skin like parchment, and her long hooked nose 
+illuminated unflatteringly by the lamp she was 
+carrying. 
+“The library is now closed,” she said. “Mind you 
+return anything you have borrowed to the correct — 
+what have you been doing to that book, you depraved 
+boy?” 
+“It isn’t the library’s, it’s mine!” said Harry hastily, 
+snatching his copy of Advanced Potion-Making off the 
+table as she lunged at it with a clawlike hand. 
+“Despoiled!” she hissed. “Desecrated! Befouled!” 
+“It’s just a book that’s been written on!” said Harry, 
+tugging it out of her grip. 
+She looked as though she might have a seizure; 
+Hermione, who had hastily packed her things, 
+grabbed Harry by the arm and frogmarched him 
+away. 
+“She’ll ban you from the library if you’re not careful. 
+Why did you have to bring that stupid book?” 
+“It’s not my fault she’s barking mad, Hermione. Or 
+d’you think she overheard you being rude about 
+Filch? I’ve always thought there might be something 
+going on between them. …” 
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+“Oh, ha ha …” 
+Enjoying the fact that they could speak normally 
+again, they made their way along the deserted, lamp-
+lit corridors back to the common room, arguing about 
+whether or not Filch and Madam Pince were secretly 
+in love with each other. 
+“Baubles,” said Harry to the Fat Lady, this being the 
+new, festive password. 
+“Same to you,” said the Fat Lady with a roguish grin, 
+and she swung forward to admit them. 
+“Hi, Harry!” said Romilda Vane, the moment he had 
+climbed through the portrait hole. “Fancy a 
+gillywater?” 
+Hermione gave him a “what-did-I-tell-you?” look over 
+her shoulder. 
+“No thanks,” said Harry quickly. “I don’t like it much.” 
+“Well, take these anyway,” said Romilda, thrusting a 
+box into his hands. “Chocolate Cauldrons, they’ve got 
+firewhisky in them. My gran sent them to me, but I 
+don’t like them.” 
+“Oh — right — thanks a lot,” said Harry, who could 
+not think what else to say. “Er — I’m just going over 
+here with …” 
+He hurried off behind Hermione, his voice tailing 
+away feebly. 
+“Told you,” said Hermione succinctly. “Sooner you ask 
+someone, sooner they’ll all leave you alone and you 
+can —” 
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+But her face suddenly turned blank; she had just 
+spotted Ron and Lavender, who were entwined in the 
+same armchair. 
+“Well, good night, Harry,” said Hermione, though it 
+was only seven o’clock in the evening, and she left for 
+the girls’ dormitory without another word. 
+Harry went to bed comforting himself that there was 
+only one more day of lessons to struggle through, 
+plus Slughorn’s party, after which he and Ron would 
+depart together for the Burrow. It now seemed 
+impossible that Ron and Hermione would make up 
+with each other before the holidays began, but 
+perhaps, somehow, the break would give them time to 
+calm down, think better of their behavior. … 
+But his hopes were not high, and they sank still lower 
+after enduring a Transfiguration lesson with them 
+both next day. They had just embarked upon the 
+immensely difficult topic of human Transfiguration; 
+working in front of mirrors, they were supposed to be 
+changing the color of their own eyebrows. Hermione 
+laughed unkindly at Ron’s disastrous first attempt, 
+during which he somehow managed to give himself a 
+spectacular handlebar mustache; Ron retaliated by 
+doing a cruel but accurate impression of Hermione 
+jumping up and down in her seat every time Professor 
+McGonagall asked a question, which Lavender and 
+Parvati found deeply amusing and which reduced 
+Hermione to the verge of tears again. She raced out of 
+the classroom on the bell, leaving half her things 
+behind; Harry, deciding that her need was greater 
+than Ron’s just now, scooped up her remaining 
+possessions and followed her. 
+He finally tracked her down as she emerged from a 
+girls’ bathroom on the floor below. She was 
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+accompanied by Luna Lovegood, who was patting her 
+vaguely on the back. 
+“Oh, hello, Harry,” said Luna. “Did you know one of 
+your eyebrows is bright yellow?” 
+“Hi, Luna. Hermione, you left your stuff. …” 
+He held out her books. 
+“Oh yes,” said Hermione in a choked voice, taking her 
+things and turning away quickly to hide the fact that 
+she was wiping her eyes on her pencil case. “Thank 
+you, Harry. Well, I’d better get going. …” 
+And she hurried off, without giving Harry any time to 
+offer words of comfort, though admittedly he could 
+not think of any. 
+“She’s a bit upset,” said Luna. “I thought at first it 
+was Moaning Myrtle in there, but it turned out to be 
+Hermione. She said something about that Ron 
+Weasley. …” 
+“Yeah, they’ve had a row,” said Harry. 
+“He says very funny things sometimes, doesn’t he?” 
+said Luna, as they set off down the corridor together. 
+“But he can be a bit unkind. I noticed that last year.” 
+“I s’pose,” said Harry. Luna was demonstrating her 
+usual knack of speaking uncomfortable truths; he 
+had never met anyone quite like her. “So have you 
+had a good term?” 
+“Oh, it’s been all right,” said Luna. “A bit lonely 
+without the D.A. Ginny’s been nice, though. She 
+stopped two boys in our Transfiguration class calling 
+me ‘Loony’ the other day —” 
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+“How would you like to come to Slughorn’s party with 
+me tonight?” 
+The words were out of Harry’s mouth before he could 
+stop them; he heard himself say them as though it 
+were a stranger speaking. 
+Luna turned her protuberant eyes upon him in 
+surprise. 
+“Slughorn’s party? With you?” 
+“Yeah,” said Harry. “We’re supposed to bring guests, 
+so I thought you might like … I mean …” He was keen 
+to make his intentions perfectly clear. “I mean, just as 
+friends, you know. But if you don’t want to …” 
+He was already half hoping that she didn’t want to. 
+“Oh, no, I’d love to go with you as friends!” said Luna, 
+beaming as he had never seen her beam before. 
+“Nobody’s ever asked me to a party before, as a friend! 
+Is that why you dyed your eyebrow, for the party? 
+Should I do mine too?” 
+“No,” said Harry firmly, “that was a mistake. I’ll get 
+Hermione to put it right for me. So, I’ll meet you in 
+the entrance hall at eight o’clock then.” 
+“AHA!” screamed a voice from overhead and both of 
+them jumped; unnoticed by either of them, they had 
+just passed right underneath Peeves, who was 
+hanging upside down from a chandelier and grinning 
+maliciously at them. 
+“Potty asked Loony to go to the party! Potty lurves 
+Loony! Potty luuuuurves Looooooony!” 
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+And he zoomed away, cackling and shrieking, “Potty 
+loves Loony!” 
+“Nice to keep these things private,” said Harry. And 
+sure enough, in no time at all the whole school 
+seemed to know that Harry Potter was taking Luna 
+Lovegood to Slughorn’s party. 
+“You could’ve taken anyone!” said Ron in disbelief 
+over dinner. “Anyone! And you chose Loony 
+Lovegood?” 
+“Don’t call her that, Ron,” snapped Ginny, pausing 
+behind Harry on her way to join friends. “I’m really 
+glad you’re taking her, Harry, she’s so excited.” 
+And she moved on down the table to sit with Dean. 
+Harry tried to feel pleased that Ginny was glad he was 
+taking Luna to the party, but could not quite manage 
+it. A long way along the table, Hermione was sitting 
+alone, playing with her stew. Harry noticed Ron 
+looking at her furtively. 
+“You could say sorry,” suggested Harry bluntly. 
+“What, and get attacked by another flock of 
+canaries?” muttered Ron. 
+“What did you have to imitate her for?” 
+“She laughed at my mustache!” 
+“So did I, it was the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen.” 
+But Ron did not seem to have heard; Lavender had 
+just arrived with Parvati. Squeezing herself in 
+between Harry and Ron, Lavender flung her arms 
+around Ron’s neck. 
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+“Hi, Harry,” said Parvati who, like him, looked faintly 
+embarrassed and bored by the behavior of their two 
+friends. 
+“Hi,” said Harry. “How’re you? You’re staying at 
+Hogwarts, then? I heard your parents wanted you to 
+leave.” 
+“I managed to talk them out of it for the time being,” 
+said Parvati. “That Katie thing really freaked them 
+out, but as there hasn’t been anything since … Oh, 
+hi, Hermione!” 
+Parvati positively beamed. Harry could tell that she 
+was feeling guilty for having laughed at Hermione in 
+Transfiguration. He looked around and saw that 
+Hermione was beaming back, if possible even more 
+brightly. Girls were very strange sometimes. 
+“Hi, Parvati!” said Hermione, ignoring Ron and 
+Lavender completely. “Are you going to Slughorn’s 
+party tonight?” 
+“No invite,” said Parvati gloomily. “I’d love to go, 
+though, it sounds like it’s going to be really good. … 
+You’re going, aren’t you?” 
+“Yes, I’m meeting Cormac at eight, and we’re —” 
+There was a noise like a plunger being withdrawn 
+from a blocked sink and Ron surfaced. Hermione 
+acted as though she had not seen or heard anything. 
+“— we’re going up to the party together.” 
+“Cormac?” said Parvati. “Cormac McLaggen, you 
+mean?” 
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+“That’s right,” said Hermione sweetly. “The one who 
+almost” — she put a great deal of emphasis on the 
+word — “became Gryffindor Keeper.” 
+“Are you going out with him, then?” asked Parvati, 
+wide-eyed. 
+“Oh — yes — didn’t you know?” said Hermione, with a 
+most un-Hermione-ish giggle. 
+“No!” said Parvati, looking positively agog at this piece 
+of gossip. “Wow, you like your Quidditch players, 
+don’t you? First Krum, then McLaggen …” 
+“I like really good Quidditch players,” Hermione 
+corrected her, still smiling. “Well, see you … Got to go 
+and get ready for the party. …” 
+She left. At once Lavender and Parvati put their heads 
+together to discuss this new development, with 
+everything they had ever heard about McLaggen, and 
+all they had ever guessed about Hermione. Ron 
+looked strangely blank and said nothing. Harry was 
+left to ponder in silence the depths to which girls 
+would sink to get revenge. 
+When he arrived in the entrance hall at eight o’clock 
+that night, he found an unusually large number of 
+girls lurking there, all of whom seemed to be staring 
+at him resentfully as he approached Luna. She was 
+wearing a set of spangled silver robes that were 
+attracting a certain amount of giggles from the 
+onlookers, but otherwise she looked quite nice. Harry 
+was glad, in any case, that she had left off her radish 
+earrings, her butterbeer cork necklace, and her 
+Spectrespecs. 
+“Hi,” he said. “Shall we get going then?” 
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+“Oh yes,” she said happily. “Where is the party?” 
+“Slughorn’s office,” said Harry, leading her up the 
+marble staircase away from all the staring and 
+muttering. “Did you hear, there’s supposed to be a 
+vampire coming?” 
+“Rufus Scrimgeour?” asked Luna. 
+“I — what?” said Harry, disconcerted. “You mean the 
+Minister of Magic?” 
+“Yes, he’s a vampire,” said Luna matter-of-factly. 
+“Father wrote a very long article about it when 
+Scrimgeour first took over from Cornelius Fudge, but 
+he was forced not to publish by somebody from the 
+Ministry. Obviously, they didn’t want the truth to get 
+out!” 
+Harry, who thought it most unlikely that Rufus 
+Scrimgeour was a vampire, but who was used to Luna 
+repeating her father’s bizarre views as though they 
+were fact, did not reply; they were already 
+approaching Slughorn’s office and the sounds of 
+laughter, music, and loud conversation were growing 
+louder with every step they took. 
+Whether it had been built that way, or because he 
+had used magical trickery to make it so, Slughorn’s 
+office was much larger than the usual teacher’s 
+study. The ceiling and walls had been draped with 
+emerald, crimson, and gold hangings, so that it 
+looked as though they were all inside a vast tent. The 
+room was crowded and stuffy and bathed in the red 
+light cast by an ornate golden lamp dangling from the 
+center of the ceiling in which real fairies were 
+fluttering, each a brilliant speck of light. Loud singing 
+accompanied by what sounded like mandolins issued 
+from a distant corner; a haze of pipe smoke hung over 
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+several elderly warlocks deep in conversation, and a 
+number of house-elves were negotiating their way 
+squeakily through the forest of knees, obscured by 
+the heavy silver platters of food they were bearing, so 
+that they looked like little roving tables. 
+“Harry, m’boy!” boomed Slughorn, almost as soon as 
+Harry and Luna had squeezed in through the door. 
+“Come in, come in, so many people I’d like you to 
+meet!” 
+Slughorn was wearing a tasseled velvet hat to match 
+his smoking jacket. Gripping Harry’s arm so tightly he 
+might have been hoping to Disapparate with him, 
+Slughorn led him purposefully into the party; Harry 
+seized Luna’s hand and dragged her along with him. 
+“Harry, I’d like you to meet Eldred Worple, an old 
+student of mine, author of Blood Brothers: My Life 
+Amongst the Vampires — and, of course, his friend 
+Sanguini.” 
+Worple, who was a small, stout, bespectacled man, 
+grabbed Harry’s hand and shook it enthusiastically; 
+the vampire Sanguini, who was tall and emaciated 
+with dark shadows under his eyes, merely nodded. He 
+looked rather bored. A gaggle of girls was standing 
+close to him, looking curious and excited. 
+“Harry Potter, I am simply delighted!” said Worple, 
+peering shortsightedly up into Harry’s face. “I was 
+saying to Professor Slughorn only the other day, 
+‘Where is the biography of Harry Potter for which we 
+have all been waiting?’ ” 
+“Er,” said Harry, “were you?” 
+“Just as modest as Horace described!” said Worple. 
+“But seriously” — his manner changed; it became 
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+suddenly businesslike — “I would be delighted to 
+write it myself — people are craving to know more 
+about you, dear boy, craving! If you were prepared to 
+grant me a few interviews, say in four- or five-hour 
+sessions, why, we could have the book finished within 
+months. And all with very little effort on your part, I 
+assure you — ask Sanguini here if it isn’t quite — 
+Sanguini, stay here!” added Worple, suddenly stern, 
+for the vampire had been edging toward the nearby 
+group of girls, a rather hungry look in his eye. “Here, 
+have a pasty,” said Worple, seizing one from a passing 
+elf and stuffing it into Sanguini’s hand before turning 
+his attention back to Harry. 
+“My dear boy, the gold you could make, you have no 
+idea —” 
+“I’m definitely not interested,” said Harry firmly, “and 
+I’ve just seen a friend of mine, sorry.” 
+He pulled Luna after him into the crowd; he had 
+indeed just seen a long mane of brown hair disappear 
+between what looked like two members of the Weird 
+Sisters. 
+“Hermione! Hermione!” 
+“Harry! There you are, thank goodness! Hi, Luna!” 
+“What’s happened to you?” asked Harry, for Hermione 
+looked distinctly disheveled, rather as though she had 
+just fought her way out of a thicket of Devil’s Snare. 
+“Oh, I’ve just escaped — I mean, I’ve just left 
+Cormac,” she said. “Under the mistletoe,” she added 
+in explanation, as Harry continued to look 
+questioningly at her. 
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+“Serves you right for coming with him,” he told her 
+severely. 
+“I thought he’d annoy Ron most,” said Hermione 
+dispassionately. “I debated for a while about 
+Zacharias Smith, but I thought, on the whole —” 
+“You considered Smith?” said Harry, revolted. 
+“Yes, I did, and I’m starting to wish I’d chosen him, 
+McLaggen makes Grawp look a gentleman. Let’s go 
+this way, we’ll be able to see him coming, he’s so tall. 
+…” 
+The three of them made their way over to the other 
+side of the room, scooping up goblets of mead on the 
+way, realizing too late that Professor Trelawney was 
+standing there alone. 
+“Hello,” said Luna politely to Professor Trelawney. 
+“Good evening, my dear,” said Professor Trelawney, 
+focusing upon Luna with some difficulty. Harry could 
+smell cooking sherry again. “I haven’t seen you in my 
+classes lately. …” 
+“No, I’ve got Firenze this year,” said Luna. 
+“Oh, of course,” said Professor Trelawney with an 
+angry, drunken titter. “Or Dobbin, as I prefer to think 
+of him. You would have thought, would you not, that 
+now I am returned to the school Professor 
+Dumbledore might have got rid of the horse? But no 
+… we share classes. … It’s an insult, frankly, an 
+insult. Do you know …” 
+Professor Trelawney seemed too tipsy to have 
+recognized Harry. Under cover of her furious 
+criticisms of Firenze, Harry drew closer to Hermione 
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+and said, “Let’s get something straight. Are you 
+planning to tell Ron that you interfered at Keeper 
+tryouts?” 
+Hermione raised her eyebrows. “Do you really think 
+I’d stoop that low?” 
+Harry looked at her shrewdly. “Hermione, if you can 
+ask out McLaggen —” 
+“There’s a difference,” said Hermione with dignity. 
+“I’ve got no plans to tell Ron anything about what 
+might, or might not, have happened at Keeper 
+tryouts.” 
+“Good,” said Harry fervently. “Because he’ll just fall 
+apart again, and we’ll lose the next match —” 
+“Quidditch!” said Hermione angrily. “Is that all boys 
+care about? Cormac hasn’t asked me one single 
+question about myself, no, I’ve just been treated to ‘A 
+Hundred Great Saves Made by Cormac McLaggen’ 
+nonstop ever since — oh no, here he comes!” 
+She moved so fast it was as though she had 
+Disapparated; one moment she was there, the next, 
+she had squeezed between two guffawing witches and 
+vanished. 
+“Seen Hermione?” asked McLaggen, forcing his way 
+through the throng a minute later. 
+“No, sorry,” said Harry, and he turned quickly to join 
+in Luna’s conversation, forgetting for a split second to 
+whom she was talking. 
+“Harry Potter!” said Professor Trelawney in deep, 
+vibrant tones, noticing him for the first time. 
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+“Oh, hello,” said Harry unenthusiastically. 
+“My dear boy!” she said in a very carrying whisper. 
+“The rumors! The stories! ‘The Chosen One’! Of 
+course, I have known for a very long time. … The 
+omens were never good, Harry. … But why have you 
+not returned to Divination? For you, of all people, the 
+subject is of the utmost importance!” 
+“Ah, Sybill, we all think our subject’s most 
+important!” said a loud voice, and Slughorn appeared 
+at Professor Trelawney’s other side, his face very red, 
+his velvet hat a little askew, a glass of mead in one 
+hand and an enormous mince pie in the other. “But I 
+don’t think I’ve ever known such a natural at 
+Potions!” said Slughorn, regarding Harry with a fond, 
+if bloodshot, eye. “Instinctive, you know — like his 
+mother! I’ve only ever taught a few with this kind of 
+ability, I can tell you that, Sybill — why even Severus 
+—” 
+And to Harry’s horror, Slughorn threw out an arm 
+and seemed to scoop Snape out of thin air toward 
+them. 
+“Stop skulking and come and join us, Severus!” 
+hiccuped Slughorn happily. “I was just talking about 
+Harry’s exceptional potion-making! Some credit must 
+go to you, of course, you taught him for five years!” 
+Trapped, with Slughorn’s arm around his shoulders, 
+Snape looked down his hooked nose at Harry, his 
+black eyes narrowed. 
+“Funny, I never had the impression that I managed to 
+teach Potter anything at all.” 
+“Well, then, it’s natural ability!” shouted Slughorn. 
+“You should have seen what he gave me, first lesson, 
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+Draught of Living Death — never had a student 
+produce finer on a first attempt, I don’t think even 
+you, Severus —” 
+“Really?” said Snape quietly, his eyes still boring into 
+Harry, who felt a certain disquiet. The last thing he 
+wanted was for Snape to start investigating the 
+source of his newfound brilliance at Potions. 
+“Remind me what other subjects you’re taking, 
+Harry?” asked Slughorn. 
+“Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms, 
+Transfiguration, Herbology …” 
+“All the subjects required, in short, for an Auror,” said 
+Snape, with the faintest sneer. 
+“Yeah, well, that’s what I’d like to do,” said Harry 
+defiantly. 
+“And a great one you’ll make too!” boomed Slughorn. 
+“I don’t think you should be an Auror, Harry,” said 
+Luna unexpectedly. Everybody looked at her. “The 
+Aurors are part of the Rotfang Conspiracy, I thought 
+everyone knew that. They’re working to bring down 
+the Ministry of Magic from within using a 
+combination of Dark Magic and gum disease.” 
+Harry inhaled half his mead up his nose as he started 
+to laugh. Really, it had been worth bringing Luna just 
+for this. Emerging from his goblet, coughing, sopping 
+wet but still grinning, he saw something calculated to 
+raise his spirits even higher: Draco Malfoy being 
+dragged by the ear toward them by Argus Filch. 
+“Professor Slughorn,” wheezed Filch, his jowls aquiver 
+and the maniacal light of mischief-detection in his 
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+bulging eyes, “I discovered this boy lurking in an 
+upstairs corridor. He claims to have been invited to 
+your party and to have been delayed in setting out. 
+Did you issue him with an invitation?” 
+Malfoy pulled himself free of Filch’s grip, looking 
+furious. 
+“All right, I wasn’t invited!” he said angrily. “I was 
+trying to gatecrash, happy?” 
+“No, I’m not!” said Filch, a statement at complete odds 
+with the glee on his face. “You’re in trouble, you are! 
+Didn’t the headmaster say that nighttime prowling’s 
+out, unless you’ve got permission, didn’t he, eh?” 
+“That’s all right, Argus, that’s all right,” said 
+Slughorn, waving a hand. “It’s Christmas, and it’s not 
+a crime to want to come to a party. Just this once, 
+we’ll forget any punishment; you may stay, Draco.” 
+Filch’s expression of outraged disappointment was 
+perfectly predictable; but why, Harry wondered, 
+watching him, did Malfoy look almost equally 
+unhappy? And why was Snape looking at Malfoy as 
+though both angry and … was it possible? … a little 
+afraid? 
+But almost before Harry had registered what he had 
+seen, Filch had turned and shuffled away, muttering 
+under his breath; Malfoy had composed his face into 
+a smile and was thanking Slughorn for his generosity, 
+and Snape’s face was smoothly inscrutable again. 
+“It’s nothing, nothing,” said Slughorn, waving away 
+Malfoy’s thanks. “I did know your grandfather, after 
+all. …” 
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+“He always spoke very highly of you, sir,” said Malfoy 
+quickly. “Said you were the best potion-maker he’d 
+ever known. …” 
+Harry stared at Malfoy. It was not the sucking-up that 
+intrigued him; he had watched Malfoy do that to 
+Snape for a long time. It was the fact that Malfoy did, 
+after all, look a little ill. This was the first time he had 
+seen Malfoy close up for ages; he now saw that Malfoy 
+had dark shadows under his eyes and a distinctly 
+grayish tinge to his skin. 
+“I’d like a word with you, Draco,” said Snape 
+suddenly. 
+“Oh, now, Severus,” said Slughorn, hiccuping again, 
+“it’s Christmas, don’t be too hard —” 
+“I’m his Head of House, and I shall decide how hard, 
+or otherwise, to be,” said Snape curtly. “Follow me, 
+Draco.” 
+They left, Snape leading the way, Malfoy looking 
+resentful. Harry stood there for a moment, irresolute, 
+then said, “I’ll be back in a bit, Luna — er — 
+bathroom.” 
+“All right,” she said cheerfully, and he thought he 
+heard her, as he hurried off into the crowd, resume 
+the subject of the Rotfang Conspiracy with Professor 
+Trelawney, who seemed sincerely interested. 
+It was easy, once out of the party, to pull his 
+Invisibility Cloak out of his pocket and throw it over 
+himself, for the corridor was quite deserted. What was 
+more difficult was finding Snape and Malfoy. Harry 
+ran down the corridor, the noise of his feet masked by 
+the music and loud talk still issuing from Slughorn’s 
+office behind him. Perhaps Snape had taken Malfoy to 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+his office in the dungeons … or perhaps he was 
+escorting him back to the Slytherin common room. … 
+Harry pressed his ear against door after door as he 
+dashed down the corridor until, with a great jolt of 
+excitement, he crouched down to the keyhole of the 
+last classroom in the corridor and heard voices. 
+“… cannot afford mistakes, Draco, because if you are 
+expelled —” 
+“I didn’t have anything to do with it, all right?” 
+“I hope you are telling the truth, because it was both 
+clumsy and foolish. Already you are suspected of 
+having a hand in it.” 
+“Who suspects me?” said Malfoy angrily. “For the last 
+time, I didn’t do it, okay? That Bell girl must’ve had 
+an enemy no one knows about — don’t look at me like 
+that! I know what you’re doing, I’m not stupid, but it 
+won’t work — I can stop you!” 
+There was a pause and then Snape said quietly, “Ah 
+… Aunt Bellatrix has been teaching you Occlumency, 
+I see. What thoughts are you trying to conceal from 
+your master, Draco?” 
+“I’m not trying to conceal anything from him, I just 
+don’t want you butting in!” 
+Harry pressed his ear still more closely against the 
+keyhole. … What had happened to make Malfoy speak 
+to Snape like this — Snape, toward whom he had 
+always shown respect, even liking? 
+“So that is why you have been avoiding me this term? 
+You have feared my interference? You realize that, 
+had anybody else failed to come to my office when I 
+had told them repeatedly to be there, Draco —” 
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+“So put me in detention! Report me to Dumbledore!” 
+jeered Malfoy. 
+There was another pause. Then Snape said, “You 
+know perfectly well that I do not wish to do either of 
+those things.” 
+“You’d better stop telling me to come to your office 
+then!” 
+“Listen to me,” said Snape, his voice so low now that 
+Harry had to push his ear very hard against the 
+keyhole to hear. “I am trying to help you. I swore to 
+your mother I would protect you. I made the 
+Unbreakable Vow, Draco —” 
+“Looks like you’ll have to break it, then, because I 
+don’t need your protection! It’s my job, he gave it to 
+me and I’m doing it, I’ve got a plan and it’s going to 
+work, it’s just taking a bit longer than I thought it 
+would!” 
+“What is your plan?” 
+“It’s none of your business!” 
+“If you tell me what you are trying to do, I can assist 
+you —” 
+“I’ve got all the assistance I need, thanks, I’m not 
+alone!” 
+“You were certainly alone tonight, which was foolish 
+in the extreme, wandering the corridors without 
+lookouts or backup, these are elementary mistakes —
+” 
+“I would’ve had Crabbe and Goyle with me if you 
+hadn’t put them in detention!” 
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+“Keep your voice down!” spat Snape, for Malfoy’s voice 
+had risen excitedly. “If your friends Crabbe and Goyle 
+intend to pass their Defense Against the Dark Arts 
+O.W.L. this time around, they will need to work a 
+little harder than they are doing at pres —” 
+“What does it matter?” said Malfoy. “Defense Against 
+the Dark Arts — it’s all just a joke, isn’t it, an act? 
+Like any of us need protecting against the Dark Arts 
+—” 
+“It is an act that is crucial to success, Draco!” said 
+Snape. “Where do you think I would have been all 
+these years, if I had not known how to act? Now listen 
+to me! You are being incautious, wandering around at 
+night, getting yourself caught, and if you are placing 
+your reliance in assistants like Crabbe and Goyle —” 
+“They’re not the only ones, I’ve got other people on my 
+side, better people!” 
+“Then why not confide in me, and I can —” 
+“I know what you’re up to! You want to steal my 
+glory!” 
+There was another pause, then Snape said coldly, 
+“You are speaking like a child. I quite understand 
+that your father’s capture and imprisonment has 
+upset you, but —” 
+Harry had barely a second’s warning; he heard 
+Malfoy’s footsteps on the other side of the door and 
+flung himself out of the way just as it burst open; 
+Malfoy was striding away down the corridor, past the 
+open door of Slughorn’s office, around the distant 
+corner, and out of sight. 
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+Hardly daring to breathe, Harry remained crouched 
+down as Snape emerged slowly from the classroom. 
+His expression unfathomable, he returned to the 
+party. Harry remained on the floor, hidden beneath 
+the cloak, his mind racing. 
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+ 
+ 
+A VERY FROSTY CHRISTMAS 
+“So Snape was offering to help him? He was definitely 
+offering to help him?” 
+“If you ask that once more,” said Harry, “I’m going to 
+stick this sprout —” 
+“I’m only checking!” said Ron. They were standing 
+alone at the Burrow’s kitchen sink, peeling a 
+mountain of sprouts for Mrs. Weasley. Snow was 
+drifting past the window in front of them. 
+“Yes, Snape was offering to help him!” said Harry. “He 
+said he’d promised Malfoy’s mother to protect him, 
+that he’d made an Unbreakable Oath or something —
+” 
+“An Unbreakable Vow?” said Ron, looking stunned. 
+“Nah, he can’t have. … Are you sure?” 
+“Yes, I’m sure,” said Harry. “Why, what does it 
+mean?” 
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+“Well, you can’t break an Unbreakable Vow. …” 
+“I’d worked that much out for myself, funnily enough. 
+What happens if you break it, then?” 
+“You die,” said Ron simply. “Fred and George tried to 
+get me to make one when I was about five. I nearly 
+did too, I was holding hands with Fred and everything 
+when Dad found us. He went mental,” said Ron, with 
+a reminiscent gleam in his eyes. “Only time I’ve ever 
+seen Dad as angry as Mum. Fred reckons his left 
+buttock has never been the same since.” 
+“Yeah, well, passing over Fred’s left buttock —” 
+“I beg your pardon?” said Fred’s voice as the twins 
+entered the kitchen. 
+“Aaah, George, look at this. They’re using knives and 
+everything. Bless them.” 
+“I’ll be seventeen in two and a bit months’ time,” said 
+Ron grumpily, “and then I’ll be able to do it by magic!” 
+“But meanwhile,” said George, sitting down at the 
+kitchen table and putting his feet up on it, “we can 
+enjoy watching you demonstrate the correct use of a 
+— whoops-a-daisy!” 
+“You made me do that!” said Ron angrily, sucking his 
+cut thumb. “You wait, when I’m seventeen —” 
+“I’m sure you’ll dazzle us all with hitherto 
+unsuspected magical skills,” yawned Fred. 
+“And speaking of hitherto unsuspected skills, 
+Ronald,” said George, “what is this we hear from 
+Ginny about you and a young lady called — unless 
+our information is faulty — Lavender Brown?” 
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+Ron turned a little pink, but did not look displeased 
+as he turned back to the sprouts. “Mind your own 
+business.” 
+“What a snappy retort,” said Fred. “I really don’t know 
+how you think of them. No, what we wanted to know 
+was … how did it happen?” 
+“What d’you mean?” 
+“Did she have an accident or something?” 
+“What?” 
+“Well, how did she sustain such extensive brain 
+damage? Careful, now!” 
+Mrs. Weasley entered the room just in time to see Ron 
+throw the sprout knife at Fred, who had turned it into 
+a paper airplane with one lazy flick of his wand. 
+“Ron!” she said furiously. “Don’t you ever let me see 
+you throwing knives again!” 
+“I won’t,” said Ron, “let you see,” he added under his 
+breath, as he turned back to the sprout mountain. 
+“Fred, George, I’m sorry, dears, but Remus is arriving 
+tonight, so Bill will have to squeeze in with you two.” 
+“No problem,” said George. 
+“Then, as Charlie isn’t coming home, that just leaves 
+Harry and Ron in the attic, and if Fleur shares with 
+Ginny —” 
+“— that’ll make Ginny’s Christmas —” muttered Fred. 
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+“— everyone should be comfortable. Well, they’ll have 
+a bed, anyway,” said Mrs. Weasley, sounding slightly 
+harassed. 
+“Percy definitely not showing his ugly face, then?” 
+asked Fred. 
+Mrs. Weasley turned away before she answered. “No, 
+he’s busy, I expect, at the Ministry.” 
+“Or he’s the world’s biggest prat,” said Fred, as Mrs. 
+Weasley left the kitchen. “One of the two. Well, let’s 
+get going, then, George.” 
+“What are you two up to?” asked Ron. “Can’t you help 
+us with these sprouts? You could just use your wand 
+and then we’ll be free too!” 
+“No, I don’t think we can do that,” said Fred seriously. 
+“It’s very character-building stuff, learning to peel 
+sprouts without magic, makes you appreciate how 
+difficult it is for Muggles and Squibs —” 
+“— and if you want people to help you, Ron,” added 
+George, throwing the paper airplane at him, “I 
+wouldn’t chuck knives at them. Just a little hint. 
+We’re off to the village, there’s a very pretty girl 
+working in the paper shop who thinks my card tricks 
+are something marvelous … almost like real magic. 
+…” 
+“Gits,” said Ron darkly, watching Fred and George 
+setting off across the snowy yard. “Would’ve only 
+taken them ten seconds and then we could’ve gone 
+too.” 
+“I couldn’t,” said Harry. “I promised Dumbledore I 
+wouldn’t wander off while I’m staying here.” 
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+“Oh yeah,” said Ron. He peeled a few more sprouts 
+and then said, “Are you going to tell Dumbledore what 
+you heard Snape and Malfoy saying to each other?” 
+“Yep,” said Harry. “I’m going to tell anyone who can 
+put a stop to it, and Dumbledore’s top of the list. I 
+might have another word with your dad too.” 
+“Pity you didn’t hear what Malfoy’s actually doing, 
+though.” 
+“I couldn’t have done, could I? That was the whole 
+point, he was refusing to tell Snape.” 
+There was silence for a moment or two, then Ron 
+said, “ ’Course, you know what they’ll all say? Dad 
+and Dumbledore and all of them? They’ll say Snape 
+isn’t really trying to help Malfoy, he was just trying to 
+find out what Malfoy’s up to.” 
+“They didn’t hear him,” said Harry flatly. “No one’s 
+that good an actor, not even Snape.” 
+“Yeah … I’m just saying, though,” said Ron. 
+Harry turned to face him, frowning. “You think I’m 
+right, though?” 
+“Yeah, I do!” said Ron hastily. “Seriously, I do! But 
+they’re all convinced Snape’s in the Order, aren’t 
+they?” 
+Harry said nothing. It had already occurred to him 
+that this would be the most likely objection to his new 
+evidence; he could hear Hermione now: Obviously, 
+Harry, he was pretending to offer help so he could trick 
+Malfoy into telling him what he’s doing. … 
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+This was pure imagination, however, as he had had 
+no opportunity to tell Hermione what he had 
+overheard. She had disappeared from Slughorn’s 
+parry before he returned to it, or so he had been 
+informed by an irate McLaggen, and she had already 
+gone to bed by the time he returned to the common 
+room. As he and Ron had left for the Burrow early the 
+next day, he had barely had time to wish her a happy 
+Christmas and to tell her that he had some very 
+important news when they got back from the 
+holidays. He was not entirely sure that she had heard 
+him, though; Ron and Lavender had been saying a 
+thoroughly nonverbal good-bye just behind him at the 
+time. 
+Still, even Hermione would not be able to deny one 
+thing: Malfoy was definitely up to something, and 
+Snape knew it, so Harry felt fully justified in saying “I 
+told you so,” which he had done several times to Ron 
+already. 
+Harry did not get the chance to speak to Mr. Weasley, 
+who was working very long hours at the Ministry, 
+until Christmas Eve night. The Weasleys and their 
+guests were sitting in the living room, which Ginny 
+had decorated so lavishly that it was rather like 
+sitting in a paper-chain explosion. Fred, George, 
+Harry, and Ron were the only ones who knew that the 
+angel on top of the tree was actually a garden gnome 
+that had bitten Fred on the ankle as he pulled up 
+carrots for Christmas dinner. Stupefied, painted gold, 
+stuffed into a miniature tutu and with small wings 
+glued to its back, it glowered down at them all, the 
+ugliest angel Harry had ever seen, with a large bald 
+head like a potato and rather hairy feet. 
+They were all supposed to be listening to a Christmas 
+broadcast by Mrs. Weasley’s favorite singer, Celestina 
+Warbeck, whose voice was warbling out of the large 
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+wooden wireless set. Fleur, who seemed to find 
+Celestina very dull, was talking so loudly in the 
+corner that a scowling Mrs. Weasley kept pointing her 
+wand at the volume control, so that Celestina grew 
+louder and louder. Under cover of a particularly jazzy 
+number called “A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love,” 
+Fred and George started a game of Exploding Snap 
+with Ginny. Ron kept shooting Bill and Fleur covert 
+looks, as though hoping to pick up tips. Meanwhile, 
+Remus Lupin, who was thinner and more ragged-
+looking than ever, was sitting beside the fire, staring 
+into its depths as though he could not hear 
+Celestina’s voice. 
+Oh, come and stir my cauldron, 
+And if you do it right, 
+I’ll boil you up some hot strong love 
+To keep you warm tonight. 
+“We danced to this when we were eighteen!” said Mrs. 
+Weasley, wiping her eyes on her knitting. “Do you 
+remember, Arthur?” 
+“Mphf?” said Mr. Weasley, whose head had been 
+nodding over the satsuma he was peeling. “Oh yes … 
+marvelous tune …” 
+With an effort, he sat up a little straighter and looked 
+around at Harry, who was sitting next to him. 
+“Sorry about this,” he said, jerking his head toward 
+the wireless as Celestina broke into the chorus. “Be 
+over soon.” 
+“No problem,” said Harry, grinning. “Has it been busy 
+at the Ministry?” 
+“Very,” said Mr. Weasley. “I wouldn’t mind if we were 
+getting anywhere, but of the three arrests we’ve made 
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+in the last couple of months, I doubt that one of them 
+is a genuine Death Eater — only don’t repeat that, 
+Harry,” he added quickly, looking much more awake 
+all of a sudden. 
+“They’re not still holding Stan Shunpike, are they?” 
+asked Harry. 
+“I’m afraid so,” said Mr. Weasley. “I know 
+Dumbledore’s tried appealing directly to Scrimgeour 
+about Stan. … I mean, anybody who has actually 
+interviewed him agrees that he’s about as much a 
+Death Eater as this satsuma … but the top levels 
+want to look as though they’re making some progress, 
+and ‘three arrests’ sounds better than ‘three mistaken 
+arrests and releases’… but again, this is all top 
+secret. …” 
+“I won’t say anything,” said Harry. He hesitated for a 
+moment, wondering how best to embark on what he 
+wanted to say; as he marshaled his thoughts, 
+Celestina Warbeck began a ballad called “You 
+Charmed the Heart Right Out of Me.” 
+“Mr. Weasley, you know what I told you at the station 
+when we were setting off for school?” 
+“I checked, Harry,” said Mr. Weasley at once. “I went 
+and searched the Malfoys’ house. There was nothing, 
+either broken or whole, that shouldn’t have been 
+there.” 
+“Yeah, I know, I saw in the Prophet that you’d looked 
+… but this is something different. … Well, something 
+more …” 
+And he told Mr. Weasley everything he had overheard 
+between Malfoy and Snape. As Harry spoke, he saw 
+Lupin’s head turn a little toward him, taking in every 
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+word. When he had finished, there was silence, except 
+for Celestina’s crooning. 
+Oh, my poor heart, where has it gone? 
+It’s left me for a spell … 
+“Has it occurred to you, Harry,” said Mr. Weasley, 
+“that Snape was simply pretending — ?” 
+“Pretending to offer help, so that he could find out 
+what Malfoy’s up to?” said Harry quickly. “Yeah, I 
+thought you’d say that. But how do we know?” 
+“It isn’t our business to know,” said Lupin 
+unexpectedly. He had turned his back on the fire now 
+and faced Harry across Mr. Weasley. “It’s 
+Dumbledore’s business. Dumbledore trusts Severus, 
+and that ought to be good enough for all of us.” 
+“But,” said Harry, “just say — just say Dumbledore’s 
+wrong about Snape —” 
+“People have said it, many times. It comes down to 
+whether or not you trust Dumbledore’s judgment. I 
+do; therefore, I trust Severus.” 
+“But Dumbledore can make mistakes,” argued Harry. 
+“He says it himself. And you” — he looked Lupin 
+straight in the eye — “do you honestly like Snape?” 
+“I neither like nor dislike Severus,” said Lupin. “No, 
+Harry, I am speaking the truth,” he added, as Harry 
+pulled a skeptical expression. “We shall never be 
+bosom friends, perhaps; after all that happened 
+between James and Sirius and Severus, there is too 
+much bitterness there. But I do not forget that during 
+the year I taught at Hogwarts, Severus made the 
+Wolfsbane Potion for me every month, made it 
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+perfectly, so that I did not have to suffer as I usually 
+do at the full moon.” 
+“But he ‘accidentally’ let it slip that you’re a werewolf, 
+so you had to leave!” said Harry angrily. 
+Lupin shrugged. “The news would have leaked out 
+anyway. We both know he wanted my job, but he 
+could have wreaked much worse damage on me by 
+tampering with the potion. He kept me healthy. I 
+must be grateful.” 
+“Maybe he didn’t dare mess with the potion with 
+Dumbledore watching him!” said Harry. 
+“You are determined to hate him, Harry,” said Lupin 
+with a faint smile. “And I understand; with James as 
+your father, with Sirius as your godfather, you have 
+inherited an old prejudice. By all means tell 
+Dumbledore what you have told Arthur and me, but 
+do not expect him to share your view of the matter; do 
+not even expect him to be surprised by what you tell 
+him. It might have been on Dumbledore’s orders that 
+Severus questioned Draco.” 
+… and now you’ve torn it quite apart 
+I’ll thank you to give back my heart! 
+Celestina ended her song on a very long, high-pitched 
+note and loud applause issued out of the wireless, 
+which Mrs. Weasley joined in with enthusiastically. 
+“Eez eet over?” said Fleur loudly. “Thank goodness, 
+what an ’orrible —” 
+“Shall we have a nightcap, then?” asked Mr. Weasley 
+loudly, leaping to his feet. “Who wants eggnog?” 
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+“What have you been up to lately?” Harry asked 
+Lupin, as Mr. Weasley bustled off to fetch the eggnog, 
+and everybody else stretched and broke into 
+conversation. 
+“Oh, I’ve been underground,” said Lupin. “Almost 
+literally. That’s why I haven’t been able to write, 
+Harry; sending letters to you would have been 
+something of a giveaway.” 
+“What do you mean?” 
+“I’ve been living among my fellows, my equals,” said 
+Lupin. “Werewolves,” he added, at Harry’s look of 
+incomprehension. “Nearly all of them are on 
+Voldemort’s side. Dumbledore wanted a spy and here 
+I was … ready-made.” 
+He sounded a little bitter, and perhaps realized it, for 
+he smiled more warmly as he went on, “I am not 
+complaining; it is necessary work and who can do it 
+better than I? However, it has been difficult gaining 
+their trust. I bear the unmistakable signs of having 
+tried to live among wizards, you see, whereas they 
+have shunned normal society and live on the margins, 
+stealing — and sometimes killing — to eat.” 
+“How come they like Voldemort?” 
+“They think that, under his rule, they will have a 
+better life,” said Lupin. “And it is hard to argue with 
+Greyback out there. …” 
+“Who’s Greyback?” 
+“You haven’t heard of him?” Lupin’s hands closed 
+convulsively in his lap. “Fenrir Greyback is, perhaps, 
+the most savage werewolf alive today. He regards it as 
+his mission in life to bite and to contaminate as many 
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+people as possible; he wants to create enough 
+werewolves to overcome the wizards. Voldemort has 
+promised him prey in return for his services. 
+Greyback specializes in children. … Bite them young, 
+he says, and raise them away from their parents, 
+raise them to hate normal wizards. Voldemort has 
+threatened to unleash him upon people’s sons and 
+daughters; it is a threat that usually produces good 
+results.” 
+Lupin paused and then said, “It was Greyback who 
+bit me.” 
+“What?” said Harry, astonished. “When — when you 
+were a kid, you mean?” 
+“Yes. My father had offended him. I did not know, for 
+a very long time, the identity of the werewolf who had 
+attacked me; I even felt pity for him, thinking that he 
+had had no control, knowing by then how it felt to 
+transform. But Greyback is not like that. At the full 
+moon, he positions himself close to victims, ensuring 
+that he is near enough to strike. He plans it all. And 
+this is the man Voldemort is using to marshal the 
+werewolves. I cannot pretend that my particular 
+brand of reasoned argument is making much 
+headway against Greyback’s insistence that we 
+werewolves deserve blood, that we ought to revenge 
+ourselves on normal people.” 
+“But you are normal!” said Harry fiercely. “You’ve just 
+got a — a problem —” 
+Lupin burst out laughing. “Sometimes you remind me 
+a lot of James. He called it my ‘furry little problem’ in 
+company. Many people were under the impression 
+that I owned a badly behaved rabbit.” 
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+He accepted a glass of eggnog from Mr. Weasley with 
+a word of thanks, looking slightly more cheerful. 
+Harry, meanwhile, felt a rush of excitement: This last 
+mention of his father had reminded him that there 
+was something he had been looking forward to asking 
+Lupin. 
+“Have you ever heard of someone called the Half-
+Blood Prince?” 
+“The Half-Blood what?” 
+“Prince,” said Harry, watching him closely for signs of 
+recognition. 
+“There are no Wizarding princes,” said Lupin, now 
+smiling. “Is this a title you’re thinking of adopting? I 
+should have thought being ‘the Chosen One’ would be 
+enough.” 
+“It’s nothing to do with me!” said Harry indignantly. 
+“The Half-Blood Prince is someone who used to go to 
+Hogwarts, I’ve got his old Potions book. He wrote 
+spells all over it, spells he invented. One of them was 
+Levicorpus —” 
+“Oh, that one had a great vogue during my time at 
+Hogwarts,” said Lupin reminiscently. “There were a 
+few months in my fifth year when you couldn’t move 
+for being hoisted into the air by your ankle.” 
+“My dad used it,” said Harry. “I saw him in the 
+Pensieve, he used it on Snape.” 
+He tried to sound casual, as though this was a 
+throwaway comment of no real importance, but he 
+was not sure he had achieved the right effect; Lupin’s 
+smile was a little too understanding. 
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+“Yes,” he said, “but he wasn’t the only one. As I say, it 
+was very popular. … You know how these spells come 
+and go. …” 
+“But it sounds like it was invented while you were at 
+school,” Harry persisted. 
+“Not necessarily,” said Lupin. “Jinxes go in and out of 
+fashion like everything else.” 
+He looked into Harry’s face and then said quietly, 
+“James was a pureblood, Harry, and I promise you, 
+he never asked us to call him ‘Prince.’ ” 
+Abandoning pretense, Harry said, “And it wasn’t 
+Sirius? Or you?” 
+“Definitely not.” 
+“Oh.” Harry stared into the fire. “I just thought — 
+well, he’s helped me out a lot in Potions classes, the 
+Prince has.” 
+“How old is this book, Harry?” 
+“I dunno, I’ve never checked.” 
+“Well, perhaps that will give you some clue as to when 
+the Prince was at Hogwarts,” said Lupin. 
+Shortly after this, Fleur decided to imitate Celestina 
+singing “A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love,” which 
+was taken by everyone, once they had glimpsed Mrs. 
+Weasley’s expression, to be the cue to go to bed. 
+Harry and Ron climbed all the way up to Ron’s attic 
+bedroom, where a camp bed had been added for 
+Harry. 
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+Ron fell asleep almost immediately, but Harry delved 
+into his trunk and pulled out his copy of Advanced 
+Potion-Making before getting into bed. There he turned 
+its pages, searching, until he finally found, at the 
+front of the book, the date that it had been published. 
+It was nearly fifty years old. Neither his father, nor his 
+father’s friends, had been at Hogwarts fifty years ago. 
+Feeling disappointed, Harry threw the book back into 
+his trunk, turned off the lamp, and rolled over, 
+thinking of werewolves and Snape, Stan Shunpike 
+and the Half-Blood Prince, and finally falling into an 
+uneasy sleep full of creeping shadows and the cries of 
+bitten children. … 
+“She’s got to be joking. …” 
+Harry woke with a start to find a bulging stocking 
+lying over the end of his bed. He put on his glasses 
+and looked around; the tiny window was almost 
+completely obscured with snow and, in front of it, Ron 
+was sitting bolt upright in bed and examining what 
+appeared to be a thick gold chain. 
+“What’s that?” asked Harry. 
+“It’s from Lavender,” said Ron, sounding revolted. 
+“She can’t honestly think I’d wear …” 
+Harry looked more closely and let out a shout of 
+laughter. Dangling from the chain in large gold letters 
+were the words: 
+My Sweetheart 
+“Nice,” he said. “Classy. You should definitely wear it 
+in front of Fred and George.” 
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+“If you tell them,” said Ron, shoving the necklace out 
+of sight under his pillow, “I — I — I’ll —” 
+“Stutter at me?” said Harry, grinning. “Come on, 
+would I?” 
+“How could she think I’d like something like that, 
+though?” Ron demanded of thin air, looking rather 
+shocked. 
+“Well, think back,” said Harry. “Have you ever let it 
+slip that you’d like to go out in public with the words 
+‘My Sweetheart’ round your neck?” 
+“Well … we don’t really talk much,” said Ron. “It’s 
+mainly …” 
+“Snogging,” said Harry. 
+“Well, yeah,” said Ron. He hesitated a moment, then 
+said, “Is Hermione really going out with McLaggen?” 
+“I dunno,” said Harry. “They were at Slughorn’s party 
+together, but I don’t think it went that well.” 
+Ron looked slightly more cheerful as he delved deeper 
+into his stocking. 
+Harry’s presents included a sweater with a large 
+Golden Snitch worked onto the front, hand-knitted by 
+Mrs. Weasley, a large box of Weasleys’ Wizard 
+Wheezes products from the twins, and a slightly 
+damp, moldy-smelling package that came with a label 
+reading TO MASTER, FROM KREACHER. 
+Harry stared at it. “D’you reckon this is safe to open?” 
+he asked. 
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+“Can’t be anything dangerous, all our mail’s still 
+being searched at the Ministry,” replied Ron, though 
+he was eyeing the parcel suspiciously. 
+“I didn’t think of giving Kreacher anything. Do people 
+usually give their house-elves Christmas presents?” 
+asked Harry, prodding the parcel cautiously. 
+“Hermione would,” said Ron. “But let’s wait and see 
+what it is before you start feeling guilty.” 
+A moment later, Harry had given a loud yell and leapt 
+out of his camp bed; the package contained a large 
+number of maggots. 
+“Nice,” said Ron, roaring with laughter. “Very 
+thoughtful.” 
+“I’d rather have them than that necklace,” said Harry, 
+which sobered Ron up at once. 
+Everybody was wearing new sweaters when they all 
+sat down for Christmas lunch, everyone except Fleur 
+(on whom, it appeared, Mrs. Weasley had not wanted 
+to waste one) and Mrs. Weasley herself, who was 
+sporting a brand-new midnight blue witch’s hat 
+glittering with what looked like tiny starlike 
+diamonds, and a spectacular golden necklace. 
+“Fred and George gave them to me! Aren’t they 
+beautiful?” 
+“Well, we find we appreciate you more and more, 
+Mum, now we’re washing our own socks,” said 
+George, waving an airy hand. “Parsnips, Remus?” 
+“Harry, you’ve got a maggot in your hair,” said Ginny 
+cheerfully, leaning across the table to pick it out; 
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+Harry felt goose bumps erupt up his neck that had 
+nothing to do with the maggot. 
+“ ’Ow ’orrible,” said Fleur, with an affected little 
+shudder. 
+“Yes, isn’t it?” said Ron. “Gravy, Fleur?” 
+In his eagerness to help her, he knocked the gravy 
+boat flying; Bill waved his wand and the gravy soared 
+up in the air and returned meekly to the boat. 
+“You are as bad as zat Tonks,” said Fleur to Ron, 
+when she had finished kissing Bill in thanks. “She is 
+always knocking —” 
+“I invited dear Tonks to come along today,” said Mrs. 
+Weasley, setting down the carrots with unnecessary 
+force and glaring at Fleur. “But she wouldn’t come. 
+Have you spoken to her lately, Remus?” 
+“No, I haven’t been in contact with anybody very 
+much,” said Lupin. “But Tonks has got her own 
+family to go to, hasn’t she?” 
+“Hmmm,” said Mrs. Weasley. “Maybe. I got the 
+impression she was planning to spend Christmas 
+alone, actually.” 
+She gave Lupin an annoyed look, as though it was all 
+his fault she was getting Fleur for a daughter-in-law 
+instead of Tonks, but Harry, glancing across at Fleur, 
+who was now feeding Bill bits of turkey off her own 
+fork, thought that Mrs. Weasley was fighting a long-
+lost battle. He was, however, reminded of a question 
+he had with regard to Tonks, and who better to ask 
+than Lupin, the man who knew all about Patronuses? 
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+“Tonks’s Patronus has changed its form,” he told him. 
+“Snape said so anyway. I didn’t know that could 
+happen. Why would your Patronus change?” 
+Lupin took his time chewing his turkey and 
+swallowing before saying slowly, “Sometimes … a 
+great shock … an emotional upheaval …” 
+“It looked big, and it had four legs,” said Harry, 
+struck by a sudden thought and lowering his voice. 
+“Hey … it couldn’t be — ?” 
+“Arthur!” said Mrs. Weasley suddenly. She had risen 
+from her chair; her hand was pressed over her heart 
+and she was staring out of the kitchen window. 
+“Arthur — it’s Percy!” 
+“What?” 
+Mr. Weasley looked around. Everybody looked quickly 
+at the window; Ginny stood up for a better look. 
+There, sure enough, was Percy Weasley, striding 
+across the snowy yard, his horn-rimmed glasses 
+glinting in the sunlight. He was not, however, alone. 
+“Arthur, he’s — he’s with the Minister!” 
+And sure enough, the man Harry had seen in the 
+Daily Prophet was following along in Percy’s wake, 
+limping slightly, his mane of graying hair and his 
+black cloak flecked with snow. Before any of them 
+could say anything, before Mr. and Mrs. Weasley 
+could do more than exchange stunned looks, the back 
+door opened and there stood Percy. 
+There was a moment’s painful silence. Then Percy 
+said rather stiffly, “Merry Christmas, Mother.” 
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+“Oh, Percy!” said Mrs. Weasley, and she threw herself 
+into his arms. 
+Rufus Scrimgeour paused in the doorway, leaning on 
+his walking stick and smiling as he observed this 
+affecting scene. 
+“You must forgive this intrusion,” he said, when Mrs. 
+Weasley looked around at him, beaming and wiping 
+her eyes. “Percy and I were in the vicinity — working, 
+you know — and he couldn’t resist dropping in and 
+seeing you all.” 
+But Percy showed no sign of wanting to greet any of 
+the rest of the family. He stood, poker-straight and 
+awkward-looking, and stared over everybody else’s 
+heads. Mr. Weasley, Fred, and George were all 
+observing him, stony-faced. 
+“Please, come in, sit down, Minister!” fluttered Mrs. 
+Weasley, straightening her hat. “Have a little purkey, 
+or some tooding. … I mean —” 
+“No, no, my dear Molly,” said Scrimgeour. Harry 
+guessed that he had checked her name with Percy 
+before they entered the house. “I don’t want to 
+intrude, wouldn’t be here at all if Percy hadn’t wanted 
+to see you all so badly. …” 
+“Oh, Perce!” said Mrs. Weasley tearfully, reaching up 
+to kiss him. 
+“… We’ve only looked in for five minutes, so I’ll have a 
+stroll around the yard while you catch up with Percy. 
+No, no, I assure you I don’t want to butt in! Well, if 
+anybody cared to show me your charming garden … 
+Ah, that young man’s finished, why doesn’t he take a 
+stroll with me?” 
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+The atmosphere around the table changed 
+perceptibly. Everybody looked from Scrimgeour to 
+Harry. Nobody seemed to find Scrimgeour s pretense 
+that he did not know Harry’s name convincing, or find 
+it natural that he should be chosen to accompany the 
+Minister around the garden when Ginny, Fleur, and 
+George also had clean plates. 
+“Yeah, all right,” said Harry into the silence. 
+He was not fooled; for all Scrimgeour’s talk that they 
+had just been in the area, that Percy wanted to look 
+up his family, this must be the real reason that they 
+had come, so that Scrimgeour could speak to Harry 
+alone. 
+“It’s fine,” he said quietly, as he passed Lupin, who 
+had half risen from his chair. “Fine,” he added, as Mr. 
+Weasley opened his mouth to speak. 
+“Wonderful!” said Scrimgeour, standing back to let 
+Harry pass through the door ahead of him. “We’ll just 
+take a turn around the garden, and Percy and I’ll be 
+off. Carry on, everyone!” 
+Harry walked across the yard toward the Weasleys’ 
+overgrown, snow-covered garden, Scrimgeour limping 
+slightly at his side. He had, Harry knew, been Head of 
+the Auror office; he looked tough and battle-scarred, 
+very different from portly Fudge in his bowler hat. 
+“Charming,” said Scrimgeour, stopping at the garden 
+fence and looking out over the snowy lawn and the 
+indistinguishable plants. “Charming.” 
+Harry said nothing. He could tell that Scrimgeour was 
+watching him. 
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+“I’ve wanted to meet you for a very long time,” said 
+Scrimgeour, after a few moments. “Did you know 
+that?” 
+“No,” said Harry truthfully. 
+“Oh yes, for a very long time. But Dumbledore has 
+been very protective of you,” said Scrimgeour. 
+“Natural, of course, natural, after what you’ve been 
+through. … Especially what happened at the Ministry 
+…” 
+He waited for Harry to say something, but Harry did 
+not oblige, so he went on, “I have been hoping for an 
+occasion to talk to you ever since I gained office, but 
+Dumbledore has — most understandably, as I say — 
+prevented this.” 
+Still, Harry said nothing, waiting. 
+“The rumors that have flown around!” said 
+Scrimgeour. “Well, of course, we both know how these 
+stories get distorted … all these whispers of a 
+prophecy … of you being ‘the Chosen One’…” 
+They were getting near it now, Harry thought, the 
+reason Scrimgeour was here. 
+“… I assume that Dumbledore has discussed these 
+matters with you?” 
+Harry deliberated, wondering whether he ought to lie 
+or not. He looked at the little gnome prints all around 
+the flowerbeds, and the scuffed-up patch that marked 
+the spot where Fred had caught the gnome now 
+wearing the tutu at the top of the Christmas tree. 
+Finally, he decided on the truth … or a bit of it. 
+“Yeah, we’ve discussed it.” 
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+“Have you, have you …” said Scrimgeour. Harry could 
+see, out of the corner of his eye, Scrimgeour squinting 
+at him, so he pretended to be very interested in a 
+gnome that had just poked its head out from 
+underneath a frozen rhododendron. “And what has 
+Dumbledore told you, Harry?” 
+“Sorry, but that’s between us,” said Harry. He kept 
+his voice as pleasant as he could, and Scrimgeour’s 
+tone, too, was light and friendly as he said, “Oh, of 
+course, if it’s a question of confidences, I wouldn’t 
+want you to divulge … no, no … and in any case, does 
+it really matter whether you are ‘the Chosen One’ or 
+not?” 
+Harry had to mull that one over for a few seconds 
+before responding. “I don’t really know what you 
+mean, Minister.” 
+“Well, of course, to you it will matter enormously,” 
+said Scrimgeour with a laugh. “But to the Wizarding 
+community at large … it’s all perception, isn’t it? It’s 
+what people believe that’s important.” 
+Harry said nothing. He thought he saw, dimly, where 
+they were heading, but he was not going to help 
+Scrimgeour get there. The gnome under the 
+rhododendron was now digging for worms at its roots, 
+and Harry kept his eyes fixed upon it. 
+“People believe you are ‘the Chosen One,’ you see,” 
+said Scrimgeour. “They think you quite the hero — 
+which, of course, you are, Harry, chosen or not! How 
+many times have you faced He-Who-Must-Not-Be-
+Named now? Well, anyway,” he pressed on, without 
+waiting for a reply, “the point is, you are a symbol of 
+hope for many, Harry. The idea that there is 
+somebody out there who might be able, who might 
+even be destined, to destroy He-Who-Must-Not-Be-
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+Named — well, naturally, it gives people a lift. And I 
+can’t help but feel that, once you realize this, you 
+might consider it, well, almost a duty, to stand 
+alongside the Ministry, and give everyone a boost.” 
+The gnome had just managed to get hold of a worm. It 
+was now tugging very hard on it, trying to get it out of 
+the frozen ground. Harry was silent so long that 
+Scrimgeour said, looking from Harry to the gnome, 
+“Funny little chaps, aren’t they? But what say you, 
+Harry?” 
+“I don’t exactly understand what you want,” said 
+Harry slowly. “ ‘Stand alongside the Ministry’ … What 
+does that mean?” 
+“Oh, well, nothing at all onerous, I assure you,” said 
+Scrimgeour. “If you were to be seen popping in and 
+out of the Ministry from time to time, for instance, 
+that would give the right impression. And of course, 
+while you were there, you would have ample 
+opportunity to speak to Gawain Robards, my 
+successor as Head of the Auror office. Dolores 
+Umbridge has told me that you cherish an ambition 
+to become an Auror. Well, that could be arranged very 
+easily. …” 
+Harry felt anger bubbling in the pit of his stomach: So 
+Dolores Umbridge was still at the Ministry, was she? 
+“So basically,” he said, as though he just wanted to 
+clarify a few points, “you’d like to give the impression 
+that I’m working for the Ministry?” 
+“It would give everyone a lift to think you were more 
+involved, Harry,” said Scrimgeour, sounding relieved 
+that Harry had cottoned on so quickly. “ ‘The Chosen 
+One,’ you know … It’s all about giving people hope, 
+the feeling that exciting things are happening. …” 
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+“But if I keep running in and out of the Ministry,” 
+said Harry, still endeavoring to keep his voice friendly, 
+“won’t that seem as though I approve of what the 
+Ministry’s up to?” 
+“Well,” said Scrimgeour, frowning slightly, “well, yes, 
+that’s partly why we’d like —” 
+“No, I don’t think that’ll work,” said Harry pleasantly. 
+“You see, I don’t like some of the things the Ministry’s 
+doing. Locking up Stan Shunpike, for instance.” 
+Scrimgeour did not speak for a moment but his 
+expression hardened instantly. “I would not expect 
+you to understand,” he said, and he was not as 
+successful at keeping anger out of his voice as Harry 
+had been. “These are dangerous times, and certain 
+measures need to be taken. You are sixteen years old 
+—” 
+“Dumbledore’s a lot older than sixteen, and he doesn’t 
+think Stan should be in Azkaban either,” said Harry. 
+“You’re making Stan a scapegoat, just like you want 
+to make me a mascot.” 
+They looked at each other, long and hard. Finally 
+Scrimgeour said, with no pretense at warmth, “I see. 
+You prefer — like your hero, Dumbledore — to 
+disassociate yourself from the Ministry?” 
+“I don’t want to be used,” said Harry. 
+“Some would say it’s your duty to be used by the 
+Ministry!” 
+“Yeah, and others might say it’s your duty to check 
+that people really are Death Eaters before you chuck 
+them in prison,” said Harry, his temper rising now. 
+“You’re doing what Barty Crouch did. You never get it 
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+right, you people, do you? Either we’ve got Fudge, 
+pretending everything’s lovely while people get 
+murdered right under his nose, or we’ve got you, 
+chucking the wrong people into jail and trying to 
+pretend you’ve got ‘the Chosen One’ working for you!” 
+“So you’re not ‘the Chosen One’?” said Scrimgeour. 
+“I thought you said it didn’t matter either way?” said 
+Harry, with a bitter laugh. “Not to you anyway.” 
+“I shouldn’t have said that,” said Scrimgeour quickly. 
+“It was tactless —” 
+“No, it was honest,” said Harry. “One of the only 
+honest things you’ve said to me. You don’t care 
+whether I live or die, but you do care that I help you 
+convince everyone you’re winning the war against 
+Voldemort. I haven’t forgotten, Minister. …” 
+He raised his right fist. There, shining white on the 
+back of his cold hand, were the scars which Dolores 
+Umbridge had forced him to carve into his own flesh: I 
+must not tell lies. 
+“I don’t remember you rushing to my defense when I 
+was trying to tell everyone Voldemort was back. The 
+Ministry wasn’t so keen to be pals last year.” 
+They stood in silence as icy as the ground beneath 
+their feet. The gnome had finally managed to extricate 
+his worm and was now sucking on it happily, leaning 
+against the bottommost branches of the 
+rhododendron bush. 
+“What is Dumbledore up to?” said Scrimgeour 
+brusquely. “Where does he go when he is absent from 
+Hogwarts?” 
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+“No idea,” said Harry. 
+“And you wouldn’t tell me if you knew,” said 
+Scrimgeour, “would you?” 
+“No, I wouldn’t,” said Harry. 
+“Well, then, I shall have to see whether I can’t find out 
+by other means.” 
+“You can try,” said Harry indifferently. “But you seem 
+cleverer than Fudge, so I’d have thought you’d have 
+learned from his mistakes. He tried interfering at 
+Hogwarts. You might have noticed he’s not Minister 
+anymore, but Dumbledore’s still headmaster. I’d leave 
+Dumbledore alone, if I were you.” 
+There was a long pause. 
+“Well, it is clear to me that he has done a very good 
+job on you,” said Scrimgeour, his eyes cold and hard 
+behind his wire-rimmed glasses. “Dumbledore’s man 
+through and through, aren’t you, Potter?” 
+“Yeah, I am,” said Harry. “Glad we straightened that 
+out.” 
+And turning his back on the Minister of Magic, he 
+strode back toward the house. 
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+ 
+ 
+A SLUGGISH MEMORY 
+Late in the afternoon, a few days after New Year, 
+Harry, Ron, and Ginny lined up beside the kitchen 
+fire to return to Hogwarts. The Ministry had arranged 
+this one-off connection to the Floo Network to return 
+students quickly and safely to the school. Only Mrs. 
+Weasley was there to say good-bye, as Mr. Weasley, 
+Fred, George, Bill, and Fleur were all at work. Mrs. 
+Weasley dissolved into tears at the moment of parting. 
+Admittedly, it took very little to set her off lately; she 
+had been crying on and off ever since Percy had 
+stormed from the house on Christmas Day with his 
+glasses splattered with mashed parsnip (for which 
+Fred, George, and Ginny all claimed credit). 
+“Don’t cry, Mum,” said Ginny, patting her on the back 
+as Mrs. Weasley sobbed into her shoulder. “It’s okay. 
+…” 
+“Yeah, don’t worry about us,” said Ron, permitting his 
+mother to plant a very wet kiss on his cheek, “or 
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+about Percy. He’s such a prat, it’s not really a loss, is 
+it?” 
+Mrs. Weasley sobbed harder than ever as she 
+enfolded Harry in her arms. 
+“Promise me you’ll look after yourself. … Stay out of 
+trouble. …” 
+“I always do, Mrs. Weasley,” said Harry. “I like a quiet 
+life, you know me.” 
+She gave a watery chuckle and stood back. “Be good, 
+then, all of you. …” 
+Harry stepped into the emerald fire and shouted 
+“Hogwarts!” He had one last fleeting view of the 
+Weasleys’ kitchen and Mrs. Weasley’s tearful face 
+before the flames engulfed him; spinning very fast, he 
+caught blurred glimpses of other Wizarding rooms, 
+which were whipped out of sight before he could get a 
+proper look; then he was slowing down, finally 
+stopping squarely in the fireplace in Professor 
+McGonagall’s office. She barely glanced up from her 
+work as he clambered out over the grate. 
+“Evening, Potter. Try not to get too much ash on the 
+carpet.” 
+“No, Professor.” 
+Harry straightened his glasses and flattened his hair 
+as Ron came spinning into view. When Ginny had 
+arrived, all three of them trooped out of McGonagall’s 
+office and off toward Gryffindor Tower. Harry glanced 
+out of the corridor windows as they passed; the sun 
+was already sinking over grounds carpeted in deeper 
+snow than had lain over the Burrow garden. In the 
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+distance, he could see Hagrid feeding Buckbeak in 
+front of his cabin. 
+“Baubles,” said Ron confidently, when they reached 
+the Fat Lady, who was looking rather paler than 
+usual and winced at his loud voice. 
+“No,” she said. 
+“What d’you mean, ‘no’?” 
+“There is a new password,” she said. “And please 
+don’t shout.” 
+“But we’ve been away, how’re we supposed to — ?” 
+“Harry! Ginny!” 
+Hermione was hurrying toward them, very pink-faced 
+and wearing a cloak, hat, and gloves. 
+“I got back a couple of hours ago, I’ve just been down 
+to visit Hagrid and Buck — I mean Witherwings,” she 
+said breathlessly. “Did you have a good Christmas?” 
+“Yeah,” said Ron at once, “pretty eventful, Rufus 
+Scrim —” 
+“I’ve got something for you, Harry,” said Hermione, 
+neither looking at Ron nor giving any sign that she 
+had heard him. “Oh, hang on — password. 
+Abstinence.” 
+“Precisely,” said the Fat Lady in a feeble voice, and 
+swung forward to reveal the portrait hole. 
+“What’s up with her?” asked Harry. 
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+“Overindulged over Christmas, apparently,” said 
+Hermione, rolling her eyes as she led the way into the 
+packed common room. “She and her friend Violet 
+drank their way through all the wine in that picture of 
+drunk monks down by the Charms corridor. Anyway 
+…” 
+She rummaged in her pocket for a moment, then 
+pulled out a scroll of parchment with Dumbledore’s 
+writing on it. 
+“Great,” said Harry, unrolling it at once to discover 
+that his next lesson with Dumbledore was scheduled 
+for the following night. “I’ve got loads to tell him — 
+and you. Let’s sit down —” 
+But at that moment there was a loud squeal of “Won-
+Won!” and Lavender Brown came hurtling out of 
+nowhere and flung herself into Ron’s arms. Several 
+onlookers sniggered; Hermione gave a tinkling laugh 
+and said, “There’s a table over here. … Coming, 
+Ginny?” 
+“No, thanks, I said I’d meet Dean,” said Ginny, 
+though Harry could not help noticing that she did not 
+sound very enthusiastic. Leaving Ron and Lavender 
+locked in a kind of vertical wrestling match, Harry led 
+Hermione over to the spare table. 
+“So how was your Christmas?” 
+“Oh, fine,” she shrugged. “Nothing special. How was it 
+at Won-Won’s?” 
+“I’ll tell you in a minute,” said Harry. “Look, 
+Hermione, can’t you — ?” 
+“No, I can’t,” she said flatly. “So don’t even ask.” 
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+“I thought maybe, you know, over Christmas —” 
+“It was the Fat Lady who drank a vat of five-hundred-
+year-old wine, Harry, not me. So what was this 
+important news you wanted to tell me?” 
+She looked too fierce to argue with at that moment, so 
+Harry dropped the subject of Ron and recounted all 
+that he had overheard between Malfoy and Snape. 
+When he had finished, Hermione sat in thought for a 
+moment and then said, “Don’t you think — ?” 
+“— he was pretending to offer help so that he could 
+trick Malfoy into telling him what he’s doing?” 
+“Well, yes,” said Hermione. 
+“Ron’s dad and Lupin think so,” Harry said 
+grudgingly. “But this definitely proves Malfoy’s 
+planning something, you can’t deny that.” 
+“No, I can’t,” she answered slowly. 
+“And he’s acting on Voldemort’s orders, just like I 
+said!” 
+“Hmm … did either of them actually mention 
+Voldemort’s name?” 
+Harry frowned, trying to remember. “I’m not sure … 
+Snape definitely said ‘your master,’ and who else 
+would that be?” 
+“I don’t know,” said Hermione, biting her lip. “Maybe 
+his father?” 
+She stared across the room, apparently lost in 
+thought, not even noticing Lavender tickling Ron. 
+“How’s Lupin?” 
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+“Not great,” said Harry, and he told her all about 
+Lupin’s mission among the werewolves and the 
+difficulties he was facing. “Have you heard of this 
+Fenrir Greyback?” 
+“Yes, I have!” said Hermione, sounding startled. “And 
+so have you, Harry!” 
+“When, History of Magic? You know full well I never 
+listened …” 
+“No, no, not History of Magic — Malfoy threatened 
+Borgin with him!” said Hermione. “Back in Knockturn 
+Alley, don’t you remember? He told Borgin that 
+Greyback was an old family friend and that he’d be 
+checking up on Borgin’s progress!” 
+Harry gaped at her. “I forgot! But this proves Malfoy’s 
+a Death Eater, how else could he be in contact with 
+Greyback and telling him what to do?” 
+“It is pretty suspicious,” breathed Hermione. “Unless 
+…” 
+“Oh, come on,” said Harry in exasperation, “you can’t 
+get round this one!” 
+“Well … there is the possibility it was an empty 
+threat.” 
+“You’re unbelievable, you are,” said Harry, shaking 
+his head. “We’ll see who’s right. … You’ll be eating 
+your words, Hermione, just like the Ministry. Oh 
+yeah, I had a row with Rufus Scrimgeour as well. …” 
+And the rest of the evening passed amicably with both 
+of them abusing the Minister of Magic, for Hermione, 
+like Ron, thought that after all the Ministry had put 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+Harry through the previous year, they had a great 
+deal of nerve asking him for help now. 
+The new term started next morning with a pleasant 
+surprise for the sixth years: a large sign had been 
+pinned to the common room notice boards overnight. 
+APPARITION LESSONS 
+If you are seventeen years of age, or will turn 
+seventeen on or before the 31st August next, you are 
+eligible for a twelve-week course of Apparition Lessons 
+from a Ministry of Magic Apparition instructor. Please 
+sign below if you would like to participate. Cost: 12 
+Galleons. 
+Harry and Ron joined the crowd that was jostling 
+around the notice and taking it in turns to write their 
+names at the bottom. Ron was just taking out his 
+quill to sign after Hermione when Lavender crept up 
+behind him, slipped her hands over his eyes, and 
+trilled, “Guess who, Won-Won?” Harry turned to see 
+Hermione stalking off; he caught up with her, having 
+no wish to stay behind with Ron and Lavender, but to 
+his surprise, Ron caught up with them only a little 
+way beyond the portrait hole, his ears bright red and 
+his expression disgruntled. Without a word, Hermione 
+sped up to walk with Neville. 
+“So — Apparition,” said Ron, his tone making it 
+perfectly plain that Harry was not to mention what 
+had just happened. “Should be a laugh, eh?” 
+“I dunno,” said Harry. “Maybe it’s better when you do 
+it yourself, I didn’t enjoy it much when Dumbledore 
+took me along for the ride.” 
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+“I forgot you’d already done it. … I’d better pass my 
+test first time,” said Ron, looking anxious. “Fred and 
+George did.” 
+“Charlie failed, though, didn’t he?” 
+“Yeah, but Charlie’s bigger than me” — Ron held his 
+arms out from his body as though he was a gorilla — 
+“so Fred and George didn’t go on about it much … not 
+to his face anyway …” 
+“When can we take the actual test?” 
+“Soon as we’re seventeen. That’s only March for me!” 
+“Yeah, but you wouldn’t be able to Apparate in here, 
+not in the castle …” 
+“Not the point, is it? Everyone would know I could 
+Apparate if I wanted.” 
+Ron was not the only one to be excited at the prospect 
+of Apparition. All that day there was much talk about 
+the forthcoming lessons; a great deal of store was set 
+by being able to vanish and reappear at will. 
+“How cool will it be when we can just —” Seamus 
+clicked his fingers to indicate disappearance. “Me 
+cousin Fergus does it just to annoy me, you wait till I 
+can do it back … He’ll never have another peaceful 
+moment. …” 
+Lost in visions of this happy prospect, he flicked his 
+wand a little too enthusiastically, so that instead of 
+producing the fountain of pure water that was the 
+object of today’s Charms lesson, he let out a hoselike 
+jet that ricocheted off the ceiling and knocked 
+Professor Flitwick flat on his face. 
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+“Harry’s already Apparated,” Ron told a slightly 
+abashed Seamus, after Professor Flitwick had dried 
+himself off with a wave of his wand and set Seamus 
+lines: “I am a wizard, not a baboon brandishing a 
+stick.” “Dum — er — someone took him. Side-Along-
+Apparition, you know.” 
+“Whoa!” whispered Seamus, and he, Dean, and 
+Neville put their heads a little closer to hear what 
+Apparition felt like. For the rest of the day, Harry was 
+besieged with requests from the other sixth years to 
+describe the sensation of Apparition. All of them 
+seemed awed, rather than put off, when he told them 
+how uncomfortable it was, and he was still answering 
+detailed questions at ten to eight that evening, when 
+he was forced to lie and say that he needed to return 
+a book to the library, so as to escape in time for his 
+lesson with Dumbledore. 
+The lamps in Dumbledore’s office were lit, the 
+portraits of previous headmasters were snoring gently 
+in their frames, and the Pensieve was ready upon the 
+desk once more. Dumbledore’s hands lay on either 
+side of it, the right one as blackened and burnt-
+looking as ever. It did not seem to have healed at all 
+and Harry wondered, for perhaps the hundredth time, 
+what had caused such a distinctive injury, but did 
+not ask; Dumbledore had said that he would know 
+eventually and there was, in any case, another 
+subject he wanted to discuss. But before Harry could 
+say anything about Snape and Malfoy, Dumbledore 
+spoke. 
+“I hear that you met the Minister of Magic over 
+Christmas?” 
+“Yes,” said Harry. “He’s not very happy with me.” 
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+“No,” sighed Dumbledore. “He is not very happy with 
+me either. We must try not to sink beneath our 
+anguish, Harry, but battle on.” 
+Harry grinned. 
+“He wanted me to tell the Wizarding community that 
+the Ministry’s doing a wonderful job.” 
+Dumbledore smiled. 
+“It was Fudge’s idea originally, you know. During his 
+last days in office, when he was trying desperately to 
+cling to his post, he sought a meeting with you, 
+hoping that you would give him your support —” 
+“After everything Fudge did last year?” said Harry 
+angrily. “After Umbridge?” 
+“I told Cornelius there was no chance of it, but the 
+idea did not die when he left office. Within hours of 
+Scrimgeour’s appointment we met and he demanded 
+that I arrange a meeting with you —” 
+“So that’s why you argued!” Harry blurted out. “It was 
+in the Daily Prophet.” 
+“The Prophet is bound to report the truth 
+occasionally,” said Dumbledore, “if only accidentally. 
+Yes, that was why we argued. Well, it appears that 
+Rufus found a way to corner you at last.” 
+“He accused me of being ‘Dumbledore’s man through 
+and through.’ ” 
+“How very rude of him.” 
+“I told him I was.” 
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+Dumbledore opened his mouth to speak and then 
+closed it again. Behind Harry, Fawkes the phoenix let 
+out a low, soft, musical cry. To Harry’s intense 
+embarrassment, he suddenly realized that 
+Dumbledore’s bright blue eyes looked rather watery, 
+and stared hastily at his own knees. When 
+Dumbledore spoke, however, his voice was quite 
+steady. 
+“I am very touched, Harry.” 
+“Scrimgeour wanted to know where you go when 
+you’re not at Hogwarts,” said Harry, still looking 
+fixedly at his knees. 
+“Yes, he is very nosy about that,” said Dumbledore, 
+now sounding cheerful, and Harry thought it safe to 
+look up again. “He has even attempted to have me 
+followed. Amusing, really. He set Dawlish to tail me. It 
+wasn’t kind. I have already been forced to jinx 
+Dawlish once; I did it again with the greatest regret.” 
+“So they still don’t know where you go?” asked Harry, 
+hoping for more information on this intriguing 
+subject, but Dumbledore merely smiled over the top 
+of his half-moon spectacles. 
+“No, they don’t, and the time is not quite right for you 
+to know either. Now, I suggest we press on, unless 
+there’s anything else — ?” 
+“There is, actually, sir,” said Harry. “It’s about Malfoy 
+and Snape.” 
+“Professor Snape, Harry.” 
+“Yes, sir. I overheard them during Professor 
+Slughorn’s party … well, I followed them, actually. …” 
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+Dumbledore listened to Harry’s story with an 
+impassive face. When Harry had finished he did not 
+speak for a few moments, then said, “Thank you for 
+telling me this, Harry, but I suggest that you put it 
+out of your mind. I do not think that it is of great 
+importance.” 
+“Not of great importance?” repeated Harry 
+incredulously. “Professor, did you understand — ?” 
+“Yes, Harry, blessed as I am with extraordinary 
+brainpower, I understood everything you told me,” 
+said Dumbledore, a little sharply. “I think you might 
+even consider the possibility that I understood more 
+than you did. Again, I am glad that you have confided 
+in me, but let me reassure you that you have not told 
+me anything that causes me disquiet.” 
+Harry sat in seething silence, glaring at Dumbledore. 
+What was going on? Did this mean that Dumbledore 
+had indeed ordered Snape to find out what Malfoy 
+was doing, in which case he had already heard 
+everything Harry had just told him from Snape? Or 
+was he really worried by what he had heard, but 
+pretending not to be? 
+“So, sir,” said Harry, in what he hoped was a polite, 
+calm voice, “you definitely still trust — ?” 
+“I have been tolerant enough to answer that question 
+already,” said Dumbledore, but he did not sound very 
+tolerant anymore. “My answer has not changed.” 
+“I should think not,” said a snide voice; Phineas 
+Nigellus was evidently only pretending to be asleep. 
+Dumbledore ignored him. 
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+“And now, Harry, I must insist that we press on. I 
+have more important things to discuss with you this 
+evening.” 
+Harry sat there feeling mutinous. How would it be if 
+he refused to permit the change of subject, if he 
+insisted upon arguing the case against Malfoy? As 
+though he had read Harry’s mind, Dumbledore shook 
+his head. 
+“Ah, Harry, how often this happens, even between the 
+best of friends! Each of us believes that what he has 
+to say is much more important than anything the 
+other might have to contribute!” 
+“I don’t think what you’ve got to say is unimportant, 
+sir,” said Harry stiffly. 
+“Well, you are quite right, because it is not,” said 
+Dumbledore briskly. “I have two more memories to 
+show you this evening, both obtained with enormous 
+difficulty, and the second of them is, I think, the most 
+important I have collected.” 
+Harry did not say anything to this; he still felt angry 
+at the reception his confidences had received, but 
+could not see what was to be gained by arguing 
+further. 
+“So,” said Dumbledore, in a ringing voice, “we meet 
+this evening to continue the tale of Tom Riddle, whom 
+we left last lesson poised on the threshold of his years 
+at Hogwarts. You will remember how excited he was 
+to hear that he was a wizard, that he refused my 
+company on a trip to Diagon Alley, and that I, in turn, 
+warned him against continued thievery when he 
+arrived at school. 
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+“Well, the start of the school year arrived and with it 
+came Tom Riddle, a quiet boy in his secondhand 
+robes, who lined up with the other first years to be 
+sorted. He was placed in Slytherin House almost the 
+moment that the Sorting Hat touched his head,” 
+continued Dumbledore, waving his blackened hand 
+toward the shelf over his head where the Sorting Hat 
+sat, ancient and unmoving. “How soon Riddle learned 
+that the famous founder of the House could talk to 
+snakes, I do not know — perhaps that very evening. 
+The knowledge can only have excited him and 
+increased his sense of self-importance. 
+“However, if he was frightening or impressing fellow 
+Slytherins with displays of Parseltongue in their 
+common room, no hint of it reached the staff. He 
+showed no sign of outward arrogance or aggression at 
+all. As an unusually talented and very good-looking 
+orphan, he naturally drew attention and sympathy 
+from the staff almost from the moment of his arrival. 
+He seemed polite, quiet, and thirsty for knowledge. 
+Nearly all were most favorably impressed by him.” 
+“Didn’t you tell them, sir, what he’d been like when 
+you met him at the orphanage?” asked Harry. 
+“No, I did not. Though he had shown no hint of 
+remorse, it was possible that he felt sorry for how he 
+had behaved before and was resolved to turn over a 
+fresh leaf. I chose to give him that chance.” 
+Dumbledore paused and looked inquiringly at Harry, 
+who had opened his mouth to speak. Here, again, was 
+Dumbledore’s tendency to trust people in spite of 
+overwhelming evidence that they did not deserve it! 
+But then Harry remembered something. … 
+“But you didn’t really trust him, sir, did you? He told 
+me … the Riddle who came out of that diary said, 
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+‘Dumbledore never seemed to like me as much as the 
+other teachers did.’ ” 
+“Let us say that I did not take it for granted that he 
+was trustworthy,” said Dumbledore. “I had, as I have 
+already indicated, resolved to keep a close eye upon 
+him, and so I did. I cannot pretend that I gleaned a 
+great deal from my observations at first. He was very 
+guarded with me; he felt, I am sure, that in the thrill 
+of discovering his true identity he had told me a little 
+too much. He was careful never to reveal as much 
+again, but he could not take back what he had let slip 
+in his excitement, nor what Mrs. Cole had confided in 
+me. However, he had the sense never to try and 
+charm me as he charmed so many of my colleagues. 
+“As he moved up the school, he gathered about him a 
+group of dedicated friends; I call them that, for want 
+of a better term, although as I have already indicated, 
+Riddle undoubtedly felt no affection for any of them. 
+This group had a kind of dark glamour within the 
+castle. They were a motley collection; a mixture of the 
+weak seeking protection, the ambitious seeking some 
+shared glory, and the thuggish gravitating toward a 
+leader who could show them more refined forms of 
+cruelty. In other words, they were the forerunners of 
+the Death Eaters, and indeed some of them became 
+the first Death Eaters after leaving Hogwarts. 
+“Rigidly controlled by Riddle, they were never detected 
+in open wrongdoing, although their seven years at 
+Hogwarts were marked by a number of nasty 
+incidents to which they were never satisfactorily 
+linked, the most serious of which was, of course, the 
+opening of the Chamber of Secrets, which resulted in 
+the death of a girl. As you know, Hagrid was wrongly 
+accused of that crime. 
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+“I have not been able to find many memories of Riddle 
+at Hogwarts,” said Dumbledore, placing his withered 
+hand on the Pensieve. “Few who knew him then are 
+prepared to talk about him; they are too terrified. 
+What I know, I found out after he had left Hogwarts, 
+after much painstaking effort, after tracing those few 
+who could be tricked into speaking, after searching 
+old records and questioning Muggle and wizard 
+witnesses alike. 
+“Those whom I could persuade to talk told me that 
+Riddle was obsessed with his parentage. This is 
+understandable, of course; he had grown up in an 
+orphanage and naturally wished to know how he 
+came to be there. It seems that he searched in vain 
+for some trace of Tom Riddle senior on the shields in 
+the trophy room, on the lists of prefects in the old 
+school records, even in the books of Wizarding 
+history. Finally he was forced to accept that his father 
+had never set foot in Hogwarts. I believe that it was 
+then that he dropped the name forever, assumed the 
+identity of Lord Voldemort, and began his 
+investigations into his previously despised mother’s 
+family — the woman whom, you will remember, he 
+had thought could not be a witch if she had 
+succumbed to the shameful human weakness of 
+death. 
+“All he had to go upon was the single name ‘Marvolo,’ 
+which he knew from those who ran the orphanage 
+had been his mother’s father’s name. Finally, after 
+painstaking research through old books of Wizarding 
+families, he discovered the existence of Slytherin’s 
+surviving line. In the summer of his sixteenth year, he 
+left the orphanage to which he returned annually and 
+set off to find his Gaunt relatives. And now, Harry, if 
+you will stand …” 
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+Dumbledore rose, and Harry saw that he was again 
+holding a small crystal bottle filled with swirling, 
+pearly memory. 
+“I was very lucky to collect this,” he said, as he 
+poured the gleaming mass into the Pensieve. “As you 
+will understand when we have experienced it. Shall 
+we?” 
+Harry stepped up to the stone basin and bowed 
+obediently until his face sank through the surface of 
+the memory; he felt the familiar sensation of falling 
+through nothingness and then landed upon a dirty 
+stone floor in almost total darkness. 
+It took him several seconds to recognize the place, by 
+which time Dumbledore had landed beside him. The 
+Gaunts’ house was now more indescribably filthy 
+than anywhere Harry had ever seen. The ceiling was 
+thick with cobwebs, the floor coated in grime; moldy 
+and rotting food lay upon the table amidst a mass of 
+crusted pots. The only light came from a single 
+guttering candle placed at the feet of a man with hair 
+and beard so overgrown Harry could see neither eyes 
+nor mouth. He was slumped in an armchair by the 
+fire, and Harry wondered for a moment whether he 
+was dead. But then there came a loud knock on the 
+door and the man jerked awake, raising a wand in his 
+right hand and a short knife in his left. 
+The door creaked open. There on the threshold, 
+holding an old-fashioned lamp, stood a boy Harry 
+recognized at once: tall, pale, dark-haired, and 
+handsome — the teenage Voldemort. 
+Voldemort’s eyes moved slowly around the hovel and 
+then found the man in the armchair. For a few 
+seconds they looked at each other, then the man 
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+staggered upright, the many empty bottles at his feet 
+clattering and tinkling across the floor. 
+“YOU!” he bellowed. “YOU!” 
+And he hurtled drunkenly at Riddle, wand and knife 
+held aloft. 
+“Stop.” 
+Riddle spoke in Parseltongue. The man skidded into 
+the table, sending moldy pots crashing to the floor. He 
+stared at Riddle. There was a long silence while they 
+contemplated each other. The man broke it. 
+“You speak it?” 
+“Yes, I speak it,” said Riddle. He moved forward into 
+the room, allowing the door to swing shut behind 
+him. Harry could not help but feel a resentful 
+admiration for Voldemort’s complete lack of fear. His 
+face merely expressed disgust and, perhaps, 
+disappointment. 
+“Where is Marvolo?” he asked. 
+“Dead,” said the other. “Died years ago, didn’t he?” 
+Riddle frowned. 
+“Who are you, then?” 
+“I’m Morfin, ain’t I?” 
+“Marvolo’s son?” 
+“ ’Course I am, then …” 
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+Morfin pushed the hair out of his dirty face, the better 
+to see Riddle, and Harry saw that he wore Marvolo’s 
+black-stoned ring on his right hand. 
+“I thought you was that Muggle,” whispered Morfin. 
+“You look mighty like that Muggle.” 
+“What Muggle?” said Riddle sharply. 
+“That Muggle what my sister took a fancy to, that 
+Muggle what lives in the big house over the way,” said 
+Morfin, and he spat unexpectedly upon the floor 
+between them. “You look right like him. Riddle. But 
+he’s older now, in ’e? He’s older’n you, now I think on 
+it. …” 
+Morfin looked slightly dazed and swayed a little, still 
+clutching the edge of the table for support. “He come 
+back, see,” he added stupidly. 
+Voldemort was gazing at Morfin as though appraising 
+his possibilities. Now he moved a little closer and 
+said, “Riddle came back?” 
+“Ar, he left her, and serve her right, marrying filth!” 
+said Morfin, spitting on the floor again. “Robbed us, 
+mind, before she ran off! Where’s the locket, eh, 
+where’s Slytherin’s locket?” 
+Voldemort did not answer. Morfin was working 
+himself into a rage again; he brandished his knife and 
+shouted, “Dishonored us, she did, that little slut! And 
+who’re you, coming here and asking questions about 
+all that? It’s over, innit. … It’s over. …” 
+He looked away, staggering slightly, and Voldemort 
+moved forward. As he did so, an unnatural darkness 
+fell, extinguishing Voldemort’s lamp and Morfin’s 
+candle, extinguishing everything. … 
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+Dumbledore’s fingers closed tightly around Harry’s 
+arm and they were soaring back into the present 
+again. The soft golden light in Dumbledore’s office 
+seemed to dazzle Harry’s eyes after that impenetrable 
+darkness. 
+“Is that all?” said Harry at once. “Why did it go dark, 
+what happened?” 
+“Because Morfin could not remember anything from 
+that point onward,” said Dumbledore, gesturing Harry 
+back into his seat. “When he awoke next morning, he 
+was lying on the floor, quite alone. Marvolo’s ring had 
+gone. 
+“Meanwhile, in the village of Little Hangleton, a maid 
+was running along the High Street, screaming that 
+there were three bodies lying in the drawing room of 
+the big house: Tom Riddle Senior and his mother and 
+father. 
+“The Muggle authorities were perplexed. As far as I 
+am aware, they do not know to this day how the 
+Riddles died, for the Avada Kedavra curse does not 
+usually leave any sign of damage. … The exception 
+sits before me,” Dumbledore added, with a nod to 
+Harry’s scar. “The Ministry, on the other hand, knew 
+at once that this was a wizard’s murder. They also 
+knew that a convicted Muggle-hater lived across the 
+valley from the Riddle house, a Muggle-hater who had 
+already been imprisoned once for attacking one of the 
+murdered people. 
+“So the Ministry called upon Morfin. They did not 
+need to question him, to use Veritaserum or 
+Legilimency. He admitted to the murder on the spot, 
+giving details only the murderer could know. He was 
+proud, he said, to have killed the Muggles, had been 
+awaiting his chance all these years. He handed over 
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+his wand, which was proved at once to have been 
+used to kill the Riddles. And he permitted himself to 
+be led off to Azkaban without a fight. All that 
+disturbed him was the fact that his father’s ring had 
+disappeared. ‘He’ll kill me for losing it,’ he told his 
+captors over and over again. ‘He’ll kill me for losing 
+his ring.’ And that, apparently, was all he ever said 
+again. He lived out the remainder of his life in 
+Azkaban, lamenting the loss of Marvolo’s last 
+heirloom, and is buried beside the prison, alongside 
+the other poor souls who have expired within its 
+walls.” 
+“So Voldemort stole Morfin’s wand and used it?” said 
+Harry, sitting up straight. 
+“That’s right,” said Dumbledore. “We have no 
+memories to show us this, but I think we can be fairly 
+sure what happened. Voldemort Stupefied his uncle, 
+took his wand, and proceeded across the valley to ‘the 
+big house over the way.’ There he murdered the 
+Muggle man who had abandoned his witch mother, 
+and, for good measure, his Muggle grandparents, 
+thus obliterating the last of the unworthy Riddle line 
+and revenging himself upon the father who never 
+wanted him. Then he returned to the Gaunt hovel, 
+performed the complex bit of magic that would 
+implant a false memory in his uncle’s mind, laid 
+Morfin’s wand beside its unconscious owner, 
+pocketed the ancient ring he wore, and departed.” 
+“And Morfin never realized he hadn’t done it?” 
+“Never,” said Dumbledore. “He gave, as I say, a full 
+and boastful confession.” 
+“But he had this real memory in him all the time!” 
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+“Yes, but it took a great deal of skilled Legilimency to 
+coax it out of him,” said Dumbledore, “and why 
+should anybody delve further into Morfin’s mind 
+when he had already confessed to the crime? 
+However, I was able to secure a visit to Morfin in the 
+last weeks of his life, by which time I was attempting 
+to discover as much as I could about Voldemort’s 
+past. I extracted this memory with difficulty. When I 
+saw what it contained, I attempted to use it to secure 
+Morfin’s release from Azkaban. Before the Ministry 
+reached their decision, however, Morfin had died.” 
+“But how come the Ministry didn’t realize that 
+Voldemort had done all that to Morfin?” Harry asked 
+angrily. “He was underage at the time, wasn’t he? I 
+thought they could detect underage magic!” 
+“You are quite right — they can detect magic, but not 
+the perpetrator: You will remember that you were 
+blamed by the Ministry for the Hover Charm that was, 
+in fact, cast by —” 
+“Dobby,” growled Harry; this injustice still rankled. 
+“So if you’re underage and you do magic inside an 
+adult witch or wizard’s house, the Ministry won’t 
+know?” 
+“They will certainly be unable to tell who performed 
+the magic,” said Dumbledore, smiling slightly at the 
+look of great indignation on Harry’s face. “They rely 
+on witch and wizard parents to enforce their 
+offspring’s obedience while within their walls.” 
+“Well, that’s rubbish,” snapped Harry. “Look what 
+happened here, look what happened to Morfin!” 
+“I agree,” said Dumbledore. “Whatever Morfin was, he 
+did not deserve to die as he did, blamed for murders 
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+he had not committed. But it is getting late, and I 
+want you to see this other memory before we part. …” 
+Dumbledore took from an inside pocket another 
+crystal phial and Harry fell silent at once, 
+remembering that Dumbledore had said it was the 
+most important one he had collected. Harry noticed 
+that the contents proved difficult to empty into the 
+Pensieve, as though they had congealed slightly; did 
+memories go bad? 
+“This will not take long,” said Dumbledore, when he 
+had finally emptied the phial. “We shall be back 
+before you know it. Once more into the Pensieve, then 
+…” 
+And Harry fell again through the silver surface, 
+landing this time right in front of a man he recognized 
+at once. 
+It was a much younger Horace Slughorn. Harry was 
+so used to him bald that he found the sight of 
+Slughorn with thick, shiny, straw-colored hair quite 
+disconcerting; it looked as though he had had his 
+head thatched, though there was already a shiny 
+Galleon-sized bald patch on his crown. His mustache, 
+less massive than it was these days, was gingery-
+blond. He was not quite as rotund as the Slughorn 
+Harry knew, though the golden buttons on his richly 
+embroidered waistcoat were taking a fair amount of 
+strain. His little feet resting upon a velvet pouffe, he 
+was sitting well back in a comfortable winged 
+armchair, one hand grasping a small glass of wine, 
+the other searching through a box of crystalized 
+pineapple. 
+Harry looked around as Dumbledore appeared beside 
+him and saw that they were standing in Slughorn’s 
+office. Half a dozen boys were sitting around 
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+Slughorn, all on harder or lower seats than his, and 
+all in their mid-teens. Harry recognized Voldemort at 
+once. His was the most handsome face and he looked 
+the most relaxed of all the boys. His right hand lay 
+negligently upon the arm of his chair; with a jolt, 
+Harry saw that he was wearing Marvolo’s gold-and-
+black ring; he had already killed his father. 
+“Sir, is it true that Professor Merrythought is 
+retiring?” he asked. 
+“Tom, Tom, if I knew I couldn’t tell you,” said 
+Slughorn, wagging a reproving, sugar-covered finger 
+at Riddle, though ruining the effect slightly by 
+winking. “I must say, I’d like to know where you get 
+your information, boy, more knowledgeable than half 
+the staff, you are.” 
+Riddle smiled; the other boys laughed and cast him 
+admiring looks. 
+“What with your uncanny ability to know things you 
+shouldn’t, and your careful flattery of the people who 
+matter — thank you for the pineapple, by the way, 
+you’re quite right, it is my favorite —” 
+As several of the boys tittered, something very odd 
+happened. The whole room was suddenly filled with a 
+thick white fog, so that Harry could see nothing but 
+the face of Dumbledore, who was standing beside 
+him. Then Slughorn’s voice rang out through the 
+mist, unnaturally loudly, “You’ll go wrong, boy, mark 
+my words.” 
+The fog cleared as suddenly as it had appeared and 
+yet nobody made any allusion to it, nor did anybody 
+look as though anything unusual had just happened. 
+Bewildered, Harry looked around as a small golden 
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+clock standing upon Slughorn’s desk chimed eleven 
+o’clock. 
+“Good gracious, is it that time already?” said 
+Slughorn. “You’d better get going, boys, or we’ll all be 
+in trouble. Lestrange, I want your essay by tomorrow 
+or it’s detention. Same goes for you, Avery.” 
+Slughorn pulled himself out of his armchair and 
+carried his empty glass over to his desk as the boys 
+filed out. Voldemort, however, stayed behind. Harry 
+could tell he had dawdled deliberately, wanting to be 
+last in the room with Slughorn. 
+“Look sharp, Tom,” said Slughorn, turning around 
+and finding him still present. “You don’t want to be 
+caught out of bed out of hours, and you a prefect …” 
+“Sir, I wanted to ask you something.” 
+“Ask away, then, m’boy, ask away. …” 
+“Sir, I wondered what you know about … about 
+Horcruxes?” 
+And it happened all over again: The dense fog filled 
+the room so that Harry could not see Slughorn or 
+Voldemort at all; only Dumbledore, smiling serenely 
+beside him. Then Slughorn’s voice boomed out again, 
+just as it had done before. 
+“I don’t know anything about Horcruxes and I wouldn’t 
+tell you if I did! Now get out of here at once and don’t 
+let me catch you mentioning them again!” 
+“Well, that’s that,” said Dumbledore placidly beside 
+Harry. “Time to go.” 
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+And Harry’s feet left the floor to fall, seconds later, 
+back onto the rug in front of Dumbledore’s desk. 
+“That’s all there is?” said Harry blankly. 
+Dumbledore had said that this was the most 
+important memory of all, but he could not see what 
+was so significant about it. Admittedly the fog, and 
+the fact that nobody seemed to have noticed it, was 
+odd, but other than that nothing seemed to have 
+happened except that Voldemort had asked a 
+question and failed to get an answer. 
+“As you might have noticed,” said Dumbledore, 
+reseating himself behind his desk, “that memory has 
+been tampered with.” 
+“Tampered with?” repeated Harry, sitting back down 
+too. 
+“Certainly,” said Dumbledore. “Professor Slughorn 
+has meddled with his own recollections.” 
+“But why would he do that?” 
+“Because, I think, he is ashamed of what he 
+remembers,” said Dumbledore. “He has tried to 
+rework the memory to show himself in a better light, 
+obliterating those parts which he does not wish me to 
+see. It is, as you will have noticed, very crudely done, 
+and that is all to the good, for it shows that the true 
+memory is still there beneath the alterations. 
+“And so, for the first time, I am giving you homework, 
+Harry. It will be your job to persuade Professor 
+Slughorn to divulge the real memory, which will 
+undoubtedly be our most crucial piece of information 
+of all.” 
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+Harry stared at him. 
+“But surely, sir,” he said, keeping his voice as 
+respectful as possible, “you don’t need me — you 
+could use Legilimency … or Veritaserum. …” 
+“Professor Slughorn is an extremely able wizard who 
+will be expecting both,” said Dumbledore. “He is 
+much more accomplished at Occlumency than poor 
+Morfin Gaunt, and I would be astonished if he has 
+not carried an antidote to Veritaserum with him ever 
+since I coerced him into giving me this travesty of a 
+recollection. 
+“No, I think it would be foolish to attempt to wrest the 
+truth from Professor Slughorn by force, and might do 
+much more harm than good; I do not wish him to 
+leave Hogwarts. However, he has his weaknesses like 
+the rest of us, and I believe that you are the one 
+person who might be able to penetrate his defenses. It 
+is most important that we secure the true memory, 
+Harry. … How important, we will only know when we 
+have seen the real thing. So, good luck … and good 
+night.” 
+A little taken aback by the abrupt dismissal, Harry 
+got to his feet quickly. “Good night, sir.” 
+As he closed the study door behind him, he distinctly 
+heard Phineas Nigellus say, “I can’t see why the boy 
+should be able to do it better than you, Dumbledore.” 
+“I wouldn’t expect you to, Phineas,” replied 
+Dumbledore, and Fawkes gave another low, musical 
+cry. 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+ 
+ 
+BIRTHDAY SURPRISES 
+The next day Harry confided in both Ron and 
+Hermione the task that Dumbledore had set him, 
+though separately, for Hermione still refused to 
+remain in Ron���s presence longer than it took to give 
+him a contemptuous look. 
+Ron thought that Harry was unlikely to have any 
+trouble with Slughorn at all. 
+“He loves you,” he said over breakfast, waving an airy 
+forkful of fried egg. “Won’t refuse you anything, will 
+he? Not his little Potions Prince. Just hang back after 
+class this afternoon and ask him.” 
+Hermione, however, took a gloomier view. “He must 
+be determined to hide what really happened if 
+Dumbledore couldn’t get it out of him,” she said in a 
+low voice, as they stood in the deserted, snowy 
+courtyard at break. “Horcruxes … Horcruxes … I’ve 
+never even heard of them. …” 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+“You haven’t?” Harry was disappointed; he had hoped 
+that Hermione might have been able to give him a 
+clue as to what Horcruxes were. 
+“They must be really advanced Dark Magic, or why 
+would Voldemort have wanted to know about them? I 
+think it’s going to be difficult to get the information, 
+Harry, you’ll have to be very careful about how you 
+approach Slughorn, think out a strategy. …” 
+“Ron reckons I should just hang back after Potions 
+this afternoon. …” 
+“Oh, well, if Won-Won thinks that, you’d better do it,” 
+she said, flaring up at once. “After all, when has Won-
+Won’s judgment ever been faulty?” 
+“Hermione, can’t you — ?” 
+“No!” she said angrily, and stormed away, leaving 
+Harry alone and ankle-deep in snow. 
+Potions lessons were uncomfortable enough these 
+days, seeing as Harry, Ron, and Hermione had to 
+share a desk. Today, Hermione moved her cauldron 
+around the table so that she was close to Ernie, and 
+ignored both Harry and Ron. 
+“What’ve you done?” Ron muttered to Harry, looking 
+at Hermione’s haughty profile. 
+But before Harry could answer, Slughorn was calling 
+for silence from the front of the room. 
+“Settle down, settle down, please! Quickly, now, lots 
+of work to get through this afternoon! Golpalott’s 
+Third Law … who can tell me — ? But Miss Granger 
+can, of course!” 
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+Hermione recited at top speed: “Golpalott’s-Third-
+Law-states-that-the-antidote-for-a-blended-poison-
+will-be-equal-to-more-than-the-sum-of-the-antidotes-
+for-each-of-the-separate-components.” 
+“Precisely!” beamed Slughorn. “Ten points for 
+Gryffindor! Now, if we accept Golpalott’s Third Law as 
+true …” 
+Harry was going to have to take Slughorn’s word for it 
+that Golpalott’s Third Law was true, because he had 
+not understood any of it. Nobody apart from 
+Hermione seemed to be following what Slughorn said 
+next either. 
+“… which means, of course, that assuming we have 
+achieved correct identification of the potion’s 
+ingredients by Scarpin’s Revelaspell, our primary aim 
+is not the relatively simple one of selecting antidotes 
+to those ingredients in and of themselves, but to find 
+that added component that will, by an almost 
+alchemical process, transform these disparate 
+elements —” 
+Ron was sitting beside Harry with his mouth half 
+open, doodling absently on his new copy of Advanced 
+Potion-Making. Ron kept forgetting that he could no 
+longer rely on Hermione to help him out of trouble 
+when he failed to grasp what was going on. 
+“… and so,” finished Slughorn, “I want each of you to 
+come and take one of these phials from my desk. You 
+are to create an antidote for the poison within it 
+before the end of the lesson. Good luck, and don’t 
+forget your protective gloves!” 
+Hermione had left her stool and was halfway toward 
+Slughorn’s desk before the rest of the class had 
+realized it was time to move, and by the time Harry, 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+Ron, and Ernie returned to the table, she had already 
+tipped the contents of her phial into her cauldron and 
+was kindling a fire underneath it. 
+“It’s a shame that the Prince won’t be able to help you 
+much with this, Harry,” she said brightly as she 
+straightened up. “You have to understand the 
+principles involved this time. No shortcuts or cheats!” 
+Annoyed, Harry uncorked the poison he had taken 
+from Slughorn’s desk, which was a garish shade of 
+pink, tipped it into his cauldron, and lit a fire 
+underneath it. He did not have the faintest idea what 
+he was supposed to do next. He glanced around at 
+Ron, who was now standing there looking rather 
+gormless, having copied everything Harry had done. 
+“You sure the Prince hasn’t got any tips?” Ron 
+muttered to Harry. 
+Harry pulled out his trusty copy of Advanced Potion-
+Making and turned to the chapter on antidotes. There 
+was Golpalott’s Third Law, stated word for word as 
+Hermione had recited it, but not a single illuminating 
+note in the Prince’s hand to explain what it meant. 
+Apparently the Prince, like Hermione, had had no 
+difficulty understanding it. 
+“Nothing,” said Harry gloomily. 
+Hermione was now waving her wand enthusiastically 
+over her cauldron. Unfortunately, they could not copy 
+the spell she was doing because she was now so good 
+at nonverbal incantations that she did not need to say 
+the words aloud. Ernie Macmillan, however, was 
+muttering, “Specialis Revelio!” over his cauldron, 
+which sounded impressive, so Harry and Ron 
+hastened to imitate him. 
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+It took Harry only five minutes to realize that his 
+reputation as the best potion-maker in the class was 
+crashing around his ears. Slughorn had peered 
+hopefully into his cauldron on his first circuit of the 
+dungeon, preparing to exclaim in delight as he 
+usually did, and instead had withdrawn his head 
+hastily, coughing, as the smell of bad eggs 
+overwhelmed him. Hermione’s expression could not 
+have been any smugger; she had loathed being 
+outperformed in every Potions class. She was now 
+decanting the mysteriously separated ingredients of 
+her poison into ten different crystal phials. More to 
+avoid watching this irritating sight than anything 
+else, Harry bent over the Half-Blood Prince’s book and 
+turned a few pages with unnecessary force. 
+And there it was, scrawled right across a long list of 
+antidotes: 
+Just shove a bezoar down their throats. 
+Harry stared at these words for a moment. Hadn’t he 
+once, long ago, heard of bezoars? Hadn’t Snape 
+mentioned them in their first-ever Potions lesson? “A 
+stone taken from the stomach of a goat, which will 
+protect from most poisons.” 
+It was not an answer to the Golpalott problem, and 
+had Snape still been their teacher, Harry would not 
+have dared do it, but this was a moment for desperate 
+measures. He hastened toward the store cupboard 
+and rummaged within it, pushing aside unicorn 
+horns and tangles of dried herbs until he found, at 
+the very back, a small cardboard box on which had 
+been scribbled the word bezoars. 
+He opened the box just as Slughorn called, “Two 
+minutes left, everyone!” Inside were half a dozen 
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+shriveled brown objects, looking more like dried-up 
+kidneys than real stones. Harry seized one, put the 
+box back in the cupboard, and hurried back to his 
+cauldron. 
+“Time’s … UP!” called Slughorn genially. “Well, let’s 
+see how you’ve done! Blaise … what have you got for 
+me?” 
+Slowly, Slughorn moved around the room, examining 
+the various antidotes. Nobody had finished the task, 
+although Hermione was trying to cram a few more 
+ingredients into her bottle before Slughorn reached 
+her. Ron had given up completely, and was merely 
+trying to avoid breathing in the putrid fumes issuing 
+from his cauldron. Harry stood there waiting, the 
+bezoar clutched in a slightly sweaty hand. 
+Slughorn reached their table last. He sniffed Ernie’s 
+potion and passed on to Ron’s with a grimace. He did 
+not linger over Ron’s cauldron, but backed away 
+swiftly, retching slightly. 
+“And you, Harry,” he said. “What have you got to 
+show me?” 
+Harry held out his hand, the bezoar sitting on his 
+palm. 
+Slughorn looked down at it for a full ten seconds. 
+Harry wondered, for a moment, whether he was going 
+to shout at him. Then he threw back his head and 
+roared with laughter. 
+“You’ve got nerve, boy!” he boomed, taking the bezoar 
+and holding it up so that the class could see it. “Oh, 
+you’re like your mother. … Well, I can’t fault you. … A 
+bezoar would certainly act as an antidote to all these 
+potions!” 
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+Hermione, who was sweaty-faced and had soot on her 
+nose, looked livid. Her half-finished antidote, 
+comprising fifty-two ingredients, including a chunk of 
+her own hair, bubbled sluggishly behind Slughorn, 
+who had eyes for nobody but Harry. 
+“And you thought of a bezoar all by yourself, did you, 
+Harry?” she asked through gritted teeth. 
+“That’s the individual spirit a real potion-maker 
+needs!” said Slughorn happily, before Harry could 
+reply. “Just like his mother, she had the same 
+intuitive grasp of potion-making, it’s undoubtedly 
+from Lily he gets it. … Yes, Harry, yes, if you’ve got a 
+bezoar to hand, of course that would do the trick … 
+although as they don’t work on everything, and are 
+pretty rare, it’s still worth knowing how to mix 
+antidotes. …” 
+The only person in the room looking angrier than 
+Hermione was Malfoy, who, Harry was pleased to see, 
+had spilled something that looked like cat-sick over 
+himself. Before either of them could express their fury 
+that Harry had come top of the class by not doing any 
+work, however, the bell rang. 
+“Time to pack up!” said Slughorn. “And an extra ten 
+points to Gryffindor for sheer cheek!” 
+Still chuckling, he waddled back to his desk at the 
+front of the dungeon. 
+Harry dawdled behind, taking an inordinate amount 
+of time to do up his bag. Neither Ron nor Hermione 
+wished him luck as they left; both looked rather 
+annoyed. At last Harry and Slughorn were the only 
+two left in the room. 
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+“Come on, now, Harry, you’ll be late for your next 
+lesson,” said Slughorn affably, snapping the gold 
+clasps shut on his dragon-skin briefcase. 
+“Sir,” said Harry, reminding himself irresistibly of 
+Voldemort, “I wanted to ask you something.” 
+“Ask away, then, my dear boy, ask away. …” 
+“Sir, I wondered what you know about … about 
+Horcruxes?” 
+Slughorn froze. His round face seemed to sink in 
+upon itself. He licked his lips and said hoarsely, 
+“What did you say?” 
+“I asked whether you know anything about 
+Horcruxes, sir. You see —” 
+“Dumbledore put you up to this,” whispered 
+Slughorn. His voice had changed completely. It was 
+not genial anymore, but shocked, terrified. He 
+fumbled in his breast pocket and pulled out a 
+handkerchief, mopping his sweating brow. 
+“Dumbledore’s shown you that — that memory. Well? 
+Hasn’t he?” 
+“Yes,” said Harry, deciding on the spot that it was 
+best not to lie. 
+“Yes, of course,” said Slughorn quietly, still dabbing 
+at his white face. “Of course … well, if you’ve seen 
+that memory, Harry, you’ll know that I don’t know 
+anything — anything” — he repeated the word 
+forcefully — “about Horcruxes.” 
+He seized his dragon-skin briefcase, stuffed his 
+handkerchief back into his pocket, and marched to 
+the dungeon door. 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+“Sir,” said Harry desperately, “I just thought there 
+might be a bit more to the memory —” 
+“Did you?” said Slughorn. “Then you were wrong, 
+weren’t you? WRONG!” 
+He bellowed the last word and, before Harry could say 
+another word, slammed the dungeon door behind 
+him. 
+Neither Ron nor Hermione was at all sympathetic 
+when Harry told them of this disastrous interview. 
+Hermione was still seething at the way Harry had 
+triumphed without doing the work properly. Ron was 
+resentful that Harry hadn’t slipped him a bezoar too. 
+“It would’ve just looked stupid if we’d both done it!” 
+said Harry irritably. “Look, I had to try and soften him 
+up so I could ask him about Voldemort, didn’t I? Oh, 
+will you get a grip!” he added in exasperation, as Ron 
+winced at the sound of the name. 
+Infuriated by his failure and by Ron’s and Hermione’s 
+attitudes, Harry brooded for the next few days over 
+what to do next about Slughorn. He decided that, for 
+the time being, he would let Slughorn think that he 
+had forgotten all about Horcruxes; it was surely best 
+to lull him into a false sense of security before 
+returning to the attack. 
+When Harry did not question Slughorn again, the 
+Potions master reverted to his usual affectionate 
+treatment of him, and appeared to have put the 
+matter from his mind. Harry awaited an invitation to 
+one of his little evening parties, determined to accept 
+this time, even if he had to reschedule Quidditch 
+practice. Unfortunately, however, no such invitation 
+arrived. Harry checked with Hermione and Ginny: 
+Neither of them had received an invitation and nor, as 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+far as they knew, had anybody else. Harry could not 
+help wondering whether this meant that Slughorn 
+was not quite as forgetful as he appeared, simply 
+determined to give Harry no additional opportunities 
+to question him. 
+Meanwhile, the Hogwarts library had failed Hermione 
+for the first time in living memory. She was so 
+shocked, she even forgot that she was annoyed at 
+Harry for his trick with the bezoar. 
+“I haven’t found one single explanation of what 
+Horcruxes do!” she told him. “Not a single one! I’ve 
+been right through the restricted section and even in 
+the most horrible books, where they tell you how to 
+brew the most gruesome potions — nothing! All I 
+could find was this, in the introduction to Magick 
+Moste Evile — listen — ‘Of the Horcrux, wickedest of 
+magical inventions, we shall not speak nor give 
+direction. …’ I mean, why mention it then?” she said 
+impatiently, slamming the old book shut; it let out a 
+ghostly wail. “Oh, shut up,” she snapped, stuffing it 
+back into her bag. 
+The snow melted around the school as February 
+arrived, to be replaced by cold, dreary wetness. 
+Purplish-gray clouds hung low over the castle and a 
+constant fall of chilly rain made the lawns slippery 
+and muddy. The upshot of this was that the sixth 
+years’ first Apparition lesson, which was scheduled 
+for a Saturday morning so that no normal lessons 
+would be missed, took place in the Great Hall instead 
+of in the grounds. 
+When Harry and Hermione arrived in the Hall (Ron 
+had come down with Lavender), they found that the 
+tables had disappeared. Rain lashed against the high 
+windows and the enchanted ceiling swirled darkly 
+above them as they assembled in front of Professors 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+McGonagall, Snape, Flitwick, and Sprout — the 
+Heads of Houses — and a small wizard whom Harry 
+took to be the Apparition instructor from the Ministry. 
+He was oddly colorless, with transparent eyelashes, 
+wispy hair, and an insubstantial air, as though a 
+single gust of wind might blow him away. Harry 
+wondered whether constant disappearances and 
+reappearances had somehow diminished his 
+substance, or whether this frail build was ideal for 
+anyone wishing to vanish. 
+“Good morning,” said the Ministry wizard, when all 
+the students had arrived and the Heads of Houses 
+had called for quiet. “My name is Wilkie Twycross and 
+I shall be your Ministry Apparition instructor for the 
+next twelve weeks. I hope to be able to prepare you for 
+your Apparition Tests in this time —” 
+“Malfoy, be quiet and pay attention!” barked Professor 
+McGonagall. 
+Everybody looked around. Malfoy had flushed a dull 
+pink; he looked furious as he stepped away from 
+Crabbe, with whom he appeared to have been having 
+a whispered argument. Harry glanced quickly at 
+Snape, who also looked annoyed, though Harry 
+strongly suspected that this was less because of 
+Malfoy’s rudeness than the fact that McGonagall had 
+reprimanded one of his House. 
+“— by which time, many of you may be ready to take 
+your tests,” Twycross continued, as though there had 
+been no interruption. 
+“As you may know, it is usually impossible to 
+Apparate or Disapparate within Hogwarts. The 
+headmaster has lifted this enchantment, purely 
+within the Great Hall, for one hour, so as to enable 
+you to practice. May I emphasize that you will not be 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+able to Apparate outside the walls of this Hall, and 
+that you would be unwise to try. 
+“I would like each of you to place yourselves now so 
+that you have a clear five feet of space in front of 
+you.” 
+There was a great scrambling and jostling as people 
+separated, banged into each other, and ordered 
+others out of their space. The Heads of Houses moved 
+among the students, marshaling them into position 
+and breaking up arguments. 
+“Harry, where are you going?” demanded Hermione. 
+But Harry did not answer; he was moving quickly 
+through the crowd, past the place where Professor 
+Flitwick was making squeaky attempts to position a 
+few Ravenclaws, all of whom wanted to be near the 
+front, past Professor Sprout, who was chivying the 
+Hufflepuffs into line, until, by dodging around Ernie 
+Macmillan, he managed to position himself right at 
+the back of the crowd, directly behind Malfoy, who 
+was taking advantage of the general upheaval to 
+continue his argument with Crabbe, standing five feet 
+away and looking mutinous. 
+“I don’t know how much longer, all right?” Malfoy 
+shot at him, oblivious to Harry standing right behind 
+him. “It’s taking longer than I thought it would.” 
+Crabbe opened his mouth, but Malfoy appeared to 
+second-guess what he was going to say. “Look, it’s 
+none of your business what I’m doing, Crabbe, you 
+and Goyle just do as you’re told and keep a lookout!” 
+“I tell my friends what I’m up to, if I want them to 
+keep a lookout for me,” Harry said, just loud enough 
+for Malfoy to hear him. 
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+Malfoy spun around on the spot, his hand flying to 
+his wand, but at that precise moment the four Heads 
+of House shouted, “Quiet!” and silence fell again. 
+Malfoy turned slowly to face the front again. 
+“Thank you,” said Twycross. “Now then …” 
+He waved his wand. Old-fashioned wooden hoops 
+instantly appeared on the floor in front of every 
+student. 
+“The important things to remember when Apparating 
+are the three D’s!” said Twycross. “Destination, 
+Determination, Deliberation! 
+“Step one: Fix your mind firmly upon the desired 
+destination,” said Twycross. “In this case, the interior 
+of your hoop. Kindly concentrate upon that 
+destination now.” 
+Everybody looked around furtively to check that 
+everyone else was staring into their hoop, then hastily 
+did as they were told. Harry gazed at the circular 
+patch of dusty floor enclosed by his hoop and tried 
+hard to think of nothing else. This proved impossible, 
+as he couldn’t stop puzzling over what Malfoy was 
+doing that needed lookouts. 
+“Step two,” said Twycross, “focus your determination 
+to occupy the visualized space! Let your yearning to 
+enter it flood from your mind to every particle of your 
+body!” 
+Harry glanced around surreptitiously. A little way to 
+his left, Ernie Macmillan was contemplating his hoop 
+so hard that his face had turned pink; it looked as 
+though he was straining to lay a Quaffle-sized egg. 
+Harry bit back a laugh and hastily returned his gaze 
+to his own hoop. 
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+“Step three,” called Twycross, “and only when I give 
+the command … Turn on the spot, feeling your way 
+into nothingness, moving with deliberation! On my 
+command, now … one —” 
+Harry glanced around again; lots of people were 
+looking positively alarmed at being asked to Apparate 
+so quickly. 
+“— two —” 
+Harry tried to fix his thoughts on his hoop again; he 
+had already forgotten what the three D’s stood for. 
+“— THREE!” 
+Harry spun on the spot, lost balance, and nearly fell 
+over. He was not the only one. The whole Hall was 
+suddenly full of staggering people; Neville was flat on 
+his back; Ernie Macmillan, on the other hand, had 
+done a kind of pirouetting leap into his hoop and 
+looked momentarily thrilled, until he caught sight of 
+Dean Thomas roaring with laughter at him. 
+“Never mind, never mind,” said Twycross dryly, who 
+did not seem to have expected anything better. 
+“Adjust your hoops, please, and back to your original 
+positions. …” 
+The second attempt was no better than the first. The 
+third was just as bad. Not until the fourth did 
+anything exciting happen. There was a horrible 
+screech of pain and everybody looked around, 
+terrified, to see Susan Bones of Hufflepuff wobbling in 
+her hoop with her left leg still standing five feet away 
+where she had started. 
+The Heads of House converged on her; there was a 
+great bang and a puff of purple smoke, which cleared 
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+to reveal Susan sobbing, reunited with her leg but 
+looking horrified. 
+“Splinching, or the separation of random body parts,” 
+said Wilkie Twycross dispassionately, “occurs when 
+the mind is insufficiently determined. You must 
+concentrate continuously upon your destination, and 
+move, without haste, but with deliberation … thus.” 
+Twycross stepped forward, turned gracefully on the 
+spot with his arms outstretched, and vanished in a 
+swirl of robes, reappearing at the back of the Hall. 
+“Remember the three D’s,” he said, “and try again … 
+one — two — three —” 
+But an hour later, Susan’s Splinching was still the 
+most interesting thing that had happened. Twycross 
+did not seem discouraged. Fastening his cloak at his 
+neck, he merely said, “Until next Saturday, 
+everybody, and do not forget: Destination. 
+Determination. Deliberation.” 
+With that, he waved his wand, Vanishing the hoops, 
+and walked out of the Hall accompanied by Professor 
+McGonagall. Talk broke out at once as people began 
+moving toward the entrance hall. 
+“How did you do?” asked Ron, hurrying toward Harry. 
+“I think I felt something the last time I tried — a kind 
+of tingling in my feet.” 
+“I expect your trainers are too small, Won-Won,” said 
+a voice behind them, and Hermione stalked past, 
+smirking. 
+“I didn’t feel anything,” said Harry, ignoring this 
+interruption. “But I don’t care about that now —” 
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+“What d’you mean, you don’t care? Don’t you want to 
+learn to Apparate?” said Ron incredulously. 
+“I’m not fussed, really, I prefer flying,” said Harry, 
+glancing over his shoulder to see where Malfoy was, 
+and speeding up as they came into the entrance hall. 
+“Look, hurry up, will you, there’s something I want to 
+do. …” 
+Perplexed, Ron followed Harry back to the Gryffindor 
+Tower at a run. They were temporarily detained by 
+Peeves, who had jammed a door on the fourth floor 
+shut and was refusing to let anyone pass until they 
+set fire to their own pants, but Harry and Ron simply 
+turned back and took one of their trusted shortcuts. 
+Within five minutes, they were climbing through the 
+portrait hole. 
+“Are you going to tell me what we’re doing, then?” 
+asked Ron, panting slightly. 
+“Up here,” said Harry, and he crossed the common 
+room and led the way through the door to the boys’ 
+staircase. 
+Their dormitory was, as Harry had hoped, empty. He 
+flung open his trunk and began to rummage in it, 
+while Ron watched impatiently. 
+“Harry …” 
+“Malfoy’s using Crabbe and Goyle as lookouts. He was 
+arguing with Crabbe just now. I want to know — 
+aha.” 
+He had found it, a folded square of apparently blank 
+parchment, which he now smoothed out and tapped 
+with the tip of his wand. 
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+“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good … or Malfoy 
+is anyway.” 
+At once, the Marauder’s Map appeared on the 
+parchment’s surface. Here was a detailed plan of 
+every one of the castle’s floors and, moving around it, 
+the tiny, labeled black dots that signified each of the 
+castle’s occupants. 
+“Help me find Malfoy,” said Harry urgently. 
+He laid the map upon his bed, and he and Ron leaned 
+over it, searching. 
+“There!” said Ron, after a minute or so. “He’s in the 
+Slytherin common room, look … with Parkinson and 
+Zabini and Crabbe and Goyle …” 
+Harry looked down at the map, disappointed, but 
+rallied almost at once. 
+“Well, I’m keeping an eye on him from now on,” he 
+said firmly. “And the moment I see him lurking 
+somewhere with Crabbe and Goyle keeping watch 
+outside, it’ll be on with the old Invisibility Cloak and 
+off to find out what he’s —” 
+He broke off as Neville entered the dormitory, bringing 
+with him a strong smell of singed material, and began 
+rummaging in his trunk for a fresh pair of pants. 
+Despite his determination to catch Malfoy out, Harry 
+had no luck at all over the next couple of weeks. 
+Although he consulted the map as often as he could, 
+sometimes making unnecessary visits to the 
+bathroom between lessons to search it, he did not 
+once see Malfoy anywhere suspicious. Admittedly, he 
+spotted Crabbe and Goyle moving around the castle 
+on their own more often than usual, sometimes 
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+remaining stationary in deserted corridors, but at 
+these times Malfoy was not only nowhere near them, 
+but impossible to locate on the map at all. This was 
+most mysterious. Harry toyed with the possibility that 
+Malfoy was actually leaving the school grounds, but 
+could not see how he could be doing it, given the very 
+high level of security now operating within the castle. 
+He could only suppose that he was missing Malfoy 
+amongst the hundreds of tiny black dots upon the 
+map. As for the fact that Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle 
+appeared to be going their different ways when they 
+were usually inseparable, these things happened as 
+people got older — Ron and Hermione, Harry reflected 
+sadly, were living proof. 
+February moved toward March with no change in the 
+weather except that it became windy as well as wet. 
+To general indignation, a sign went up on all common 
+room notice boards that the next trip into Hogsmeade 
+had been canceled. Ron was furious. 
+“It was on my birthday!” he said. “I was looking 
+forward to that!” 
+“Not a big surprise, though, is it?” said Harry. “Not 
+after what happened to Katie.” 
+She had still not returned from St. Mungo’s. What 
+was more, further disappearances had been reported 
+in the Daily Prophet, including several relatives of 
+students at Hogwarts. 
+“But now all I’ve got to look forward to is stupid 
+Apparition!” said Ron grumpily. “Big birthday treat …” 
+Three lessons on, Apparition was proving as difficult 
+as ever, though a few more people had managed to 
+Splinch themselves. Frustration was running high 
+and there was a certain amount of ill-feeling toward 
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+Wilkie Twycross and his three D’s, which had inspired 
+a number of nicknames for him, the politest of which 
+were Dogbreath and Dunghead. 
+“Happy birthday, Ron,” said Harry, when they were 
+woken on the first of March by Seamus and Dean 
+leaving noisily for breakfast. “Have a present.” 
+He threw the package across onto Ron’s bed, where it 
+joined a small pile of them that must, Harry assumed, 
+have been delivered by house-elves in the night. 
+“Cheers,” said Ron drowsily and, as he ripped off the 
+paper, Harry got out of bed, opened his own trunk, 
+and began rummaging in it for the Marauder’s Map, 
+which he hid after every use. He turfed out half the 
+contents of his trunk before he found it hiding 
+beneath the rolled-up socks in which he was still 
+keeping his bottle of lucky potion, Felix Felicis. 
+“Right,” he murmured, taking it back to bed with him, 
+tapping it quietly and murmuring, “I solemnly swear 
+that I am up to no good,” so that Neville, who was 
+passing the foot of his bed at the time, would not 
+hear. 
+“Nice one, Harry!” said Ron enthusiastically, waving 
+the new pair of Quidditch Keeper’s gloves Harry had 
+given him. 
+“No problem,” said Harry absentmindedly, as he 
+searched the Slytherin dormitory closely for Malfoy. 
+“Hey … I don’t think he’s in his bed. …” 
+Ron did not answer; he was too busy unwrapping 
+presents, every now and then letting out an 
+exclamation of pleasure. 
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+“Seriously good haul this year!” he announced, 
+holding up a heavy gold watch with odd symbols 
+around the edge and tiny moving stars instead of 
+hands. “See what Mum and Dad got me? Blimey, I 
+think I’ll come of age next year too. …” 
+“Cool,” muttered Harry, sparing the watch a glance 
+before peering more closely at the map. Where was 
+Malfoy? He did not seem to be at the Slytherin table 
+in the Great Hall, eating breakfast. … He was 
+nowhere near Snape, who was sitting in his study. … 
+He wasn’t in any of the bathrooms or in the hospital 
+wing. … 
+“Want one?” said Ron thickly, holding out a box of 
+Chocolate Cauldrons. 
+“No thanks,” said Harry, looking up. “Malfoy’s gone 
+again!” 
+“Can’t have done,” said Ron, stuffing a second 
+Cauldron into his mouth as he slid out of bed to get 
+dressed. “Come on, if you don’t hurry up, you’ll have 
+to Apparate on an empty stomach. … Might make it 
+easier, I suppose …” Ron looked thoughtfully at the 
+box of Chocolate Cauldrons, then shrugged and 
+helped himself to a third. 
+Harry tapped the map with his wand, muttered, 
+“Mischief managed,” though it hadn’t been, and got 
+dressed, thinking hard. There had to be an 
+explanation for Malfoy’s periodic disappearances, but 
+he simply could not think what it could be. The best 
+way of finding out would be to tail him, but even with 
+the Invisibility Cloak this was an impractical idea: 
+Harry had lessons, Quidditch practice, homework, 
+and Apparition; he could not follow Malfoy around 
+school all day without his absence being remarked 
+upon. 
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+“Ready?” he said to Ron. 
+He was halfway to the dormitory door when he 
+realized that Ron had not moved, but was leaning on 
+his bedpost, staring out of the rain-washed window 
+with a strangely unfocused look on his face. 
+“Ron? Breakfast.” 
+“I’m not hungry.” 
+Harry stared at him. 
+“I thought you just said — ?” 
+“Well, all right, I’ll come down with you,” sighed Ron, 
+“but I don’t want to eat.” 
+Harry scrutinized him suspiciously. 
+“You’ve just eaten half a box of Chocolate Cauldrons, 
+haven’t you?” 
+“It’s not that,” Ron sighed again. “You … you wouldn’t 
+understand.” 
+“Fair enough,” said Harry, albeit puzzled, as he 
+turned to open the door. 
+“Harry!” said Ron suddenly. 
+“What?” 
+“Harry, I can’t stand it!” 
+“You can’t stand what?” asked Harry, now starting to 
+feel definitely alarmed. Ron was rather pale and 
+looked as though he was about to be sick. 
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+“I can’t stop thinking about her!” said Ron hoarsely. 
+Harry gaped at him. He had not expected this and 
+was not sure he wanted to hear it. Friends they might 
+be, but if Ron started calling Lavender “Lav-Lav,” he 
+would have to put his foot down. 
+“Why does that stop you having breakfast?” Harry 
+asked, trying to inject a note of common sense into 
+the proceedings. 
+“I don’t think she knows I exist,” said Ron with a 
+desperate gesture. 
+“She definitely knows you exist,” said Harry, 
+bewildered. “She keeps snogging you, doesn’t she?” 
+Ron blinked. “Who are you talking about?” 
+“Who are you talking about?” said Harry, with an 
+increasing sense that all reason had dropped out of 
+the conversation. 
+“Romilda Vane,” said Ron softly, and his whole face 
+seemed to illuminate as he said it, as though hit by a 
+ray of purest sunlight. 
+They stared at each other for almost a whole minute, 
+before Harry said, “This is a joke, right? You’re 
+joking.” 
+“I think … Harry, I think I love her,” said Ron in a 
+strangled voice. 
+“Okay,” said Harry, walking up to Ron to get a better 
+look at the glazed eyes and the pallid complexion, 
+“okay… Say that again with a straight face.” 
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+“I love her,” repeated Ron breathlessly. “Have you 
+seen her hair, it’s all black and shiny and silky … and 
+her eyes? Her big dark eyes? And her —” 
+“This is really funny and everything,” said Harry 
+impatiently, “but joke’s over, all right? Drop it.” 
+He turned to leave; he had got two steps toward the 
+door when a crashing blow hit him on the right ear. 
+Staggering, he looked around. Ron’s fist was drawn 
+right back; his face was contorted with rage; he was 
+about to strike again. 
+Harry reacted instinctively; his wand was out of his 
+pocket and the incantation sprang to mind without 
+conscious thought: Levicorpus! 
+Ron yelled as his heel was wrenched upward once 
+more; he dangled helplessly, upside down, his robes 
+hanging off him. 
+“What was that for?” Harry bellowed. 
+“You insulted her, Harry! You said it was a joke!” 
+shouted Ron, who was slowly turning purple in the 
+face as all the blood rushed to his head. 
+“This is insane!” said Harry. “What’s got into — ?” 
+And then he saw the box lying open on Ron’s bed, 
+and the truth hit him with the force of a stampeding 
+troll. 
+“Where did you get those Chocolate Cauldrons?” 
+“They were a birthday present!” shouted Ron, 
+revolving slowly in midair as he struggled to get free. 
+“I offered you one, didn’t I?” 
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+“You just picked them up off the floor, didn’t you?” 
+“They’d fallen off my bed, all right? Let me go!” 
+“They didn’t fall off your bed, you prat, don’t you 
+understand? They were mine, I chucked them out of 
+my trunk when I was looking for the map, they’re the 
+Chocolate Cauldrons Romilda gave me before 
+Christmas, and they’re all spiked with love potion!” 
+But only one word of this seemed to have registered 
+with Ron. 
+“Romilda?” he repeated. “Did you say Romilda? Harry 
+— do you know her? Can you introduce me?” 
+Harry stared at the dangling Ron, whose face now 
+looked tremendously hopeful, and fought a strong 
+desire to laugh. A part of him — the part closest to 
+his throbbing right ear — was quite keen on the idea 
+of letting Ron down and watching him run amok until 
+the effects of the potion wore off. … But on the other 
+hand, they were supposed to be friends, Ron had not 
+been himself when he had attacked, and Harry 
+thought that he would deserve another punching if he 
+permitted Ron to declare undying love for Romilda 
+Vane. 
+“Yeah, I’ll introduce you,” said Harry, thinking fast. 
+“I’m going to let you down now, okay?” 
+He sent Ron crashing back to the floor (his ear did 
+hurt quite a lot), but Ron simply bounded to his feet 
+again, grinning. 
+“She’ll be in Slughorn’s office,” said Harry confidently, 
+leading the way to the door. 
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+“Why will she be in there?” asked Ron anxiously, 
+hurrying to keep up. 
+“Oh, she has extra Potions lessons with him,” said 
+Harry, inventing wildly. 
+“Maybe I could ask if I can have them with her?” said 
+Ron eagerly. 
+“Great idea,” said Harry. 
+Lavender was waiting beside the portrait hole, a 
+complication Harry had not foreseen. 
+“You’re late, Won-Won!” she pouted. “I’ve got you a 
+birthday —” 
+“Leave me alone,” said Ron impatiently. “Harry’s going 
+to introduce me to Romilda Vane.” 
+And without another word to her, he pushed his way 
+out of the portrait hole. Harry tried to make an 
+apologetic face to Lavender, but it might have turned 
+out simply amused, because she looked more 
+offended than ever as the Fat Lady swung shut 
+behind them. 
+Harry had been slightly worried that Slughorn might 
+be at breakfast, but he answered his office door at the 
+first knock, wearing a green velvet dressing gown and 
+matching nightcap and looking rather bleary-eyed. 
+“Harry,” he mumbled. “This is very early for a call. … I 
+generally sleep late on a Saturday. …” 
+“Professor, I’m really sorry to disturb you,” said Harry 
+as quietly as possible, while Ron stood on tiptoe, 
+attempting to see past Slughorn into his room, “but 
+my friend Ron’s swallowed a love potion by mistake. 
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+You couldn’t make him an antidote, could you? I’d 
+take him to Madam Pomfrey, but we’re not supposed 
+to have anything from Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes and, 
+you know … awkward questions …” 
+“I’d have thought you could have whipped him up a 
+remedy, Harry, an expert potioneer like you?” asked 
+Slughorn. 
+“Er,” said Harry, somewhat distracted by the fact that 
+Ron was now elbowing him in the ribs in an attempt 
+to force his way into the room, “well, I’ve never mixed 
+an antidote for a love potion, sir, and by the time I get 
+it right, Ron might’ve done something serious —” 
+Helpfully, Ron chose this moment to moan, “I can’t 
+see her, Harry — is he hiding her?” 
+“Was this potion within date?” asked Slughorn, now 
+eyeing Ron with professional interest. “They can 
+strengthen, you know, the longer they’re kept.” 
+“That would explain a lot,” panted Harry, now 
+positively wrestling with Ron to keep him from 
+knocking Slughorn over. “It’s his birthday, Professor,” 
+he added imploringly. 
+“Oh, all right, come in, then, come in,” said Slughorn, 
+relenting. “I’ve got the necessary here in my bag, it’s 
+not a difficult antidote. …” 
+Ron burst through the door into Slughorn’s 
+overheated, crowded study, tripped over a tasseled 
+footstool, regained his balance by seizing Harry 
+around the neck, and muttered, “She didn’t see that, 
+did she?” 
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+“She’s not here yet,” said Harry, watching Slughorn 
+opening his potion kit and adding a few pinches of 
+this and that to a small crystal bottle. 
+“That’s good,” said Ron fervently. “How do I look?” 
+“Very handsome,” said Slughorn smoothly, handing 
+Ron a glass of clear liquid. “Now drink that up, it’s a 
+tonic for the nerves, keep you calm when she arrives, 
+you know.” 
+“Brilliant,” said Ron eagerly, and he gulped the 
+antidote down noisily. 
+Harry and Slughorn watched him. For a moment, Ron 
+beamed at them. Then, very slowly, his grin sagged 
+and vanished, to be replaced by an expression of 
+utmost horror. 
+“Back to normal, then?” said Harry, grinning. 
+Slughorn chuckled. “Thanks a lot, Professor.” 
+“Don’t mention it, m’boy, don’t mention it,” said 
+Slughorn, as Ron collapsed into a nearby armchair, 
+looking devastated. “Pick-me-up, that’s what he 
+needs,” Slughorn continued, now bustling over to a 
+table loaded with drinks. “I’ve got butterbeer, I’ve got 
+wine, I’ve got one last bottle of this oak-matured mead 
+… hmm … meant to give that to Dumbledore for 
+Christmas … ah, well …” He shrugged. “He can’t miss 
+what he’s never had! Why don’t we open it now and 
+celebrate Mr. Weasley’s birthday? Nothing like a fine 
+spirit to chase away the pangs of disappointed love. 
+…” 
+He chortled again, and Harry joined in. This was the 
+first time he had found himself almost alone with 
+Slughorn since his disastrous first attempt to extract 
+the true memory from him. Perhaps, if he could just 
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+keep Slughorn in a good mood … perhaps if they got 
+through enough of the oak-matured mead … 
+“There you are then,” said Slughorn, handing Harry 
+and Ron a glass of mead each before raising his own. 
+“Well, a very happy birthday, Ralph —” 
+“Ron —” whispered Harry. 
+But Ron, who did not appear to be listening to the 
+toast, had already thrown the mead into his mouth 
+and swallowed it. 
+There was one second, hardly more than a heartbeat, 
+in which Harry knew there was something terribly 
+wrong and Slughorn, it seemed, did not. 
+“— and may you have many more —” 
+“Ron!” 
+Ron had dropped his glass; he half-rose from his 
+chair and then crumpled, his extremities jerking 
+uncontrollably. Foam was dribbling from his mouth, 
+and his eyes were bulging from their sockets. 
+“Professor!” Harry bellowed. “Do something!” 
+But Slughorn seemed paralyzed by shock. Ron 
+twitched and choked: His skin was turning blue. 
+“What — but —” spluttered Slughorn. 
+Harry leapt over a low table and sprinted toward 
+Slughorn’s open potion kit, pulling out jars and 
+pouches, while the terrible sound of Ron’s gargling 
+breath filled the room. Then he found it — the 
+shriveled kidneylike stone Slughorn had taken from 
+him in Potions. 
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+He hurtled back to Ron’s side, wrenched open his 
+jaw, and thrust the bezoar into his mouth. Ron gave a 
+great shudder, a rattling gasp, and his body became 
+limp and still. 
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+ 
+ 
+ELF TAILS 
+“So, all in all, not one of Ron’s better birthdays?” said 
+Fred. 
+It was evening; the hospital wing was quiet, the 
+windows curtained, the lamps lit. Ron’s was the only 
+occupied bed. Harry, Hermione, and Ginny were 
+sitting around him; they had spent all day waiting 
+outside the double doors, trying to see inside 
+whenever somebody went in or out. Madam Pomfrey 
+had only let them enter at eight o’clock. Fred and 
+George had arrived at ten past. 
+“This isn’t how we imagined handing over our 
+present,” said George grimly, putting down a large 
+wrapped gift on Ron’s bedside cabinet and sitting 
+beside Ginny. 
+“Yeah, when we pictured the scene, he was 
+conscious,” said Fred. 
+“There we were in Hogsmeade, waiting to surprise 
+him —” said George. 
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+“You were in Hogsmeade?” asked Ginny, looking up. 
+“We were thinking of buying Zonko’s,” said Fred 
+gloomily. “A Hogsmeade branch, you know, but a fat 
+lot of good it’ll do us if you lot aren’t allowed out at 
+weekends to buy our stuff anymore. … But never 
+mind that now.” 
+He drew up a chair beside Harry and looked at Ron’s 
+pale face. 
+“How exactly did it happen, Harry?” 
+Harry retold the story he had already recounted, it felt 
+like a hundred times to Dumbledore, to McGonagall, 
+to Madam Pomfrey, to Hermione, and to Ginny. 
+“… and then I got the bezoar down his throat and his 
+breathing eased up a bit, Slughorn ran for help, 
+McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey turned up, and they 
+brought Ron up here. They reckon he’ll be all right. 
+Madam Pomfrey says he’ll have to stay here a week or 
+so … keep taking essence of rue …” 
+“Blimey, it was lucky you thought of a bezoar,” said 
+George in a low voice. 
+“Lucky there was one in the room,” said Harry, who 
+kept turning cold at the thought of what would have 
+happened if he had not been able to lay hands on the 
+little stone. 
+Hermione gave an almost inaudible sniff. She had 
+been exceptionally quiet all day. Having hurtled, 
+white-faced, up to Harry outside the hospital wing 
+and demanded to know what had happened, she had 
+taken almost no part in Harry and Ginny’s obsessive 
+discussion about how Ron had been poisoned, but 
+merely stood beside them, clench-jawed and 
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+frightened-looking, until at last they had been allowed 
+in to see him. 
+“Do Mum and Dad know?” Fred asked Ginny. 
+“They’ve already seen him, they arrived an hour ago 
+— they’re in Dumbledore’s office now, but they’ll be 
+back soon. …” 
+There was a pause while they all watched Ron 
+mumble a little in his sleep. 
+“So the poison was in the drink?” said Fred quietly. 
+“Yes,” said Harry at once; he could think of nothing 
+else and was glad for the opportunity to start 
+discussing it again. “Slughorn poured it out —” 
+“Would he have been able to slip something into Ron’s 
+glass without you seeing?” 
+“Probably,” said Harry, “but why would Slughorn 
+want to poison Ron?” 
+“No idea,” said Fred, frowning. “You don’t think he 
+could have mixed up the glasses by mistake? Meaning 
+to get you?” 
+“Why would Slughorn want to poison Harry?” asked 
+Ginny. 
+“I dunno,” said Fred, “but there must be loads of 
+people who’d like to poison Harry, mustn’t there? ‘The 
+Chosen One’ and all that?” 
+“So you think Slughorn’s a Death Eater?” said Ginny. 
+“Anything’s possible,” said Fred darkly. 
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+“He could be under the Imperius Curse,” said George. 
+“Or he could be innocent,” said Ginny. “The poison 
+could have been in the bottle, in which case it was 
+probably meant for Slughorn himself.” 
+“Who’d want to kill Slughorn?” 
+“Dumbledore reckons Voldemort wanted Slughorn on 
+his side,” said Harry. “Slughorn was in hiding for a 
+year before he came to Hogwarts. And …” He thought 
+of the memory Dumbledore had not yet been able to 
+extract from Slughorn. “And maybe Voldemort wants 
+him out of the way, maybe he thinks he could be 
+valuable to Dumbledore.” 
+“But you said Slughorn had been planning to give 
+that bottle to Dumbledore for Christmas,” Ginny 
+reminded him. “So the poisoner could just as easily 
+have been after Dumbledore.” 
+“Then the poisoner didn’t know Slughorn very well,” 
+said Hermione, speaking for the first time in hours 
+and sounding as though she had a bad head cold. 
+“Anyone who knew Slughorn would have known there 
+was a good chance he’d keep something that tasty for 
+himself.” 
+“Er-my-nee,” croaked Ron unexpectedly from between 
+them. 
+They all fell silent, watching him anxiously, but after 
+muttering incomprehensibly for a moment he merely 
+started snoring. 
+The dormitory doors flew open, making them all 
+jump: Hagrid came striding toward them, his hair 
+rain-flecked, his bearskin coat flapping behind him, a 
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+crossbow in his hand, leaving a trail of muddy 
+dolphin-sized footprints all over the floor. 
+“Bin in the forest all day!” he panted. “Aragog’s worse, 
+I bin readin’ to him — didn’ get up ter dinner till jus’ 
+now an’ then Professor Sprout told me abou’ Ron! 
+How is he?” 
+“Not bad,” said Harry. “They say he’ll be okay.” 
+“No more than six visitors at a time!” said Madam 
+Pomfrey, hurrying out of her office. 
+“Hagrid makes six,” George pointed out. 
+“Oh … yes …” said Madam Pomfrey, who seemed to 
+have been counting Hagrid as several people due to 
+his vastness. To cover her confusion, she hurried off 
+to clear up his muddy footprints with her wand. 
+“I don’ believe this,” said Hagrid hoarsely, shaking his 
+great shaggy head as he stared down at Ron. “Jus’ 
+don’ believe it … Look at him lyin’ there. … Who’d 
+want ter hurt him, eh?” 
+“That’s just what we were discussing,” said Harry. 
+“We don’t know.” 
+“Someone couldn’ have a grudge against the 
+Gryffindor Quidditch team, could they?” said Hagrid 
+anxiously. “Firs’ Katie, now Ron …” 
+“I can’t see anyone trying to bump off a Quidditch 
+team,” said George. 
+“Wood might’ve done the Slytherins if he could’ve got 
+away with it,” said Fred fairly. 
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+“Well, I don’t think it’s Quidditch, but I think there’s a 
+connection between the attacks,” said Hermione 
+quietly. 
+“How d’you work that out?” asked Fred. 
+“Well, for one thing, they both ought to have been 
+fatal and weren’t, although that was pure luck. And 
+for another, neither the poison nor the necklace 
+seems to have reached the person who was supposed 
+to be killed. Of course,” she added broodingly, “that 
+makes the person behind this even more dangerous 
+in a way, because they don’t seem to care how many 
+people they finish off before they actually reach their 
+victim.” 
+Before anybody could respond to this ominous 
+pronouncement, the dormitory doors opened again 
+and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley hurried up the ward. They 
+had done no more than satisfy themselves that Ron 
+would make a full recovery on their last visit to the 
+ward; now Mrs. Weasley seized hold of Harry and 
+hugged him very tightly. “Dumbledore’s told us how 
+you saved him with the bezoar,” she sobbed. “Oh, 
+Harry, what can we say? You saved Ginny … you 
+saved Arthur … now you’ve saved Ron …” 
+“Don’t be … I didn’t …” muttered Harry awkwardly. 
+“Half our family does seem to owe you their lives, now 
+I stop and think about it,” Mr. Weasley said in a 
+constricted voice. “Well, all I can say is that it was a 
+lucky day for the Weasleys when Ron decided to sit in 
+your compartment on the Hogwarts Express, Harry.” 
+Harry could not think of any reply to this and was 
+almost glad when Madam Pomfrey reminded them 
+that there were only supposed to be six visitors 
+around Ron’s bed; he and Hermione rose at once to 
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+leave and Hagrid decided to go with them, leaving Ron 
+with his family. 
+“It’s terrible,” growled Hagrid into his beard, as the 
+three of them walked back along the corridor to the 
+marble staircase. “All this new security, an’ kids are 
+still gettin’ hurt. … Dumbledore’s worried sick. … He 
+don’ say much, but I can tell. …” 
+“Hasn’t he got any ideas, Hagrid?” asked Hermione 
+desperately. 
+“I ’spect he’s got hundreds of ideas, brain like his,” 
+said Hagrid. “But he doesn’ know who sent that 
+necklace nor put poison in that wine, or they’d’ve bin 
+caught, wouldn’ they? Wha’ worries me,” said Hagrid, 
+lowering his voice and glancing over his shoulder 
+(Harry, for good measure, checked the ceiling for 
+Peeves), “is how long Hogwarts can stay open if kids 
+are bein’ attacked. Chamber o’ Secrets all over again, 
+isn’ it? There’ll be panic, more parents takin’ their 
+kids outta school, an’ nex’ thing yeh know the board 
+o’ governors …” 
+Hagrid stopped talking as the ghost of a long-haired 
+woman drifted serenely past, then resumed in a 
+hoarse whisper, “… the board o’ governors’ll be talkin’ 
+about shuttin’ us up fer good.” 
+“Surely not?” said Hermione, looking worried. 
+“Gotta see it from their point o’ view,” said Hagrid 
+heavily. “I mean, it’s always bin a bit of a risk sendin’ 
+a kid ter Hogwarts, hasn’ it? Yer expect accidents, 
+don’ yeh, with hundreds of underage wizards all 
+locked up tergether, but attempted murder, tha’s 
+diff’rent. ’S’no wonder Dumbledore’s angry with Sn —
+” 
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+Hagrid stopped in his tracks, a familiar, guilty 
+expression on what was visible of his face above his 
+tangled black beard. 
+“What?” said Harry quickly. “Dumbledore’s angry with 
+Snape?” 
+“I never said tha’,” said Hagrid, though his look of 
+panic could not have been a bigger giveaway. “Look at 
+the time, it’s gettin’ on fer midnight, I need ter —” 
+“Hagrid, why is Dumbledore angry with Snape?” 
+Harry asked loudly. 
+“Shhhh!” said Hagrid, looking both nervous and 
+angry. “Don’ shout stuff like that, Harry, d’yeh wan’ 
+me ter lose me job? Mind, I don’ suppose yeh’d care, 
+would yeh, not now yeh’ve given up Care of Mag —” 
+“Don’t try and make me feel guilty, it won’t work!” 
+said Harry forcefully. “What’s Snape done?” 
+“I dunno, Harry, I shouldn’ta heard it at all! I — well, I 
+was comin’ outta the forest the other evenin’ an’ I 
+overheard ’em talking — well, arguin’. Didn’t like ter 
+draw attention to meself, so I sorta skulked an’ tried 
+not ter listen, but it was a — well, a heated discussion 
+an’ it wasn’ easy ter block it out.” 
+“Well?” Harry urged him, as Hagrid shuffled his 
+enormous feet uneasily. 
+“Well — I jus’ heard Snape sayin’ Dumbledore took 
+too much fer granted an’ maybe he — Snape — didn’ 
+wan’ ter do it anymore —” 
+“Do what?” 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+“I dunno, Harry, it sounded like Snape was feelin’ a 
+bit overworked, tha’s all — anyway, Dumbledore told 
+him flat out he’d agreed ter do it an’ that was all there 
+was to it. Pretty firm with him. An’ then he said 
+summat abou’ Snape makin’ investigations in his 
+House, in Slytherin. Well, there’s nothin’ strange 
+abou’ that!” Hagrid added hastily, as Harry and 
+Hermione exchanged looks full of meaning. “All the 
+Heads o’ Houses were asked ter look inter that 
+necklace business —” 
+“Yeah, but Dumbledore’s not having rows with the 
+rest of them, is he?” said Harry. 
+“Look,” Hagrid twisted his crossbow uncomfortably in 
+his hands; there was a loud splintering sound and it 
+snapped in two. “I know what yeh’re like abou’ Snape, 
+Harry, an’ I don’ want yeh ter go readin’ more inter 
+this than there is.” 
+“Look out,” said Hermione tersely. 
+They turned just in time to see the shadow of Argus 
+Filch looming over the wall behind them before the 
+man himself turned the corner, hunchbacked, his 
+jowls aquiver. 
+“Oho!” he wheezed. “Out of bed so late, this’ll mean 
+detention!” 
+“No it won’, Filch,” said Hagrid shortly. “They’re with 
+me, aren’ they?” 
+“And what difference does that make?” asked Filch 
+obnoxiously. 
+“I’m a ruddy teacher, aren’ I, yeh sneakin’ Squib!” 
+said Hagrid, firing up at once. 
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+There was a nasty hissing noise as Filch swelled with 
+fury; Mrs. Norris had arrived, unseen, and was 
+twisting herself sinuously around Filch’s skinny 
+ankles. 
+“Get goin’,” said Hagrid out of the corner of his 
+mouth. 
+Harry did not need telling twice; he and Hermione 
+both hurried off; Hagrid’s and Filch’s raised voices 
+echoed behind them as they ran. They passed Peeves 
+near the turning into Gryffindor Tower, but he was 
+streaking happily toward the source of the yelling, 
+cackling and calling, 
+When there’s strife and when there’s trouble 
+Call on Peevsie, he’ll make double! 
+The Fat Lady was snoozing and not pleased to be 
+woken, but swung forward grumpily to allow them to 
+clamber into the mercifully peaceful and empty 
+common room. It did not seem that people knew 
+about Ron yet; Harry was very relieved: He had been 
+interrogated enough that day. Hermione bade him 
+good night and set off for the girls’ dormitory. Harry, 
+however, remained behind, taking a seat beside the 
+fire and looking down into the dying embers. 
+So Dumbledore had argued with Snape. In spite of all 
+he had told Harry, in spite of his insistence that he 
+trusted Snape completely, he had lost his temper with 
+him. … He did not think that Snape had tried hard 
+enough to investigate the Slytherins … or, perhaps, to 
+investigate a single Slytherin: Malfoy? 
+Was it because Dumbledore did not want Harry to do 
+anything foolish, to take matters into his own hands, 
+that he had pretended there was nothing in Harry’s 
+suspicions? That seemed likely. It might even be that 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+Dumbledore did not want anything to distract Harry 
+from their lessons, or from procuring that memory 
+from Slughorn. Perhaps Dumbledore did not think it 
+right to confide suspicions about his staff to sixteen-
+year-olds. … 
+“There you are, Potter!” 
+Harry jumped to his feet in shock, his wand at the 
+ready. He had been quite convinced that the common 
+room was empty; he had not been at all prepared for 
+a hulking figure to rise suddenly out of a distant 
+chair. A closer look showed him that it was Cormac 
+McLaggen. 
+“I’ve been waiting for you to come back,” said 
+McLaggen, disregarding Harry’s drawn wand. 
+“Must’ve fallen asleep. Look, I saw them taking 
+Weasley up to the hospital wing earlier. Didn’t look 
+like he’ll be fit for next week’s match.” 
+It took Harry a few moments to realize what 
+McLaggen was talking about. 
+“Oh … right … Quidditch,” he said, putting his wand 
+back into the belt of his jeans and running a hand 
+wearily through his hair. “Yeah … he might not make 
+it.” 
+“Well, then, I’ll be playing Keeper, won’t I?” said 
+McLaggen. 
+“Yeah,” said Harry. “Yeah, I suppose so. …” 
+He could not think of an argument against it; after 
+all, McLaggen had certainly performed second-best in 
+the trials. 
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+“Excellent,” said McLaggen in a satisfied voice. “So 
+when’s practice?” 
+“What? Oh … there’s one tomorrow evening.” 
+“Good. Listen, Potter, we should have a talk 
+beforehand. I’ve got some ideas on strategy you might 
+find useful.” 
+“Right,” said Harry unenthusiastically. “Well, I’ll hear 
+them tomorrow, then. I’m pretty tired now … see you 
+…” 
+The news that Ron had been poisoned spread quickly 
+next day, but it did not cause the sensation that 
+Katie’s attack had done. People seemed to think that 
+it might have been an accident, given that he had 
+been in the Potions master’s room at the time, and 
+that as he had been given an antidote immediately 
+there was no real harm done. In fact, the Gryffindors 
+were generally much more interested in the upcoming 
+Quidditch match against Hufflepuff, for many of them 
+wanted to see Zacharias Smith, who played Chaser on 
+the Hufflepuff team, punished soundly for his 
+commentary during the opening match against 
+Slytherin. 
+Harry, however, had never been less interested in 
+Quidditch; he was rapidly becoming obsessed with 
+Draco Malfoy. Still checking the Marauder’s Map 
+whenever he got a chance, he sometimes made 
+detours to wherever Malfoy happened to be, but had 
+not yet detected him doing anything out of the 
+ordinary. And still there were those inexplicable times 
+when Malfoy simply vanished from the map. … 
+But Harry did not get a lot of time to consider the 
+problem, what with Quidditch practice, homework, 
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+and the fact that he was now being dogged wherever 
+he went by Cormac McLaggen and Lavender Brown. 
+He could not decide which of them was more 
+annoying. McLaggen kept up a constant stream of 
+hints that he would make a better permanent Keeper 
+for the team than Ron, and that now that Harry was 
+seeing him play regularly he would surely come 
+around to this way of thinking too; he was also keen 
+to criticize the other players and provide Harry with 
+detailed training schemes, so that more than once 
+Harry was forced to remind him who was Captain. 
+Meanwhile, Lavender kept sidling up to Harry to 
+discuss Ron, which Harry found almost more wearing 
+than McLaggen’s Quidditch lectures. At first, 
+Lavender had been very annoyed that nobody had 
+thought to tell her that Ron was in the hospital wing 
+— “I mean, I am his girlfriend!” — but unfortunately 
+she had now decided to forgive Harry this lapse of 
+memory and was keen to have lots of in-depth chats 
+with him about Ron’s feelings, a most uncomfortable 
+experience that Harry would have happily forgone. 
+“Look, why don’t you talk to Ron about all this?” 
+Harry asked, after a particularly long interrogation 
+from Lavender that took in everything from precisely 
+what Ron had said about her new dress robes to 
+whether or not Harry thought that Ron considered his 
+relationship with Lavender to be “serious.” 
+“Well, I would, but he’s always asleep when I go and 
+see him!” said Lavender fretfully. 
+“Is he?” said Harry, surprised, for he had found Ron 
+perfectly alert every time he had been up to the 
+hospital wing, both highly interested in the news of 
+Dumbledore and Snape’s row and keen to abuse 
+McLaggen as much as possible. 
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+“Is Hermione Granger still visiting him?” Lavender 
+demanded suddenly. 
+“Yeah, I think so. Well, they’re friends, aren’t they?” 
+said Harry uncomfortably. 
+“Friends, don’t make me laugh,” said Lavender 
+scornfully. “She didn’t talk to him for weeks after he 
+started going out with me! But I suppose she wants to 
+make up with him now he’s all interesting. …” 
+“Would you call getting poisoned being interesting?” 
+asked Harry. “Anyway — sorry, got to go — there’s 
+McLaggen coming for a talk about Quidditch,” said 
+Harry hurriedly, and he dashed sideways through a 
+door pretending to be solid wall and sprinted down 
+the shortcut that would take him off to Potions where, 
+thankfully, neither Lavender nor McLaggen could 
+follow him. 
+On the morning of the Quidditch match against 
+Hufflepuff, Harry dropped in on the hospital wing 
+before heading down to the pitch. Ron was very 
+agitated; Madam Pomfrey would not let him go down 
+to watch the match, feeling it would overexcite him. 
+“So how’s McLaggen shaping up?” he asked Harry 
+nervously, apparently forgetting that he had already 
+asked the same question twice. 
+“I’ve told you,” said Harry patiently, “he could be 
+world-class and I wouldn’t want to keep him. He 
+keeps trying to tell everyone what to do, he thinks he 
+could play every position better than the rest of us. I 
+can’t wait to be shot of him. And speaking of getting 
+shot of people,” Harry added, getting to his feet and 
+picking up his Firebolt, “will you stop pretending to 
+be asleep when Lavender comes to see you? She’s 
+driving me mad as well.” 
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+“Oh,” said Ron, looking sheepish. “Yeah. All right.” 
+“If you don’t want to go out with her anymore, just tell 
+her,” said Harry. 
+“Yeah … well … it’s not that easy, is it?” said Ron. He 
+paused. “Hermione going to look in before the 
+match?” he added casually. 
+“No, she’s already gone down to the pitch with 
+Ginny.” 
+“Oh,” said Ron, looking rather glum. “Right. Well, 
+good luck. Hope you hammer McLag — I mean, 
+Smith.” 
+“I’ll try,” said Harry, shouldering his broom. “See you 
+after the match.” 
+He hurried down through the deserted corridors; the 
+whole school was outside, either already seated in the 
+stadium or heading down toward it. He was looking 
+out of the windows he passed, trying to gauge how 
+much wind they were facing, when a noise ahead 
+made him glance up and he saw Malfoy walking 
+toward him, accompanied by two girls, both of whom 
+looked sulky and resentful. 
+Malfoy stopped short at the sight of Harry, then gave 
+a short, humorless laugh and continued walking. 
+“Where’re you going?” Harry demanded. 
+“Yeah, I’m really going to tell you, because it’s your 
+business, Potter,” sneered Malfoy. “You’d better hurry 
+up, they’ll be waiting for ‘the Chosen Captain’ — ‘the 
+Boy Who Scored’ — whatever they call you these 
+days.” 
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+One of the girls gave an unwilling giggle. Harry stared 
+at her. She blushed. Malfoy pushed past Harry and 
+she and her friend followed at a trot, turning the 
+corner and vanishing from view. 
+Harry stood rooted on the spot and watched them 
+disappear. This was infuriating; he was already 
+cutting it fine to get to the match on time and yet 
+there was Malfoy, skulking off while the rest of the 
+school was absent: Harry’s best chance yet of 
+discovering what Malfoy was up to. The silent seconds 
+trickled past, and Harry remained where he was, 
+frozen, gazing at the place where Malfoy had 
+vanished. … 
+“Where have you been?” demanded Ginny, as Harry 
+sprinted into the changing rooms. The whole team 
+was changed and ready; Coote and Peakes, the 
+Beaters, were both hitting their clubs nervously 
+against their legs. 
+“I met Malfoy,” Harry told her quietly, as he pulled his 
+scarlet robes over his head. 
+“So?” 
+“So I wanted to know how come he’s up at the castle 
+with a couple of girlfriends while everyone else is 
+down here. …” 
+“Does it matter right now?” 
+“Well, I’m not likely to find out, am I?” said Harry, 
+seizing his Firebolt and pushing his glasses straight. 
+“Come on then!” 
+And without another word, he marched out onto the 
+pitch to deafening cheers and boos. 
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+There was little wind; the clouds were patchy; every 
+now and then there were dazzling flashes of bright 
+sunlight. 
+“Tricky conditions!” McLaggen said bracingly to the 
+team. “Coote, Peakes, you’ll want to fly out of the sun, 
+so they don’t see you coming —” 
+“I’m the Captain, McLaggen, shut up giving them 
+instructions,” said Harry angrily. “Just get up by the 
+goal posts!” 
+Once McLaggen had marched off, Harry turned to 
+Coote and Peakes. 
+“Make sure you do fly out of the sun,” he told them 
+grudgingly. 
+He shook hands with the Hufflepuff Captain, and 
+then, on Madam Hooch’s whistle, kicked off and rose 
+into the air, higher than the rest of his team, 
+streaking around the pitch in search of the Snitch. If 
+he could catch it good and early, there might be a 
+chance he could get back up to the castle, seize the 
+Marauder’s Map, and find out what Malfoy was doing. 
+… 
+“And that’s Smith of Hufflepuff with the Quaffle,” said 
+a dreamy voice, echoing over the grounds. “He did the 
+commentary last time, of course, and Ginny Weasley 
+flew into him, I think probably on purpose, it looked 
+like it. Smith was being quite rude about Gryffindor, I 
+expect he regrets that now he’s playing them — oh, 
+look, he’s lost the Quaffle, Ginny took it from him, I 
+do like her, she’s very nice. …” 
+Harry stared down at the commentator’s podium. 
+Surely nobody in their right mind would have let 
+Luna Lovegood commentate? But even from above 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+there was no mistaking that long, dirty-blonde hair, 
+nor the necklace of butterbeer corks. … Beside Luna, 
+Professor McGonagall was looking slightly 
+uncomfortable, as though she was indeed having 
+second thoughts about this appointment. 
+“… but now that big Hufflepuff player’s got the 
+Quaffle from her, I can’t remember his name, it’s 
+something like Bibble — no, Buggins —” 
+“It’s Cadwallader!” said Professor McGonagall loudly 
+from beside Luna. The crowd laughed. 
+Harry stared around for the Snitch; there was no sign 
+of it. Moments later, Cadwallader scored. McLaggen 
+had been shouting criticism at Ginny for allowing the 
+Quaffle out of her possession, with the result that he 
+had not noticed the large red ball soaring past his 
+right ear. 
+“McLaggen, will you pay attention to what you’re 
+supposed to be doing and leave everyone else alone!” 
+bellowed Harry, wheeling around to face his Keeper. 
+“You’re not setting a great example!” McLaggen 
+shouted back, red-faced and furious. 
+“And Harry Potter’s now having an argument with his 
+Keeper,” said Luna serenely, while both Hufflepuffs 
+and Slytherins below in the crowd cheered and jeered. 
+“I don’t think that’ll help him find the Snitch, but 
+maybe it’s a clever ruse. …” 
+Swearing angrily, Harry spun round and set off 
+around the pitch again, scanning the skies for some 
+sign of the tiny, winged golden ball. 
+Ginny and Demelza scored a goal apiece, giving the 
+red-and-gold-clad supporters below something to 
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+cheer about. Then Cadwallader scored again, making 
+things level, but Luna did not seem to have noticed; 
+she appeared singularly uninterested in such 
+mundane things as the score, and kept attempting to 
+draw the crowd’s attention to such things as 
+interestingly shaped clouds and the possibility that 
+Zacharias Smith, who had so far failed to maintain 
+possession of the Quaffle for longer than a minute, 
+was suffering from something called “Loser’s Lurgy.” 
+“Seventy-forty to Hufflepuff!” barked Professor 
+McGonagall into Luna’s megaphone. 
+“Is it, already?” said Luna vaguely. “Oh, look! The 
+Gryffindor Keeper’s got hold of one of the Beater’s 
+bats.” 
+Harry spun around in midair. Sure enough, 
+McLaggen, for reasons best known to himself, had 
+pulled Peakes’s bat from him and appeared to be 
+demonstrating how to hit a Bludger toward an 
+oncoming Cadwallader. 
+“Will you give him back his bat and get back to the goal 
+posts!” roared Harry, pelting toward McLaggen just as 
+McLaggen took a ferocious swipe at the Bludger and 
+mishit it. 
+A blinding, sickening pain … a flash of light … distant 
+screams … and the sensation of falling down a long 
+tunnel … 
+And the next thing Harry knew, he was lying in a 
+remarkably warm and comfortable bed and looking 
+up at a lamp that was throwing a circle of golden light 
+onto a shadowy ceiling. He raised his head 
+awkwardly. There on his left was a familiar-looking, 
+freckly, red-haired person. 
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+“Nice of you to drop in,” said Ron, grinning. 
+Harry blinked and looked around. Of course: He was 
+in the hospital wing. The sky outside was indigo 
+streaked with crimson. The match must have finished 
+hours ago … as had any hope of cornering Malfoy. 
+Harry’s head felt strangely heavy; he raised a hand 
+and felt a stiff turban of bandages. 
+“What happened?” 
+“Cracked skull,” said Madam Pomfrey, bustling up 
+and pushing him back against his pillows. “Nothing to 
+worry about, I mended it at once, but I’m keeping you 
+in overnight. You shouldn’t overexert yourself for a 
+few hours.” 
+“I don’t want to stay here overnight,” said Harry 
+angrily, sitting up and throwing back his covers. “I 
+want to find McLaggen and kill him.” 
+“I’m afraid that would come under the heading of 
+‘overexertion,’ ” said Madam Pomfrey, pushing him 
+firmly back onto the bed and raising her wand in a 
+threatening manner. “You will stay here until I 
+discharge you, Potter, or I shall call the headmaster.” 
+She bustled back into her office, and Harry sank back 
+into his pillows, fuming. 
+“D’you know how much we lost by?” he asked Ron 
+through clenched teeth. 
+“Well, yeah I do,” said Ron apologetically. “Final score 
+was three hundred and twenty to sixty.” 
+“Brilliant,” said Harry savagely. “Really brilliant! 
+When I get hold of McLaggen —” 
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+“You don’t want to get hold of him, he’s the size of a 
+troll,” said Ron reasonably. “Personally, I think there’s 
+a lot to be said for hexing him with that toenail thing 
+of the Prince’s. Anyway, the rest of the team might’ve 
+dealt with him before you get out of here, they’re not 
+happy. …” 
+There was a note of badly suppressed glee in Ron’s 
+voice; Harry could tell he was nothing short of thrilled 
+that McLaggen had messed up so badly. Harry lay 
+there, staring up at the patch of light on the ceiling, 
+his recently mended skull not hurting, precisely, but 
+feeling slightly tender underneath all the bandaging. 
+“I could hear the match commentary from here,” said 
+Ron, his voice now shaking with laughter. “I hope 
+Luna always commentates from now on. … Loser’s 
+Lurgy …” 
+But Harry was still too angry to see much humor in 
+the situation, and after a while Ron’s snorts subsided. 
+“Ginny came in to visit while you were unconscious,” 
+he said, after a long pause, and Harry’s imagination 
+zoomed into overdrive, rapidly constructing a scene in 
+which Ginny, weeping over his lifeless form, confessed 
+her feelings of deep attraction to him while Ron gave 
+them his blessing. … “She reckons you only just 
+arrived on time for the match. How come? You left 
+here early enough.” 
+“Oh …” said Harry, as the scene in his mind’s eye 
+imploded. “Yeah … well, I saw Malfoy sneaking off 
+with a couple of girls who didn’t look like they wanted 
+to be with him, and that’s the second time he’s made 
+sure he isn’t down on the Quidditch pitch with the 
+rest of the school; he skipped the last match too, 
+remember?” Harry sighed. “Wish I’d followed him 
+now, the match was such a fiasco. …” 
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+“Don’t be stupid,” said Ron sharply. “You couldn’t 
+have missed a Quidditch match just to follow Malfoy, 
+you’re the Captain!” 
+“I want to know what he’s up to,” said Harry. “And 
+don’t tell me it’s all in my head, not after what I 
+overheard between him and Snape —” 
+“I never said it was all in your head,” said Ron, 
+hoisting himself up on an elbow in turn and frowning 
+at Harry, “but there’s no rule saying only one person 
+at a time can be plotting anything in this place! You’re 
+getting a bit obsessed with Malfoy, Harry. I mean, 
+thinking about missing a match just to follow him …” 
+“I want to catch him at it!” said Harry in frustration. 
+“I mean, where’s he going when he disappears off the 
+map?” 
+“I dunno … Hogsmeade?” suggested Ron, yawning. 
+“I’ve never seen him going along any of the secret 
+passageways on the map. I thought they were being 
+watched now anyway?” 
+“Well then, I dunno,” said Ron. 
+Silence fell between them. Harry stared up at the 
+circle of lamplight above him, thinking. … 
+If only he had Rufus Scrimgeour’s power, he would 
+have been able to set a tail upon Malfoy, but 
+unfortunately Harry did not have an office full of 
+Aurors at his command. … He thought fleetingly of 
+trying to set something up with the D.A., but there 
+again was the problem that people would be missed 
+from lessons; most of them, after all, still had full 
+schedules. … 
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+There was a low, rumbling snore from Ron’s bed. 
+After a while Madam Pomfrey came out of her office, 
+this time wearing a thick dressing gown. It was 
+easiest to feign sleep; Harry rolled over onto his side 
+and listened to all the curtains closing themselves as 
+she waved her wand. The lamps dimmed, and she 
+returned to her office; he heard the door click behind 
+her and knew that she was off to bed. 
+This was, Harry reflected in the darkness, the third 
+time that he had been brought to the hospital wing 
+because of a Quidditch injury. Last time he had fallen 
+off his broom due to the presence of dementors 
+around the pitch, and the time before that, all the 
+bones had been removed from his arm by the 
+incurably inept Professor Lockhart. … That had been 
+his most painful injury by far … he remembered the 
+agony of regrowing an armful of bones in one night, a 
+discomfort not eased by the arrival of an unexpected 
+visitor in the middle of the — 
+Harry sat bolt upright, his heart pounding, his 
+bandage turban askew. He had the solution at last: 
+There was a way to have Malfoy followed — how could 
+he have forgotten, why hadn’t he thought of it before? 
+But the question was, how to call him? What did you 
+do? 
+Quietly, tentatively, Harry spoke into the darkness. 
+“Kreacher?” 
+There was a very loud crack, and the sounds of 
+scuffling and squeaks filled the silent room. Ron 
+awoke with a yelp. 
+“What’s going — ?” 
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+Harry pointed his wand hastily at the door of Madam 
+Pomfrey’s office and muttered, “Muffliato!” so that she 
+would not come running. Then he scrambled to the 
+end of his bed for a better look at what was going on. 
+Two house-elves were rolling around on the floor in 
+the middle of the dormitory, one wearing a shrunken 
+maroon jumper and several woolly hats, the other, a 
+filthy old rag strung over his hips like a loincloth. 
+Then there was another loud bang, and Peeves the 
+Poltergeist appeared in midair above the wrestling 
+elves. 
+“I was watching that, Potty!” he told Harry 
+indignantly, pointing at the fight below, before letting 
+out a loud cackle. “Look at the ickle creatures 
+squabbling, bitey bitey, punchy punchy —” 
+“Kreacher will not insult Harry Potter in front of 
+Dobby, no he won’t, or Dobby will shut Kreacher’s 
+mouth for him!” cried Dobby in a high-pitched voice. 
+“— kicky, scratchy!” cried Peeves happily, now pelting 
+bits of chalk at the elves to enrage them further. 
+“Tweaky, pokey!” 
+“Kreacher will say what he likes about his master, oh 
+yes, and what a master he is, filthy friend of 
+Mudbloods, oh, what would poor Kreacher’s mistress 
+say — ?” 
+Exactly what Kreacher’s mistress would have said 
+they did not find out, for at that moment Dobby sank 
+his knobbly little fist into Kreacher’s mouth and 
+knocked out half of his teeth. Harry and Ron both 
+leapt out of their beds and wrenched the two elves 
+apart, though they continued to try and kick and 
+punch each other, egged on by Peeves, who swooped 
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+around the lamp squealing, “Stick your fingers up his 
+nosey, draw his cork and pull his earsies —” 
+Harry aimed his wand at Peeves and said, “Langlock!” 
+Peeves clutched at his throat, gulped, then swooped 
+from the room making obscene gestures but unable to 
+speak, owing to the fact that his tongue had just 
+glued itself to the roof of his mouth. 
+“Nice one,” said Ron appreciatively, lifting Dobby into 
+the air so that his flailing limbs no longer made 
+contact with Kreacher. “That was another Prince hex, 
+wasn’t it?” 
+“Yeah,” said Harry, twisting Kreacher’s wizened arm 
+into a half nelson. “Right — I’m forbidding you to fight 
+each other! Well, Kreacher, you’re forbidden to fight 
+Dobby. Dobby, I know I’m not allowed to give you 
+orders —” 
+“Dobby is a free house-elf and he can obey anyone he 
+likes and Dobby will do whatever Harry Potter wants 
+him to do!” said Dobby, tears now streaming down his 
+shriveled little face onto his jumper. 
+“Okay then,” said Harry, and he and Ron both 
+released the elves, who fell to the floor but did not 
+continue fighting. 
+“Master called me?” croaked Kreacher, sinking into a 
+bow even as he gave Harry a look that plainly wished 
+him a painful death. 
+“Yeah, I did,” said Harry, glancing toward Madam 
+Pomfrey’s office door to check that the Muffliato spell 
+was still working; there was no sign that she had 
+heard any of the commotion. “I’ve got a job for you.” 
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+“Kreacher will do whatever Master wants,” said 
+Kreacher, sinking so low that his lips almost touched 
+his gnarled toes, “because Kreacher has no choice, 
+but Kreacher is ashamed to have such a master, yes 
+—” 
+“Dobby will do it, Harry Potter!” squeaked Dobby, his 
+tennis-ball-sized eyes still swimming in tears. “Dobby 
+would be honored to help Harry Potter!” 
+“Come to think of it, it would be good to have both of 
+you,” said Harry. “Okay then … I want you to tail 
+Draco Malfoy.” 
+Ignoring the look of mingled surprise and 
+exasperation on Ron’s face, Harry went on, “I want to 
+know where he’s going, who he’s meeting, and what 
+he’s doing. I want you to follow him around the 
+clock.” 
+“Yes, Harry Potter!” said Dobby at once, his great eyes 
+shining with excitement. “And if Dobby does it wrong, 
+Dobby will throw himself off the topmost tower, Harry 
+Potter!” 
+“There won’t be any need for that,” said Harry hastily. 
+“Master wants me to follow the youngest of the 
+Malfoys?” croaked Kreacher. “Master wants me to spy 
+upon the pure-blood great-nephew of my old 
+mistress?” 
+“That’s the one,” said Harry, foreseeing a great danger 
+and determining to prevent it immediately. “And 
+you’re forbidden to tip him off, Kreacher, or to show 
+him what you’re up to, or to talk to him at all, or to 
+write him messages or … or to contact him in any 
+way. Got it?” 
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+He thought he could see Kreacher struggling to see a 
+loophole in the instructions he had just been given 
+and waited. After a moment or two, and to Harry’s 
+great satisfaction, Kreacher bowed deeply again and 
+said, with bitter resentment, “Master thinks of 
+everything, and Kreacher must obey him even though 
+Kreacher would much rather be the servant of the 
+Malfoy boy, oh yes. …” 
+“That’s settled, then,” said Harry. “I’ll want regular 
+reports, but make sure I’m not surrounded by people 
+when you turn up. Ron and Hermione are okay. And 
+don’t tell anyone what you’re doing. Just stick to 
+Malfoy like a couple of wart plasters.” 
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+ 
+ 
+LORD VOLDEMORT’S REQUEST 
+Harry and Ron left the hospital wing first thing on 
+Monday morning, restored to full health by the 
+ministrations of Madam Pomfrey and now able to 
+enjoy the benefits of having been knocked out and 
+poisoned, the best of which was that Hermione was 
+friends with Ron again. Hermione even escorted them 
+down to breakfast, bringing with her the news that 
+Ginny had argued with Dean. The drowsing creature 
+in Harry’s chest suddenly raised its head, sniffing the 
+air hopefully. 
+“What did they row about?” he asked, trying to sound 
+casual as they turned onto a seventh-floor corridor 
+that was deserted but for a very small girl who had 
+been examining a tapestry of trolls in tutus. She 
+looked terrified at the sight of the approaching sixth 
+years and dropped the heavy brass scales she was 
+carrying. 
+“It’s all right!” said Hermione kindly, hurrying forward 
+to help her. “Here …” 
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+She tapped the broken scales with her wand and 
+said, “Reparo.” The girl did not say thank you, but 
+remained rooted to the spot as they passed and 
+watched them out of sight; Ron glanced back at her. 
+“I swear they’re getting smaller,” he said. 
+“Never mind her,” said Harry, a little impatiently. 
+“What did Ginny and Dean row about, Hermione?” 
+“Oh, Dean was laughing about McLaggen hitting that 
+Bludger at you,” said Hermione. 
+“It must’ve looked funny,” said Ron reasonably. 
+“It didn’t look funny at all!” said Hermione hotly. “It 
+looked terrible and if Coote and Peakes hadn’t caught 
+Harry he could have been very badly hurt!” 
+“Yeah, well, there was no need for Ginny and Dean to 
+split up over it,” said Harry, still trying to sound 
+casual. “Or are they still together?” 
+“Yes, they are — but why are you so interested?” 
+asked Hermione, giving Harry a sharp look. 
+“I just don’t want my Quidditch team messed up 
+again!” he said hastily, but Hermione continued to 
+look suspicious, and he was most relieved when a 
+voice behind them called, “Harry!” giving him an 
+excuse to turn his back on her. 
+“Oh, hi, Luna.” 
+“I went to the hospital wing to find you,” said Luna, 
+rummaging in her bag. “But they said you’d left. …” 
+She thrust what appeared to be a green onion, a large 
+spotted toadstool, and a considerable amount of what 
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+looked like cat litter into Ron’s hands, finally pulling 
+out a rather grubby scroll of parchment that she 
+handed to Harry. 
+“… I’ve been told to give you this.” 
+It was a small roll of parchment, which Harry 
+recognized at once as another invitation to a lesson 
+with Dumbledore. 
+“Tonight,” he told Ron and Hermione, once he had 
+unrolled it. 
+“Nice commentary last match!” said Ron to Luna as 
+she took back the green onion, the toadstool, and the 
+cat litter. Luna smiled vaguely. 
+“You’re making fun of me, aren’t you?” she said. 
+“Everyone says I was dreadful.” 
+“No, I’m serious!” said Ron earnestly. “I can’t 
+remember enjoying commentary more! What is this, 
+by the way?” he added, holding the onionlike object 
+up to eye level. 
+“Oh, it’s a Gurdyroot,” she said, stuffing the cat litter 
+and the toadstool back into her bag. “You can keep it 
+if you like, I’ve got a few of them. They’re really 
+excellent for warding off Gulping Plimpies.” 
+And she walked away, leaving Ron chortling, still 
+clutching the Gurdyroot. 
+“You know, she’s grown on me, Luna,” he said, as 
+they set off again for the Great Hall. “I know she’s 
+insane, but it’s in a good —” 
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+He stopped talking very suddenly. Lavender Brown 
+was standing at the foot of the marble staircase 
+looking thunderous. 
+“Hi,” said Ron nervously. 
+“C’mon,” Harry muttered to Hermione, and they sped 
+past, though not before they had heard Lavender say, 
+“Why didn’t you tell me you were getting out today? 
+And why was she with you?” 
+Ron looked both sulky and annoyed when he 
+appeared at breakfast half an hour later, and though 
+he sat with Lavender, Harry did not see them 
+exchange a word all the time they were together. 
+Hermione was acting as though she was quite 
+oblivious to all of this, but once or twice Harry saw an 
+inexplicable smirk cross her face. All that day she 
+seemed to be in a particularly good mood, and that 
+evening in the common room she even consented to 
+look over (in other words, finish writing) Harry’s 
+Herbology essay, something she had been resolutely 
+refusing to do up to this point, because she had 
+known that Harry would then let Ron copy his work. 
+“Thanks a lot, Hermione,” said Harry, giving her a 
+hasty pat on the back as he checked his watch and 
+saw that it was nearly eight o’clock. “Listen, I’ve got to 
+hurry or I’ll be late for Dumbledore. …” 
+She did not answer, but merely crossed out a few of 
+his feebler sentences in a weary sort of way. Grinning, 
+Harry hurried out through the portrait hole and off to 
+the headmaster’s office. The gargoyle leapt aside at 
+the mention of toffee éclairs, and Harry took the spiral 
+staircase two steps at a time, knocking on the door 
+just as a clock within chimed eight. 
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+“Enter,” called Dumbledore, but as Harry put out a 
+hand to push the door, it was wrenched open from 
+inside. There stood Professor Trelawney. 
+“Aha!” she cried, pointing dramatically at Harry as 
+she blinked at him through her magnifying 
+spectacles. “So this is the reason I am to be thrown 
+unceremoniously from your office, Dumbledore!” 
+“My dear Sybill,” said Dumbledore in a slightly 
+exasperated voice, “there is no question of throwing 
+you unceremoniously from anywhere, but Harry does 
+have an appointment, and I really don’t think there is 
+any more to be said —” 
+“Very well,” said Professor Trelawney, in a deeply 
+wounded voice. “If you will not banish the usurping 
+nag, so be it. … Perhaps I shall find a school where 
+my talents are better appreciated. …” 
+She pushed past Harry and disappeared down the 
+spiral staircase; they heard her stumble halfway 
+down, and Harry guessed that she had tripped over 
+one of her trailing shawls. 
+“Please close the door and sit down, Harry,” said 
+Dumbledore, sounding rather tired. 
+Harry obeyed, noticing as he took his usual seat in 
+front of Dumbledore’s desk that the Pensieve lay 
+between them once more, as did two more tiny crystal 
+bottles full of swirling memory. 
+“Professor Trelawney still isn’t happy Firenze is 
+teaching, then?” Harry asked. 
+“No,” said Dumbledore, “Divination is turning out to 
+be much more trouble than I could have foreseen, 
+never having studied the subject myself. I cannot ask 
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+Firenze to return to the forest, where he is now an 
+outcast, nor can I ask Sybill Trelawney to leave. 
+Between ourselves, she has no idea of the danger she 
+would be in outside the castle. She does not know — 
+and I think it would be unwise to enlighten her — 
+that she made the prophecy about you and 
+Voldemort, you see.” 
+Dumbledore heaved a deep sigh, then said, “But 
+never mind my staffing problems. We have much 
+more important matters to discuss. Firstly — have 
+you managed the task I set you at the end of our 
+previous lesson?” 
+“Ah,” said Harry, brought up short. What with 
+Apparition lessons and Quidditch and Ron being 
+poisoned and getting his skull cracked and his 
+determination to find out what Draco Malfoy was up 
+to, Harry had almost forgotten about the memory 
+Dumbledore had asked him to extract from Professor 
+Slughorn. “Well, I asked Professor Slughorn about it 
+at the end of Potions, sir, but, er, he wouldn’t give it 
+to me.” 
+There was a little silence. 
+“I see,” said Dumbledore eventually, peering at Harry 
+over the top of his half-moon spectacles and giving 
+Harry the usual sensation that he was being X-rayed. 
+“And you feel that you have exerted your very best 
+efforts in this matter, do you? That you have 
+exercised all of your considerable ingenuity? That you 
+have left no depth of cunning unplumbed in your 
+quest to retrieve the memory?” 
+“Well,” Harry stalled, at a loss for what to say next. 
+His single attempt to get hold of the memory suddenly 
+seemed embarrassingly feeble. “Well … the day Ron 
+swallowed love potion by mistake I took him to 
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+Professor Slughorn. I thought maybe if I got Professor 
+Slughorn in a good enough mood —” 
+“And did that work?” asked Dumbledore. 
+“Well, no, sir, because Ron got poisoned —” 
+“— which, naturally, made you forget all about trying 
+to retrieve the memory; I would have expected nothing 
+else, while your best friend was in danger. Once it 
+became clear that Mr. Weasley was going to make a 
+full recovery, however, I would have hoped that you 
+returned to the task I set you. I thought I made it 
+clear to you how very important that memory is. 
+Indeed, I did my best to impress upon you that it is 
+the most crucial memory of all and that we will be 
+wasting our time without it.” 
+A hot, prickly feeling of shame spread from the top of 
+Harry’s head all the way down his body. Dumbledore 
+had not raised his voice, he did not even sound angry, 
+but Harry would have preferred him to yell; this cold 
+disappointment was worse than anything. 
+“Sir,” he said, a little desperately, “it isn’t that I wasn’t 
+bothered or anything, I’ve just had other — other 
+things …” 
+“Other things on your mind,” Dumbledore finished 
+the sentence for him. “I see.” 
+Silence fell between them again, the most 
+uncomfortable silence Harry had ever experienced 
+with Dumbledore; it seemed to go on and on, 
+punctuated only by the little grunting snores of the 
+portrait of Armando Dippet over Dumbledore’s head. 
+Harry felt strangely diminished, as though he had 
+shrunk a little since he had entered the room. When 
+he could stand it no longer he said, “Professor 
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+Dumbledore, I’m really sorry. I should have done 
+more. … I should have realized you wouldn’t have 
+asked me to do it if it wasn’t really important.” 
+“Thank you for saying that, Harry,” said Dumbledore 
+quietly. “May I hope, then, that you will give this 
+matter higher priority from now on? There will be 
+little point in our meeting after tonight unless we 
+have that memory.” 
+“I’ll do it, sir, I’ll get it from him,” he said earnestly. 
+“Then we shall say no more about it just now,” said 
+Dumbledore more kindly, “but continue with our 
+story where we left off. You remember where that 
+was?” 
+“Yes, sir,” said Harry quickly. “Voldemort killed his 
+father and his grandparents and made it look as 
+though his Uncle Morfin did it. Then he went back to 
+Hogwarts and he asked … he asked Professor 
+Slughorn about Horcruxes,” he mumbled 
+shamefacedly. 
+“Very good,” said Dumbledore. “Now, you will 
+remember, I hope, that I told you at the very outset of 
+these meetings of ours that we would be entering the 
+realms of guesswork and speculation?” 
+“Yes, sir.” 
+“Thus far, as I hope you agree, I have shown you 
+reasonably firm sources of fact for my deductions as 
+to what Voldemort did until the age of seventeen?” 
+Harry nodded. 
+“But now, Harry,” said Dumbledore, “now things 
+become murkier and stranger. If it was difficult to find 
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+evidence about the boy Riddle, it has been almost 
+impossible to find anyone prepared to reminisce 
+about the man Voldemort. In fact, I doubt whether 
+there is a soul alive, apart from himself, who could 
+give us a full account of his life since he left 
+Hogwarts. However, I have two last memories that I 
+would like to share with you.” Dumbledore indicated 
+the two little crystal bottles gleaming beside the 
+Pensieve. “I shall then be glad of your opinion as to 
+whether the conclusions I have drawn from them 
+seem likely.” 
+The idea that Dumbledore valued his opinion this 
+highly made Harry feel even more deeply ashamed 
+that he had failed in the task of retrieving the Horcrux 
+memory, and he shifted guiltily in his seat as 
+Dumbledore raised the first of the two bottles to the 
+light and examined it. 
+“I hope you are not tired of diving into other people’s 
+memories, for they are curious recollections, these 
+two,” he said. “This first one came from a very old 
+house-elf by the name of Hokey. Before we see what 
+Hokey witnessed, I must quickly recount how Lord 
+Voldemort left Hogwarts. 
+“He reached the seventh year of his schooling with, as 
+you might have expected, top grades in every 
+examination he had taken. All around him, his 
+classmates were deciding which jobs they were to 
+pursue once they had left Hogwarts. Nearly everybody 
+expected spectacular things from Tom Riddle, prefect, 
+Head Boy, winner of the Award for Special Services to 
+the School. I know that several teachers, Professor 
+Slughorn amongst them, suggested that he join the 
+Ministry of Magic, offered to set up appointments, put 
+him in touch with useful contacts. He refused all 
+offers. The next thing the staff knew, Voldemort was 
+working at Borgin and Burkes.” 
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+“At Borgin and Burkes?” Harry repeated, stunned. 
+“At Borgin and Burkes,” repeated Dumbledore calmly. 
+“I think you will see what attractions the place held 
+for him when we have entered Hokey’s memory. But 
+this was not Voldemort’s first choice of job. Hardly 
+anyone knew of it at the time — I was one of the few 
+in whom the then headmaster confided — but 
+Voldemort first approached Professor Dippet and 
+asked whether he could remain at Hogwarts as a 
+teacher.” 
+“He wanted to stay here? Why?” asked Harry, more 
+amazed still. 
+“I believe he had several reasons, though he confided 
+none of them to Professor Dippet,” said Dumbledore. 
+“Firstly, and very importantly, Voldemort was, I 
+believe, more attached to this school than he has ever 
+been to a person. Hogwarts was where he had been 
+happiest; the first and only place he had felt at 
+home.” 
+Harry felt slightly uncomfortable at these words, for 
+this was exactly how he felt about Hogwarts too. 
+“Secondly, the castle is a stronghold of ancient magic. 
+Undoubtedly Voldemort had penetrated many more of 
+its secrets than most of the students who pass 
+through the place, but he may have felt that there 
+were still mysteries to unravel, stores of magic to tap. 
+“And thirdly, as a teacher, he would have had great 
+power and influence over young witches and wizards. 
+Perhaps he had gained the idea from Professor 
+Slughorn, the teacher with whom he was on best 
+terms, who had demonstrated how influential a role a 
+teacher can play. I do not imagine for an instant that 
+Voldemort envisaged spending the rest of his life at 
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+Hogwarts, but I do think that he saw it as a useful 
+recruiting ground, and a place where he might begin 
+to build himself an army.” 
+“But he didn’t get the job, sir?” 
+“No, he did not. Professor Dippet told him that he was 
+too young at eighteen, but invited him to reapply in a 
+few years, if he still wished to teach.” 
+“How did you feel about that, sir?” asked Harry 
+hesitantly. 
+“Deeply uneasy,” said Dumbledore. “I had advised 
+Armando against the appointment — I did not give 
+the reasons I have given you, for Professor Dippet was 
+very fond of Voldemort and convinced of his honesty. 
+But I did not want Lord Voldemort back at this 
+school, and especially not in a position of power.” 
+“Which job did he want, sir? What subject did he 
+want to teach?” 
+Somehow, Harry knew the answer even before 
+Dumbledore gave it. 
+“Defense Against the Dark Arts. It was being taught at 
+the time by an old Professor by the name of Galatea 
+Merrythought, who had been at Hogwarts for nearly 
+fifty years. 
+“So Voldemort went off to Borgin and Burkes, and all 
+the staff who had admired him said what a waste it 
+was, a brilliant young wizard like that, working in a 
+shop. However, Voldemort was no mere assistant. 
+Polite and handsome and clever, he was soon given 
+particular jobs of the type that only exist in a place 
+like Borgin and Burkes, which specializes, as you 
+know, Harry, in objects with unusual and powerful 
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+properties. Voldemort was sent to persuade people to 
+part with their treasures for sale by the partners, and 
+he was, by all accounts, unusually gifted at doing 
+this.” 
+“I’ll bet he was,” said Harry, unable to contain 
+himself. 
+“Well, quite,” said Dumbledore, with a faint smile. 
+“And now it is time to hear from Hokey the house-elf, 
+who worked for a very old, very rich witch by the 
+name of Hepzibah Smith.” 
+Dumbledore tapped a bottle with his wand, the cork 
+flew out, and he tipped the swirling memory into the 
+Pensieve, saying as he did so, “After you, Harry.” 
+Harry got to his feet and bent once more over the 
+rippling silver contents of the stone basin until his 
+face touched them. He tumbled through dark 
+nothingness and landed in a sitting room in front of 
+an immensely fat old lady wearing an elaborate ginger 
+wig and a brilliant pink set of robes that flowed all 
+around her, giving her the look of a melting iced cake. 
+She was looking into a small jeweled mirror and 
+dabbing rouge onto her already scarlet cheeks with a 
+large powder puff, while the tiniest and oldest house-
+elf Harry had ever seen laced her fleshy feet into tight 
+satin slippers. 
+“Hurry up, Hokey!” said Hepzibah imperiously. “He 
+said he’d come at four, it’s only a couple of minutes to 
+and he’s never been late yet!” 
+She tucked away her powder puff as the house-elf 
+straightened up. The top of the elf’s head barely 
+reached the seat of Hepzibah’s chair, and her papery 
+skin hung off her frame just like the crisp linen sheet 
+she wore draped like a toga. 
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+“How do I look?” said Hepzibah, turning her head to 
+admire the various angles of her face in the mirror. 
+“Lovely, madam,” squeaked Hokey. 
+Harry could only assume that it was down in Hokey’s 
+contract that she must lie through her teeth when 
+asked this question, because Hepzibah Smith looked 
+a long way from lovely in his opinion. 
+A tinkling doorbell rang and both mistress and elf 
+jumped. 
+“Quick, quick, he’s here, Hokey!” cried Hepzibah and 
+the elf scurried out of the room, which was so 
+crammed with objects that it was difficult to see how 
+anybody could navigate their way across it without 
+knocking over at least a dozen things: There were 
+cabinets full of little lacquered boxes, cases full of 
+gold-embossed books, shelves of orbs and celestial 
+globes, and many flourishing potted plants in brass 
+containers. In fact, the room looked like a cross 
+between a magical antique shop and a conservatory. 
+The house-elf returned within minutes, followed by a 
+tall young man Harry had no difficulty whatsoever in 
+recognizing as Voldemort. He was plainly dressed in a 
+black suit; his hair was a little longer than it had 
+been at school and his cheeks were hollowed, but all 
+of this suited him; he looked more handsome than 
+ever. He picked his way through the cramped room 
+with an air that showed he had visited many times 
+before and bowed low over Hepzibah’s fat little hand, 
+brushing it with his lips. 
+“I brought you flowers,” he said quietly, producing a 
+bunch of roses from nowhere. 
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+“You naughty boy, you shouldn’t have!” squealed old 
+Hepzibah, though Harry noticed that she had an 
+empty vase standing ready on the nearest little table. 
+“You do spoil this old lady, Tom. … Sit down, sit 
+down. … Where’s Hokey? Ah …” 
+The house-elf had come dashing back into the room 
+carrying a tray of little cakes, which she set at her 
+mistress’s elbow. 
+“Help yourself, Tom,” said Hepzibah, “I know how you 
+love my cakes. Now, how are you? You look pale. They 
+overwork you at that shop, I’ve said it a hundred 
+times. …” 
+Voldemort smiled mechanically and Hepzibah 
+simpered. 
+“Well, what’s your excuse for visiting this time?” she 
+asked, batting her lashes. 
+“Mr. Burke would like to make an improved offer for 
+the goblin-made armor,” said Voldemort. “Five 
+hundred Galleons, he feels it is a more than fair —” 
+“Now, now, not so fast, or I’ll think you’re only here 
+for my trinkets!” pouted Hepzibah. 
+“I am ordered here because of them,” said Voldemort 
+quietly. “I am only a poor assistant, madam, who 
+must do as he is told. Mr. Burke wishes me to inquire 
+—” 
+“Oh, Mr. Burke, phooey!” said Hepzibah, waving a 
+little hand. “I’ve something to show you that I’ve never 
+shown Mr. Burke! Can you keep a secret, Tom? Will 
+you promise you won’t tell Mr. Burke I’ve got it? He’d 
+never let me rest if he knew I’d shown it to you, and 
+I’m not selling, not to Burke, not to anyone! But you, 
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+Tom, you’ll appreciate it for its history, not how many 
+Galleons you can get for it.” 
+“I’d be glad to see anything Miss Hepzibah shows me,” 
+said Voldemort quietly, and Hepzibah gave another 
+girlish giggle. 
+“I had Hokey bring it out for me. … Hokey, where are 
+you? I want to show Mr. Riddle our finest treasure. … 
+In fact, bring both, while you’re at it. …” 
+“Here, madam,” squeaked the house-elf, and Harry 
+saw two leather boxes, one on top of the other, 
+moving across the room as if of their own volition, 
+though he knew the tiny elf was holding them over 
+her head as she wended her way between tables, 
+pouffes, and footstools. 
+“Now,” said Hepzibah happily, taking the boxes from 
+the elf, laying them in her lap, and preparing to open 
+the topmost one, “I think you’ll like this, Tom. … Oh, 
+if my family knew I was showing you. … They can’t 
+wait to get their hands on this!” 
+She opened the lid. Harry edged forward a little to get 
+a better view and saw what looked like a small golden 
+cup with two finely wrought handles. 
+“I wonder whether you know what it is, Tom? Pick it 
+up, have a good look!” whispered Hepzibah, and 
+Voldemort stretched out a long-fingered hand and 
+lifted the cup by one handle out of its snug silken 
+wrappings. Harry thought he saw a red gleam in his 
+dark eyes. His greedy expression was curiously 
+mirrored on Hepzibah’s face, except that her tiny eyes 
+were fixed upon Voldemort’s handsome features. 
+“A badger,” murmured Voldemort, examining the 
+engraving upon the cup. “Then this was … ?” 
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+“Helga Hufflepuff’s, as you very well know, you clever 
+boy!” said Hepzibah, leaning forward with a loud 
+creaking of corsets and actually pinching his hollow 
+cheek. “Didn’t I tell you I was distantly descended? 
+This has been handed down in the family for years 
+and years. Lovely, isn’t it? And all sorts of powers it’s 
+supposed to possess too, but I haven’t tested them 
+thoroughly, I just keep it nice and safe in here. …” 
+She hooked the cup back off Voldemort’s long 
+forefinger and restored it gently to its box, too intent 
+upon settling it carefully back into position to notice 
+the shadow that crossed Voldemort’s face as the cup 
+was taken away. 
+“Now then,” said Hepzibah happily, “where’s Hokey? 
+Oh yes, there you are — take that away now, Hokey.” 
+The elf obediently took the boxed cup, and Hepzibah 
+turned her attention to the much flatter box in her 
+lap. 
+“I think you’ll like this even more, Tom,” she 
+whispered. “Lean in a little, dear boy, so you can see. 
+… Of course, Burke knows I’ve got this one, I bought 
+it from him, and I daresay he’d love to get it back 
+when I’m gone. …” 
+She slid back the fine filigree clasp and flipped open 
+the box. There upon the smooth crimson velvet lay a 
+heavy golden locket. 
+Voldemort reached out his hand, without invitation 
+this time, and held it up to the light, staring at it. 
+“Slytherin’s mark,” he said quietly, as the light played 
+upon an ornate, serpentine S. 
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+“That’s right!” said Hepzibah, delighted, apparently, at 
+the sight of Voldemort gazing at her locket, transfixed. 
+“I had to pay an arm and a leg for it, but I couldn’t let 
+it pass, not a real treasure like that, had to have it for 
+my collection. Burke bought it, apparently, from a 
+ragged-looking woman who seemed to have stolen it, 
+but had no idea of its true value —” 
+There was no mistaking it this time: Voldemort’s eyes 
+flashed scarlet at the words, and Harry saw his 
+knuckles whiten on the locket’s chain. 
+“— I daresay Burke paid her a pittance but there you 
+are. … Pretty, isn’t it? And again, all kinds of powers 
+attributed to it, though I just keep it nice and safe. …” 
+She reached out to take the locket back. For a 
+moment, Harry thought Voldemort was not going to 
+let go of it, but then it had slid through his fingers 
+and was back in its red velvet cushion. 
+“So there you are, Tom, dear, and I hope you enjoyed 
+that!” 
+She looked him full in the face and for the first time, 
+Harry saw her foolish smile falter. 
+“Are you all right, dear?” 
+“Oh yes,” said Voldemort quietly. “Yes, I’m very well. 
+…” 
+“I thought — but a trick of the light, I suppose —” 
+said Hepzibah, looking unnerved, and Harry guessed 
+that she too had seen the momentary red gleam in 
+Voldemort’s eyes. “Here, Hokey, take these away and 
+lock them up again. … The usual enchantments …” 
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+“Time to leave, Harry,” said Dumbledore quietly, and 
+as the little elf bobbed away bearing the boxes, 
+Dumbledore grasped Harry once again above the 
+elbow and together they rose up through oblivion and 
+back to Dumbledore’s office. 
+“Hepzibah Smith died two days after that little scene,” 
+said Dumbledore, resuming his seat and indicating 
+that Harry should do the same. “Hokey the house-elf 
+was convicted by the Ministry of poisoning her 
+mistress’s evening cocoa by accident.” 
+“No way!” said Harry angrily. 
+“I see we are of one mind,” said Dumbledore. 
+“Certainly, there are many similarities between this 
+death and that of the Riddles. In both cases, 
+somebody else took the blame, someone who had a 
+clear memory of having caused the death —” 
+“Hokey confessed?” 
+“She remembered putting something in her mistress’s 
+cocoa that turned out not to be sugar, but a lethal 
+and little-known poison,” said Dumbledore. “It was 
+concluded that she had not meant to do it, but being 
+old and confused —” 
+“Voldemort modified her memory, just like he did with 
+Morfin!” 
+“Yes, that is my conclusion too,” said Dumbledore. 
+“And, just as with Morfin, the Ministry was 
+predisposed to suspect Hokey —” 
+“— because she was a house-elf,” said Harry. He had 
+rarely felt more in sympathy with the society 
+Hermione had set up, S.P.E.W. 
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+“Precisely,” said Dumbledore. “She was old, she 
+admitted to having tampered with the drink, and 
+nobody at the Ministry bothered to inquire further. As 
+in the case of Morfin, by the time I traced her and 
+managed to extract this memory, her life was almost 
+over — but her memory, of course, proves nothing 
+except that Voldemort knew of the existence of the 
+cup and the locket. 
+“By the time Hokey was convicted, Hepzibah’s family 
+had realized that two of her greatest treasures were 
+missing. It took them a while to be sure of this, for 
+she had many hiding places, having always guarded 
+her collection most jealously. But before they were 
+sure beyond doubt that the cup and the locket were 
+both gone, the assistant who had worked at Borgin 
+and Burkes, the young man who had visited 
+Hepzibah so regularly and charmed her so well, had 
+resigned his post and vanished. His superiors had no 
+idea where he had gone; they were as surprised as 
+anyone at his disappearance. And that was the last 
+that was seen or heard of Tom Riddle for a very long 
+time. 
+“Now,” said Dumbledore, “if you don’t mind, Harry, I 
+want to pause once more to draw your attention to 
+certain points of our story. Voldemort had committed 
+another murder; whether it was his first since he 
+killed the Riddles, I do not know, but I think it was. 
+This time, as you will have seen, he killed not for 
+revenge, but for gain. He wanted the two fabulous 
+trophies that poor, besotted, old woman showed him. 
+Just as he had once robbed the other children at his 
+orphanage, just as he had stolen his Uncle Morfin’s 
+ring, so he ran off now with Hepzibah’s cup and 
+locket.” 
+“But,” said Harry, frowning, “it seems mad. … Risking 
+everything, throwing away his job, just for those …” 
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+“Mad to you, perhaps, but not to Voldemort,” said 
+Dumbledore. “I hope you will understand in due 
+course exactly what those objects meant to him, 
+Harry, but you must admit that it is not difficult to 
+imagine that he saw the locket, at least, as rightfully 
+his.” 
+“The locket maybe,” said Harry, “but why take the 
+cup as well?” 
+“It had belonged to another of Hogwarts’s founders,” 
+said Dumbledore. “I think he still felt a great pull 
+toward the school and that he could not resist an 
+object so steeped in Hogwarts history. There were 
+other reasons, I think. … I hope to be able to 
+demonstrate them to you in due course. 
+“And now for the very last recollection I have to show 
+you, at least until you manage to retrieve Professor 
+Slughorn’s memory for us. Ten years separates 
+Hokey’s memory and this one, ten years during which 
+we can only guess at what Lord Voldemort was doing. 
+…” 
+Harry got to his feet once more as Dumbledore 
+emptied the last memory into the Pensieve. 
+“Whose memory is it?” he asked. 
+“Mine,” said Dumbledore. 
+And Harry dived after Dumbledore through the 
+shifting silver mass, landing in the very office he had 
+just left. There was Fawkes slumbering happily on his 
+perch, and there behind the desk was Dumbledore, 
+who looked very similar to the Dumbledore standing 
+beside Harry, though both hands were whole and 
+undamaged and his face was, perhaps, a little less 
+lined. The one difference between the present-day 
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+office and this one was that it was snowing in the 
+past; bluish flecks were drifting past the window in 
+the dark and building up on the outside ledge. 
+The younger Dumbledore seemed to be waiting for 
+something, and sure enough, moments after their 
+arrival, there was a knock on the door and he said, 
+“Enter.” 
+Harry let out a hastily stifled gasp. Voldemort had 
+entered the room. His features were not those Harry 
+had seen emerge from the great stone cauldron 
+almost two years ago: They were not as snakelike, the 
+eyes were not yet scarlet, the face not yet masklike, 
+and yet he was no longer handsome Tom Riddle. It 
+was as though his features had been burned and 
+blurred; they were waxy and oddly distorted, and the 
+whites of the eyes now had a permanently bloody 
+look, though the pupils were not yet the slits that 
+Harry knew they would become. He was wearing a 
+long black cloak, and his face was as pale as the 
+snow glistening on his shoulders. 
+The Dumbledore behind the desk showed no sign of 
+surprise. Evidently this visit had been made by 
+appointment. 
+“Good evening, Tom,” said Dumbledore easily. “Won’t 
+you sit down?” 
+“Thank you,” said Voldemort, and he took the seat to 
+which Dumbledore had gestured — the very seat, by 
+the looks of it, that Harry had just vacated in the 
+present. “I heard that you had become headmaster,” 
+he said, and his voice was slightly higher and colder 
+than it had been. “A worthy choice.” 
+“I am glad you approve,” said Dumbledore, smiling. 
+“May I offer you a drink?” 
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+“That would be welcome,” said Voldemort. “I have 
+come a long way.” 
+Dumbledore stood and swept over to the cabinet 
+where he now kept the Pensieve, but which then was 
+full of bottles. Having handed Voldemort a goblet of 
+wine and poured one for himself, he returned to the 
+seat behind his desk. 
+“So, Tom … to what do I owe the pleasure?” 
+Voldemort did not answer at once, but merely sipped 
+his wine. 
+“They do not call me ‘Tom’ anymore,” he said. “These 
+days, I am known as —” 
+“I know what you are known as,” said Dumbledore, 
+smiling pleasantly. “But to me, I’m afraid, you will 
+always be Tom Riddle. It is one of the irritating things 
+about old teachers. I am afraid that they never quite 
+forget their charges’ youthful beginnings.” 
+He raised his glass as though toasting Voldemort, 
+whose face remained expressionless. Nevertheless, 
+Harry felt the atmosphere in the room change subtly: 
+Dumbledore’s refusal to use Voldemort’s chosen 
+name was a refusal to allow Voldemort to dictate the 
+terms of the meeting, and Harry could tell that 
+Voldemort took it as such. 
+“I am surprised you have remained here so long,” said 
+Voldemort after a short pause. “I always wondered 
+why a wizard such as yourself never wished to leave 
+school.” 
+“Well,” said Dumbledore, still smiling, “to a wizard 
+such as myself, there can be nothing more important 
+than passing on ancient skills, helping hone young 
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+minds. If I remember correctly, you once saw the 
+attraction of teaching too.” 
+“I see it still,” said Voldemort. “I merely wondered why 
+you — who are so often asked for advice by the 
+Ministry, and who have twice, I think, been offered 
+the post of Minister —” 
+“Three times at the last count, actually,” said 
+Dumbledore. “But the Ministry never attracted me as 
+a career. Again, something we have in common, I 
+think.” 
+Voldemort inclined his head, unsmiling, and took 
+another sip of wine. Dumbledore did not break the 
+silence that stretched between them now, but waited, 
+with a look of pleasant expectancy, for Voldemort to 
+talk first. 
+“I have returned,” he said, after a little while, “later, 
+perhaps, than Professor Dippet expected … but I have 
+returned, nevertheless, to request again what he once 
+told me I was too young to have. I have come to you to 
+ask that you permit me to return to this castle, to 
+teach. I think you must know that I have seen and 
+done much since I left this place. I could show and 
+tell your students things they can gain from no other 
+wizard.” 
+Dumbledore considered Voldemort over the top of his 
+own goblet for a while before speaking. 
+“Yes, I certainly do know that you have seen and done 
+much since leaving us,” he said quietly. “Rumors of 
+your doings have reached your old school, Tom. I 
+should be sorry to believe half of them.” 
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+Voldemort’s expression remained impassive as he 
+said, “Greatness inspires envy, envy engenders spite, 
+spite spawns lies. You must know this, Dumbledore.” 
+“You call it ‘greatness,’ what you have been doing, do 
+you?” asked Dumbledore delicately. 
+“Certainly,” said Voldemort, and his eyes seemed to 
+burn red. “I have experimented; I have pushed the 
+boundaries of magic further, perhaps, than they have 
+ever been pushed —” 
+“Of some kinds of magic,” Dumbledore corrected him 
+quietly. “Of some. Of others, you remain … forgive me 
+… woefully ignorant.” 
+For the first time, Voldemort smiled. It was a taut 
+leer, an evil thing, more threatening than a look of 
+rage. 
+“The old argument,” he said softly. “But nothing I 
+have seen in the world has supported your famous 
+pronouncements that love is more powerful than my 
+kind of magic, Dumbledore.” 
+“Perhaps you have been looking in the wrong places,” 
+suggested Dumbledore. 
+“Well, then, what better place to start my fresh 
+researches than here, at Hogwarts?” said Voldemort. 
+“Will you let me return? Will you let me share my 
+knowledge with your students? I place myself and my 
+talents at your disposal. I am yours to command.” 
+Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. “And what will 
+become of those whom you command? What will 
+happen to those who call themselves — or so rumor 
+has it — the Death Eaters?” 
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+Harry could tell that Voldemort had not expected 
+Dumbledore to know this name; he saw Voldemort’s 
+eyes flash red again and the slitlike nostrils flare. 
+“My friends,” he said, after a moment’s pause, “will 
+carry on without me, I am sure.” 
+“I am glad to hear that you consider them friends,” 
+said Dumbledore. “I was under the impression that 
+they are more in the order of servants.” 
+“You are mistaken,” said Voldemort. 
+“Then if I were to go to the Hog’s Head tonight, I 
+would not find a group of them — Nott, Rosier, 
+Mulciber, Dolohov — awaiting your return? Devoted 
+friends indeed, to travel this far with you on a snowy 
+night, merely to wish you luck as you attempted to 
+secure a teaching post.” 
+There could be no doubt that Dumbledore’s detailed 
+knowledge of those with whom he was traveling was 
+even less welcome to Voldemort; however, he rallied 
+almost at once. 
+“You are omniscient as ever, Dumbledore.” 
+“Oh no, merely friendly with the local barmen,” said 
+Dumbledore lightly. “Now, Tom …” 
+Dumbledore set down his empty glass and drew 
+himself up in his seat, the tips of his fingers together 
+in a very characteristic gesture. 
+“Let us speak openly. Why have you come here 
+tonight, surrounded by henchmen, to request a job 
+we both know you do not want?” 
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+Voldemort looked coldly surprised. “A job I do not 
+want? On the contrary, Dumbledore, I want it very 
+much.” 
+“Oh, you want to come back to Hogwarts, but you do 
+not want to teach any more than you wanted to when 
+you were eighteen. What is it you’re after, Tom? Why 
+not try an open request for once?” 
+Voldemort sneered. “If you do not want to give me a 
+job —” 
+“Of course I don’t,” said Dumbledore. “And I don’t 
+think for a moment you expected me to. Nevertheless, 
+you came here, you asked, you must have had a 
+purpose.” 
+Voldemort stood up. He looked less like Tom Riddle 
+than ever, his features thick with rage. “This is your 
+final word?” 
+“It is,” said Dumbledore, also standing. 
+“Then we have nothing more to say to each other.” 
+“No, nothing,” said Dumbledore, and a great sadness 
+filled his face. “The time is long gone when I could 
+frighten you with a burning wardrobe and force you 
+to make repayment for your crimes. But I wish I 
+could, Tom. … I wish I could. …” 
+For a second, Harry was on the verge of shouting a 
+pointless warning: He was sure that Voldemort’s hand 
+had twitched toward his pocket and his wand; but 
+then the moment had passed, Voldemort had turned 
+away, the door was closing, and he was gone. 
+Harry felt Dumbledore’s hand close over his arm 
+again and moments later, they were standing together 
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+on almost the same spot, but there was no snow 
+building on the window ledge, and Dumbledore’s 
+hand was blackened and dead-looking once more. 
+“Why?” said Harry at once, looking up into 
+Dumbledore’s face. “Why did he come back? Did you 
+ever find out?” 
+“I have ideas,” said Dumbledore, “but no more than 
+that.” 
+“What ideas, sir?” 
+“I shall tell you, Harry, when you have retrieved that 
+memory from Professor Slughorn,” said Dumbledore. 
+“When you have that last piece of the jigsaw, 
+everything will, I hope, be clear … to both of us.” 
+Harry was still burning with curiosity and even 
+though Dumbledore had walked to the door and was 
+holding it open for him, he did not move at once. 
+“Was he after the Defense Against the Dark Arts job 
+again, sir? He didn’t say. …” 
+“Oh, he definitely wanted the Defense Against the 
+Dark Arts job,” said Dumbledore. “The aftermath of 
+our little meeting proved that. You see, we have never 
+been able to keep a Defense Against the Dark Arts 
+teacher for longer than a year since I refused the post 
+to Lord Voldemort.” 
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+ 
+ 
+THE UNKNOWABLE ROOM 
+Harry wracked his brains over the next week as to 
+how he was to persuade Slughorn to hand over the 
+true memory, but nothing in the nature of a brain 
+wave occurred and he was reduced to doing what he 
+did increasingly these days when at a loss: poring 
+over his Potions book, hoping that the Prince would 
+have scribbled something useful in a margin, as he 
+had done so many times before. 
+“You won’t find anything in there,” said Hermione 
+firmly, late on Sunday evening. 
+“Don’t start, Hermione,” said Harry. “If it hadn’t been 
+for the Prince, Ron wouldn’t be sitting here now.” 
+“He would if you’d just listened to Snape in our first 
+year,” said Hermione dismissively. 
+Harry ignored her. He had just found an incantation 
+(“Sectumsempra!”) scrawled in a margin above the 
+intriguing words “For Enemies,” and was itching to 
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+try it out, but thought it best not to in front of 
+Hermione. Instead, he surreptitiously folded down the 
+corner of the page. 
+They were sitting beside the fire in the common room; 
+the only other people awake were fellow sixth years. 
+There had been a certain amount of excitement earlier 
+when they had come back from dinner to find a new 
+sign on the notice board that announced the date for 
+their Apparition Test. Those who would be seventeen 
+on or before the first test date, the twenty-first of 
+April, had the option of signing up for additional 
+practice sessions, which would take place (heavily 
+supervised) in Hogsmeade. 
+Ron had panicked on reading this notice; he had still 
+not managed to Apparate and feared he would not be 
+ready for the test. Hermione, who had now achieved 
+Apparition twice, was a little more confident, but 
+Harry, who would not be seventeen for another four 
+months, could not take the test whether ready or not. 
+“At least you can Apparate, though!” said Ron tensely. 
+“You’ll have no trouble come July!” 
+“I’ve only done it once,” Harry reminded him; he had 
+finally managed to disappear and rematerialize inside 
+his hoop during their previous lesson. 
+Having wasted a lot of time worrying aloud about 
+Apparition, Ron was now struggling to finish a 
+viciously difficult essay for Snape that Harry and 
+Hermione had already completed. Harry fully 
+expected to receive low marks on his, because he had 
+disagreed with Snape on the best way to tackle 
+dementors, but he did not care: Slughorn’s memory 
+was the most important thing to him now. 
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+“I’m telling you, the stupid Prince isn’t going to be 
+able to help you with this, Harry!” said Hermione, 
+more loudly. “There’s only one way to force someone 
+to do what you want, and that’s the Imperius Curse, 
+which is illegal —” 
+“Yeah, I know that, thanks,” said Harry, not looking 
+up from the book. “That’s why I’m looking for 
+something different. Dumbledore says Veritaserum 
+won’t do it, but there might be something else, a 
+potion or a spell. …” 
+“You’re going about it the wrong way,” said Hermione. 
+“Only you can get the memory, Dumbledore says. 
+That must mean you can persuade Slughorn where 
+other people can’t. It’s not a question of slipping him 
+a potion, anyone could do that —” 
+“How d’you spell ‘belligerent’?” said Ron, shaking his 
+quill very hard while staring at his parchment. “It 
+can’t be B — U — M —” 
+“No, it isn’t,” said Hermione, pulling Ron’s essay 
+toward her. “And ‘augury’ doesn’t begin O — R — G 
+either. What kind of quill are you using?” 
+“It’s one of Fred and George’s Spell-Check ones … but 
+I think the charm must be wearing off. …” 
+“Yes, it must,” said Hermione, pointing at the title of 
+his essay, “because we were asked how we’d deal with 
+dementors, not ‘Dugbogs,’ and I don’t remember you 
+changing your name to ‘Roonil Wazlib’ either.” 
+“Ah no!” said Ron, staring horror-struck at the 
+parchment. “Don’t say I’ll have to write the whole 
+thing out again!” 
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+“It’s okay, we can fix it,” said Hermione, pulling the 
+essay toward her and taking out her wand. 
+“I love you, Hermione,” said Ron, sinking back in his 
+chair, rubbing his eyes wearily. 
+Hermione turned faintly pink, but merely said, “Don’t 
+let Lavender hear you saying that.” 
+“I won’t,” said Ron into his hands. “Or maybe I will … 
+then she’ll ditch me …” 
+“Why don’t you ditch her if you want to finish it?” 
+asked Harry. 
+“You haven’t ever chucked anyone, have you?” said 
+Ron. “You and Cho just —” 
+“Sort of fell apart, yeah,” said Harry 
+“Wish that would happen with me and Lavender,” 
+said Ron gloomily, watching Hermione silently 
+tapping each of his misspelled words with the end of 
+her wand, so that they corrected themselves on the 
+page. “But the more I hint I want to finish it, the 
+tighter she holds on. It’s like going out with the giant 
+squid.” 
+“There,” said Hermione, some twenty minutes later, 
+handing back Ron’s essay. 
+“Thanks a million,” said Ron. “Can I borrow your quill 
+for the conclusion?” 
+Harry, who had found nothing useful in the Half-
+Blood Prince’s notes so far, looked around; the three 
+of them were now the only ones left in the common 
+room, Seamus having just gone up to bed cursing 
+Snape and his essay. The only sounds were the 
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+crackling of the fire and Ron scratching out one last 
+paragraph on dementors using Hermione’s quill. 
+Harry had just closed the Half-Blood Prince’s book, 
+yawning, when — 
+Crack. 
+Hermione let out a little shriek; Ron spilled ink all 
+over his freshly completed essay, and Harry said, 
+“Kreacher!” 
+The house-elf bowed low and addressed his own 
+gnarled toes. 
+“Master said he wanted regular reports on what the 
+Malfoy boy is doing, so Kreacher has come to give —” 
+Crack. 
+Dobby appeared alongside Kreacher, his tea-cozy hat 
+askew. 
+“Dobby has been helping too, Harry Potter!” he 
+squeaked, casting Kreacher a resentful look. “And 
+Kreacher ought to tell Dobby when he is coming to 
+see Harry Potter so they can make their reports 
+together!” 
+“What is this?” asked Hermione, still looking shocked 
+by these sudden appearances. “What’s going on, 
+Harry?” 
+Harry hesitated before answering, because he had not 
+told Hermione about setting Kreacher and Dobby to 
+tail Malfoy; house-elves were always such a touchy 
+subject with her. 
+“Well … they’ve been following Malfoy for me,” he 
+said. 
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+“Night and day,” croaked Kreacher. 
+“Dobby has not slept for a week, Harry Potter!” said 
+Dobby proudly, swaying where he stood. 
+Hermione looked indignant. 
+“You haven’t slept, Dobby? But surely, Harry, you 
+didn’t tell him not to —” 
+“No, of course I didn’t,” said Harry quickly. “Dobby, 
+you can sleep, all right? But has either of you found 
+out anything?” he hastened to ask, before Hermione 
+could intervene again. 
+“Master Malfoy moves with a nobility that befits his 
+pure blood,” croaked Kreacher at once. “His features 
+recall the fine bones of my mistress and his manners 
+are those of —” 
+“Draco Malfoy is a bad boy!” squeaked Dobby angrily. 
+“A bad boy who — who —” 
+He shuddered from the tassel of his tea cozy to the 
+toes of his socks and then ran at the fire, as though 
+about to dive into it; Harry, to whom this was not 
+entirely unexpected, caught him around the middle 
+and held him fast. For a few seconds Dobby 
+struggled, then went limp. 
+“Thank you, Harry Potter,” he panted. “Dobby still 
+finds it difficult to speak ill of his old masters. …” 
+Harry released him; Dobby straightened his tea cozy 
+and said defiantly to Kreacher, “But Kreacher should 
+know that Draco Malfoy is not a good master to a 
+house-elf!” 
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+“Yeah, we don’t need to hear about you being in love 
+with Malfoy,” Harry told Kreacher. “Let’s fast forward 
+to where he’s actually been going.” 
+Kreacher bowed again, looking furious, and then said, 
+“Master Malfoy eats in the Great Hall, he sleeps in a 
+dormitory in the dungeons, he attends his classes in 
+a variety of —” 
+“Dobby, you tell me,” said Harry, cutting across 
+Kreacher. “Has he been going anywhere he shouldn’t 
+have?” 
+“Harry Potter, sir,” squeaked Dobby, his great orblike 
+eyes shining in the firelight, “the Malfoy boy is 
+breaking no rules that Dobby can discover, but he is 
+still keen to avoid detection. He has been making 
+regular visits to the seventh floor with a variety of 
+other students, who keep watch for him while he 
+enters —” 
+“The Room of Requirement!” said Harry, smacking 
+himself hard on the forehead with Advanced Potion-
+Making. Hermione and Ron stared at him. “That’s 
+where he’s been sneaking off to! That’s where he’s 
+doing … whatever he’s doing! And I bet that’s why 
+he’s been disappearing off the map — come to think 
+of it, I’ve never seen the Room of Requirement on 
+there!” 
+“Maybe the Marauders never knew the room was 
+there,” said Ron. 
+“I think it’ll be part of the magic of the room,” said 
+Hermione. “If you need it to be Unplottable, it will be.” 
+“Dobby, have you managed to get in to have a look at 
+what Malfoy’s doing?” said Harry eagerly. 
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+“No, Harry Potter, that is impossible,” said Dobby. 
+“No, it’s not,” said Harry at once. “Malfoy got into our 
+headquarters there last year, so I’ll be able to get in 
+and spy on him, no problem.” 
+“But I don’t think you will, Harry,” said Hermione 
+slowly. “Malfoy already knew exactly how we were 
+using the room, didn’t he, because that stupid 
+Marietta had blabbed. He needed the room to become 
+the headquarters of the D.A., so it did. But you don’t 
+know what the room becomes when Malfoy goes in 
+there, so you don’t know what to ask it to transform 
+into.” 
+“There’ll be a way around that,” said Harry 
+dismissively. “You’ve done brilliantly, Dobby.” 
+“Kreacher’s done well too,” said Hermione kindly; but 
+far from looking grateful, Kreacher averted his huge, 
+bloodshot eyes and croaked at the ceiling, “The 
+Mudblood is speaking to Kreacher, Kreacher will 
+pretend he cannot hear —” 
+“Get out of it,” Harry snapped at him, and Kreacher 
+made one last deep bow and Disapparated. “You’d 
+better go and get some sleep too, Dobby.” 
+“Thank you, Harry Potter, sir!” squeaked Dobby 
+happily, and he too vanished. 
+“How good’s this?” said Harry enthusiastically, 
+turning to Ron and Hermione the moment the room 
+was elf-free again. “We know where Malfoy’s going! 
+We’ve got him cornered now!” 
+“Yeah, it’s great,” said Ron glumly, who was 
+attempting to mop up the sodden mass of ink that 
+had recently been an almost completed essay. 
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+Hermione pulled it toward her and began siphoning 
+the ink off with her wand. 
+“But what’s all this about him going up there with a 
+‘variety of students’?” said Hermione. “How many 
+people are in on it? You wouldn’t think he’d trust lots 
+of them to know what he’s doing. …” 
+“Yeah, that is weird,” said Harry, frowning. “I heard 
+him telling Crabbe it wasn’t Crabbe’s business what 
+he was doing … so what’s he telling all these … all 
+these …” 
+Harry’s voice tailed away; he was staring at the fire. 
+“God, I’ve been stupid,” he said quietly. “It’s obvious, 
+isn’t it? There was a great vat of it down in the 
+dungeon. … He could’ve nicked some any time during 
+that lesson. …” 
+“Nicked what?” said Ron. 
+“Polyjuice Potion. He stole some of the Polyjuice 
+Potion Slughorn showed us in our first Potions 
+lesson. … There aren’t a whole variety of students 
+standing guard for Malfoy … it’s just Crabbe and 
+Goyle as usual. … Yeah, it all fits!” said Harry, 
+jumping up and starting to pace in front of the fire. 
+“They’re stupid enough to do what they’re told even if 
+he won’t tell them what he’s up to … but he doesn’t 
+want them to be seen lurking around outside the 
+Room of Requirement, so he’s got them taking 
+Polyjuice to make them look like other people. … 
+Those two girls I saw him with when he missed 
+Quidditch — ha! Crabbe and Goyle!” 
+“Do you mean to say,” said Hermione in a hushed 
+voice, “that that little girl whose scales I repaired — ?” 
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+“Yeah, of course!” said Harry loudly, staring at her. 
+“Of course! Malfoy must’ve been inside the room at 
+the time, so she — what am I talking about? — he 
+dropped the scales to tell Malfoy not to come out, 
+because there was someone there! And there was that 
+girl who dropped the toadspawn too! We’ve been 
+walking past him all the time and not realizing it!” 
+“He’s got Crabbe and Goyle transforming into girls?” 
+guffawed Ron. “Blimey … No wonder they don’t look 
+too happy these days. … I’m surprised they don’t tell 
+him to stuff it. …” 
+“Well, they wouldn’t, would they, if he’s shown them 
+his Dark Mark?” said Harry. 
+“Hmmm … the Dark Mark we don’t know exists,” said 
+Hermione skeptically, rolling up Ron’s dried essay 
+before it could come to any more harm and handing it 
+to him. 
+“We’ll see,” said Harry confidently. 
+“Yes, we will,” Hermione said, getting to her feet and 
+stretching. “But, Harry, before you get all excited, I 
+still don’t think you’ll be able to get into the Room of 
+Requirement without knowing what’s there first. And 
+I don’t think you should forget” — she heaved her bag 
+onto her shoulder and gave him a very serious look — 
+“that what you’re supposed to be concentrating on is 
+getting that memory from Slughorn. Good night.” 
+Harry watched her go, feeling slightly disgruntled. 
+Once the door to the girls’ dormitories had closed 
+behind her he rounded on Ron. 
+“What d’you think?” 
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+“Wish I could Disapparate like a house-elf,” said Ron, 
+staring at the spot where Dobby had vanished. “I’d 
+have that Apparition Test in the bag.” 
+Harry did not sleep well that night. He lay awake for 
+what felt like hours, wondering how Malfoy was using 
+the Room of Requirement and what he, Harry, would 
+see when he went in there the following day, for 
+whatever Hermione said, Harry was sure that if 
+Malfoy had been able to see the headquarters of the 
+D.A., he would be able to see Malfoy’s … what could it 
+be? A meeting place? A hideout? A storeroom? A 
+workshop? Harry’s mind worked feverishly and his 
+dreams, when he finally fell asleep, were broken and 
+disturbed by images of Malfoy, who turned into 
+Slughorn, who turned into Snape. … 
+Harry was in a state of great anticipation over 
+breakfast the following morning; he had a free period 
+before Defense Against the Dark Arts and was 
+determined to spend it trying to get into the Room of 
+Requirement. Hermione was rather ostentatiously 
+showing no interest in his whispered plans for forcing 
+entry into the room, which irritated Harry, because he 
+thought she might be a lot of help if she wanted to. 
+“Look,” he said quietly, leaning forward and putting a 
+hand on the Daily Prophet, which she had just 
+removed from a post owl, to stop her from opening it 
+and vanishing behind it. “I haven’t forgotten about 
+Slughorn, but I haven’t got a clue how to get that 
+memory off him, and until I get a brain wave why 
+shouldn’t I find out what Malfoy’s doing?” 
+“I’ve already told you, you need to persuade 
+Slughorn,” said Hermione. “It’s not a question of 
+tricking him or bewitching him, or Dumbledore could 
+have done it in a second. Instead of messing around 
+outside the Room of Requirement” — she jerked the 
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+Prophet out from under Harry’s hand and unfolded it 
+to look at the front page — “you should go and find 
+Slughorn and start appealing to his better nature.” 
+“Anyone we know — ?” asked Ron, as Hermione 
+scanned the headlines. 
+“Yes!” said Hermione, causing both Harry and Ron to 
+gag on their breakfast. “But it’s all right, he’s not 
+dead — it’s Mundungus, he’s been arrested and sent 
+to Azkaban! Something to do with impersonating an 
+Inferius during an attempted burglary … and 
+someone called Octavius Pepper has vanished. … Oh, 
+and how horrible, a nine-year-old boy has been 
+arrested for trying to kill his grandparents, they think 
+he was under the Imperius Curse. …” 
+They finished their breakfast in silence. Hermione set 
+off immediately for Ancient Runes; Ron for the 
+common room, where he still had to finish his 
+conclusion on Snape’s dementor essay; and Harry for 
+the corridor on the seventh floor and the stretch of 
+wall opposite the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy 
+teaching trolls to do ballet. 
+Harry slipped on his Invisibility Cloak once he had 
+found an empty passage, but he need not have 
+bothered. When he reached his destination he found 
+it deserted. Harry was not sure whether his chances 
+of getting inside the room were better with Malfoy 
+inside it or out, but at least his first attempt was not 
+going to be complicated by the presence of Crabbe or 
+Goyle pretending to be an eleven-year-old girl. 
+He closed his eyes as he approached the place where 
+the Room of Requirement’s door was concealed. He 
+knew what he had to do; he had become most 
+accomplished at it last year. Concentrating with all 
+his might he thought, I need to see what Malfoy’s 
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+doing in here. … I need to see what Malfoy’s doing in 
+here. … I need to see what Malfoy’s doing in here. … 
+Three times he walked past the door; then, his heart 
+pounding with excitement, he opened his eyes and 
+faced it — 
+But he was still looking at a stretch of mundanely 
+blank wall. 
+He moved forward and gave it an experimental push. 
+The stone remained solid and unyielding. 
+“Okay,” said Harry aloud. “Okay … I thought the 
+wrong thing. …” 
+He pondered for a moment then set off again, eyes 
+closed, concentrating as hard as he could. 
+I need to see the place where Malfoy keeps coming 
+secretly. … I need to see the place where Malfoy keeps 
+coming secretly. … 
+After three walks past, he opened his eyes 
+expectantly. 
+There was no door. 
+“Oh, come off it,” he told the wall irritably. “That was 
+a clear instruction. … Fine …” 
+He thought hard for several minutes before striding 
+off once more. 
+I need you to become the place you become for Draco 
+Malfoy. … 
+He did not immediately open his eyes when he had 
+finished his patrolling; he was listening hard, as 
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+though he might hear the door pop into existence. He 
+heard nothing, however, except the distant twittering 
+of birds outside. He opened his eyes. 
+There was still no door. 
+Harry swore. Someone screamed. He looked around to 
+see a gaggle of first years running back around the 
+corner, apparently under the impression that they 
+had just encountered a particularly foulmouthed 
+ghost. 
+Harry tried every variation of “I need to see what 
+Draco Malfoy is doing inside you” that he could think 
+of for a whole hour, at the end of which he was forced 
+to concede that Hermione might have had a point: 
+The room simply did not want to open for him. 
+Frustrated and annoyed, he set off for Defense 
+Against the Dark Arts, pulling off his Invisibility Cloak 
+and stuffing it into his bag as he went. 
+“Late again, Potter,” said Snape coldly, as Harry 
+hurried into the candlelit classroom. “Ten points from 
+Gryffindor.” 
+Harry scowled at Snape as he flung himself into the 
+seat beside Ron; half the class was still on its feet, 
+taking out books and organizing their things; he 
+could not be much later than any of them. 
+“Before we start, I want your dementor essays,” said 
+Snape, waving his wand carelessly, so that twenty-
+five scrolls of parchment soared into the air and 
+landed in a neat pile on his desk. “And I hope for your 
+sakes they are better than the tripe I had to endure 
+on resisting the Imperius Curse. Now, if you will all 
+open your books to page — what is it, Mr. Finnigan?” 
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+“Sir,” said Seamus, “I’ve been wondering, how do you 
+tell the difference between an Inferius and a ghost? 
+Because there was something in the paper about an 
+Inferius —” 
+“No, there wasn’t,” said Snape in a bored voice. 
+“But sir, I heard people talking —” 
+“If you had actually read the article in question, Mr. 
+Finnigan, you would have known that the so-called 
+Inferius was nothing but a smelly sneak thief by the 
+name of Mundungus Fletcher.” 
+“I thought Snape and Mundungus were on the same 
+side,” muttered Harry to Ron and Hermione. 
+“Shouldn’t he be upset Mundungus has been arrest 
+—” 
+“But Potter seems to have a lot to say on the subject,” 
+said Snape, pointing suddenly at the back of the 
+room, his black eyes fixed on Harry “Let us ask Potter 
+how we would tell the difference between an Inferius 
+and a ghost.” 
+The whole class looked around at Harry, who hastily 
+tried to recall what Dumbledore had told him the 
+night that they had gone to visit Slughorn. 
+“Er — well — ghosts are transparent —” he said. 
+“Oh, very good,” interrupted Snape, his lip curling. 
+“Yes, it is easy to see that nearly six years of magical 
+education have not been wasted on you, Potter. 
+‘Ghosts are transparent.’ ” 
+Pansy Parkinson let out a high-pitched giggle. Several 
+other people were smirking. Harry took a deep breath 
+and continued calmly, though his insides were 
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+boiling, “Yeah, ghosts are transparent, but Inferi are 
+dead bodies, aren’t they? So they’d be solid —” 
+“A five-year-old could have told us as much,” sneered 
+Snape. “The Inferius is a corpse that has been 
+reanimated by a Dark wizard’s spells. It is not alive, it 
+is merely used like a puppet to do the wizard’s 
+bidding. A ghost, as I trust that you are all aware by 
+now, is the imprint of a departed soul left upon the 
+earth … and of course, as Potter so wisely tells us, 
+transparent.” 
+“Well, what Harry said is the most useful if we’re 
+trying to tell them apart!” said Ron. “When we come 
+face-to-face with one down a dark alley, we’re going to 
+be having a shufti to see if it’s solid, aren’t we, we’re 
+not going to be asking, ‘Excuse me, are you the 
+imprint of a departed soul?’ ” 
+There was a ripple of laughter, instantly quelled by 
+the look Snape gave the class. 
+“Another ten points from Gryffindor,” said Snape. “I 
+would expect nothing more sophisticated from you, 
+Ronald Weasley, the boy so solid he cannot Apparate 
+half an inch across a room.” 
+“No!” whispered Hermione, grabbing Harry’s arm as 
+he opened his mouth furiously. “There’s no point, 
+you’ll just end up in detention again, leave it!” 
+“Now open your books to page two hundred and 
+thirteen,” said Snape, smirking a little, “and read the 
+first two paragraphs on the Cruciatus Curse. …” 
+Ron was very subdued all through the class. When 
+the bell sounded at the end of the lesson, Lavender 
+caught up with Ron and Harry (Hermione 
+mysteriously melted out of sight as she approached) 
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+and abused Snape hotly for his jibe about Ron’s 
+Apparition, but this seemed to merely irritate Ron, 
+and he shook her off by making a detour into the 
+boys’ bathroom with Harry. 
+“Snape’s right, though, isn’t he?” said Ron, after 
+staring into a cracked mirror for a minute or two. “I 
+dunno whether it’s worth me taking the test. I just 
+can’t get the hang of Apparition.” 
+“You might as well do the extra practice sessions in 
+Hogsmeade and see where they get you,” said Harry 
+reasonably. “It’ll be more interesting than trying to get 
+into a stupid hoop anyway. Then, if you’re still not — 
+you know — as good as you’d like to be, you can 
+postpone the test, do it with me over the summ — 
+Myrtle, this is the boys’ bathroom!” 
+The ghost of a girl had risen out of the toilet in a 
+cubicle behind them and was now floating in midair, 
+staring at them through thick, white, round glasses. 
+“Oh,” she said glumly. “It’s you two.” 
+“Who were you expecting?” said Ron, looking at her in 
+the mirror. 
+“Nobody,” said Myrtle, picking moodily at a spot on 
+her chin. “He said he’d come back and see me, but 
+then you said you’d pop in and visit me too” — she 
+gave Harry a reproachful look — “and I haven’t seen 
+you for months and months. I’ve learned not to expect 
+too much from boys.” 
+“I thought you lived in that girls’ bathroom?” said 
+Harry, who had been careful to give the place a wide 
+berth for some years now. 
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+“I do,” she said, with a sulky little shrug, “but that 
+doesn’t mean I can’t visit other places. I came and 
+saw you in your bath once, remember?” 
+“Vividly,” said Harry. 
+“But I thought he liked me,” she said plaintively. 
+“Maybe if you two left, he’d come back again. … We 
+had lots in common. … I’m sure he felt it. …” 
+And she looked hopefully toward the door. 
+“When you say you had lots in common,” said Ron, 
+sounding rather amused now, “d’you mean he lives in 
+an S-bend too?” 
+“No,” said Myrtle defiantly, her voice echoing loudly 
+around the old tiled bathroom. “I mean he’s sensitive, 
+people bully him too, and he feels lonely and hasn’t 
+got anybody to talk to, and he’s not afraid to show his 
+feelings and cry!” 
+“There’s been a boy in here crying?” said Harry 
+curiously. “A young boy?” 
+“Never you mind!” said Myrtle, her small, leaky eyes 
+fixed on Ron, who was now definitely grinning. “I 
+promised I wouldn’t tell anyone, and I’ll take his 
+secret to the —” 
+“— not the grave, surely?” said Ron with a snort. “The 
+sewers, maybe …” 
+Myrtle gave a howl of rage and dived back into the 
+toilet, causing water to slop over the sides and onto 
+the floor. Goading Myrtle seemed to have put fresh 
+heart into Ron. 
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+“You’re right,” he said, swinging his schoolbag back 
+over his shoulder, “I’ll do the practice sessions in 
+Hogsmeade before I decide about taking the test.” 
+And so the following weekend, Ron joined Hermione 
+and the rest of the sixth years who would turn 
+seventeen in time to take the test in a fortnight. Harry 
+felt rather jealous watching them all get ready to go 
+into the village; he missed making trips there, and it 
+was a particularly fine spring day, one of the first 
+clear skies they had seen in a long time. However, he 
+had decided to use the time to attempt another 
+assault on the Room of Requirement. 
+“You’d do better,” said Hermione, when he confided 
+this plan to Ron and her in the entrance hall, “to go 
+straight to Slughorn’s office and try and get that 
+memory from him.” 
+“I’ve been trying!” said Harry crossly, which was 
+perfectly true. He had lagged behind after every 
+Potions lesson that week in an attempt to corner 
+Slughorn, but the Potions master always left the 
+dungeon so fast that Harry had not been able to catch 
+him. Twice, Harry had gone to his office and knocked, 
+but received no reply, though on the second occasion 
+he was sure he had heard the quickly stifled sounds 
+of an old gramophone. 
+“He doesn’t want to talk to me, Hermione! He can tell 
+I’ve been trying to get him on his own again, and he’s 
+not going to let it happen!” 
+“Well, you’ve just got to keep at it, haven’t you?” 
+The short queue of people waiting to file past Filch, 
+who was doing his usual prodding act with the 
+Secrecy Sensor, moved forward a few steps and Harry 
+did not answer in case he was overheard by the 
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+caretaker. He wished Ron and Hermione both luck, 
+then turned and climbed the marble staircase again, 
+determined, whatever Hermione said, to devote an 
+hour or two to the Room of Requirement. 
+Once out of sight of the entrance hall, Harry pulled 
+the Marauder’s Map and his Invisibility Cloak from 
+his bag. Having concealed himself, he tapped the 
+map, murmured, “I solemnly swear that I am up to no 
+good,” and scanned it carefully. 
+As it was Sunday morning, nearly all the students 
+were inside their various common rooms, the 
+Gryffindors in one tower, the Ravenclaws in another, 
+the Slytherins in the dungeons, and the Hufflepuffs in 
+the basement near the kitchens. Here and there a 
+stray person meandered around the library or up a 
+corridor. … There were a few people out in the 
+grounds … and there, alone in the seventh-floor 
+corridor, was Gregory Goyle. There was no sign of the 
+Room of Requirement, but Harry was not worried 
+about that; if Goyle was standing guard outside it, the 
+room was open, whether the map was aware of it or 
+not. He therefore sprinted up the stairs, slowing down 
+only when he reached the corner into the corridor, 
+when he began to creep, very slowly, toward the very 
+same little girl, clutching her heavy brass scales, that 
+Hermione had so kindly helped a fortnight before. He 
+waited until he was right behind her before bending 
+very low and whispering, “Hello … you’re very pretty, 
+aren’t you?” 
+Goyle gave a high-pitched scream of terror, threw the 
+scales up into the air, and sprinted away, vanishing 
+from sight long before the sound of the scales 
+smashing had stopped echoing around the corridor. 
+Laughing, Harry turned to contemplate the blank wall 
+behind which, he was sure, Draco Malfoy was now 
+standing frozen, aware that someone unwelcome was 
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+out there, but not daring to make an appearance. It 
+gave Harry a most agreeable feeling of power as he 
+tried to remember what form of words he had not yet 
+tried. 
+Yet this hopeful mood did not last long. Half an hour 
+later, having tried many more variations of his 
+request to see what Malfoy was up to, the wall was 
+just as doorless as ever. Harry felt frustrated beyond 
+belief; Malfoy might be just feet away from him, and 
+there was still not the tiniest shred of evidence as to 
+what he was doing in there. Losing his patience 
+completely, Harry ran at the wall and kicked it. 
+“OUCH!” 
+He thought he might have broken his toe; as he 
+clutched it and hopped on one foot, the Invisibility 
+Cloak slipped off him. 
+“Harry?” 
+He spun around, one-legged, and toppled over. There, 
+to his utter astonishment, was Tonks, walking toward 
+him as though she frequently strolled up this 
+corridor. 
+“What’re you doing here?” he said, scrambling to his 
+feet again; why did she always have to find him lying 
+on the floor? 
+“I came to see Dumbledore,” said Tonks. 
+Harry thought she looked terrible: thinner than 
+usual, her mouse-colored hair lank. 
+“His office isn’t here,” said Harry, “it’s round the other 
+side of the castle, behind the gargoyle —” 
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+“I know,” said Tonks. “He’s not there. Apparently he’s 
+gone away again.” 
+“Has he?” said Harry, putting his bruised foot gingerly 
+back on the floor. “Hey — you don’t know where he 
+goes, I suppose?” 
+“No,” said Tonks. 
+“What did you want to see him about?” 
+“Nothing in particular,” said Tonks, picking, 
+apparently unconsciously, at the sleeve of her robe. “I 
+just thought he might know what’s going on. … I’ve 
+heard rumors … people getting hurt …” 
+“Yeah, I know, it’s all been in the papers,” said Harry. 
+“That little kid trying to kill his —” 
+“The Prophet’s often behind the times,” said Tonks, 
+who didn’t seem to be listening to him. “You haven’t 
+had any letters from anyone in the Order recently?” 
+“No one from the Order writes to me anymore,” said 
+Harry, “not since Sirius —” 
+He saw that her eyes had filled with tears. 
+“I’m sorry,” he muttered awkwardly. “I mean … I miss 
+him, as well. …” 
+“What?” said Tonks blankly, as though she had not 
+heard him. “Well … I’ll see you around, Harry …” 
+And she turned abruptly and walked back down the 
+corridor, leaving Harry to stare after her. After a 
+minute or so, he pulled the Invisibility Cloak on again 
+and resumed his efforts to get into the Room of 
+Requirement, but his heart was not in it. Finally, a 
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+hollow feeling in his stomach and the knowledge that 
+Ron and Hermione would soon be back for lunch 
+made him abandon the attempt and leave the corridor 
+to Malfoy who, hopefully, would be too afraid to leave 
+for some hours to come. 
+He found Ron and Hermione in the Great Hall, 
+already halfway through an early lunch. 
+“I did it — well, kind of!” Ron told Harry 
+enthusiastically when he caught sight of him. “I was 
+supposed to be Apparating to outside Madam 
+Puddifoot’s Tea Shop and I overshot it a bit, ended up 
+near Scrivenshaft’s, but at least I moved!” 
+“Good one,” said Harry. “How’d you do, Hermione?” 
+“Oh, she was perfect, obviously,” said Ron, before 
+Hermione could answer. “Perfect deliberation, 
+divination, and desperation or whatever the hell it is 
+— we all went for a quick drink in the Three 
+Broomsticks after and you should’ve heard Twycross 
+going on about her — I’ll be surprised if he doesn’t 
+pop the question soon —” 
+“And what about you?” asked Hermione, ignoring 
+Ron. “Have you been up at the Room of Requirement 
+all this time?” 
+“Yep,” said Harry. “And guess who I ran into up 
+there? Tonks!” 
+“Tonks?” repeated Ron and Hermione together, 
+looking surprised. 
+“Yeah, she said she’d come to visit Dumbledore. …” 
+“If you ask me,” said Ron once Harry had finished 
+describing his conversation with Tonks, “she’s 
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+cracking up a bit. Losing her nerve after what 
+happened at the Ministry.” 
+“It’s a bit odd,” said Hermione, who for some reason 
+looked very concerned. “She’s supposed to be 
+guarding the school, why’s she suddenly abandoning 
+her post to come and see Dumbledore when he’s not 
+even here?” 
+“I had a thought,” said Harry tentatively. He felt 
+strange about voicing it; this was much more 
+Hermione’s territory than his. “You don’t think she 
+can have been … you know … in love with Sirius?” 
+Hermione stared at him. 
+“What on earth makes you say that?” 
+“I dunno,” said Harry, shrugging, “but she was nearly 
+crying when I mentioned his name … and her 
+Patronus is a big four-legged thing now. … I wondered 
+whether it hadn’t become … you know … him.” 
+“It’s a thought,” said Hermione slowly. “But I still 
+don’t know why she’d be bursting into the castle to 
+see Dumbledore, if that’s really why she was here. …” 
+“Goes back to what I said, doesn’t it?” said Ron, who 
+was now shoveling mashed potato into his mouth. 
+“She’s gone a bit funny. Lost her nerve. Women,” he 
+said wisely to Harry, “they’re easily upset.” 
+“And yet,” said Hermione, coming out of her reverie, “I 
+doubt you’d find a woman who sulked for half an 
+hour because Madam Rosmerta didn’t laugh at their 
+joke about the hag, the Healer, and the Mimbulus 
+mimbletonia.” 
+Ron scowled. 
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+ 
+ 
+AFTER THE BURIAL 
+Patches of bright blue sky were beginning to appear 
+over the castle turrets, but these signs of approaching 
+summer did not lift Harry’s mood. He had been 
+thwarted, both in his attempts to find out what 
+Malfoy was doing, and in his efforts to start a 
+conversation with Slughorn that might lead, 
+somehow, to Slughorn handing over the memory he 
+had apparently suppressed for decades. 
+“For the last time, just forget about Malfoy,” Hermione 
+told Harry firmly. 
+They were sitting with Ron in a sunny corner of the 
+courtyard after lunch. Hermione and Ron were both 
+clutching a Ministry of Magic leaflet — Common 
+Apparition Mistakes and How to Avoid Them — for 
+they were taking their tests that very afternoon, but 
+by and large the leaflets had not proved soothing to 
+the nerves. 
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+Ron gave a start and tried to hide behind Hermione as 
+a girl came around the corner. 
+“It isn’t Lavender,” said Hermione wearily. 
+“Oh, good,” said Ron, relaxing. 
+“Harry Potter?” said the girl. “I was asked to give you 
+this.” 
+“Thanks …” 
+Harry’s heart sank as he took the small scroll of 
+parchment. Once the girl was out of earshot he said, 
+“Dumbledore said we wouldn’t be having any more 
+lessons until I got the memory!” 
+“Maybe he wants to check on how you’re doing?” 
+suggested Hermione, as Harry unrolled the 
+parchment; but rather than finding Dumbledore’s 
+long, narrow, slanted writing he saw an untidy 
+sprawl, very difficult to read due to the presence of 
+large blotches on the parchment where the ink had 
+run. 
+  
+Dear Harry, Ron, and Hermione, 
+Aragog died last night. Harry and Ron, you met him, 
+and you know how special he was. Hermione, I know 
+you’d have liked him. It would mean a lot to me if 
+you’d nip down for the burial later this evening. I’m 
+planning on doing it round dusk, that was his favorite 
+time of day. I know you’re not supposed to be out that 
+late, but you can use the cloak. Wouldn’t ask, but I 
+can’t face it alone. 
+Hagrid 
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+“Look at this,” said Harry, handing the note to 
+Hermione. 
+“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she said, scanning it quickly 
+and passing it to Ron, who read it through looking 
+increasingly incredulous. 
+“He’s mental!” he said furiously. “That thing told its 
+mates to eat Harry and me! Told them to help 
+themselves! And now Hagrid expects us to go down 
+there and cry over its horrible hairy body!” 
+“It’s not just that,” said Hermione. “He’s asking us to 
+leave the castle at night and he knows security’s a 
+million times tighter and how much trouble we’d be in 
+if we were caught.” 
+“We’ve been down to see him by night before,” said 
+Harry. 
+“Yes, but for something like this?” said Hermione. 
+“We’ve risked a lot to help Hagrid out, but after all — 
+Aragog’s dead. If it were a question of saving him —” 
+“— I’d want to go even less,” said Ron firmly. “You 
+didn’t meet him, Hermione. Believe me, being dead 
+will have improved him a lot.” 
+Harry took the note back and stared down at all the 
+inky blotches all over it. Tears had clearly fallen thick 
+and fast upon the parchment. … 
+“Harry, you can’t be thinking of going,” said 
+Hermione. “It’s such a pointless thing to get detention 
+for.” 
+Harry sighed. “Yeah, I know,” he said. “I s’pose 
+Hagrid’ll have to bury Aragog without us.” 
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+“Yes, he will,” said Hermione, looking relieved. “Look, 
+Potions will be almost empty this afternoon, with us 
+all off doing our tests. … Try and soften Slughorn up 
+a bit then!” 
+“Fifty-seventh time lucky, you think?” said Harry 
+bitterly. 
+“Lucky,” said Ron suddenly. “Harry, that’s it — get 
+lucky!” 
+“What d’you mean?” 
+“Use your lucky potion!” 
+“Ron, that’s — that’s it!” said Hermione, sounding 
+stunned. “Of course! Why didn’t I think of it?” 
+Harry stared at them both. “Felix Felicis?” he said. “I 
+dunno … I was sort of saving it. …” 
+“What for?” demanded Ron incredulously. 
+“What on earth is more important than this memory, 
+Harry?” asked Hermione. 
+Harry did not answer. The thought of that little golden 
+bottle had hovered on the edges of his imagination for 
+some time; vague and unformulated plans that 
+involved Ginny splitting up with Dean, and Ron 
+somehow being happy to see her with a new 
+boyfriend, had been fermenting in the depths of his 
+brain, unacknowledged except during dreams or the 
+twilight time between sleeping and waking. … 
+“Harry? Are you still with us?” asked Hermione. 
+“Wha — ? Yeah, of course,” he said, pulling himself 
+together. “Well … okay. If I can’t get Slughorn to talk 
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+this afternoon, I’ll take some Felix and have another 
+go this evening.” 
+“That’s decided, then,” said Hermione briskly, getting 
+to her feet and performing a graceful pirouette. 
+“Destination … determination … deliberation …” she 
+murmured. 
+“Oh, stop that,” Ron begged her, “I feel sick enough as 
+it is — quick, hide me!” 
+“It isn’t Lavender!” said Hermione impatiently, as 
+another couple of girls appeared in the courtyard and 
+Ron dived behind her. 
+“Cool,” said Ron, peering over Hermione’s shoulder to 
+check. “Blimey, they don’t look happy, do they?” 
+“They’re the Montgomery sisters and of course they 
+don’t look happy, didn’t you hear what happened to 
+their little brother?” said Hermione. 
+“I’m losing track of what’s happening to everyone’s 
+relatives, to be honest,” said Ron. 
+“Well, their brother was attacked by a werewolf. The 
+rumor is that their mother refused to help the Death 
+Eaters. Anyway, the boy was only five and he died in 
+St. Mungo’s, they couldn’t save him.” 
+“He died?” repeated Harry, shocked. “But surely 
+werewolves don’t kill, they just turn you into one of 
+them?” 
+“They sometimes kill,” said Ron, who looked 
+unusually grave now. “I’ve heard of it happening 
+when the werewolf gets carried away.” 
+“What was the werewolf’s name?” said Harry quickly. 
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+“Well, the rumor is that it was that Fenrir Greyback,” 
+said Hermione. 
+“I knew it — the maniac who likes attacking kids, the 
+one Lupin told me about!” said Harry angrily. 
+Hermione looked at him bleakly. 
+“Harry, you’ve got to get that memory,” she said. “It’s 
+all about stopping Voldemort, isn’t it? These dreadful 
+things that are happening are all down to him. …” 
+The bell rang overhead in the castle and both 
+Hermione and Ron jumped to their feet, looking 
+terrified. 
+“You’ll do fine,” Harry told them both, as they headed 
+toward the entrance hall to meet the rest of the people 
+taking their Apparition Test. “Good luck.” 
+“And you too!” said Hermione with a significant look, 
+as Harry headed off to the dungeons. 
+There were only three of them in Potions that 
+afternoon: Harry, Ernie, and Draco Malfoy. 
+“All too young to Apparate just yet?” said Slughorn 
+genially. “Not turned seventeen yet?” 
+They shook their heads. 
+“Ah well,” said Slughorn cheerily, “as we’re so few, 
+we’ll do something fun. I want you all to brew me up 
+something amusing!” 
+“That sounds good, sir,” said Ernie sycophantically, 
+rubbing his hands together. Malfoy, on the other 
+hand, did not crack a smile. 
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+“What do you mean, ‘something amusing’?” he said 
+irritably. 
+“Oh, surprise me,” said Slughorn airily. 
+Malfoy opened his copy of Advanced Potion-Making 
+with a sulky expression. It could not have been 
+plainer that he thought this lesson was a waste of 
+time. Undoubtedly, Harry thought, watching him over 
+the top of his own book, Malfoy was begrudging the 
+time he could otherwise be spending in the Room of 
+Requirement. 
+Was it his imagination, or did Malfoy, like Tonks, look 
+thinner? Certainly he looked paler; his skin still had 
+that grayish tinge, probably because he so rarely saw 
+daylight these days. But there was no air of 
+smugness, excitement, or superiority; none of the 
+swagger that he had had on the Hogwarts Express, 
+when he had boasted openly of the mission he had 
+been given by Voldemort. … There could be only one 
+conclusion, in Harry’s opinion: The mission, whatever 
+it was, was going badly. 
+Cheered by this thought, Harry skimmed through his 
+copy of Advanced Potion-Making and found a heavily 
+corrected Half-Blood Prince’s version of “An Elixir to 
+Induce Euphoria,” which seemed not only to meet 
+Slughorn’s instructions, but which might (Harry’s 
+heart leapt as the thought struck him) put Slughorn 
+into such a good mood that he would be prepared to 
+hand over that memory if Harry could persuade him 
+to taste some. … 
+“Well, now, this looks absolutely wonderful,” said 
+Slughorn an hour and a half later, clapping his hands 
+together as he stared down into the sunshine yellow 
+contents of Harry’s cauldron. “Euphoria, I take it? And 
+what’s that I smell? Mmmm … you’ve added just a 
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+sprig of peppermint, haven’t you? Unorthodox, but 
+what a stroke of inspiration, Harry, of course, that 
+would tend to counterbalance the occasional side 
+effects of excessive singing and nose-tweaking. … I 
+really don’t know where you get these brain waves, 
+my boy … unless —” 
+Harry pushed the Half-Blood Prince’s book deeper 
+into his bag with his foot. 
+“— it’s just your mother’s genes coming out in you!” 
+“Oh … yeah, maybe,” said Harry, relieved. 
+Ernie was looking rather grumpy; determined to 
+outshine Harry for once, he had most rashly invented 
+his own potion, which had curdled and formed a kind 
+of purple dumpling at the bottom of his cauldron. 
+Malfoy was already packing up, sour-faced; Slughorn 
+had pronounced his Hiccuping Solution merely 
+“passable.” 
+The bell rang and both Ernie and Malfoy left at once. 
+“Sir,” Harry began, but Slughorn immediately glanced 
+over his shoulder; when he saw that the room was 
+empty but for himself and Harry, he hurried away as 
+fast as he could. 
+“Professor — Professor, don’t you want to taste my po 
+— ?” called Harry desperately. 
+But Slughorn had gone. Disappointed, Harry emptied 
+the cauldron, packed up his things, left the dungeon, 
+and walked slowly back upstairs to the common 
+room. 
+Ron and Hermione returned in the late afternoon. 
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+“Harry!” cried Hermione as she climbed through the 
+portrait hole. “Harry, I passed!” 
+“Well done!” he said. “And Ron?” 
+“He — he just failed,” whispered Hermione, as Ron 
+came slouching into the room looking most morose. 
+“It was really unlucky, a tiny thing, the examiner just 
+spotted that he’d left half an eyebrow behind. … How 
+did it go with Slughorn?” 
+“No joy,” said Harry, as Ron joined them. “Bad luck, 
+mate, but you’ll pass next time — we can take it 
+together.” 
+“Yeah, I s’pose,” said Ron grumpily. “But half an 
+eyebrow! Like that matters!” 
+“I know,” said Hermione soothingly, “it does seem 
+really harsh. …” 
+They spent most of their dinner roundly abusing the 
+Apparition examiner, and Ron looked fractionally 
+more cheerful by the time they set off back to the 
+common room, now discussing the continuing 
+problem of Slughorn and the memory. 
+“So, Harry — you going to use the Felix Felicis or 
+what?” Ron demanded. 
+“Yeah, I s’pose I’d better,” said Harry. “I don’t reckon 
+I’ll need all of it, not twelve hours’ worth, it can’t take 
+all night. … I’ll just take a mouthful. Two or three 
+hours should do it.” 
+“It’s a great feeling when you take it,” said Ron 
+reminiscently. “Like you can’t do anything wrong.” 
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+“What are you talking about?” said Hermione, 
+laughing. “You’ve never taken any!” 
+“Yeah, but I thought I had, didn’t I?” said Ron, as 
+though explaining the obvious. “Same difference 
+really …” 
+As they had only just seen Slughorn enter the Great 
+Hall and knew that he liked to take time over meals, 
+they lingered for a while in the common room, the 
+plan being that Harry should go to Slughorn’s office 
+once the teacher had had time to get back there. 
+When the sun had sunk to the level of the treetops in 
+the Forbidden Forest, they decided the moment had 
+come, and after checking carefully that Neville, Dean, 
+and Seamus were all in the common room, sneaked 
+up to the boys’ dormitory. 
+Harry took out the rolled-up socks at the bottom of 
+his trunk and extracted the tiny, gleaming bottle. 
+“Well, here goes,” said Harry, and he raised the little 
+bottle and took a carefully measured gulp. 
+“What does it feel like?” whispered Hermione. 
+Harry did not answer for a moment. Then, slowly but 
+surely, an exhilarating sense of infinite opportunity 
+stole through him; he felt as though he could have 
+done anything, anything at all … and getting the 
+memory from Slughorn seemed suddenly not only 
+possible, but positively easy. … 
+He got to his feet, smiling, brimming with confidence. 
+“Excellent,” he said. “Really excellent. Right … I’m 
+going down to Hagrid’s.” 
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+“What?” said Ron and Hermione together, looking 
+aghast. 
+“No, Harry — you’ve got to go and see Slughorn, 
+remember?” said Hermione. 
+“No,” said Harry confidently. “I’m going to Hagrid’s, 
+I’ve got a good feeling about going to Hagrid’s.” 
+“You’ve got a good feeling about burying a giant 
+spider?” asked Ron, looking stunned. 
+“Yeah,” said Harry, pulling his Invisibility Cloak out of 
+his bag. “I feel like it’s the place to be tonight, you 
+know what I mean?” 
+“No,” said Ron and Hermione together, both looking 
+positively alarmed now. 
+“This is Felix Felicis, I suppose?” said Hermione 
+anxiously, holding up the bottle to the light. “You 
+haven’t got another little bottle full of— I don’t know 
+—” 
+“Essence of Insanity?” suggested Ron, as Harry 
+swung his cloak over his shoulders. 
+Harry laughed, and Ron and Hermione looked even 
+more alarmed. 
+“Trust me,” he said. “I know what I’m doing … or at 
+least” — he strolled confidently to the door — “Felix 
+does.” 
+He pulled the Invisibility Cloak over his head and set 
+off down the stairs, Ron and Hermione hurrying along 
+behind him. At the foot of the stairs, Harry slid 
+through the open door. 
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+“What were you doing up there with her?” shrieked 
+Lavender Brown, staring right through Harry at Ron 
+and Hermione emerging together from the boys’ 
+dormitories. Harry heard Ron spluttering behind him 
+as he darted across the room away from them. 
+Getting through the portrait hole was simple; as he 
+approached it, Ginny and Dean came through it, and 
+Harry was able to slip between them. As he did so, he 
+brushed accidentally against Ginny. 
+“Don’t push me, please, Dean,” she said, sounding 
+annoyed. “You’re always doing that, I can get through 
+perfectly well on my own. …” 
+The portrait swung closed behind Harry, but not 
+before he had heard Dean make an angry retort. … 
+His feeling of elation increasing, Harry strode off 
+through the castle. He did not have to creep along, for 
+he met nobody on his way, but this did not surprise 
+him in the slightest: This evening, he was the luckiest 
+person at Hogwarts. 
+Why he knew that going to Hagrid’s was the right 
+thing to do, he had no idea. It was as though the 
+potion was illuminating a few steps of the path at a 
+time: He could not see the final destination, he could 
+not see where Slughorn came in, but he knew that he 
+was going the right way to get that memory. When he 
+reached the entrance hall he saw that Filch had 
+forgotten to lock the front door. Beaming, Harry threw 
+it open and breathed in the smell of clean air and 
+grass for a moment before walking down the steps 
+into the dusk. 
+It was when he reached the bottom step that it 
+occurred to him how very pleasant it would be to pass 
+the vegetable patch on his walk to Hagrid’s. It was not 
+strictly on the way, but it seemed clear to Harry that 
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+this was a whim on which he should act, so he 
+directed his feet immediately toward the vegetable 
+patch, where he was pleased, but not altogether 
+surprised, to find Professor Slughorn in conversation 
+with Professor Sprout. Harry lurked behind a low 
+stone wall, feeling at peace with the world and 
+listening to their conversation. 
+“I do thank you for taking the time, Pomona,” 
+Slughorn was saying courteously, “most authorities 
+agree that they are at their most efficacious if picked 
+at twilight.” 
+“Oh, I quite agree,” said Professor Sprout warmly. 
+“That enough for you?” 
+“Plenty, plenty,” said Slughorn, who, Harry saw, was 
+carrying an armful of leafy plants. “This should allow 
+for a few leaves for each of my third years, and some 
+to spare if anybody over-stews them. … Well, good 
+evening to you, and many thanks again!” 
+Professor Sprout headed off into the gathering 
+darkness in the direction of her greenhouses, and 
+Slughorn directed his steps to the spot where Harry 
+stood, invisible. 
+Seized with an immediate desire to reveal himself, 
+Harry pulled off the cloak with a flourish. 
+“Good evening, Professor.” 
+“Merlin’s beard, Harry, you made me jump,” said 
+Slughorn, stopping dead in his tracks and looking 
+wary. “How did you get out of the castle?” 
+“I think Filch must’ve forgotten to lock the doors,” 
+said Harry cheerfully, and was delighted to see 
+Slughorn scowl. 
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+“I’ll be reporting that man, he’s more concerned about 
+litter than proper security if you ask me. … But why 
+are you out here, Harry?” 
+“Well, sir, it’s Hagrid,” said Harry, who knew that the 
+right thing to do just now was to tell the truth. “He’s 
+pretty upset. … But you won’t tell anyone, Professor? 
+I don’t want trouble for him. …” 
+Slughorn’s curiosity was evidently aroused. “Well, I 
+can’t promise that,” he said gruffly. “But I know that 
+Dumbledore trusts Hagrid to the hilt, so I’m sure he 
+can’t be up to anything very dreadful. …” 
+“Well, it’s this giant spider, he’s had it for years. … It 
+lived in the forest. … It could talk and everything —” 
+“I heard rumors there were acromantulas in the 
+forest,” said Slughorn softly, looking over at the mass 
+of black trees. “It’s true, then?” 
+“Yes,” said Harry. “But this one, Aragog, the first one 
+Hagrid ever got, it died last night. He’s devastated. He 
+wants company while he buries it and I said I’d go.” 
+“Touching, touching,” said Slughorn absentmindedly, 
+his large droopy eyes fixed upon the distant lights of 
+Hagrid’s cabin. “But acromantula venom is very 
+valuable … If the beast only just died it might not yet 
+have dried out. … Of course, I wouldn’t want to do 
+anything insensitive if Hagrid is upset … but if there 
+was any way to procure some … I mean, it’s almost 
+impossible to get venom from an acromantula while 
+it’s alive. …” 
+Slughorn seemed to be talking more to himself than 
+Harry now. 
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+“… seems an awful waste not to collect it … might get 
+a hundred Galleons a pint. … To be frank, my salary 
+is not large. …” 
+And now Harry saw clearly what was to be done. 
+“Well,” he said, with a most convincing hesitancy, 
+“well, if you wanted to come, Professor, Hagrid would 
+probably be really pleased. … Give Aragog a better 
+send-off, you know …” 
+“Yes, of course,” said Slughorn, his eyes now 
+gleaming with enthusiasm. “I tell you what, Harry, I’ll 
+meet you down there with a bottle or two. … We’ll 
+drink the poor beast’s — well — not health — but 
+we’ll send it off in style, anyway, once it’s buried. And 
+I’ll change my tie, this one is a little exuberant for the 
+occasion. …” 
+He bustled back into the castle, and Harry sped off to 
+Hagrid’s, delighted with himself. 
+“Yeh came,” croaked Hagrid, when he opened the door 
+and saw Harry emerging from the Invisibility Cloak in 
+front of him. 
+“Yeah — Ron and Hermione couldn’t, though,” said 
+Harry. “They’re really sorry.” 
+“Don’ — don’ matter … He’d’ve bin touched yeh’re 
+here, though, Harry. …” 
+Hagrid gave a great sob. He had made himself a black 
+armband out of what looked like a rag dipped in boot 
+polish, and his eyes were puffy, red, and swollen. 
+Harry patted him consolingly on the elbow, which was 
+the highest point of Hagrid he could easily reach. 
+“Where are we burying him?” he asked. “The forest?” 
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+“Blimey, no,” said Hagrid, wiping his streaming eyes 
+on the bottom of his shirt. “The other spiders won’ let 
+me anywhere near their webs now Aragog’s gone. 
+Turns out it was on’y on his orders they didn’ eat me! 
+Can yeh believe that, Harry?” 
+The honest answer was “yes”; Harry recalled with 
+painful ease the scene when he and Ron had come 
+face-to-face with the acromantulas: They had been 
+quite clear that Aragog was the only thing that 
+stopped them from eating Hagrid. 
+“Never bin an area o’ the forest I couldn’ go before!” 
+said Hagrid, shaking his head. “It wasn’ easy, gettin’ 
+Aragog’s body out o’ there, I can tell yeh — they 
+usually eat their dead, see. … But I wanted ter give 
+’im a nice burial … a proper send-off …” 
+He broke into sobs again and Harry resumed the 
+patting of his elbow, saying as he did so (for the 
+potion seemed to indicate that it was the right thing 
+to do), “Professor Slughorn met me coming down 
+here, Hagrid.” 
+“Not in trouble, are yeh?” said Hagrid, looking up, 
+alarmed. “Yeh shouldn’ be outta the castle in the 
+evenin’, I know it, it’s my fault —” 
+“No, no, when he heard what I was doing he said he’d 
+like to come and pay his last respects to Aragog too,” 
+said Harry. “He’s gone to change into something more 
+suitable, I think … and he said he’d bring some 
+bottles so we can drink to Aragog’s memory. … 
+“Did he?” said Hagrid, looking both astonished and 
+touched. “Tha’s — tha’s righ’ nice of him, that is, an’ 
+not turnin’ yeh in either. I’ve never really had a lot ter 
+do with Horace Slughorn before. … Comin’ ter see old 
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+Aragog off, though, eh? Well … he’d’ve liked that, 
+Aragog would. …” 
+Harry thought privately that what Aragog would have 
+liked most about Slughorn was the ample amount of 
+edible flesh he provided, but he merely moved to the 
+rear window of Hagrid’s hut, where he saw the rather 
+horrible sight of the enormous dead spider lying on its 
+back outside, its legs curled and tangled. 
+“Are we going to bury him here, Hagrid, in your 
+garden?” 
+“Jus’ beyond the pumpkin patch, I thought,” said 
+Hagrid in a choked voice. “I’ve already dug the — yeh 
+know — grave. Jus’ thought we’d say a few nice 
+things over him — happy memories, yeh know —” 
+His voice quivered and broke. There was a knock on 
+the door, and he turned to answer it, blowing his nose 
+on his great spotted handkerchief as he did so. 
+Slughorn hurried over the threshold, several bottles 
+in his arms, and wearing a somber black cravat. 
+“Hagrid,” he said, in a deep, grave voice. “So very 
+sorry to hear of your loss.” 
+“Tha’s very nice of yeh,” said Hagrid. “Thanks a lot. 
+An’ thanks fer not givin’ Harry detention neither. …” 
+“Wouldn’t have dreamed of it,” said Slughorn. “Sad 
+night, sad night … Where is the poor creature?” 
+“Out here,” said Hagrid in a shaking voice. “Shall we 
+— shall we do it, then?” 
+The three of them stepped out into the back garden. 
+The moon was glistening palely through the trees 
+now, and its rays mingled with the light spilling from 
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+Hagrid’s window to illuminate Aragog’s body lying on 
+the edge of a massive pit beside a ten-foot-high 
+mound of freshly dug earth. 
+“Magnificent,” said Slughorn, approaching the 
+spider’s head, where eight milky eyes stared blankly 
+at the sky and two huge, curved pincers shone, 
+motionless, in the moonlight. Harry thought he heard 
+the tinkle of bottles as Slughorn bent over the 
+pincers, apparently examining the enormous hairy 
+head. 
+“It’s not ev’ryone appreciates how beau’iful they are,” 
+said Hagrid to Slughorn’s back, tears leaking from the 
+corners of his crinkled eyes. “I didn’ know yeh were 
+int’rested in creatures like Aragog, Horace.” 
+“Interested? My dear Hagrid, I revere them,” said 
+Slughorn, stepping back from the body. Harry saw 
+the glint of a bottle disappear beneath his cloak, 
+though Hagrid, mopping his eyes once more, noticed 
+nothing. “Now … shall we proceed to the burial?” 
+Hagrid nodded and moved forward. He heaved the 
+gigantic spider into his arms and, with an enormous 
+grunt, rolled it into the dark pit. It hit the bottom with 
+a rather horrible, crunchy thud. Hagrid started to cry 
+again. 
+“Of course, it’s difficult for you, who knew him best,” 
+said Slughorn, who like Harry could reach no higher 
+than Hagrid’s elbow, but patted it all the same. “Why 
+don’t I say a few words?” 
+He must have got a lot of good quality venom from 
+Aragog, Harry thought, for Slughorn wore a satisfied 
+smirk as he stepped up to the rim of the pit and said, 
+in a slow, impressive voice, “Farewell, Aragog, king of 
+arachnids, whose long and faithful friendship those 
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+who knew you won’t forget! Though your body will 
+decay, your spirit lingers on in the quiet, web-spun 
+places of your forest home. May your many-eyed 
+descendants ever flourish and your human friends 
+find solace for the loss they have sustained.” 
+“Tha’ was … tha’ was … beau’iful!” howled Hagrid, 
+and he collapsed onto the compost heap, crying 
+harder than ever. 
+“There, there,” said Slughorn, waving his wand so 
+that the huge pile of earth rose up and then fell, with 
+a muffled sort of crash, onto the dead spider, forming 
+a smooth mound. “Let’s get inside and have a drink. 
+Get on his other side, Harry. … That’s it. … Up you 
+come, Hagrid … Well done …” 
+They deposited Hagrid in a chair at the table. Fang, 
+who had been skulking in his basket during the 
+burial, now came padding softly across to them and 
+put his heavy head into Harry’s lap as usual. 
+Slughorn uncorked one of the bottles of wine he had 
+brought. 
+“I have had it all tested for poison,” he assured Harry, 
+pouring most of the first bottle into one of Hagrid’s 
+bucket-sized mugs and handing it to Hagrid. “Had a 
+house-elf taste every bottle after what happened to 
+your poor friend Rupert.” 
+Harry saw, in his mind’s eye, the expression on 
+Hermione’s face if she ever heard about this abuse of 
+house-elves, and decided never to mention it to her. 
+“One for Harry …” said Slughorn, dividing a second 
+bottle between two mugs, “… and one for me. Well” — 
+he raised his mug high — “to Aragog.” 
+“Aragog,” said Harry and Hagrid together. 
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+Both Slughorn and Hagrid drank deeply. Harry, 
+however, with the way ahead illuminated for him by 
+Felix Felicis, knew that he must not drink, so he 
+merely pretended to take a gulp and then set the mug 
+back on the table before him. 
+“I had him from an egg, yeh know,” said Hagrid 
+morosely. “Tiny little thing he was when he hatched. 
+’Bout the size of a Pekingese.” 
+“Sweet,” said Slughorn. 
+“Used ter keep him in a cupboard up at the school 
+until … well …” 
+Hagrid’s face darkened and Harry knew why: Tom 
+Riddle had contrived to have Hagrid thrown out of 
+school, blamed for opening the Chamber of Secrets. 
+Slughorn, however, did not seem to be listening; he 
+was looking up at the ceiling, from which a number of 
+brass pots hung, and also a long, silky skein of bright 
+white hair. 
+“That’s never unicorn hair, Hagrid?” 
+“Oh, yeah,” said Hagrid indifferently. “Gets pulled out 
+of their tails, they catch it on branches an’ stuff in the 
+forest, yeh know …” 
+“But my dear chap, do you know how much that’s 
+worth?” 
+“I use it fer bindin’ on bandages an’ stuff if a creature 
+gets injured,” said Hagrid, shrugging. “It’s dead useful 
+… very strong, see.” 
+Slughorn took another deep draught from his mug, 
+his eyes moving carefully around the cabin now, 
+looking, Harry knew, for more treasures that he might 
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+be able to convert into a plentiful supply of oak-
+matured mead, crystalized pineapple, and velvet 
+smoking jackets. He refilled Hagrid’s mug and his 
+own, and questioned him about the creatures that 
+lived in the forest these days and how Hagrid was 
+able to look after them all. Hagrid, becoming 
+expansive under the influence of the drink and 
+Slughorn’s flattering interest, stopped mopping his 
+eyes and entered happily into a long explanation of 
+bowtruckle husbandry. 
+The Felix Felicis gave Harry a little nudge at this 
+point, and he noticed that the supply of drink that 
+Slughorn had brought was running out fast. Harry 
+had not yet managed to bring off the Refilling Charm 
+without saying the incantation aloud, but the idea 
+that he might not be able to do it tonight was 
+laughable: Indeed, Harry grinned to himself as, 
+unnoticed by either Hagrid or Slughorn (now 
+swapping tales of the illegal trade in dragon eggs) he 
+pointed his wand under the table at the emptying 
+bottles and they immediately began to refill. 
+After an hour or so, Hagrid and Slughorn began 
+making extravagant toasts: to Hogwarts, to 
+Dumbledore, to elf-made wine, and to — 
+“Harry Potter!” bellowed Hagrid, slopping some of his 
+fourteenth bucket of wine down his chin as he 
+drained it. 
+“Yes, indeed,” cried Slughorn a little thickly, “Parry 
+Otter, the Chosen Boy Who — well — something of 
+that sort,” he mumbled, and drained his mug too. 
+Not long after this, Hagrid became tearful again and 
+pressed the whole unicorn tail upon Slughorn, who 
+pocketed it with cries of, “To friendship! To generosity! 
+To ten Galleons a hair!” 
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+And for a while after that, Hagrid and Slughorn were 
+sitting side by side, arms around each other, singing 
+a slow sad song about a dying wizard called Odo. 
+“Aaargh, the good die young,” muttered Hagrid, 
+slumping low onto the table, a little cross-eyed, while 
+Slughorn continued to warble the refrain. “Me dad 
+was no age ter go … nor were yer mum an’ dad, 
+Harry…” 
+Great fat tears oozed out of the corners of Hagrid’s 
+crinkled eyes again; he grasped Harry’s arm and 
+shook it. 
+“Bes’ wiz and witchard o’ their age I never knew … 
+terrible thing … terrible thing …” 
+And Odo the hero, they bore him back home 
+To the place that he’d known as a lad, 
+sang Slughorn plaintively. 
+They laid him to rest with his hat inside out 
+And his wand snapped in two, which was sad. 
+“… terrible,” Hagrid grunted, and his great shaggy 
+head rolled sideways onto his arms and he fell asleep, 
+snoring deeply. 
+“Sorry,” said Slughorn with a hiccup. “Can’t carry a 
+tune to save my life.” 
+“Hagrid wasn’t talking about your singing,” said Harry 
+quietly. “He was talking about my mum and dad 
+dying.” 
+“Oh,” said Slughorn, repressing a large belch. “Oh 
+dear. Yes, that was — was terrible indeed. Terrible … 
+terrible …” 
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+He looked quite at a loss for what to say, and resorted 
+to refilling their mugs. 
+“I don’t — don’t suppose you remember it, Harry?” he 
+asked awkwardly. 
+“No — well, I was only one when they died,” said 
+Harry, his eyes on the flame of the candle flickering in 
+Hagrid’s heavy snores. “But I’ve found out pretty 
+much what happened since. My dad died first. Did 
+you know that?” 
+“I — I didn’t,” said Slughorn in a hushed voice. 
+“Yeah … Voldemort murdered him and then stepped 
+over his body toward my mum,” said Harry. 
+Slughorn gave a great shudder, but he did not seem 
+able to tear his horrified gaze away from Harry’s face. 
+“He told her to get out of the way,” said Harry 
+remorselessly. “He told me she needn’t have died. He 
+only wanted me. She could have run.” 
+“Oh dear,” breathed Slughorn. “She could have … she 
+needn’t … That’s awful. …” 
+“It is, isn’t it?” said Harry, in a voice barely more than 
+a whisper. “But she didn’t move. Dad was already 
+dead, but she didn’t want me to go too. She tried to 
+plead with Voldemort … but he just laughed. …” 
+“That’s enough!” said Slughorn suddenly, raising a 
+shaking hand. “Really, my dear boy, enough … I’m an 
+old man … I don’t need to hear … I don’t want to hear 
+…” 
+“I forgot,” lied Harry, Felix Felicis leading him on. 
+“You liked her, didn’t you?” 
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+“Liked her?” said Slughorn, his eyes brimming with 
+tears once more. “I don’t imagine anyone who met her 
+wouldn’t have liked her. … Very brave … Very funny 
+… It was the most horrible thing. …” 
+“But you won’t help her son,” said Harry. “She gave 
+me her life, but you won’t give me a memory.” 
+Hagrid’s rumbling snores filled the cabin. Harry 
+looked steadily into Slughorn’s tear-filled eyes. The 
+Potions master seemed unable to look away. 
+“Don’t say that,” he whispered. “It isn’t a question … 
+If it were to help you, of course … but no purpose can 
+be served …” 
+“It can,” said Harry clearly. “Dumbledore needs 
+information. I need information.” 
+He knew he was safe: Felix was telling him that 
+Slughorn would remember nothing of this in the 
+morning. Looking Slughorn straight in the eye, Harry 
+leaned forward a little. 
+“I am the Chosen One. I have to kill him. I need that 
+memory.” 
+Slughorn turned paler than ever; his shiny forehead 
+gleamed with sweat. 
+“You are the Chosen One?” 
+“Of course I am,” said Harry calmly. 
+“But then … my dear boy … you’re asking a great deal 
+… you’re asking me, in fact, to aid you in your 
+attempt to destroy —” 
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+“You don’t want to get rid of the wizard who killed Lily 
+Evans?” 
+“Harry, Harry, of course I do, but —” 
+“You’re scared he’ll find out you helped me?” 
+Slughorn said nothing; he looked terrified. 
+“Be brave like my mother, Professor. …” 
+Slughorn raised a pudgy hand and pressed his 
+shaking fingers to his mouth; he looked for a moment 
+like an enormously overgrown baby. 
+“I am not proud …” he whispered through his fingers. 
+“I am ashamed of what — of what that memory 
+shows. … I think I may have done great damage that 
+day. …” 
+“You’d cancel out anything you did by giving me the 
+memory,” said Harry. “It would be a very brave and 
+noble thing to do.” 
+Hagrid twitched in his sleep and snored on. Slughorn 
+and Harry stared at each other over the guttering 
+candle. There was a long, long silence, but Felix 
+Felicis told Harry not to break it, to wait. 
+Then, very slowly, Slughorn put his hand in his 
+pocket and pulled out his wand. He put his other 
+hand inside his cloak and took out a small, empty 
+bottle. Still looking into Harry’s eyes, Slughorn 
+touched the tip of his wand to his temple and 
+withdrew it, so that a long, silver thread of memory 
+came away too, clinging to the wand tip. Longer and 
+longer the memory stretched until it broke and 
+swung, silvery bright, from the wand. Slughorn 
+lowered it into the bottle where it coiled, then spread, 
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+swirling like gas. He corked the bottle with a 
+trembling hand and then passed it across the table to 
+Harry. 
+“Thank you very much, Professor.” 
+“You’re a good boy,” said Professor Slughorn, tears 
+trickling down his fat cheeks into his walrus 
+mustache. “And you’ve got her eyes. … Just don’t 
+think too badly of me once you’ve seen it. …” 
+And he too put his head on his arms, gave a deep 
+sigh, and fell asleep. 
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+ 
+ 
+HORCRUXES 
+Harry could feel the Felix Felicis wearing off as he 
+crept back into the castle. The front door had 
+remained unlocked for him, but on the third floor he 
+met Peeves and only narrowly avoided detection by 
+diving sideways through one of his shortcuts. By the 
+time he got up to the portrait of the Fat Lady and 
+pulled off his Invisibility Cloak, he was not surprised 
+to find her in a most unhelpful mood. 
+“What sort of time do you call this?” 
+“I’m really sorry — I had to go out for something 
+important —” 
+“Well, the password changed at midnight, so you’ll 
+just have to sleep in the corridor, won’t you?” 
+“You’re joking!” said Harry. “Why did it have to 
+change at midnight?” 
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+“That’s the way it is,” said the Fat Lady. “If you’re 
+angry, go and take it up with the headmaster, he’s the 
+one who’s tightened security.” 
+“Fantastic,” said Harry bitterly, looking around at the 
+hard floor. “Really brilliant. Yeah, I would go and take 
+it up with Dumbledore if he was here, because he’s 
+the one who wanted me to —” 
+“He is here,” said a voice behind Harry. “Professor 
+Dumbledore returned to the school an hour ago.” 
+Nearly Headless Nick was gliding toward Harry, his 
+head wobbling as usual upon his ruff. 
+“I had it from the Bloody Baron, who saw him arrive,” 
+said Nick. “He appeared, according to the Baron, to be 
+in good spirits, though a little tired, of course.” 
+“Where is he?” said Harry, his heart leaping. 
+“Oh, groaning and clanking up on the Astronomy 
+Tower, it’s a favorite pastime of his —” 
+“Not the Bloody Baron — Dumbledore!” 
+“Oh — in his office,” said Nick. “I believe, from what 
+the Baron said, that he had business to attend to 
+before turning in —” 
+“Yeah, he has,” said Harry, excitement blazing in his 
+chest at the prospect of telling Dumbledore he had 
+secured the memory. He wheeled about and sprinted 
+off again, ignoring the Fat Lady who was calling after 
+him. 
+“Come back! All right, I lied! I was annoyed you woke 
+me up! The password’s still ‘tapeworm’!” 
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+But Harry was already hurtling back along the 
+corridor and within minutes, he was saying “toffee 
+éclairs” to Dumbledore’s gargoyle, which leapt aside, 
+permitting Harry entrance onto the spiral staircase. 
+“Enter,” said Dumbledore when Harry knocked. He 
+sounded exhausted. 
+Harry pushed open the door. There was Dumbledore’s 
+office, looking the same as ever, but with black, star-
+strewn skies beyond the windows. 
+“Good gracious, Harry,” said Dumbledore in surprise. 
+“To what do I owe this very late pleasure?” 
+“Sir — I’ve got it. I’ve got the memory from Slughorn.” 
+Harry pulled out the tiny glass bottle and showed it to 
+Dumbledore. For a moment or two, the headmaster 
+looked stunned. Then his face split in a wide smile. 
+“Harry, this is spectacular news! Very well done 
+indeed! I knew you could do it!” 
+All thought of the lateness of the hour apparently 
+forgotten, he hurried around his desk, took the bottle 
+with Slughorn’s memory in his uninjured hand, and 
+strode over to the cabinet where he kept the Pensieve. 
+“And now,” said Dumbledore, placing the stone basin 
+upon his desk and emptying the contents of the bottle 
+into it. “Now, at last, we shall see. Harry, quickly …” 
+Harry bowed obediently over the Pensieve and felt his 
+feet leave the office floor. … Once again he fell 
+through darkness and landed in Horace Slughorn’s 
+office many years before. 
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+There was the much younger Slughorn, with his 
+thick, shiny, straw-colored hair and his gingery-blond 
+mustache, sitting again in the comfortable winged 
+armchair in his office, his feet resting upon a velvet 
+pouffe, a small glass of wine in one hand, the other 
+rummaging in a box of crystalized pineapple. And 
+there were the half-dozen teenage boys sitting around 
+Slughorn with Tom Riddle in the midst of them, 
+Marvolo’s gold-and-black ring gleaming on his finger. 
+Dumbledore landed beside Harry just as Riddle 
+asked, “Sir, is it true that Professor Merrythought is 
+retiring?” 
+“Tom, Tom, if I knew I couldn’t tell you,” said 
+Slughorn, wagging his finger reprovingly at Riddle, 
+though winking at the same time. “I must say, I’d like 
+to know where you get your information, boy, more 
+knowledgeable than half the staff, you are.” 
+Riddle smiled; the other boys laughed and cast him 
+admiring looks. 
+“What with your uncanny ability to know things you 
+shouldn’t, and your careful flattery of the people who 
+matter — thank you for the pineapple, by the way, 
+you’re quite right, it is my favorite —” 
+Several of the boys tittered again. 
+“— I confidently expect you to rise to Minister of 
+Magic within twenty years. Fifteen, if you keep 
+sending me pineapple, I have excellent contacts at the 
+Ministry.” 
+Tom Riddle merely smiled as the others laughed 
+again. Harry noticed that he was by no means the 
+eldest of the group of boys, but that they all seemed 
+to look to him as their leader. 
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+“I don’t know that politics would suit me, sir,” he said 
+when the laughter had died away. “I don’t have the 
+right kind of background, for one thing.” 
+A couple of the boys around him smirked at each 
+other. Harry was sure they were enjoying a private 
+joke, undoubtedly about what they knew, or 
+suspected, regarding their gang leader’s famous 
+ancestor. 
+“Nonsense,” said Slughorn briskly, “couldn’t be 
+plainer you come from decent Wizarding stock, 
+abilities like yours. No, you’ll go far, Tom, I’ve never 
+been wrong about a student yet.” 
+The small golden clock standing upon Slughorn’s 
+desk chimed eleven o’clock behind him and he looked 
+around. 
+“Good gracious, is it that time already? You’d better 
+get going, boys, or we’ll all be in trouble. Lestrange, I 
+want your essay by tomorrow or it’s detention. Same 
+goes for you, Avery.” 
+One by one, the boys filed out of the room. Slughorn 
+heaved himself out of his armchair and carried his 
+empty glass over to his desk. A movement behind him 
+made him look around; Riddle was still standing 
+there. 
+“Look sharp, Tom, you don’t want to be caught out of 
+bed out of hours, and you a prefect …” 
+“Sir, I wanted to ask you something.” 
+“Ask away, then, m’boy, ask away. …” 
+“Sir, I wondered what you know about … about 
+Horcruxes?” 
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+Slughorn stared at him, his thick fingers 
+absentmindedly caressing the stem of his wine glass. 
+“Project for Defense Against the Dark Arts, is it?” 
+But Harry could tell that Slughorn knew perfectly well 
+that this was not schoolwork. 
+“Not exactly, sir,” said Riddle. “I came across the term 
+while reading and I didn’t fully understand it.” 
+“No … well … you’d be hard-pushed to find a book at 
+Hogwarts that’ll give you details on Horcruxes, Tom, 
+that’s very Dark stuff, very Dark indeed,” said 
+Slughorn. 
+“But you obviously know all about them, sir? I mean, 
+a wizard like you — sorry, I mean, if you can’t tell me, 
+obviously — I just knew if anyone could tell me, you 
+could — so I just thought I’d ask —” 
+It was very well done, thought Harry, the hesitancy, 
+the casual tone, the careful flattery, none of it 
+overdone. He, Harry, had had too much experience of 
+trying to wheedle information out of reluctant people 
+not to recognize a master at work. He could tell that 
+Riddle wanted the information very, very much; 
+perhaps had been working toward this moment for 
+weeks. 
+“Well,” said Slughorn, not looking at Riddle, but 
+fiddling with the ribbon on top of his box of 
+crystalized pineapple, “well, it can’t hurt to give you 
+an overview, of course. Just so that you understand 
+the term. A Horcrux is the word used for an object in 
+which a person has concealed part of their soul.” 
+“I don’t quite understand how that works, though, 
+sir,” said Riddle. 
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+His voice was carefully controlled, but Harry could 
+sense his excitement. 
+“Well, you split your soul, you see,” said Slughorn, 
+“and hide part of it in an object outside the body. 
+Then, even if one’s body is attacked or destroyed, one 
+cannot die, for part of the soul remains earthbound 
+and undamaged. But of course, existence in such a 
+form …” 
+Slughorn’s face crumpled and Harry found himself 
+remembering words he had heard nearly two years 
+before: “I was ripped from my body, I was less than 
+spirit, less than the meanest ghost … but still, I was 
+alive.” 
+“… few would want it, Tom, very few. Death would be 
+preferable.” 
+But Riddle’s hunger was now apparent; his 
+expression was greedy, he could no longer hide his 
+longing. 
+“How do you split your soul?” 
+“Well,” said Slughorn uncomfortably, “you must 
+understand that the soul is supposed to remain intact 
+and whole. Splitting it is an act of violation, it is 
+against nature.” 
+“But how do you do it?” 
+“By an act of evil — the supreme act of evil. By 
+committing murder. Killing rips the soul apart. The 
+wizard intent upon creating a Horcrux would use the 
+damage to his advantage: He would encase the torn 
+portion —” 
+“Encase? But how — ?” 
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+“There is a spell, do not ask me, I don’t know!” said 
+Slughorn, shaking his head like an old elephant 
+bothered by mosquitoes. “Do I look as though I have 
+tried it — do I look like a killer?” 
+“No, sir, of course not,” said Riddle quickly. “I’m sorry 
+… I didn’t mean to offend …” 
+“Not at all, not at all, not offended,” said Slughorn 
+gruffly. “It’s natural to feel some curiosity about these 
+things. … Wizards of a certain caliber have always 
+been drawn to that aspect of magic. …” 
+“Yes, sir,” said Riddle. “What I don’t understand, 
+though — just out of curiosity — I mean, would one 
+Horcrux be much use? Can you only split your soul 
+once? Wouldn’t it be better, make you stronger, to 
+have your soul in more pieces, I mean, for instance, 
+isn’t seven the most powerfully magical number, 
+wouldn’t seven — ?” 
+“Merlin’s beard, Tom!” yelped Slughorn. “Seven! Isn’t 
+it bad enough to think of killing one person? And in 
+any case … bad enough to divide the soul … but to 
+rip it into seven pieces …” 
+Slughorn looked deeply troubled now: He was gazing 
+at Riddle as though he had never seen him plainly 
+before, and Harry could tell that he was regretting 
+entering into the conversation at all. 
+“Of course,” he muttered, “this is all hypothetical, 
+what we’re discussing, isn’t it? All academic …” 
+“Yes, sir, of course,” said Riddle quickly. 
+“But all the same, Tom … keep it quiet, what I’ve told 
+— that’s to say, what we’ve discussed. People 
+wouldn’t like to think we’ve been chatting about 
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+Horcruxes. It’s a banned subject at Hogwarts, you 
+know. … Dumbledore’s particularly fierce about it. …” 
+“I won’t say a word, sir,” said Riddle, and he left, but 
+not before Harry had glimpsed his face, which was 
+full of that same wild happiness it had worn when he 
+had first found out that he was a wizard, the sort of 
+happiness that did not enhance his handsome 
+features, but made them, somehow, less human. … 
+“Thank you, Harry,” said Dumbledore quietly. “Let us 
+go. …” 
+When Harry landed back on the office floor 
+Dumbledore was already sitting down behind his 
+desk. Harry sat too and waited for Dumbledore to 
+speak. 
+“I have been hoping for this piece of evidence for a 
+very long time,” said Dumbledore at last. “It confirms 
+the theory on which I have been working, it tells me 
+that I am right, and also how very far there is still to 
+go. …” 
+Harry suddenly noticed that every single one of the 
+old headmasters and headmistresses in the portraits 
+around the walls was awake and listening in on their 
+conversation. A corpulent, red-nosed wizard had 
+actually taken out an ear trumpet. 
+“Well, Harry,” said Dumbledore, “I am sure you 
+understood the significance of what we just heard. At 
+the same age as you are now, give or take a few 
+months, Tom Riddle was doing all he could to find out 
+how to make himself immortal.” 
+“You think he succeeded then, sir?” asked Harry. “He 
+made a Horcrux? And that’s why he didn’t die when 
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+he attacked me? He had a Horcrux hidden 
+somewhere? A bit of his soul was safe?” 
+“A bit … or more,” said Dumbledore. “You heard 
+Voldemort: What he particularly wanted from Horace 
+was an opinion on what would happen to the wizard 
+who created more than one Horcrux, what would 
+happen to the wizard so determined to evade death 
+that he would be prepared to murder many times, rip 
+his soul repeatedly, so as to store it in many, 
+separately concealed Horcruxes. No book would have 
+given him that information. As far as I know — as far, 
+I am sure, as Voldemort knew — no wizard had ever 
+done more than tear his soul in two.” 
+Dumbledore paused for a moment, marshaling his 
+thoughts, and then said, “Four years ago, I received 
+what I considered certain proof that Voldemort had 
+split his soul.” 
+“Where?” asked Harry “How?” 
+“You handed it to me, Harry,” said Dumbledore. “The 
+diary, Riddle’s diary, the one giving instructions on 
+how to reopen the Chamber of Secrets.” 
+“I don’t understand, sir,” said Harry. 
+“Well, although I did not see the Riddle who came out 
+of the diary, what you described to me was a 
+phenomenon I had never witnessed. A mere memory 
+starting to act and think for itself? A mere memory, 
+sapping the life out of the girl into whose hands it had 
+fallen? No, something much more sinister had lived 
+inside that book. … a fragment of soul, I was almost 
+sure of it. The diary had been a Horcrux. But this 
+raised as many questions as it answered. 
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+“What intrigued and alarmed me most was that that 
+diary had been intended as a weapon as much as a 
+safeguard.” 
+“I still don’t understand,” said Harry. 
+“Well, it worked as a Horcrux is supposed to work — 
+in other words, the fragment of soul concealed inside 
+it was kept safe and had undoubtedly played its part 
+in preventing the death of its owner. But there could 
+be no doubt that Riddle really wanted that diary read, 
+wanted the piece of his soul to inhabit or possess 
+somebody else, so that Slytherin’s monster would be 
+unleashed again.” 
+“Well, he didn’t want his hard work to be wasted,” 
+said Harry. “He wanted people to know he was 
+Slytherin’s heir, because he couldn’t take credit at the 
+time.” 
+“Quite correct,” said Dumbledore, nodding. “But don’t 
+you see, Harry, that if he intended the diary to be 
+passed to, or planted on, some future Hogwarts 
+student, he was being remarkably blasé about that 
+precious fragment of his soul concealed within it. The 
+point of a Horcrux is, as Professor Slughorn 
+explained, to keep part of the self hidden and safe, 
+not to fling it into somebody else’s path and run the 
+risk that they might destroy it — as indeed happened: 
+That particular fragment of soul is no more; you saw 
+to that. 
+“The careless way in which Voldemort regarded this 
+Horcrux seemed most ominous to me. It suggested 
+that he must have made — or been planning to make 
+— more Horcruxes, so that the loss of his first would 
+not be so detrimental. I did not wish to believe it, but 
+nothing else seemed to make sense. 
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+“Then you told me, two years later, that on the night 
+that Voldemort returned to his body, he made a most 
+illuminating and alarming statement to his Death 
+Eaters. ‘I, who have gone further than anybody along 
+the path that leads to immortality.’ That was what you 
+told me he said. ‘Further than anybody,’ And I thought 
+I knew what that meant, though the Death Eaters did 
+not. He was referring to his Horcruxes, Horcruxes in 
+the plural, Harry, which I do not believe any other 
+wizard has ever had. Yet it fitted: Lord Voldemort has 
+seemed to grow less human with the passing years, 
+and the transformation he has undergone seemed to 
+me to be only explicable if his soul was mutilated 
+beyond the realms of what we might call ‘usual evil’ 
+…” 
+“So he’s made himself impossible to kill by murdering 
+other people?” said Harry. “Why couldn’t he make a 
+Sorcerer’s Stone, or steal one, if he was so interested 
+in immortality?” 
+“Well, we know that he tried to do just that, five years 
+ago,” said Dumbledore. “But there are several reasons 
+why, I think, a Sorcerer’s Stone would appeal less 
+than Horcruxes to Lord Voldemort. 
+“While the Elixir of Life does indeed extend life, it 
+must be drunk regularly, for all eternity, if the drinker 
+is to maintain their immortality. Therefore, Voldemort 
+would be entirely dependent on the Elixir, and if it 
+ran out, or was contaminated, or if the Stone was 
+stolen, he would die just like any other man. 
+Voldemort likes to operate alone, remember. I believe 
+that he would have found the thought of being 
+dependent, even on the Elixir, intolerable. Of course 
+he was prepared to drink it if it would take him out of 
+the horrible part-life to which he was condemned 
+after attacking you, but only to regain a body. 
+Thereafter, I am convinced, he intended to continue to 
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+rely on his Horcruxes: He would need nothing more, if 
+only he could regain a human form. He was already 
+immortal, you see … or as close to immortal as any 
+man can be. 
+“But now, Harry, armed with this information, the 
+crucial memory you have succeeded in procuring for 
+us, we are closer to the secret of finishing Lord 
+Voldemort than anyone has ever been before. You 
+heard him, Harry: ‘Wouldn’t it be better, make you 
+stronger, to have your soul in more pieces … isn’t 
+seven the most powerfully magical number …’ Isn’t 
+seven the most powerfully magical number. Yes, I 
+think the idea of a seven-part soul would greatly 
+appeal to Lord Voldemort.” 
+“He made seven Horcruxes?” said Harry, horror-
+struck, while several of the portraits on the walls 
+made similar noises of shock and outrage. “But they 
+could be anywhere in the world — hidden — buried or 
+invisible —” 
+“I am glad to see you appreciate the magnitude of the 
+problem,” said Dumbledore calmly. “But firstly, no, 
+Harry, not seven Horcruxes: six. The seventh part of 
+his soul, however maimed, resides inside his 
+regenerated body. That was the part of him that lived 
+a spectral existence for so many years during his 
+exile; without that, he has no self at all. That seventh 
+piece of soul will be the last that anybody wishing to 
+kill Voldemort must attack — the piece that lives in 
+his body.” 
+“But the six Horcruxes, then,” said Harry, a little 
+desperately, “how are we supposed to find them?” 
+“You are forgetting … you have already destroyed one 
+of them. And I have destroyed another.” 
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+“You have?” said Harry eagerly. 
+“Yes indeed,” said Dumbledore, and he raised his 
+blackened, burned-looking hand. “The ring, Harry. 
+Marvolo’s ring. And a terrible curse there was upon it 
+too. Had it not been — forgive me the lack of seemly 
+modesty — for my own prodigious skill, and for 
+Professor Snape’s timely action when I returned to 
+Hogwarts, desperately injured, I might not have lived 
+to tell the tale. However, a withered hand does not 
+seem an unreasonable exchange for a seventh of 
+Voldemort’s soul. The ring is no longer a Horcrux.” 
+“But how did you find it?” 
+“Well, as you now know, for many years I have made 
+it my business to discover as much as I can about 
+Voldemort’s past life. I have traveled widely, visiting 
+those places he once knew. I stumbled across the ring 
+hidden in the ruin of the Gaunts’ house. It seems that 
+once Voldemort had succeeded in sealing a piece of 
+his soul inside it, he did not want to wear it anymore. 
+He hid it, protected by many powerful enchantments, 
+in the shack where his ancestors had once lived 
+(Morfin having been carted off to Azkaban, of course), 
+never guessing that I might one day take the trouble 
+to visit the ruin, or that I might be keeping an eye 
+open for traces of magical concealment. 
+“However, we should not congratulate ourselves too 
+heartily. You destroyed the diary and I the ring, but if 
+we are right in our theory of a seven-part soul, four 
+Horcruxes remain.” 
+“And they could be anything?” said Harry. “They 
+could be old tin cans or, I dunno, empty potion 
+bottles. …” 
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+“You are thinking of Portkeys, Harry, which must be 
+ordinary objects, easy to overlook. But would Lord 
+Voldemort use tin cans or old potion bottles to guard 
+his own precious soul? You are forgetting what I have 
+showed you. Lord Voldemort liked to collect trophies, 
+and he preferred objects with a powerful magical 
+history. His pride, his belief in his own superiority, 
+his determination to carve for himself a startling place 
+in magical history; these things suggest to me that 
+Voldemort would have chosen his Horcruxes with 
+some care, favoring objects worthy of the honor.” 
+“The diary wasn’t that special.” 
+“The diary, as you have said yourself, was proof that 
+he was the Heir of Slytherin; I am sure that 
+Voldemort considered it of stupendous importance.” 
+“So, the other Horcruxes?” said Harry. “Do you think 
+you know what they are, sir?” 
+“I can only guess,” said Dumbledore. “For the reasons 
+I have already given, I believe that Lord Voldemort 
+would prefer objects that, in themselves, have a 
+certain grandeur. I have therefore trawled back 
+through Voldemort’s past to see if I can find evidence 
+that such artifacts have disappeared around him.” 
+“The locket!” said Harry loudly. “Hufflepuff’s cup!” 
+“Yes,” said Dumbledore, smiling, “I would be prepared 
+to bet — perhaps not my other hand — but a couple 
+of fingers, that they became Horcruxes three and 
+four. The remaining two, assuming again that he 
+created a total of six, are more of a problem, but I will 
+hazard a guess that, having secured objects from 
+Hufflepuff and Slytherin, he set out to track down 
+objects owned by Gryffindor or Ravenclaw. Four 
+objects from the four founders would, I am sure, have 
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+exerted a powerful pull over Voldemort’s imagination. 
+I cannot answer for whether he ever managed to find 
+anything of Ravenclaw’s. I am confident, however, 
+that the only known relic of Gryffindor remains safe.” 
+Dumbledore pointed his blackened fingers to the wall 
+behind him, where a ruby-encrusted sword reposed 
+within a glass case. 
+“Do you think that’s why he really wanted to come 
+back to Hogwarts, sir?” said Harry. “To try and find 
+something from one of the other founders?” 
+“My thoughts precisely,” said Dumbledore. “But 
+unfortunately, that does not advance us much 
+further, for he was turned away, or so I believe, 
+without the chance to search the school. I am forced 
+to conclude that he never fulfilled his ambition of 
+collecting four founders’ objects. He definitely had two 
+— he may have found three — that is the best we can 
+do for now.” 
+“Even if he got something of Ravenclaw’s or of 
+Gryffindor’s, that leaves a sixth Horcrux,” said Harry, 
+counting on his fingers. “Unless he got both?” 
+“I don’t think so,” said Dumbledore. “I think I know 
+what the sixth Horcrux is. I wonder what you will say 
+when I confess that I have been curious for a while 
+about the behavior of the snake, Nagini?” 
+“The snake?” said Harry, startled. “You can use 
+animals as Horcruxes?” 
+“Well, it is inadvisable to do so,” said Dumbledore, 
+“because to confide a part of your soul to something 
+that can think and move for itself is obviously a very 
+risky business. However, if my calculations are 
+correct, Voldemort was still at least one Horcrux short 
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+of his goal of six when he entered your parents’ house 
+with the intention of killing you. 
+“He seems to have reserved the process of making 
+Horcruxes for particularly significant deaths. You 
+would certainly have been that. He believed that in 
+killing you, he was destroying the danger the 
+prophecy had outlined. He believed he was making 
+himself invincible. I am sure that he was intending to 
+make his final Horcrux with your death. 
+“As we know, he failed. After an interval of some 
+years, however, he used Nagini to kill an old Muggle 
+man, and it might then have occurred to him to turn 
+her into his last Horcrux. She underlines the 
+Slytherin connection, which enhances Lord 
+Voldemort’s mystique; I think he is perhaps as fond of 
+her as he can be of anything; he certainly likes to 
+keep her close, and he seems to have an unusual 
+amount of control over her, even for a Parselmouth.” 
+“So,” said Harry, “the diary’s gone, the ring’s gone. 
+The cup, the locket, and the snake are still intact, 
+and you think there might be a Horcrux that was 
+once Ravenclaw’s or Gryffindor’s?” 
+“An admirably succinct and accurate summary, yes,” 
+said Dumbledore, bowing his head. 
+“So … are you still looking for them, sir? Is that where 
+you’ve been going when you’ve been leaving the 
+school?” 
+“Correct,” said Dumbledore. “I have been looking for a 
+very long time. I think … perhaps … I may be close to 
+finding another one. There are hopeful signs.” 
+“And if you do,” said Harry quickly, “can I come with 
+you and help get rid of it?” 
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+Dumbledore looked at Harry very intently for a 
+moment before saying, “Yes, I think so.” 
+“I can?” said Harry, thoroughly taken aback. 
+“Oh yes,” said Dumbledore, smiling slightly. “I think 
+you have earned that right.” 
+Harry felt his heart lift. It was very good not to hear 
+words of caution and protection for once. The 
+headmasters and headmistresses around the walls 
+seemed less impressed by Dumbledore’s decision; 
+Harry saw a few of them shaking their heads and 
+Phineas Nigellus actually snorted. 
+“Does Voldemort know when a Horcrux is destroyed, 
+sir? Can he feel it?” Harry asked, ignoring the 
+portraits. 
+“A very interesting question, Harry. I believe not. I 
+believe that Voldemort is now so immersed in evil, 
+and these crucial parts of himself have been detached 
+for so long, he does not feel as we do. Perhaps, at the 
+point of death, he might be aware of his loss … but he 
+was not aware, for instance, that the diary had been 
+destroyed until he forced the truth out of Lucius 
+Malfoy. When Voldemort discovered that the diary 
+had been mutilated and robbed of all its powers, I am 
+told that his anger was terrible to behold.” 
+“But I thought he meant Lucius Malfoy to smuggle it 
+into Hogwarts?” 
+“Yes, he did, years ago, when he was sure he would 
+be able to create more Horcruxes, but still Lucius was 
+supposed to wait for Voldemort’s say-so, and he never 
+received it, for Voldemort vanished shortly after giving 
+him the diary. 
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+“No doubt he thought that Lucius would not dare do 
+anything with the Horcrux other than guard it 
+carefully, but he was counting too much upon 
+Lucius’s fear of a master who had been gone for years 
+and whom Lucius believed dead. Of course, Lucius 
+did not know what the diary really was. I understand 
+that Voldemort had told him the diary would cause 
+the Chamber of Secrets to reopen because it was 
+cleverly enchanted. Had Lucius known he held a 
+portion of his master’s soul in his hands, he would 
+undoubtedly have treated it with more reverence — 
+but instead he went ahead and carried out the old 
+plan for his own ends: By planting the diary upon 
+Arthur Weasley’s daughter, he hoped to discredit 
+Arthur and get rid of a highly incriminating magical 
+object in one stroke. Ah, poor Lucius … what with 
+Voldemort’s fury about the fact that he threw away 
+the Horcrux for his own gain, and the fiasco at the 
+Ministry last year, I would not be surprised if he is 
+not secretly glad to be safe in Azkaban at the 
+moment.” 
+Harry sat in thought for a moment, then asked, “So if 
+all of his Horcruxes are destroyed, Voldemort could be 
+killed?” 
+“Yes, I think so,” said Dumbledore. “Without his 
+Horcruxes, Voldemort will be a mortal man with a 
+maimed and diminished soul. Never forget, though, 
+that while his soul may be damaged beyond repair, 
+his brain and his magical powers remain intact. It will 
+take uncommon skill and power to kill a wizard like 
+Voldemort even without his Horcruxes.” 
+“But I haven’t got uncommon skill and power,” said 
+Harry, before he could stop himself. 
+“Yes, you have,” said Dumbledore firmly. “You have a 
+power that Voldemort has never had. You can —” 
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+“I know!” said Harry impatiently. “I can love!” It was 
+only with difficulty that he stopped himself adding, 
+“Big deal!” 
+“Yes, Harry, you can love,” said Dumbledore, who 
+looked as though he knew perfectly well what Harry 
+had just refrained from saying. “Which, given 
+everything that has happened to you, is a great and 
+remarkable thing. You are still too young to 
+understand how unusual you are, Harry.” 
+“So, when the prophecy says that I’ll have ‘power the 
+Dark Lord knows not,’ it just means — love?” asked 
+Harry, feeling a little let down. 
+“Yes — just love,” said Dumbledore. “But Harry, never 
+forget that what the prophecy says is only significant 
+because Voldemort made it so. I told you this at the 
+end of last year. Voldemort singled you out as the 
+person who would be most dangerous to him — and 
+in doing so, he made you the person who would be 
+most dangerous to him!” 
+“But it comes to the same —” 
+“No, it doesn’t!” said Dumbledore, sounding impatient 
+now. Pointing at Harry with his black, withered hand, 
+he said, “You are setting too much store by the 
+prophecy!” 
+“But,” spluttered Harry, “but you said the prophecy 
+means —” 
+“If Voldemort had never heard of the prophecy, would 
+it have been fulfilled? Would it have meant anything? 
+Of course not! Do you think every prophecy in the 
+Hall of Prophecy has been fulfilled?” 
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+“But,” said Harry, bewildered, “but last year, you said 
+one of us would have to kill the other —” 
+“Harry, Harry, only because Voldemort made a grave 
+error, and acted on Professor Trelawney’s words! If 
+Voldemort had never murdered your father, would he 
+have imparted in you a furious desire for revenge? Of 
+course not! If he had not forced your mother to die for 
+you, would he have given you a magical protection he 
+could not penetrate? Of course not, Harry! Don’t you 
+see? Voldemort himself created his worst enemy, just 
+as tyrants everywhere do! Have you any idea how 
+much tyrants fear the people they oppress? All of 
+them realize that, one day, amongst their many 
+victims, there is sure to be one who rises against 
+them and strikes back! Voldemort is no different! 
+Always he was on the lookout for the one who would 
+challenge him. He heard the prophecy and he leapt 
+into action, with the result that he not only 
+handpicked the man most likely to finish him, he 
+handed him uniquely deadly weapons!” 
+“But —” 
+“It is essential that you understand this!” said 
+Dumbledore, standing up and striding about the 
+room, his glittering robes swooshing in his wake; 
+Harry had never seen him so agitated. “By attempting 
+to kill you, Voldemort himself singled out the 
+remarkable person who sits here in front of me, and 
+gave him the tools for the job! It is Voldemort’s fault 
+that you were able to see into his thoughts, his 
+ambitions, that you even understand the snakelike 
+language in which he gives orders, and yet, Harry, 
+despite your privileged insight into Voldemort’s world 
+(which, incidentally, is a gift any Death Eater would 
+kill to have), you have never been seduced by the 
+Dark Arts, never, even for a second, shown the 
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+slightest desire to become one of Voldemort’s 
+followers!” 
+“Of course I haven’t!” said Harry indignantly. “He 
+killed my mum and dad!” 
+“You are protected, in short, by your ability to love!” 
+said Dumbledore loudly. “The only protection that can 
+possibly work against the lure of power like 
+Voldemort’s! In spite of all the temptation you have 
+endured, all the suffering, you remain pure of heart, 
+just as pure as you were at the age of eleven, when 
+you stared into a mirror that reflected your heart’s 
+desire, and it showed you only the way to thwart Lord 
+Voldemort, and not immortality or riches. Harry, have 
+you any idea how few wizards could have seen what 
+you saw in that mirror? Voldemort should have 
+known then what he was dealing with, but he did not! 
+“But he knows it now. You have flitted into Lord 
+Voldemort’s mind without damage to yourself, but he 
+cannot possess you without enduring mortal agony, 
+as he discovered in the Ministry. I do not think he 
+understands why, Harry, but then, he was in such a 
+hurry to mutilate his own soul, he never paused to 
+understand the incomparable power of a soul that is 
+untarnished and whole.” 
+“But, sir,” said Harry, making valiant efforts not to 
+sound argumentative, “it all comes to the same thing, 
+doesn’t it? I’ve got to try and kill him, or —” 
+“Got to?” said Dumbledore. “Of course you’ve got to! 
+But not because of the prophecy! Because you, 
+yourself, will never rest until you’ve tried! We both 
+know it! Imagine, please, just for a moment, that you 
+had never heard that prophecy! How would you feel 
+about Voldemort now? Think!” 
+P a g e  | 575 
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+Harry watched Dumbledore striding up and down in 
+front of him, and thought. He thought of his mother, 
+his father, and Sirius. He thought of Cedric Diggory. 
+He thought of all the terrible deeds he knew Lord 
+Voldemort had done. A flame seemed to leap inside 
+his chest, searing his throat. 
+“I’d want him finished,” said Harry quietly. “And I’d 
+want to do it.” 
+“Of course you would!” cried Dumbledore. “You see, 
+the prophecy does not mean you have to do anything! 
+But the prophecy caused Lord Voldemort to mark you 
+as his equal. … In other words, you are free to choose 
+your way, quite free to turn your back on the 
+prophecy! But Voldemort continues to set store by the 
+prophecy. He will continue to hunt you … which 
+makes it certain, really, that —” 
+“That one of us is going to end up killing the other,” 
+said Harry. “Yes.” 
+But he understood at last what Dumbledore had been 
+trying to tell him. It was, he thought, the difference 
+between being dragged into the arena to face a battle 
+to the death and walking into the arena with your 
+head held high. Some people, perhaps, would say that 
+there was little to choose between the two ways, but 
+Dumbledore knew — and so do I, thought Harry, with 
+a rush of fierce pride, and so did my parents — that 
+there was all the difference in the world. 
+P a g e  | 576 
+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+ 
+ 
+SECTUMSEMPRA 
+Exhausted but delighted with his night’s work, Harry 
+told Ron and Hermione everything that had happened 
+during next morning’s Charms lesson (having first 
+cast the Muffliato spell upon those nearest them). 
+They were both satisfyingly impressed by the way he 
+had wheedled the memory out of Slughorn and 
+positively awed when he told them about Voldemort’s 
+Horcruxes and Dumbledore’s promise to take Harry 
+along, should he find another one. 
+“Wow,” said Ron, when Harry had finally finished 
+telling them everything; Ron was waving his wand 
+very vaguely in the direction of the ceiling without 
+paying the slightest bit of attention to what he was 
+doing. “Wow. You’re actually going to go with 
+Dumbledore … and try and destroy … wow.” 
+“Ron, you’re making it snow,” said Hermione 
+patiently, grabbing his wrist and redirecting his wand 
+away from the ceiling from which, sure enough, large 
+white flakes had started to fall. Lavender Brown, 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+Harry noticed, glared at Hermione from a neighboring 
+table through very red eyes, and Hermione 
+immediately let go of Ron’s arm. 
+“Oh yeah,” said Ron, looking down at his shoulders in 
+vague surprise. “Sorry … looks like we’ve all got 
+horrible dandruff now. …” 
+He brushed some of the fake snow off Hermione’s 
+shoulder. Lavender burst into tears. Ron looked 
+immensely guilty and turned his back on her. 
+“We split up,” he told Harry out of the corner of his 
+mouth. “Last night. When she saw me coming out of 
+the dormitory with Hermione. Obviously she couldn’t 
+see you, so she thought it had just been the two of 
+us.” 
+“Ah,” said Harry. “Well — you don’t mind it’s over, do 
+you?” 
+“No,” Ron admitted. “It was pretty bad while she was 
+yelling, but at least I didn’t have to finish it.” 
+“Coward,” said Hermione, though she looked amused. 
+“Well, it was a bad night for romance all around. 
+Ginny and Dean split up too, Harry.” 
+Harry thought there was a rather knowing look in her 
+eye as she told him that, but she could not possibly 
+know that his insides were suddenly dancing the 
+conga. Keeping his face as immobile and his voice as 
+indifferent as he could, he asked, “How come?” 
+“Oh, something really silly … She said he was always 
+trying to help her through the portrait hole, like she 
+couldn’t climb in herself … but they’ve been a bit 
+rocky for ages.” 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+Harry glanced over at Dean on the other side of the 
+classroom. He certainly looked unhappy. 
+“Of course, this puts you in a bit of a dilemma, 
+doesn’t it?” said Hermione. 
+“What d’you mean?” said Harry quickly. 
+“The Quidditch team,” said Hermione. “If Ginny and 
+Dean aren’t speaking …” 
+“Oh — oh yeah,” said Harry. 
+“Flitwick,” said Ron in a warning tone. The tiny little 
+Charms master was bobbing his way toward them, 
+and Hermione was the only one who had managed to 
+turn vinegar into wine; her glass flask was full of deep 
+crimson liquid, whereas the contents of Harry’s and 
+Ron’s were still murky brown. 
+“Now, now, boys,” squeaked Professor Flitwick 
+reproachfully. “A little less talk, a little more action … 
+Let me see you try. …” 
+Together they raised their wands, concentrating with 
+all their might, and pointed them at their flasks. 
+Harry’s vinegar turned to ice; Ron’s flask exploded. 
+“Yes … for homework,” said Professor Flitwick, 
+reemerging from under the table and pulling shards 
+of glass out of the top of his hat, “practice.” 
+They had one of their rare joint free periods after 
+Charms and walked back to the common room 
+together. Ron seemed to be positively lighthearted 
+about the end of his relationship with Lavender, and 
+Hermione seemed cheery too, though when asked 
+what she was grinning about she simply said, “It’s a 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+nice day.” Neither of them seemed to have noticed 
+that a fierce battle was raging inside Harry’s brain: 
+She’s Ron’s sister. 
+But she’s ditched Dean! 
+She’s still Ron’s sister. 
+I’m his best mate! 
+That’ll make it worse. 
+If I talked to him first — 
+He’d hit you. 
+What if I don’t care? 
+He’s your best mate! 
+Harry barely noticed that they were climbing through 
+the portrait hole into the sunny common room, and 
+only vaguely registered the small group of seventh 
+years clustered together there, until Hermione cried, 
+“Katie! You’re back! Are you okay?” 
+Harry stared: It was indeed Katie Bell, looking 
+completely healthy and surrounded by her jubilant 
+friends. 
+“I’m really well!” she said happily. “They let me out of 
+St. Mungo’s on Monday, I had a couple of days at 
+home with Mum and Dad and then came back here 
+this morning. Leanne was just telling me about 
+McLaggen and the last match, Harry. …” 
+“Yeah,” said Harry, “well, now you’re back and Ron’s 
+fit, we’ll have a decent chance of thrashing 
+P a g e  | 580 
+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+Ravenclaw, which means we could still be in the 
+running for the Cup. Listen, Katie …” 
+He had to put the question to her at once; his 
+curiosity even drove Ginny temporarily from his 
+brain. He dropped his voice as Katie’s friends started 
+gathering up their things; apparently they were late 
+for Transfiguration. 
+“… that necklace … can you remember who gave it to 
+you now?” 
+“No,” said Katie, shaking her head ruefully. 
+“Everyone’s been asking me, but I haven’t got a clue. 
+The last thing I remember was walking into the ladies’ 
+in the Three Broomsticks.” 
+“You definitely went into the bathroom, then?” said 
+Hermione. 
+“Well, I know I pushed open the door,” said Katie, “so 
+I suppose whoever Imperiused me was standing just 
+behind it. After that, my memory’s a blank until 
+about two weeks ago in St. Mungo’s. Listen, I’d better 
+go, I wouldn’t put it past McGonagall to give me lines 
+even if it is my first day back. …” 
+She caught up her bag and books and hurried after 
+her friends, leaving Harry, Ron, and Hermione to sit 
+down at a window table and ponder what she had told 
+them. 
+“So it must have been a girl or a woman who gave 
+Katie the necklace,” said Hermione, “to be in the 
+ladies’ bathroom.” 
+“Or someone who looked like a girl or a woman,” said 
+Harry. “Don’t forget, there was a cauldron full of 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+Polyjuice Potion at Hogwarts. We know some of it got 
+stolen. …” 
+In his mind’s eye, he watched a parade of Crabbes 
+and Goyles prance past, all transformed into girls. 
+“I think I’m going to take another swig of Felix,” said 
+Harry, “and have a go at the Room of Requirement 
+again.” 
+“That would be a complete waste of potion,” said 
+Hermione flatly, putting down the copy of Spellman’s 
+Syllabary she had just taken out of her bag. “Luck 
+can only get you so far, Harry. The situation with 
+Slughorn was different; you always had the ability to 
+persuade him, you just needed to tweak the 
+circumstances a bit. Luck isn’t enough to get you 
+through a powerful enchantment, though. Don’t go 
+wasting the rest of that potion! You’ll need all the luck 
+you can get if Dumbledore takes you along with him 
+…” She dropped her voice to a whisper. 
+“Couldn’t we make some more?” Ron asked Harry, 
+ignoring Hermione. “It’d be great to have a stock of it. 
+… Have a look in the book …” 
+Harry pulled his copy of Advanced Potion-Making out 
+of his bag and looked up Felix Felicis. 
+“Blimey, it’s seriously complicated,” he said, running 
+an eye down the list of ingredients. “And it takes six 
+months … You’ve got to let it stew. …” 
+“Typical,” said Ron. 
+Harry was about to put his book away again when he 
+noticed the corner of a page folded down; turning to 
+it, he saw the Sectumsempra spell, captioned “For 
+Enemies,” that he had marked a few weeks 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+previously. He had still not found out what it did, 
+mainly because he did not want to test it around 
+Hermione, but he was considering trying it out on 
+McLaggen next time he came up behind him 
+unawares. 
+The only person who was not particularly pleased to 
+see Katie Bell back at school was Dean Thomas, 
+because he would no longer be required to fill her 
+place as Chaser. He took the blow stoically enough 
+when Harry told him, merely grunting and shrugging, 
+but Harry had the distinct feeling as he walked away 
+that Dean and Seamus were muttering mutinously 
+behind his back. 
+The following fortnight saw the best Quidditch 
+practices Harry had known as Captain. His team was 
+so pleased to be rid of McLaggen, so glad to have 
+Katie back at last, that they were flying extremely 
+well. 
+Ginny did not seem at all upset about the breakup 
+with Dean; on the contrary, she was the life and soul 
+of the team. Her imitations of Ron anxiously bobbing 
+up and down in front of the goal posts as the Quaffle 
+sped toward him, or of Harry bellowing orders at 
+McLaggen before being knocked out cold, kept them 
+all highly amused. Harry, laughing with the others, 
+was glad to have an innocent reason to look at Ginny; 
+he had received several more Bludger injuries during 
+practice because he had not been keeping his eyes on 
+the Snitch. 
+The battle still raged inside his head: Ginny or Ron? 
+Sometimes he thought that the post-Lavender Ron 
+might not mind too much if he asked Ginny out, but 
+then he remembered Ron’s expression when he had 
+seen her kissing Dean, and was sure that Ron would 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+consider it base treachery if Harry so much as held 
+her hand. … 
+Yet Harry could not help himself talking to Ginny, 
+laughing with her, walking back from practice with 
+her; however much his conscience ached, he found 
+himself wondering how best to get her on her own. It 
+would have been ideal if Slughorn had given another 
+of his little parties, for Ron would not be around — 
+but unfortunately, Slughorn seemed to have given 
+them up. Once or twice Harry considered asking for 
+Hermione’s help, but he did not think he could stand 
+seeing the smug look on her face; he thought he 
+caught it sometimes when Hermione spotted him 
+staring at Ginny or laughing at her jokes. And to 
+complicate matters, he had the nagging worry that if 
+he didn’t do it, somebody else was sure to ask Ginny 
+out soon: He and Ron were at least agreed on the fact 
+that she was too popular for her own good. 
+All in all, the temptation to take another gulp of Felix 
+Felicis was becoming stronger by the day, for surely 
+this was a case for, as Hermione put it, “tweaking the 
+circumstances”? The balmy days slid gently through 
+May, and Ron seemed to be there at Harry’s shoulder 
+every time he saw Ginny. Harry found himself longing 
+for a stroke of luck that would somehow cause Ron to 
+realize that nothing would make him happier than his 
+best friend and his sister falling for each other and to 
+leave them alone together for longer than a few 
+seconds. There seemed no chance of either while the 
+final Quidditch game of the season was looming; Ron 
+wanted to talk tactics with Harry all the time and had 
+little thought for anything else. 
+Ron was not unique in this respect; interest in the 
+Gryffindor-Ravenclaw game was running extremely 
+high throughout the school, for the match would 
+decide the Championship, which was still wide open. 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+If Gryffindor beat Ravenclaw by a margin of three 
+hundred points (a tall order, and yet Harry had never 
+known his team to fly better) then they would win the 
+Championship. If they won by less than three 
+hundred points, they would come second to 
+Ravenclaw; if they lost by a hundred points they 
+would be third behind Hufflepuff and if they lost by 
+more than a hundred, they would be in fourth place 
+and nobody, Harry thought, would ever, ever let him 
+forget that it had been he who had captained 
+Gryffindor to their first bottom-of-the-table defeat in 
+two centuries. 
+The run-up to this crucial match had all the usual 
+features: members of rival Houses attempting to 
+intimidate opposing teams in the corridors; 
+unpleasant chants about individual players being 
+rehearsed loudly as they passed; the team members 
+themselves either swaggering around enjoying all the 
+attention or else dashing into bathrooms between 
+classes to throw up. Somehow, the game had become 
+inextricably linked in Harry’s mind with success or 
+failure in his plans for Ginny. He could not help 
+feeling that if they won by more than three hundred 
+points, the scenes of euphoria and a nice loud after-
+match party might be just as good as a hearty swig of 
+Felix Felicis. 
+In the midst of all his preoccupations, Harry had not 
+forgotten his other ambition: finding out what Malfoy 
+was up to in the Room of Requirement. He was still 
+checking the Marauder’s Map, and as he was unable 
+to locate Malfoy on it, deduced that Malfoy was still 
+spending plenty of time within the room. Although 
+Harry was losing hope that he would ever succeed in 
+getting inside the Room of Requirement, he attempted 
+it whenever he was in the vicinity, but no matter how 
+he reworded his request, the wall remained firmly 
+doorless. 
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+A few days before the match against Ravenclaw, 
+Harry found himself walking down to dinner alone 
+from the common room, Ron having rushed off into a 
+nearby bathroom to throw up yet again, and 
+Hermione having dashed off to see Professor Vector 
+about a mistake she thought she might have made in 
+her last Arithmancy essay. More out of habit than 
+anything, Harry made his usual detour along the 
+seventh-floor corridor, checking the Marauder’s Map 
+as he went. For a moment he could not find Malfoy 
+anywhere and assumed he must indeed be inside the 
+Room of Requirement again, but then he saw Malfoy’s 
+tiny, labeled dot standing in a boys’ bathroom on the 
+floor below, accompanied, not by Crabbe or Goyle, 
+but by Moaning Myrtle. 
+Harry only stopped staring at this unlikely coupling 
+when he walked right into a suit of armor. The loud 
+crash brought him out of his reverie; hurrying from 
+the scene lest Filch turn up, he dashed down the 
+marble staircase and along the passageway below. 
+Outside the bathroom, he pressed his ear against the 
+door. He could not hear anything. He very quietly 
+pushed the door open. 
+Draco Malfoy was standing with his back to the door, 
+his hands clutching either side of the sink, his white-
+blond head bowed. 
+“Don’t,” crooned Moaning Myrtle’s voice from one of 
+the cubicles. “Don’t … tell me what’s wrong … I can 
+help you. …” 
+“No one can help me,” said Malfoy. His whole body 
+was shaking. “I can’t do it. … I can’t. … It won’t work 
+… and unless I do it soon … he says he’ll kill me. …” 
+And Harry realized, with a shock so huge it seemed to 
+root him to the spot, that Malfoy was crying — 
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+actually crying — tears streaming down his pale face 
+into the grimy basin. Malfoy gasped and gulped and 
+then, with a great shudder, looked up into the 
+cracked mirror and saw Harry staring at him over his 
+shoulder. 
+Malfoy wheeled around, drawing his wand. 
+Instinctively, Harry pulled out his own. Malfoy’s hex 
+missed Harry by inches, shattering the lamp on the 
+wall beside him; Harry threw himself sideways, 
+thought Levicorpus! and flicked his wand, but Malfoy 
+blocked the jinx and raised his wand for another — 
+“No! No! Stop it!” squealed Moaning Myrtle, her voice 
+echoing loudly around the tiled room. “Stop! STOP!” 
+There was a loud bang and the bin behind Harry 
+exploded; Harry attempted a Leg-Locker Curse that 
+backfired off the wall behind Malfoy’s ear and 
+smashed the cistern beneath Moaning Myrtle, who 
+screamed loudly; water poured everywhere and Harry 
+slipped as Malfoy, his face contorted, cried, “Cruci —” 
+“SECTUMSEMPRA!” bellowed Harry from the floor, 
+waving his wand wildly. 
+Blood spurted from Malfoy’s face and chest as though 
+he had been slashed with an invisible sword. He 
+staggered backward and collapsed onto the 
+waterlogged floor with a great splash, his wand falling 
+from his limp right hand. 
+“No —” gasped Harry. 
+Slipping and staggering, Harry got to his feet and 
+plunged toward Malfoy, whose face was now shining 
+scarlet, his white hands scrabbling at his blood-
+soaked chest. 
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+“No — I didn’t —” 
+Harry did not know what he was saying; he fell to his 
+knees beside Malfoy, who was shaking uncontrollably 
+in a pool of his own blood. Moaning Myrtle let out a 
+deafening scream: “MURDER! MURDER IN THE 
+BATHROOM! MURDER!” 
+The door banged open behind Harry and he looked 
+up, terrified: Snape had burst into the room, his face 
+livid. Pushing Harry roughly aside, he knelt over 
+Malfoy, drew his wand, and traced it over the deep 
+wounds Harry’s curse had made, muttering an 
+incantation that sounded almost like song. The flow 
+of blood seemed to ease; Snape wiped the residue 
+from Malfoy’s face and repeated his spell. Now the 
+wounds seemed to be knitting. 
+Harry was still watching, horrified by what he had 
+done, barely aware that he too was soaked in blood 
+and water. Moaning Myrtle was still sobbing and 
+wailing overhead. When Snape had performed his 
+countercurse for the third time, he half-lifted Malfoy 
+into a standing position. 
+“You need the hospital wing. There may be a certain 
+amount of scarring, but if you take dittany 
+immediately we might avoid even that. … Come. …” 
+He supported Malfoy across the bathroom, turning at 
+the door to say in a voice of cold fury, “And you, 
+Potter … You wait here for me.” 
+It did not occur to Harry for a second to disobey. He 
+stood up slowly, shaking, and looked down at the wet 
+floor. There were bloodstains floating like crimson 
+flowers across its surface. He could not even find it in 
+himself to tell Moaning Myrtle to be quiet, as she 
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+continued to wail and sob with increasingly evident 
+enjoyment. 
+Snape returned ten minutes later. He stepped into the 
+bathroom and closed the door behind him. 
+“Go,” he said to Myrtle, and she swooped back into 
+her toilet at once, leaving a ringing silence behind 
+her. 
+“I didn’t mean it to happen,” said Harry at once. His 
+voice echoed in the cold, watery space. “I didn’t know 
+what that spell did.” 
+But Snape ignored this. “Apparently I underestimated 
+you, Potter,” he said quietly. “Who would have 
+thought you knew such Dark Magic? Who taught you 
+that spell?” 
+“I — read about it somewhere.” 
+“Where?” 
+“It was — a library book,” Harry invented wildly. “I 
+can’t remember what it was call —” 
+“Liar,” said Snape. Harry’s throat went dry. He knew 
+what Snape was going to do and he had never been 
+able to prevent it. … 
+The bathroom seemed to shimmer before his eyes; he 
+struggled to block out all thought, but try as he 
+might, the Half-Blood Prince’s copy of Advanced 
+Potion-Making swam hazily to the forefront of his 
+mind. 
+And then he was staring at Snape again, in the midst 
+of this wrecked, soaked bathroom. He stared into 
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+Snape’s black eyes, hoping against hope that Snape 
+had not seen what he feared, but — 
+“Bring me your schoolbag,” said Snape softly, “and all 
+of your schoolbooks. All of them. Bring them to me 
+here. Now!” 
+There was no point arguing. Harry turned at once and 
+splashed out of the bathroom. Once in the corridor, 
+he broke into a run toward Gryffindor Tower. Most 
+people were walking the other way; they gaped at him, 
+drenched in water and blood, but he answered none 
+of the questions fired at him as he ran past. 
+He felt stunned; it was as though a beloved pet had 
+turned suddenly savage; what had the Prince been 
+thinking to copy such a spell into his book? And what 
+would happen when Snape saw it? Would he tell 
+Slughorn — Harry’s stomach churned — how Harry 
+had been achieving such good results in Potions all 
+year? Would he confiscate or destroy the book that 
+had taught Harry so much … the book that had 
+become a kind of guide and friend? Harry could not 
+let it happen. … He could not … 
+“Where’ve you — ? Why are you soaking — ? Is that 
+blood?” 
+Ron was standing at the top of the stairs, looking 
+bewildered at the sight of Harry. 
+“I need your book,” Harry panted. “Your Potions book. 
+Quick … give it to me …” 
+“But what about the Half-Blood —” 
+“I’ll explain later!” 
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+Ron pulled his copy of Advanced Potion-Making out of 
+his bag and handed it over; Harry sprinted off past 
+him and back to the common room. Here, he seized 
+his schoolbag, ignoring the amazed looks of several 
+people who had already finished their dinner, threw 
+himself back out of the portrait hole, and hurtled off 
+along the seventh-floor corridor. 
+He skidded to a halt beside the tapestry of dancing 
+trolls, closed his eyes, and began to walk. 
+I need a place to hide my book. … I need a place to 
+hide my book. … I need a place to hide my book. … 
+Three times he walked up and down in front of the 
+stretch of blank wall. When he opened his eyes, there 
+it was at last: the door to the Room of Requirement. 
+Harry wrenched it open, flung himself inside, and 
+slammed it shut. 
+He gasped. Despite his haste, his panic, his fear of 
+what awaited him back in the bathroom, he could not 
+help but be overawed by what he was looking at. He 
+was standing in a room the size of a large cathedral, 
+whose high windows were sending shafts of light 
+down upon what looked like a city with towering 
+walls, built of what Harry knew must be objects 
+hidden by generations of Hogwarts inhabitants. There 
+were alleyways and roads bordered by teetering piles 
+of broken and damaged furniture, stowed away, 
+perhaps, to hide the evidence of mishandled magic, or 
+else hidden by castle-proud house-elves. There were 
+thousands and thousands of books, no doubt banned 
+or graffitied or stolen. There were winged catapults 
+and Fanged Frisbees, some still with enough life in 
+them to hover halfheartedly over the mountains of 
+other forbidden items; there were chipped bottles of 
+congealed potions, hats, jewels, cloaks; there were 
+what looked like dragon eggshells, corked bottles 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+whose contents still shimmered evilly, several rusting 
+swords, and a heavy, bloodstained axe. 
+Harry hurried forward into one of the many alleyways 
+between all this hidden treasure. He turned right past 
+an enormous stuffed troll, ran on a short way, took a 
+left at the broken Vanishing Cabinet in which 
+Montague had got lost the previous year, finally 
+pausing beside a large cupboard that seemed to have 
+had acid thrown at its blistered surface. He opened 
+one of the cupboard’s creaking doors: It had already 
+been used as a hiding place for something in a cage 
+that had long since died; its skeleton had five legs. He 
+stuffed the Half-Blood Prince’s book behind the cage 
+and slammed the door. He paused for a moment, his 
+heart thumping horribly, gazing around at all the 
+clutter. … Would he be able to find this spot again 
+amidst all this junk? Seizing the chipped bust of an 
+ugly old warlock from on top of a nearby crate, he 
+stood it on top of the cupboard where the book was 
+now hidden, perched a dusty old wig and a tarnished 
+tiara on the statue’s head to make it more distinctive, 
+then sprinted back through the alleyways of hidden 
+junk as fast as he could go, back to the door, back 
+out onto the corridor, where he slammed the door 
+behind him, and it turned at once back into stone. 
+Harry ran flat-out toward the bathroom on the floor 
+below, cramming Ron’s copy of Advanced Potion-
+Making into his bag as he did so. A minute later, he 
+was back in front of Snape, who held out his hand 
+wordlessly for Harry’s schoolbag. Harry handed it 
+over, panting, a searing pain in his chest, and waited. 
+One by one, Snape extracted Harry’s books and 
+examined them. Finally, the only book left was the 
+Potions book, which he looked at very carefully before 
+speaking. 
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+“This is your copy of Advanced Potion-Making, is it, 
+Potter?” 
+“Yes,” said Harry, still breathing hard. 
+“You’re quite sure of that, are you, Potter?” 
+“Yes,” said Harry, with a touch more defiance. 
+“This is the copy of Advanced Potion-Making that you 
+purchased from Flourish and Blotts?” 
+“Yes,” said Harry firmly. 
+“Then why,” asked Snape, “does it have the name 
+‘Roonil Wazlib’ written inside the front cover?” 
+Harry’s heart missed a beat. “That’s my nickname,” 
+he said. 
+“Your nickname,” repeated Snape. 
+“Yeah … that’s what my friends call me,” said Harry. 
+“I understand what a nickname is,” said Snape. The 
+cold, black eyes were boring once more into Harry’s; 
+he tried not to look into them. Close your mind. … 
+Close your mind. … But he had never learned how to 
+do it properly. … 
+“Do you know what I think, Potter?” said Snape, very 
+quietly. “I think that you are a liar and a cheat and 
+that you deserve detention with me every Saturday 
+until the end of term. What do you think, Potter?” 
+“I — I don’t agree, sir,” said Harry, still refusing to 
+look into Snape’s eyes. 
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+“Well, we shall see how you feel after your 
+detentions,” said Snape. “Ten o’clock Saturday 
+morning, Potter. My office.” 
+“But sir …” said Harry, looking up desperately. 
+“Quidditch … the last match of the …” 
+“Ten o’clock,” whispered Snape, with a smile that 
+showed his yellow teeth. “Poor Gryffindor … fourth 
+place this year, I fear …” 
+And he left the bathroom without another word, 
+leaving Harry to stare into the cracked mirror, feeling 
+sicker, he was sure, than Ron had ever felt in his life. 
+“I won’t say ‘I told you so,’ ” said Hermione, an hour 
+later in the common room. 
+“Leave it, Hermione,” said Ron angrily. 
+Harry had never made it to dinner; he had no appetite 
+at all. He had just finished telling Ron, Hermione, and 
+Ginny what had happened, not that there seemed to 
+have been much need. The news had traveled very 
+fast: Apparently Moaning Myrtle had taken it upon 
+herself to pop up in every bathroom in the castle to 
+tell the story; Malfoy had already been visited in the 
+hospital wing by Pansy Parkinson, who had lost no 
+time in vilifying Harry far and wide, and Snape had 
+told the staff precisely what had happened. Harry had 
+already been called out of the common room to 
+endure fifteen highly unpleasant minutes in the 
+company of Professor McGonagall, who had told him 
+he was lucky not to have been expelled and that she 
+supported wholeheartedly Snape’s punishment of 
+detention every Saturday until the end of term. 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+“I told you there was something wrong with that 
+Prince person,” Hermione said, evidently unable to 
+stop herself. “And I was right, wasn’t I?” 
+“No, I don’t think you were,” said Harry stubbornly. 
+He was having a bad enough time without Hermione 
+lecturing him; the looks on the Gryffindor team’s 
+faces when he had told them he would not be able to 
+play on Saturday had been the worst punishment of 
+all. He could feel Ginny’s eyes on him now but did not 
+meet them; he did not want to see disappointment or 
+anger there. He had just told her that she would be 
+playing Seeker on Saturday and that Dean would be 
+rejoining the team as Chaser in her place. Perhaps, if 
+they won, Ginny and Dean would make up during the 
+post-match euphoria. … The thought went through 
+Harry like an icy knife. … 
+“Harry,” said Hermione, “how can you still stick up 
+for that book when that spell —” 
+“Will you stop harping on about the book!” snapped 
+Harry. “The Prince only copied it out! It’s not like he 
+was advising anyone to use it! For all we know, he 
+was making a note of something that had been used 
+against him!” 
+“I don’t believe this,” said Hermione. “You’re actually 
+defending —” 
+“I’m not defending what I did!” said Harry quickly. “I 
+wish I hadn���t done it, and not just because I’ve got 
+about a dozen detentions. You know I wouldn’t’ve 
+used a spell like that, not even on Malfoy, but you 
+can’t blame the Prince, he hadn’t written ‘try this out, 
+it’s really good’ — he was just making notes for 
+himself, wasn’t he, not for anyone else. …” 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+“Are you telling me,” said Hermione, “that you’re 
+going to go back — ?” 
+“And get the book? Yeah, I am,” said Harry forcefully. 
+“Listen, without the Prince I’d never have won the 
+Felix Felicis. I’d never have known how to save Ron 
+from poisoning, I’d never have —” 
+“— got a reputation for Potions brilliance you don’t 
+deserve,” said Hermione nastily. 
+“Give it a rest, Hermione!” said Ginny, and Harry was 
+so amazed, so grateful, he looked up. “By the sound 
+of it, Malfoy was trying to use an Unforgivable Curse, 
+you should be glad Harry had something good up his 
+sleeve!” 
+“Well, of course I’m glad Harry wasn’t cursed!” said 
+Hermione, clearly stung. “But you can’t call that 
+Sectumsempra spell good, Ginny, look where it’s 
+landed him! And I’d have thought, seeing what this 
+has done to your chances in the match —” 
+“Oh, don’t start acting as though you understand 
+Quidditch,” snapped Ginny, “you’ll only embarrass 
+yourself.” 
+Harry and Ron stared: Hermione and Ginny, who had 
+always got on together very well, were now sitting 
+with their arms folded, glaring in opposite directions. 
+Ron looked nervously at Harry, then snatched up a 
+book at random and hid behind it. Harry, however, 
+little though he knew he deserved it, felt unbelievably 
+cheerful all of a sudden, even though none of them 
+spoke again for the rest of the evening. 
+His lightheartedness was short-lived. There were 
+Slytherin taunts to be endured next day, not to 
+mention much anger from fellow Gryffindors, who 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+were most unhappy that their Captain had got 
+himself banned from the final match of the season. By 
+Saturday morning, whatever he might have told 
+Hermione, Harry would have gladly exchanged all the 
+Felix Felicis in the world to be walking down to the 
+Quidditch pitch with Ron, Ginny, and the others. It 
+was almost unbearable to turn away from the mass of 
+students streaming out into the sunshine, all of them 
+wearing rosettes and hats and brandishing banners 
+and scarves, to descend the stone steps into the 
+dungeons and walk until the distant sounds of the 
+crowd were quite obliterated, knowing that he would 
+not be able to hear a word of commentary or a cheer 
+or groan. 
+“Ah, Potter,” said Snape, when Harry had knocked on 
+his door and entered the unpleasantly familiar office 
+that Snape, despite teaching floors above now, had 
+not vacated; it was as dimly lit as ever and the same 
+slimy dead objects were suspended in colored potions 
+all around the walls. Ominously, there were many 
+cobwebbed boxes piled on a table where Harry was 
+clearly supposed to sit; they had an aura of tedious, 
+hard, and pointless work about them. 
+“Mr. Filch has been looking for someone to clear out 
+these old files,” said Snape softly. “They are the 
+records of other Hogwarts wrongdoers and their 
+punishments. Where the ink has grown faint, or the 
+cards have suffered damage from mice, we would like 
+you to copy out the crimes and punishments afresh 
+and, making sure that they are in alphabetical order, 
+replace them in the boxes. You will not use magic.” 
+“Right, Professor,” said Harry, with as much contempt 
+as he could put into the last three syllables. 
+“I thought you could start,” said Snape, a malicious 
+smile on his lips, “with boxes one thousand and 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+twelve to one thousand and fifty-six. You will find 
+some familiar names in there, which should add 
+interest to the task. Here, you see …” 
+He pulled out a card from one of the topmost boxes 
+with a flourish and read, “ ‘James Potter and Sirius 
+Black. Apprehended using an illegal hex upon Bertram 
+Aubrey. Aubrey’s head twice normal size. Double 
+detention.’ ” Snape sneered. “It must be such a 
+comfort to think that, though they are gone, a record 
+of their great achievements remains. …” 
+Harry felt the familiar boiling sensation in the pit of 
+his stomach. Biting his tongue to prevent himself 
+retaliating, he sat down in front of the boxes and 
+pulled one toward him. 
+It was, as Harry had anticipated, useless, boring 
+work, punctuated (as Snape had clearly planned) with 
+the regular jolt in the stomach that meant he had just 
+read his father or Sirius’s names, usually coupled 
+together in various petty misdeeds, occasionally 
+accompanied by those of Remus Lupin and Peter 
+Pettigrew. And while he copied out all their various 
+offenses and punishments, he wondered what was 
+going on outside, where the match would have just 
+started … Ginny playing Seeker against Cho … 
+Harry glanced again and again at the large clock 
+ticking on the wall. It seemed to be moving half as 
+fast as a regular clock; perhaps Snape had bewitched 
+it to go extra slowly? He could not have been here for 
+only half an hour … an hour … an hour and a half. … 
+Harry’s stomach started rumbling when the clock 
+showed half past twelve. Snape, who had not spoken 
+at all since setting Harry his task, finally looked up at 
+ten past one. 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+“I think that will do,” he said coldly. “Mark the place 
+you have reached. You will continue at ten o’clock 
+next Saturday.” 
+“Yes, sir.” 
+Harry stuffed a bent card into the box at random and 
+hurried out of the door before Snape could change his 
+mind, racing back up the stone steps, straining his 
+ears to hear a sound from the pitch, but all was quiet. 
+… It was over, then. … 
+He hesitated outside the crowded Great Hall, then ran 
+up the marble staircase; whether Gryffindor had won 
+or lost, the team usually celebrated or commiserated 
+in their own common room. 
+“Quid agis?” he said tentatively to the Fat Lady, 
+wondering what he would find inside. 
+Her expression was unreadable as she replied, “You’ll 
+see.” 
+And she swung forward. 
+A roar of celebration erupted from the hole behind 
+her. Harry gaped as people began to scream at the 
+sight of him; several hands pulled him into the room. 
+“We won!” yelled Ron, bounding into sight and 
+brandishing the silver Cup at Harry. “We won! Four 
+hundred and fifty to a hundred and forty! We won!” 
+Harry looked around; there was Ginny running 
+toward him; she had a hard, blazing look in her face 
+as she threw her arms around him. And without 
+thinking, without planning it, without worrying about 
+the fact that fifty people were watching, Harry kissed 
+her. 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+After several long moments — or it might have been 
+half an hour — or possibly several sunlit days — they 
+broke apart. The room had gone very quiet. Then 
+several people wolf-whistled and there was an 
+outbreak of nervous giggling. Harry looked over the 
+top of Ginny’s head to see Dean Thomas holding a 
+shattered glass in his hand, and Romilda Vane 
+looking as though she might throw something. 
+Hermione was beaming, but Harry’s eyes sought Ron. 
+At last he found him, still clutching the Cup and 
+wearing an expression appropriate to having been 
+clubbed over the head. For a fraction of a second they 
+looked at each other, then Ron gave a tiny jerk of the 
+head that Harry understood to mean, Well — if you 
+must. 
+The creature in his chest roaring in triumph, he 
+grinned down at Ginny and gestured wordlessly out of 
+the portrait hole. A long walk in the grounds seemed 
+indicated, during which — if they had time — they 
+might discuss the match. 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+ 
+ 
+THE SEER OVERHEARD 
+The fact that Harry Potter was going out with Ginny 
+Weasley seemed to interest a great number of people, 
+most of them girls, yet Harry found himself newly and 
+happily impervious to gossip over the next few weeks. 
+After all, it made a very nice change to be talked 
+about because of something that was making him 
+happier than he could remember being for a very long 
+time, rather than because he had been involved in 
+horrific scenes of Dark Magic. 
+“You’d think people had better things to gossip 
+about,” said Ginny, as she sat on the common room 
+floor, leaning against Harry’s legs and reading the 
+Daily Prophet. “Three dementor attacks in a week, and 
+all Romilda Vane does is ask me if it’s true you’ve got 
+a hippogriff tattooed across your chest.” 
+Ron and Hermione both roared with laughter. Harry 
+ignored them. 
+“What did you tell her?” 
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+“I told her it’s a Hungarian Horntail,” said Ginny, 
+turning a page of the newspaper idly. “Much more 
+macho.” 
+“Thanks,” said Harry, grinning. “And what did you tell 
+her Ron’s got?” 
+“A Pygmy Puff, but I didn’t say where.” 
+Ron scowled as Hermione rolled around laughing. 
+“Watch it,” he said, pointing warningly at Harry and 
+Ginny. “Just because I’ve given my permission doesn’t 
+mean I can’t withdraw it —” 
+“ ‘Your permission,’ ” scoffed Ginny. “Since when did 
+you give me permission to do anything? Anyway, you 
+said yourself you’d rather it was Harry than Michael 
+or Dean.” 
+“Yeah, I would,” said Ron grudgingly. “And just as 
+long as you don’t start snogging each other in public 
+—” 
+“You filthy hypocrite! What about you and Lavender, 
+thrashing around like a pair of eels all over the 
+place?” demanded Ginny. 
+But Ron’s tolerance was not to be tested much as 
+they moved into June, for Harry and Ginny’s time 
+together was becoming increasingly restricted. 
+Ginny’s O.W.L.s were approaching and she was 
+therefore forced to study for hours into the night. On 
+one such evening, when Ginny had retired to the 
+library, and Harry was sitting beside the window in 
+the common room, supposedly finishing his 
+Herbology homework but in reality reliving a 
+particularly happy hour he had spent down by the 
+lake with Ginny at lunchtime, Hermione dropped into 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+the seat between him and Ron with an unpleasantly 
+purposeful look on her face. 
+“I want to talk to you, Harry.” 
+“What about?” said Harry suspiciously. Only the 
+previous day, Hermione had told him off for 
+distracting Ginny when she ought to be working hard 
+for her examinations. 
+“The so-called Half-Blood Prince.” 
+“Oh, not again,” he groaned. “Will you please drop it?” 
+He had not dared to return to the Room of 
+Requirement to retrieve his book, and his 
+performance in Potions was suffering accordingly 
+(though Slughorn, who approved of Ginny, had 
+jocularly attributed this to Harry being lovesick). But 
+Harry was sure that Snape had not yet given up hope 
+of laying hands on the Prince’s book, and was 
+determined to leave it where it was while Snape 
+remained on the lookout. 
+“I’m not dropping it,” said Hermione firmly, “until 
+you’ve heard me out. Now, I’ve been trying to find out 
+a bit about who might make a hobby of inventing 
+Dark spells —” 
+“He didn’t make a hobby of it —” 
+“He, he — who says it’s a he?” 
+“We’ve been through this,” said Harry crossly. “Prince, 
+Hermione, Prince!” 
+“Right!” said Hermione, red patches blazing in her 
+cheeks as she pulled a very old piece of newsprint out 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+of her pocket and slammed it down on the table in 
+front of Harry. “Look at that! Look at the picture!” 
+Harry picked up the crumbling piece of paper and 
+stared at the moving photograph, yellowed with age; 
+Ron leaned over for a look too. The picture showed a 
+skinny girl of around fifteen. She was not pretty; she 
+looked simultaneously cross and sullen, with heavy 
+brows and a long, pallid face. Underneath the 
+photograph was the caption: EILEEN PRINCE, 
+CAPTAIN OF THE HOGWARTS GOBSTONES TEAM. 
+“So?” said Harry, scanning the short news item to 
+which the picture belonged; it was a rather dull story 
+about interschool competitions. 
+“Her name was Eileen Prince. Prince, Harry.” 
+They looked at each other, and Harry realized what 
+Hermione was trying to say. He burst out laughing. 
+“No way.” 
+“What?” 
+“You think she was the Half-Blood … ? Oh, come on.” 
+“Well, why not? Harry, there aren’t any real princes in 
+the Wizarding world! It’s either a nickname, a made-
+up title somebody’s given themselves, or it could be 
+their actual name, couldn’t it? No, listen! If, say, her 
+father was a wizard whose surname was Prince, and 
+her mother was a Muggle, then that would make her 
+a ‘half-blood Prince’!” 
+“Yeah, very ingenious, Hermione …” 
+“But it would! Maybe she was proud of being half a 
+Prince!” 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+“Listen, Hermione, I can tell it’s not a girl. I can just 
+tell.” 
+“The truth is that you don’t think a girl would have 
+been clever enough,” said Hermione angrily. 
+“How can I have hung round with you for five years 
+and not think girls are clever?” said Harry, stung by 
+this. “It’s the way he writes, I just know the Prince 
+was a bloke, I can tell. This girl hasn’t got anything to 
+do with it. Where did you get this anyway?” 
+“The library,” said Hermione predictably. “There’s a 
+whole collection of old Prophets up there. Well, I’m 
+going to find out more about Eileen Prince if I can.” 
+“Enjoy yourself,” said Harry irritably. 
+“I will,” said Hermione. “And the first place I’ll look,” 
+she shot at him, as she reached the portrait hole, “is 
+records of old Potions awards!” 
+Harry scowled after her for a moment, then continued 
+his contemplation of the darkening sky. 
+“She’s just never got over you outperforming her in 
+Potions,” said Ron, returning to his copy of A 
+Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi. 
+“You don’t think I’m mad, wanting that book back, do 
+you?” 
+“ ’Course not,” said Ron robustly. “He was a genius, 
+the Prince. Anyway … without his bezoar tip …” He 
+drew his finger significantly across his own throat. “I 
+wouldn’t be here to discuss it, would I? I mean, I’m 
+not saying that spell you used on Malfoy was great —” 
+“Nor am I,” said Harry quickly. 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+“But he healed all right, didn’t he? Back on his feet in 
+no time.” 
+“Yeah,” said Harry; this was perfectly true, although 
+his conscience squirmed slightly all the same. 
+“Thanks to Snape …” 
+“You still got detention with Snape this Saturday?” 
+Ron continued. 
+“Yeah, and the Saturday after that, and the Saturday 
+after that,” sighed Harry. “And he’s hinting now that if 
+I don’t get all the boxes done by the end of term, we’ll 
+carry on next year.” 
+He was finding these detentions particularly irksome 
+because they cut into the already limited time he 
+could have been spending with Ginny. Indeed, he had 
+frequently wondered lately whether Snape did not 
+know this, for he was keeping Harry later and later 
+every time, while making pointed asides about Harry 
+having to miss the good weather and the varied 
+opportunities it offered. 
+Harry was shaken from these bitter reflections by the 
+appearance at his side of Jimmy Peakes, who was 
+holding out a scroll of parchment. 
+“Thanks, Jimmy … Hey, it’s from Dumbledore!” said 
+Harry excitedly, unrolling the parchment and 
+scanning it. “He wants me to go to his office as quick 
+as I can!” 
+They stared at each other. 
+“Blimey,” whispered Ron. “You don’t reckon … he 
+hasn’t found … ?” 
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+“Better go and see, hadn’t I?” said Harry, jumping to 
+his feet. 
+He hurried out of the common room and along the 
+seventh floor as fast as he could, passing nobody but 
+Peeves, who swooped past in the opposite direction, 
+throwing bits of chalk at Harry in a routine sort of 
+way and cackling loudly as he dodged Harry’s 
+defensive jinx. Once Peeves had vanished, there was 
+silence in the corridors; with only fifteen minutes left 
+until curfew, most people had already returned to 
+their common rooms. 
+And then Harry heard a scream and a crash. He 
+stopped in his tracks, listening. 
+“How — dare — you — aaaaargh!” 
+The noise was coming from a corridor nearby; Harry 
+sprinted toward it, his wand at the ready, hurtled 
+around another corner, and saw Professor Trelawney 
+sprawled upon the floor, her head covered in one of 
+her many shawls, several sherry bottles lying beside 
+her, one broken. 
+“Professor —” 
+Harry hurried forward and helped Professor 
+Trelawney to her feet. Some of her glittering beads 
+had become entangled with her glasses. She hiccuped 
+loudly, patted her hair, and pulled herself up on 
+Harry’s helping arm. 
+“What happened, Professor?” 
+“You may well ask!” she said shrilly. “I was strolling 
+along, brooding upon certain dark portents I happen 
+to have glimpsed …” 
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+But Harry was not paying much attention. He had 
+just noticed where they were standing: There on the 
+right was the tapestry of dancing trolls, and on the 
+left, that smoothly impenetrable stretch of stone wall 
+that concealed — 
+“Professor, were you trying to get into the Room of 
+Requirement?” 
+“… omens I have been vouchsafed — what?” She 
+looked suddenly shifty. 
+“The Room of Requirement,” repeated Harry. “Were 
+you trying to get in there?” 
+“I — well — I didn’t know students knew about —” 
+“Not all of them do,” said Harry. “But what happened? 
+You screamed. … It sounded as though you were 
+hurt. …” 
+“I — well,” said Professor Trelawney, drawing her 
+shawls around her defensively and staring down at 
+him with her vastly magnified eyes. “I wished to — ah 
+— deposit certain — um — personal items in the 
+room. …” And she muttered something about “nasty 
+accusations.” 
+“Right,” said Harry, glancing down at the sherry 
+bottles. “But you couldn’t get in and hide them?” 
+He found this very odd; the room had opened for him, 
+after all, when he had wanted to hide the Half-Blood 
+Prince’s book. 
+“Oh, I got in all right,” said Professor Trelawney, 
+glaring at the wall. “But there was somebody already 
+in there.” 
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+“Somebody in — ? Who?” demanded Harry. “Who was 
+in there?” 
+“I have no idea,” said Professor Trelawney, looking 
+slightly taken aback at the urgency in Harry’s voice. “I 
+walked into the room and I heard a voice, which has 
+never happened before in all my years of hiding — of 
+using the room, I mean.” 
+“A voice? Saying what?” 
+“I don’t know that it was saying anything,” said 
+Professor Trelawney. “It was … whooping.” 
+“Whooping?” 
+“Gleefully,” she said, nodding. 
+Harry stared at her. 
+“Was it male or female?” 
+“I would hazard a guess at male,” said Professor 
+Trelawney. 
+“And it sounded happy?” 
+“Very happy,” said Professor Trelawney sniffily. 
+“As though it was celebrating?” 
+“Most definitely.” 
+“And then — ?” 
+“And then I called out ‘Who’s there?’ ” 
+“You couldn’t have found out who it was without 
+asking?” Harry asked her, slightly frustrated. 
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+“The Inner Eye,” said Professor Trelawney with 
+dignity, straightening her shawls and many strands of 
+glittering beads, “was fixed upon matters well outside 
+the mundane realms of whooping voices.” 
+“Right,” said Harry hastily; he had heard about 
+Professor Trelawney’s Inner Eye all too often before. 
+“And did the voice say who was there?” 
+“No, it did not,” she said. “Everything went pitch-
+black and the next thing I knew, I was being hurled 
+headfirst out of the room!” 
+“And you didn’t see that coming?” said Harry, unable 
+to help himself. 
+“No, I did not, as I say, it was pitch —” She stopped 
+and glared at him suspiciously. 
+“I think you’d better tell Professor Dumbledore,” said 
+Harry. “He ought to know Malfoy’s celebrating — I 
+mean, that someone threw you out of the room.” 
+To his surprise, Professor Trelawney drew herself up 
+at this suggestion, looking haughty. 
+“The headmaster has intimated that he would prefer 
+fewer visits from me,” she said coldly. “I am not one to 
+press my company upon those who do not value it. If 
+Dumbledore chooses to ignore the warnings the cards 
+show —” Her bony hand closed suddenly around 
+Harry’s wrist. “Again and again, no matter how I lay 
+them out —” And she pulled a card dramatically from 
+underneath her shawls. “— the lightning-struck 
+tower,” she whispered. “Calamity. Disaster. Coming 
+nearer all the time …” 
+“Right,” said Harry again. “Well … I still think you 
+should tell Dumbledore about this voice, and 
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+everything going dark and being thrown out of the 
+room. …” 
+“You think so?” Professor Trelawney seemed to 
+consider the matter for a moment, but Harry could 
+tell that she liked the idea of retelling her little 
+adventure. 
+“I’m going to see him right now,” said Harry. “I’ve got 
+a meeting with him. We could go together.” 
+“Oh, well, in that case,” said Professor Trelawney with 
+a smile. She bent down, scooped up her sherry 
+bottles, and dumped them unceremoniously in a large 
+blue-and-white vase standing in a nearby niche. 
+“I miss having you in my classes, Harry,” she said 
+soulfully as they set off together. “You were never 
+much of a Seer … but you were a wonderful Object 
+…” 
+Harry did not reply; he had loathed being the Object 
+of Professor Trelawney’s continual predictions of 
+doom. 
+“I am afraid,” she went on, “that the nag — I’m sorry, 
+the centaur — knows nothing of cartomancy. I asked 
+him — one Seer to another — had he not, too, sensed 
+the distant vibrations of coming catastrophe? But he 
+seemed to find me almost comical. Yes, comical!” 
+Her voice rose rather hysterically, and Harry caught a 
+powerful whiff of sherry even though the bottles had 
+been left behind. 
+“Perhaps the horse has heard people say that I have 
+not inherited my great-great-grandmother’s gift. 
+Those rumors have been bandied about by the jealous 
+for years. You know what I say to such people, Harry? 
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+Would Dumbledore have let me teach at this great 
+school, put so much trust in me all these years, had I 
+not proved myself to him?” 
+Harry mumbled something indistinct. 
+“I well remember my first interview with Dumbledore,” 
+went on Professor Trelawney, in throaty tones. “He 
+was deeply impressed, of course, deeply impressed. … 
+I was staying at the Hog’s Head, which I do not 
+advise, incidentally — bedbugs, dear boy — but funds 
+were low. Dumbledore did me the courtesy of calling 
+upon me in my room. He questioned me. … I must 
+confess that, at first, I thought he seemed ill-disposed 
+toward Divination … and I remember I was starting to 
+feel a little odd, I had not eaten much that day … but 
+then …” 
+And now Harry was paying attention properly for the 
+first time, for he knew what had happened then: 
+Professor Trelawney had made the prophecy that had 
+altered the course of his whole life, the prophecy 
+about him and Voldemort. 
+“… but then we were rudely interrupted by Severus 
+Snape!” 
+“What?” 
+“Yes, there was a commotion outside the door and it 
+flew open, and there was that rather uncouth barman 
+standing with Snape, who was waffling about having 
+come the wrong way up the stairs, although I’m afraid 
+that I myself rather thought he had been 
+apprehended eavesdropping on my interview with 
+Dumbledore — you see, he himself was seeking a job 
+at the time, and no doubt hoped to pick up tips! Well, 
+after that, you know, Dumbledore seemed much more 
+disposed to give me a job, and I could not help 
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+thinking, Harry, that it was because he appreciated 
+the stark contrast between my own unassuming 
+manners and quiet talent, compared to the pushing, 
+thrusting young man who was prepared to listen at 
+keyholes — Harry, dear?” 
+She looked back over her shoulder, having only just 
+realized that Harry was no longer with her; he had 
+stopped walking and they were now ten feet from each 
+other. 
+“Harry?” she repeated uncertainly. 
+Perhaps his face was white to make her look so 
+concerned and frightened. Harry was standing stock-
+still as waves of shock crashed over him, wave after 
+wave, obliterating everything except the information 
+that had been kept from him for so long. … 
+It was Snape who had overheard the prophecy. It was 
+Snape who had carried the news of the prophecy to 
+Voldemort. Snape and Peter Pettigrew together had 
+sent Voldemort hunting after Lily and James and 
+their son. … 
+Nothing else mattered to Harry just now. 
+“Harry?” said Professor Trelawney again. “Harry — I 
+thought we were going to see the headmaster 
+together?” 
+“You stay here,” said Harry through numb lips. 
+“But dear … I was going to tell him how I was 
+assaulted in the Room of —” 
+“You stay here!” Harry repeated angrily. 
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+She looked alarmed as he ran past her, around the 
+corner into Dumbledore’s corridor, where the lone 
+gargoyle stood sentry. Harry shouted the password at 
+the gargoyle and ran up the moving spiral staircase 
+three steps at a time. He did not knock upon 
+Dumbledore’s door, he hammered; and the calm voice 
+answered, “Enter” after Harry had already flung 
+himself into the room. 
+Fawkes the phoenix looked around, his bright black 
+eyes gleaming with reflected gold from the sunset 
+beyond the windows. Dumbledore was standing at the 
+window looking out at the grounds, a long, black 
+traveling cloak in his arms. 
+“Well, Harry, I promised that you could come with 
+me.” 
+For a moment or two, Harry did not understand; the 
+conversation with Trelawney had driven everything 
+else out of his head and his brain seemed to be 
+moving very slowly. 
+“Come … with you … ?” 
+“Only if you wish it, of course.” 
+“If I …” 
+And then Harry remembered why he had been eager 
+to come to Dumbledore’s office in the first place. 
+“You’ve found one? You’ve found a Horcrux?” 
+“I believe so.” 
+Rage and resentment fought shock and excitement: 
+For several moments, Harry could not speak. 
+“It is natural to be afraid,” said Dumbledore. 
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+“I’m not scared!” said Harry at once, and it was 
+perfectly true; fear was one emotion he was not 
+feeling at all. “Which Horcrux is it? Where is it?” 
+“I am not sure which it is — though I think we can 
+rule out the snake — but I believe it to be hidden in a 
+cave on the coast many miles from here, a cave I have 
+been trying to locate for a very long time: the cave in 
+which Tom Riddle once terrorized two children from 
+his orphanage on their annual trip; you remember?” 
+“Yes,” said Harry. “How is it protected?” 
+“I do not know; I have suspicions that may be entirely 
+wrong.” Dumbledore hesitated, then said, “Harry, I 
+promised you that you could come with me, and I 
+stand by that promise, but it would be very wrong of 
+me not to warn you that this will be exceedingly 
+dangerous.” 
+“I’m coming,” said Harry, almost before Dumbledore 
+had finished speaking. Boiling with anger at Snape, 
+his desire to do something desperate and risky had 
+increased tenfold in the last few minutes. This 
+seemed to show on Harry’s face, for Dumbledore 
+moved away from the window and looked more closely 
+at Harry, a slight crease between his silver eyebrows. 
+“What has happened to you?” 
+“Nothing,” lied Harry promptly. 
+“What has upset you?” 
+“I’m not upset.” 
+“Harry, you were never a good Occlumens —” 
+The word was the spark that ignited Harry’s fury. 
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+“Snape!” he said, very loudly, and Fawkes gave a soft 
+squawk behind them. “Snape’s what’s happened! He 
+told Voldemort about the prophecy, it was him, he 
+listened outside the door, Trelawney told me!” 
+Dumbledore’s expression did not change, but Harry 
+thought his face whitened under the bloody tinge cast 
+by the setting sun. For a long moment, Dumbledore 
+said nothing. “When did you find out about this?” he 
+asked at last. 
+“Just now!” said Harry, who was refraining from 
+yelling with enormous difficulty. And then, suddenly, 
+he could not stop himself. “AND YOU LET HIM 
+TEACH HERE AND HE TOLD VOLDEMORT TO GO 
+AFTER MY MUM AND DAD!” 
+Breathing hard as though he was fighting, Harry 
+turned away from Dumbledore, who still had not 
+moved a muscle, and paced up and down the study, 
+rubbing his knuckles in his hand and exercising 
+every last bit of restraint to prevent himself knocking 
+things over. He wanted to rage and storm at 
+Dumbledore, but he also wanted to go with him to try 
+and destroy the Horcrux; he wanted to tell him that 
+he was a foolish old man for trusting Snape, but he 
+was terrified that Dumbledore would not take him 
+along unless he mastered his anger. … 
+“Harry,” said Dumbledore quietly. “Please listen to 
+me.” 
+It was as difficult to stop his relentless pacing as to 
+refrain from shouting. Harry paused, biting his lip, 
+and looked into Dumbledore’s lined face. 
+“Professor Snape made a terrible —” 
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+“Don’t tell me it was a mistake, sir, he was listening 
+at the door!” 
+“Please let me finish.” Dumbledore waited until Harry 
+had nodded curtly, then went on. “Professor Snape 
+made a terrible mistake. He was still in Lord 
+Voldemort’s employ on the night he heard the first 
+half of Professor Trelawney’s prophecy. Naturally, he 
+hastened to tell his master what he had heard, for it 
+concerned his master most deeply. But he did not 
+know — he had no possible way of knowing — which 
+boy Voldemort would hunt from then onward, or that 
+the parents he would destroy in his murderous quest 
+were people that Professor Snape knew, that they 
+were your mother and father —” 
+Harry let out a yell of mirthless laughter. 
+“He hated my dad like he hated Sirius! Haven’t you 
+noticed, Professor, how the people Snape hates tend 
+to end up dead?” 
+“You have no idea of the remorse Professor Snape felt 
+when he realized how Lord Voldemort had interpreted 
+the prophecy, Harry. I believe it to be the greatest 
+regret of his life and the reason that he returned —” 
+“But he’s a very good Occlumens, isn’t he, sir?” said 
+Harry, whose voice was shaking with the effort of 
+keeping it steady. “And isn’t Voldemort convinced that 
+Snape’s on his side, even now? Professor … how can 
+you be sure Snape’s on our side?” 
+Dumbledore did not speak for a moment; he looked as 
+though he was trying to make up his mind about 
+something. At last he said, “I am sure. I trust Severus 
+Snape completely.” 
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+Harry breathed deeply for a few moments in an effort 
+to steady himself. It did not work. 
+“Well, I don’t!” he said, as loudly as before. “He’s up to 
+something with Draco Malfoy right now, right under 
+your nose, and you still —” 
+“We have discussed this, Harry,” said Dumbledore, 
+and now he sounded stern again. “I have told you my 
+views.” 
+“You’re leaving the school tonight, and I’ll bet you 
+haven’t even considered that Snape and Malfoy might 
+decide to —” 
+“To what?” asked Dumbledore, his eyebrows raised. 
+“What is it that you suspect them of doing, precisely?” 
+“I … they’re up to something!” said Harry, and his 
+hands curled into fists as he said it. “Professor 
+Trelawney was just in the Room of Requirement, 
+trying to hide her sherry bottles, and she heard 
+Malfoy whooping, celebrating! He’s trying to mend 
+something dangerous in there and if you ask me, he’s 
+fixed it at last and you’re about to just walk out of 
+school without —” 
+“Enough,” said Dumbledore. He said it quite calmly, 
+and yet Harry fell silent at once; he knew that he had 
+finally crossed some invisible line. “Do you think that 
+I have once left the school unprotected during my 
+absences this year? I have not. Tonight, when I leave, 
+there will again be additional protection in place. 
+Please do not suggest that I do not take the safety of 
+my students seriously, Harry.” 
+“I didn’t —” mumbled Harry, a little abashed, but 
+Dumbledore cut across him. 
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+“I do not wish to discuss the matter any further.” 
+Harry bit back his retort, scared that he had gone too 
+far, that he had ruined his chance of accompanying 
+Dumbledore, but Dumbledore went on, “Do you wish 
+to come with me tonight?” 
+“Yes,” said Harry at once. 
+“Very well, then: Listen.” Dumbledore drew himself up 
+to his full height. “I take you with me on one 
+condition: that you obey any command I might give 
+you at once, and without question.” 
+“Of course.” 
+“Be sure to understand me, Harry. I mean that you 
+must follow even such orders as ‘run,’ ‘hide,’ or ‘go 
+back.’ Do I have your word?” 
+“I — yes, of course.” 
+“If I tell you to hide, you will do so?” 
+“Yes.” 
+“If I tell you to flee, you will obey?” 
+“Yes.” 
+“If I tell you to leave me and save yourself, you will do 
+as I tell you? 
+“I —” 
+“Harry?” 
+They looked at each other for a moment. 
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+“Yes, sir.” 
+“Very good. Then I wish you to go and fetch your 
+Invisibility Cloak and meet me in the entrance hall in 
+five minutes’ time.” 
+Dumbledore turned back to look out of the fiery 
+window; the sun was now a ruby red glare along the 
+horizon. Harry walked quickly from the office and 
+down the spiral staircase. His mind was oddly clear 
+all of a sudden. He knew what to do. 
+Ron and Hermione were sitting together in the 
+common room when he came back. “What does he 
+want?” Hermione said at once. “Harry, are you okay?” 
+she added anxiously. 
+“I’m fine,” said Harry shortly, racing past them. He 
+dashed up the stairs and into his dormitory, where he 
+flung open his trunk and pulled out the Marauder’s 
+Map and a pair of balled-up socks. Then he sped back 
+down the stairs and into the common room, skidding 
+to a halt where Ron and Hermione sat, looking 
+stunned. 
+“I’ve got to be quick,” Harry panted. “Dumbledore 
+thinks I’m getting my Invisibility Cloak. Listen. …” 
+Quickly he told them where he was going and why. He 
+did not pause either for Hermione’s gasps of horror or 
+for Ron’s hasty questions; they could work out the 
+finer details for themselves later. 
+“… so you see what this means?” Harry finished at a 
+gallop. “Dumbledore won’t be here tonight, so 
+Malfoy’s going to have another clear shot at whatever 
+he’s up to. No, listen to me!” he hissed angrily, as both 
+Ron and Hermione showed every sign of interrupting. 
+“I know it was Malfoy celebrating in the Room of 
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+Requirement. Here —” He shoved the Marauder’s Map 
+into Hermione’s hands. “You’ve got to watch him and 
+you’ve got to watch Snape too. Use anyone else who 
+you can rustle up from the D.A., Hermione, those 
+contact Galleons will still work, right? Dumbledore 
+says he’s put extra protection in the school, but if 
+Snape’s involved, he’ll know what Dumbledore’s 
+protection is, and how to avoid it — but he won’t be 
+expecting you lot to be on the watch, will he?” 
+“Harry —” began Hermione, her eyes huge with fear. 
+“I haven’t got time to argue,” said Harry curtly. “Take 
+this as well —” 
+He thrust the socks into Ron’s hands. 
+“Thanks,” said Ron. “Er — why do I need socks?” 
+“You need what’s wrapped in them, it’s the Felix 
+Felicis. Share it between yourselves and Ginny too. 
+Say good-bye to her for me. I’d better go, 
+Dumbledore’s waiting —” 
+“No!” said Hermione, as Ron unwrapped the tiny little 
+bottle of golden potion, looking awestruck. “We don’t 
+want it, you take it, who knows what you’re going to 
+be facing?” 
+“I’ll be fine, I’ll be with Dumbledore,” said Harry. “I 
+want to know you lot are okay. … Don’t look like that, 
+Hermione, I’ll see you later. …” 
+And he was off, hurrying back through the portrait 
+hole and toward the entrance hall. 
+Dumbledore was waiting beside the oaken front 
+doors. He turned as Harry came skidding out onto the 
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+topmost stone step, panting hard, a searing stitch in 
+his side. 
+“I would like you to wear your cloak, please,” said 
+Dumbledore, and he waited until Harry had thrown it 
+on before saying, “Very good. Shall we go?” 
+Dumbledore set off at once down the stone steps, his 
+own traveling cloak barely stirring in the still summer 
+air. Harry hurried alongside him under the Invisibility 
+Cloak, still panting and sweating rather a lot. 
+“But what will people think when they see you 
+leaving, Professor?” Harry asked, his mind on Malfoy 
+and Snape. 
+“That I am off into Hogsmeade for a drink,” said 
+Dumbledore lightly. “I sometimes offer Rosmerta my 
+custom, or else visit the Hog’s Head … or I appear to. 
+It is as good a way as any of disguising one’s true 
+destination.” 
+They made their way down the drive in the gathering 
+twilight. The air was full of the smells of warm grass, 
+lake water, and wood smoke from Hagrid’s cabin. It 
+was difficult to believe that they were heading for 
+anything dangerous or frightening. 
+“Professor,” said Harry quietly, as the gates at the 
+bottom of the drive came into view, “will we be 
+Apparating?” 
+“Yes,” said Dumbledore. “You can Apparate now, I 
+believe?” 
+“Yes,” said Harry, “but I haven’t got a license.” 
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+He felt it best to be honest; what if he spoiled 
+everything by turning up a hundred miles from where 
+he was supposed to go? 
+“No matter,” said Dumbledore, “I can assist you 
+again.” 
+They turned out of the gates into the twilit, deserted 
+lane to Hogsmeade. Darkness descended fast as they 
+walked, and by the time they reached the High Street 
+night was falling in earnest. Lights twinkled from 
+windows over shops and as they neared the Three 
+Broomsticks they heard raucous shouting. 
+“— and stay out!” shouted Madam Rosmerta, forcibly 
+ejecting a grubby-looking wizard. “Oh, hello, Albus … 
+You’re out late …” 
+“Good evening, Rosmerta, good evening … forgive me, 
+I’m off to the Hog’s Head. … No offense, but I feel like 
+a quieter atmosphere tonight. …” 
+A minute later they turned the corner into the side 
+street where the Hog’s Head’s sign creaked a little, 
+though there was no breeze. In contrast to the Three 
+Broomsticks, the pub appeared to be completely 
+empty. 
+“It will not be necessary for us to enter,” muttered 
+Dumbledore, glancing around. “As long as nobody 
+sees us go … now place your hand upon my arm, 
+Harry. There is no need to grip too hard, I am merely 
+guiding you. On the count of three … One … two … 
+three …” 
+Harry turned. At once, there was that horrible 
+sensation that he was being squeezed through a thick 
+rubber tube; he could not draw breath, every part of 
+him was being compressed almost past endurance 
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+and then, just when he thought he must suffocate, 
+the invisible bands seemed to burst open, and he was 
+standing in cool darkness, breathing in lungfuls of 
+fresh, salty air. 
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+ 
+ 
+THE CAVE 
+Harry could smell salt and hear rushing waves; a 
+light, chilly breeze ruffled his hair as he looked out at 
+moonlit sea and star-strewn sky. He was standing 
+upon a high outcrop of dark rock, water foaming and 
+churning below him. He glanced over his shoulder. A 
+towering cliff stood behind them, a sheer drop, black 
+and faceless. A few large chunks of rock, such as the 
+one upon which Harry and Dumbledore were 
+standing, looked as though they had broken away 
+from the cliff face at some point in the past. It was a 
+bleak, harsh view, the sea and the rock unrelieved by 
+any tree or sweep of grass or sand. 
+“What do you think?” asked Dumbledore. He might 
+have been asking Harry’s opinion on whether it was a 
+good site for a picnic. 
+“They brought the kids from the orphanage here?” 
+asked Harry, who could not imagine a less cozy spot 
+for a day trip. 
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+“Not here, precisely,” said Dumbledore. “There is a 
+village of sorts about halfway along the cliffs behind 
+us. I believe the orphans were taken there for a little 
+sea air and a view of the waves. No, I think it was only 
+ever Tom Riddle and his youthful victims who visited 
+this spot. No Muggle could reach this rock unless 
+they were uncommonly good mountaineers, and boats 
+cannot approach the cliffs, the waters around them 
+are too dangerous. I imagine that Riddle climbed 
+down; magic would have served better than ropes. 
+And he brought two small children with him, 
+probably for the pleasure of terrorizing them. I think 
+the journey alone would have done it, don’t you?” 
+Harry looked up at the cliff again and felt goose 
+bumps. 
+“But his final destination — and ours — lies a little 
+farther on. Come.” 
+Dumbledore beckoned Harry to the very edge of the 
+rock where a series of jagged niches made footholds 
+leading down to boulders that lay half-submerged in 
+water and closer to the cliff. It was a treacherous 
+descent and Dumbledore, hampered slightly by his 
+withered hand, moved slowly. The lower rocks were 
+slippery with seawater. Harry could feel flecks of cold 
+salt spray hitting his face. 
+“Lumos,” said Dumbledore, as he reached the boulder 
+closest to the cliff face. A thousand flecks of golden 
+light sparkled upon the dark surface of the water a 
+few feet below where he crouched; the black wall of 
+rock beside him was illuminated too. 
+“You see?” said Dumbledore quietly, holding his wand 
+a little higher. Harry saw a fissure in the cliff into 
+which dark water was swirling. 
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+“You will not object to getting a little wet?” 
+“No,” said Harry. 
+“Then take off your Invisibility Cloak — there is no 
+need for it now — and let us take the plunge.” 
+And with the sudden agility of a much younger man, 
+Dumbledore slid from the boulder, landed in the sea, 
+and began to swim, with a perfect breaststroke, 
+toward the dark slit in the rock face, his lit wand held 
+in his teeth. Harry pulled off his cloak, stuffed it into 
+his pocket, and followed. 
+The water was icy; Harry’s waterlogged clothes 
+billowed around him and weighed him down. Taking 
+deep breaths that filled his nostrils with the tang of 
+salt and seaweed, he struck out for the shimmering, 
+shrinking light now moving deeper into the cliff. 
+The fissure soon opened into a dark tunnel that Harry 
+could tell would be filled with water at high tide. The 
+slimy walls were barely three feet apart and 
+glimmered like wet tar in the passing light of 
+Dumbledore’s wand. A little way in, the passageway 
+curved to the left, and Harry saw that it extended far 
+into the cliff. He continued to swim in Dumbledore’s 
+wake, the tips of his benumbed fingers brushing the 
+rough, wet rock. 
+Then he saw Dumbledore rising out of the water 
+ahead, his silver hair and dark robes gleaming. When 
+Harry reached the spot he found steps that led into a 
+large cave. He clambered up them, water streaming 
+from his soaking clothes, and emerged, shivering 
+uncontrollably, into the still and freezing air. 
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+Dumbledore was standing in the middle of the cave, 
+his wand held high as he turned slowly on the spot, 
+examining the walls and ceiling. 
+“Yes, this is the place,” said Dumbledore. 
+“How can you tell?” Harry spoke in a whisper. 
+“It has known magic,” said Dumbledore simply. 
+Harry could not tell whether the shivers he was 
+experiencing were due to his spine-deep coldness or 
+to the same awareness of enchantments. He watched 
+as Dumbledore continued to revolve on the spot, 
+evidently concentrating on things Harry could not see. 
+“This is merely the antechamber, the entrance hall,” 
+said Dumbledore after a moment or two. “We need to 
+penetrate the inner place. … Now it is Lord 
+Voldemort’s obstacles that stand in our way, rather 
+than those nature made. …” 
+Dumbledore approached the wall of the cave and 
+caressed it with his blackened fingertips, murmuring 
+words in a strange tongue that Harry did not 
+understand. Twice Dumbledore walked right around 
+the cave, touching as much of the rough rock as he 
+could, occasionally pausing, running his fingers 
+backward and forward over a particular spot, until 
+finally he stopped, his hand pressed flat against the 
+wall. 
+“Here,” he said. “We go on through here. The entrance 
+is concealed.” 
+Harry did not ask how Dumbledore knew. He had 
+never seen a wizard work things out like this, simply 
+by looking and touching; but Harry had long since 
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+learned that bangs and smoke were more often the 
+marks of ineptitude than expertise. 
+Dumbledore stepped back from the cave wall and 
+pointed his wand at the rock. For a moment, an 
+arched outline appeared there, blazing white as 
+though there was a powerful light behind the crack. 
+“You’ve d-done it!” said Harry through chattering 
+teeth, but before the words had left his lips the 
+outline had gone, leaving the rock as bare and solid 
+as ever. Dumbledore looked around. 
+“Harry, I’m so sorry, I forgot,” he said; he now pointed 
+his wand at Harry and at once, Harry’s clothes were 
+as warm and dry as if they had been hanging in front 
+of a blazing fire. 
+“Thank you,” said Harry gratefully, but Dumbledore 
+had already turned his attention back to the solid 
+cave wall. He did not try any more magic, but simply 
+stood there staring at it intently, as though something 
+extremely interesting was written on it. Harry stayed 
+quite still; he did not want to break Dumbledore’s 
+concentration. Then, after two solid minutes, 
+Dumbledore said quietly, “Oh, surely not. So crude.” 
+“What is it, Professor?” 
+“I rather think,” said Dumbledore, putting his 
+uninjured hand inside his robes and drawing out a 
+short silver knife of the kind Harry used to chop 
+potion ingredients, “that we are required to make 
+payment to pass.” 
+“Payment?” said Harry. “You’ve got to give the door 
+something?” 
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+“Yes,” said Dumbledore. “Blood, if I am not much 
+mistaken.” 
+“Blood?” 
+“I said it was crude,” said Dumbledore, who sounded 
+disdainful, even disappointed, as though Voldemort 
+had fallen short of the standards Dumbledore 
+expected. “The idea, as I am sure you will have 
+gathered, is that your enemy must weaken him- or 
+herself to enter. Once again, Lord Voldemort fails to 
+grasp that there are much more terrible things than 
+physical injury.” 
+“Yeah, but still, if you can avoid it …” said Harry, who 
+had experienced enough pain not to be keen for more. 
+“Sometimes, however, it is unavoidable,” said 
+Dumbledore, shaking back the sleeve of his robes and 
+exposing the forearm of his injured hand. 
+“Professor!” protested Harry, hurrying forward as 
+Dumbledore raised his knife. “I’ll do it, I’m —” 
+He did not know what he was going to say — younger, 
+fitter? But Dumbledore merely smiled. There was a 
+flash of silver, and a spurt of scarlet; the rock face 
+was peppered with dark, glistening drops. 
+“You are very kind, Harry,” said Dumbledore, now 
+passing the tip of his wand over the deep cut he had 
+made in his own arm, so that it healed instantly, just 
+as Snape had healed Malfoy’s wounds. “But your 
+blood is worth more than mine. Ah, that seems to 
+have done the trick, doesn’t it?” 
+The blazing silver outline of an arch had appeared in 
+the wall once more, and this time it did not fade 
+away: The blood-spattered rock within it simply 
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+vanished, leaving an opening into what seemed total 
+darkness. 
+“After me, I think,” said Dumbledore, and he walked 
+through the archway with Harry on his heels, lighting 
+his own wand hastily as he went. 
+An eerie sight met their eyes: They were standing on 
+the edge of a great black lake, so vast that Harry 
+could not make out the distant banks, in a cavern so 
+high that the ceiling too was out of sight. A misty 
+greenish light shone far away in what looked like the 
+middle of the lake; it was reflected in the completely 
+still water below. The greenish glow and the light from 
+the two wands were the only things that broke the 
+otherwise velvety blackness, though their rays did not 
+penetrate as far as Harry would have expected. The 
+darkness was somehow denser than normal 
+darkness. 
+“Let us walk,” said Dumbledore quietly. “Be very 
+careful not to step into the water. Stay close to me.” 
+He set off around the edge of the lake, and Harry 
+followed close behind him. Their footsteps made 
+echoing, slapping sounds on the narrow rim of rock 
+that surrounded the water. On and on they walked, 
+but the view did not vary: on one side of them, the 
+rough cavern wall, on the other, the boundless 
+expanse of smooth, glassy blackness, in the very 
+middle of which was that mysterious greenish glow. 
+Harry found the place and the silence oppressive, 
+unnerving. 
+“Professor?” he said finally. “Do you think the 
+Horcrux is here?” 
+“Oh yes,” said Dumbledore. “Yes, I’m sure it is. The 
+question is, how do we get to it?” 
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+“We couldn’t … we couldn’t just try a Summoning 
+Charm?” Harry said, sure that it was a stupid 
+suggestion. But he was much keener than he was 
+prepared to admit on getting out of this place as soon 
+as possible. 
+“Certainly we could,” said Dumbledore, stopping so 
+suddenly that Harry almost walked into him. “Why 
+don’t you do it?” 
+“Me? Oh … okay …” 
+Harry had not expected this, but cleared his throat 
+and said loudly, wand aloft, “Accio Horcrux!” 
+With a noise like an explosion, something very large 
+and pale erupted out of the dark water some twenty 
+feet away; before Harry could see what it was, it had 
+vanished again with a crashing splash that made 
+great, deep ripples on the mirrored surface. Harry 
+leapt backward in shock and hit the wall; his heart 
+was still thundering as he turned to Dumbledore. 
+“What was that?” 
+“Something, I think, that is ready to respond should 
+we attempt to seize the Horcrux.” 
+Harry looked back at the water. The surface of the 
+lake was once more shining black glass: The ripples 
+had vanished unnaturally fast; Harry’s heart, 
+however, was still pounding. 
+“Did you think that would happen, sir?” 
+“I thought something would happen if we made an 
+obvious attempt to get our hands on the Horcrux. 
+That was a very good idea, Harry; much the simplest 
+way of finding out what we are facing.” 
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+“But we don’t know what the thing was,” said Harry, 
+looking at the sinisterly smooth water. 
+“What the things are, you mean,” said Dumbledore. “I 
+doubt very much that there is only one of them. Shall 
+we walk on?” 
+“Professor?” 
+“Yes, Harry?” 
+“Do you think we’re going to have to go into the lake?” 
+“Into it? Only if we are very unfortunate.” 
+“You don’t think the Horcrux is at the bottom?” 
+“Oh no … I think the Horcrux is in the middle.” 
+And Dumbledore pointed toward the misty green light 
+in the center of the lake. 
+“So we’re going to have to cross the lake to get to it?” 
+“Yes, I think so.” 
+Harry did not say anything. His thoughts were all of 
+water monsters, of giant serpents, of demons, kelpies, 
+and sprites. … 
+“Aha,” said Dumbledore, and he stopped again; this 
+time, Harry really did walk into him; for a moment he 
+toppled on the edge of the dark water, and 
+Dumbledore’s uninjured hand closed tightly around 
+his upper arm, pulling him back. “So sorry, Harry, I 
+should have given warning. Stand back against the 
+wall, please; I think I have found the place.” 
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+Harry had no idea what Dumbledore meant; this 
+patch of dark bank was exactly like every other bit as 
+far as he could tell, but Dumbledore seemed to have 
+detected something special about it. This time he was 
+running his hand, not over the rocky wall, but 
+through the thin air, as though expecting to find and 
+grip something invisible. 
+“Oho,” said Dumbledore happily, seconds later. His 
+hand had closed in midair upon something Harry 
+could not see. Dumbledore moved closer to the water; 
+Harry watched nervously as the tips of Dumbledore’s 
+buckled shoes found the utmost edge of the rock rim. 
+Keeping his hand clenched in midair, Dumbledore 
+raised his wand with the other and tapped his fist 
+with the point. 
+Immediately a thick coppery green chain appeared 
+out of thin air, extending from the depths of the water 
+into Dumbledore’s clenched hand. Dumbledore 
+tapped the chain, which began to slide through his 
+fist like a snake, coiling itself on the ground with a 
+clinking sound that echoed noisily off the rocky walls, 
+pulling something from the depths of the black water. 
+Harry gasped as the ghostly prow of a tiny boat broke 
+the surface, glowing as green as the chain, and 
+floated, with barely a ripple, toward the place on the 
+bank where Harry and Dumbledore stood. 
+“How did you know that was there?” Harry asked in 
+astonishment. 
+“Magic always leaves traces,” said Dumbledore, as the 
+boat hit the bank with a gentle bump, “sometimes 
+very distinctive traces. I taught Tom Riddle. I know 
+his style.” 
+“Is … is this boat safe?” 
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+“Oh yes, I think so. Voldemort needed to create a 
+means to cross the lake without attracting the wrath 
+of those creatures he had placed within it in case he 
+ever wanted to visit or remove his Horcrux.” 
+“So the things in the water won’t do anything to us if 
+we cross in Voldemort’s boat?” 
+“I think we must resign ourselves to the fact that they 
+will, at some point, realize we are not Lord Voldemort. 
+Thus far, however, we have done well. They have 
+allowed us to raise the boat.” 
+“But why have they let us?” asked Harry, who could 
+not shake off the vision of tentacles rising out of the 
+dark water the moment they were out of sight of the 
+bank. 
+“Voldemort would have been reasonably confident 
+that none but a very great wizard would have been 
+able to find the boat,” said Dumbledore. “I think he 
+would have been prepared to risk what was, to his 
+mind, the most unlikely possibility that somebody 
+else would find it, knowing that he had set other 
+obstacles ahead that only he would be able to 
+penetrate. We shall see whether he is right.” 
+Harry looked down into the boat. It really was very 
+small. 
+“It doesn’t look like it was built for two people. Will it 
+hold both of us? Will we be too heavy together?” 
+Dumbledore chuckled. 
+“Voldemort will not have cared about the weight, but 
+about the amount of magical power that crossed his 
+lake. I rather think an enchantment will have been 
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+placed upon this boat so that only one wizard at a 
+time will be able to sail in it.” 
+“But then — ?” 
+“I do not think you will count, Harry: You are 
+underage and unqualified. Voldemort would never 
+have expected a sixteen-year-old to reach this place: I 
+think it unlikely that your powers will register 
+compared to mine.” 
+These words did nothing to raise Harry’s morale; 
+perhaps Dumbledore knew it, for he added, 
+“Voldemort’s mistake, Harry, Voldemort’s mistake … 
+Age is foolish and forgetful when it underestimates 
+youth. … Now, you first this time, and be careful not 
+to touch the water.” 
+Dumbledore stood aside and Harry climbed carefully 
+into the boat. Dumbledore stepped in too, coiling the 
+chain onto the floor. They were crammed in together; 
+Harry could not comfortably sit, but crouched, his 
+knees jutting over the edge of the boat, which began 
+to move at once. There was no sound other than the 
+silken rustle of the boat’s prow cleaving the water; it 
+moved without their help, as though an invisible rope 
+was pulling it onward toward the light in the center. 
+Soon they could no longer see the walls of the cavern; 
+they might have been at sea except that there were no 
+waves. 
+Harry looked down and saw the reflected gold of his 
+wandlight sparkling and glittering on the black water 
+as they passed. The boat was carving deep ripples 
+upon the glassy surface, grooves in the dark mirror. 
+… 
+And then Harry saw it, marble white, floating inches 
+below the surface. 
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+“Professor!” he said, and his startled voice echoed 
+loudly over the silent water. 
+“Harry?” 
+“I think I saw a hand in the water — a human hand!” 
+“Yes, I am sure you did,” said Dumbledore calmly. 
+Harry stared down into the water, looking for the 
+vanished hand, and a sick feeling rose in his throat. 
+“So that thing that jumped out of the water — ?” 
+But Harry had his answer before Dumbledore could 
+reply; the wandlight had slid over a fresh patch of 
+water and showed him, this time, a dead man lying 
+faceup inches beneath the surface, his open eyes 
+misted as though with cobwebs, his hair and his 
+robes swirling around him like smoke. 
+“There are bodies in here!” said Harry, and his voice 
+sounded much higher than usual and most unlike his 
+own. 
+“Yes,” said Dumbledore placidly, “but we do not need 
+to worry about them at the moment.” 
+“At the moment?” Harry repeated, tearing his gaze 
+from the water to look at Dumbledore. 
+“Not while they are merely drifting peacefully below 
+us,” said Dumbledore. “There is nothing to be feared 
+from a body, Harry, any more than there is anything 
+to be feared from the darkness. Lord Voldemort, who 
+of course secretly fears both, disagrees. But once 
+again he reveals his own lack of wisdom. It is the 
+unknown we fear when we look upon death and 
+darkness, nothing more.” 
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+Harry said nothing; he did not want to argue, but he 
+found the idea that there were bodies floating around 
+them and beneath them horrible and, what was more, 
+he did not believe that they were not dangerous. 
+“But one of them jumped,” he said, trying to make his 
+voice as level and calm as Dumbledore’s. “When I 
+tried to Summon the Horcrux, a body leapt out of the 
+lake.” 
+“Yes,” said Dumbledore. “I am sure that once we take 
+the Horcrux, we shall find them less peaceable. 
+However, like many creatures that dwell in cold and 
+darkness, they fear light and warmth, which we shall 
+therefore call to our aid should the need arise. Fire, 
+Harry,” Dumbledore added with a smile, in response 
+to Harry’s bewildered expression. 
+“Oh … right …” said Harry quickly. He turned his 
+head to look at the greenish glow toward which the 
+boat was still inexorably sailing. He could not pretend 
+now that he was not scared. The great black lake, 
+teeming with the dead … It seemed hours and hours 
+ago that he had met Professor Trelawney, that he had 
+given Ron and Hermione Felix Felicis. … He suddenly 
+wished he had said a better good-bye to them … and 
+he hadn’t seen Ginny at all. … 
+“Nearly there,” said Dumbledore cheerfully. 
+Sure enough, the greenish light seemed to be growing 
+larger at last, and within minutes, the boat had come 
+to a halt, bumping gently into something that Harry 
+could not see at first, but when he raised his 
+illuminated wand he saw that they had reached a 
+small island of smooth rock in the center of the lake. 
+“Careful not to touch the water,” said Dumbledore 
+again as Harry climbed out of the boat. 
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+The island was no larger than Dumbledore’s office, an 
+expanse of flat dark stone on which stood nothing but 
+the source of that greenish light, which looked much 
+brighter when viewed close to. Harry squinted at it; at 
+first, he thought it was a lamp of some kind, but then 
+he saw that the light was coming from a stone basin 
+rather like the Pensieve, which was set on top of a 
+pedestal. 
+Dumbledore approached the basin and Harry 
+followed. Side by side, they looked down into it. The 
+basin was full of an emerald liquid emitting that 
+phosphorescent glow. 
+“What is it?” asked Harry quietly. 
+“I am not sure,” said Dumbledore. “Something more 
+worrisome than blood and bodies, however.” 
+Dumbledore pushed back the sleeve of his robe over 
+his blackened hand, and stretched out the tips of his 
+burned fingers toward the surface of the potion. 
+“Sir, no, don’t touch — !” 
+“I cannot touch,” said Dumbledore, smiling faintly. 
+“See? I cannot approach any nearer than this. You 
+try.” 
+Staring, Harry put his hand into the basin and 
+attempted to touch the potion. He met an invisible 
+barrier that prevented him coming within an inch of 
+it. No matter how hard he pushed, his fingers 
+encountered nothing but what seemed to be solid and 
+inflexible air. 
+“Out of the way, please, Harry,” said Dumbledore. He 
+raised his wand and made complicated movements 
+over the surface of the potion, murmuring 
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+soundlessly. Nothing happened, except perhaps that 
+the potion glowed a little brighter. Harry remained 
+silent while Dumbledore worked, but after a while 
+Dumbledore withdrew his wand, and Harry felt it was 
+safe to talk again. 
+“You think the Horcrux is in there, sir?” 
+“Oh yes.” Dumbledore peered more closely into the 
+basin. Harry saw his face reflected, upside down, in 
+the smooth surface of the green potion. “But how to 
+reach it? This potion cannot be penetrated by hand, 
+Vanished, parted, scooped up, or siphoned away, nor 
+can it be Transfigured, Charmed, or otherwise made 
+to change its nature.” 
+Almost absentmindedly, Dumbledore raised his wand 
+again, twirled it once in midair, and then caught the 
+crystal goblet that he had conjured out of nowhere. 
+“I can only conclude that this potion is supposed to 
+be drunk.” 
+“What?” said Harry. “No!” 
+“Yes, I think so: Only by drinking it can I empty the 
+basin and see what lies in its depths.” 
+“But what if — what if it kills you?” 
+“Oh, I doubt that it would work like that,” said 
+Dumbledore easily. “Lord Voldemort would not want 
+to kill the person who reached this island.” 
+Harry couldn’t believe it. Was this more of 
+Dumbledore’s insane determination to see good in 
+everyone? 
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+“Sir,” said Harry, trying to keep his voice reasonable, 
+“sir, this is Voldemort we’re —” 
+“I’m sorry, Harry; I should have said, he would not 
+want to immediately kill the person who reached this 
+island,” Dumbledore corrected himself. “He would 
+want to keep them alive long enough to find out how 
+they managed to penetrate so far through his 
+defenses and, most importantly of all, why they were 
+so intent upon emptying the basin. Do not forget that 
+Lord Voldemort believes that he alone knows about 
+his Horcruxes.” 
+Harry made to speak again, but this time Dumbledore 
+raised his hand for silence, frowning slightly at the 
+emerald liquid, evidently thinking hard. 
+“Undoubtedly,” he said, finally, “this potion must act 
+in a way that will prevent me taking the Horcrux. It 
+might paralyze me, cause me to forget what I am here 
+for, create so much pain I am distracted, or render me 
+incapable in some other way. This being the case, 
+Harry, it will be your job to make sure I keep 
+drinking, even if you have to tip the potion into my 
+protesting mouth. You understand?” 
+Their eyes met over the basin, each pale face lit with 
+that strange, green light. Harry did not speak. Was 
+this why he had been invited along — so that he 
+could force-feed Dumbledore a potion that might 
+cause him unendurable pain? 
+“You remember,” said Dumbledore, “the condition on 
+which I brought you with me?” 
+Harry hesitated, looking into the blue eyes that had 
+turned green in the reflected light of the basin. 
+“But what if — ?” 
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+“You swore, did you not, to follow any command I 
+gave you?” 
+“Yes, but —” 
+“I warned you, did I not, that there might be danger?” 
+“Yes,” said Harry, “but —” 
+“Well, then,” said Dumbledore, shaking back his 
+sleeves once more and raising the empty goblet, “you 
+have my orders.” 
+“Why can’t I drink the potion instead?” asked Harry 
+desperately. 
+“Because I am much older, much cleverer, and much 
+less valuable,” said Dumbledore. “Once and for all, 
+Harry, do I have your word that you will do all in your 
+power to make me keep drinking?” 
+“Couldn’t — ?” 
+“Do I have it?” 
+“But —” 
+“Your word, Harry.” 
+“I — all right, but —” 
+Before Harry could make any further protest, 
+Dumbledore lowered the crystal goblet into the 
+potion. For a split second, Harry hoped that he would 
+not be able to touch the potion with the goblet, but 
+the crystal sank into the surface as nothing else had; 
+when the glass was full to the brim, Dumbledore lifted 
+it to his mouth. 
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+“Your good health, Harry.” 
+And he drained the goblet. Harry watched, terrified, 
+his hands gripping the rim of the basin so hard that 
+his fingertips were numb. 
+“Professor?” he said anxiously, as Dumbledore 
+lowered the empty glass. “How do you feel?” 
+Dumbledore shook his head, his eyes closed. Harry 
+wondered whether he was in pain. Dumbledore 
+plunged the glass blindly back into the basin, refilled 
+it, and drank once more. 
+In silence, Dumbledore drank three gobletsful of the 
+potion. Then, halfway through the fourth goblet, he 
+staggered and fell forward against the basin. His eyes 
+were still closed, his breathing heavy. 
+“Professor Dumbledore?” said Harry, his voice 
+strained. “Can you hear me?” 
+Dumbledore did not answer. His face was twitching 
+as though he was deeply asleep, but dreaming a 
+horrible dream. His grip on the goblet was slackening; 
+the potion was about to spill from it. Harry reached 
+forward and grasped the crystal cup, holding it 
+steady. 
+“Professor, can you hear me?” he repeated loudly, his 
+voice echoing around the cavern. 
+Dumbledore panted and then spoke in a voice Harry 
+did not recognize, for he had never heard Dumbledore 
+frightened like this. 
+“I don’t want … Don’t make me …” 
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+Harry stared into the whitened face he knew so well, 
+at the crooked nose and half-moon spectacles, and 
+did not know what to do. 
+“… don’t like … want to stop …” moaned Dumbledore. 
+“You … you can’t stop, Professor,” said Harry. “You’ve 
+got to keep drinking, remember? You told me you had 
+to keep drinking. Here …” 
+Hating himself, repulsed by what he was doing, Harry 
+forced the goblet back toward Dumbledore’s mouth 
+and tipped it, so that Dumbledore drank the 
+remainder of the potion inside. 
+“No …” he groaned, as Harry lowered the goblet back 
+into the basin and refilled it for him. “I don’t want to. 
+… I don’t want to. … Let me go. …” 
+“It’s all right, Professor,” said Harry, his hand 
+shaking. “It’s all right, I’m here —” 
+“Make it stop, make it stop,” moaned Dumbledore. 
+“Yes … yes, this’ll make it stop,” lied Harry. He tipped 
+the contents of the goblet into Dumbledore’s open 
+mouth. 
+Dumbledore screamed; the noise echoed all around 
+the vast chamber, across the dead black water. 
+“No, no, no, no, I can’t, I can’t, don’t make me, I don’t 
+want to. …” 
+“It’s all right, Professor, it’s all right!” said Harry 
+loudly, his hands shaking so badly he could hardly 
+scoop up the sixth gobletful of potion; the basin was 
+now half empty. “Nothing’s happening to you, you’re 
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+safe, it isn’t real, I swear it isn’t real — take this, now, 
+take this. …” 
+And obediently, Dumbledore drank, as though it was 
+an antidote Harry offered him, but upon draining the 
+goblet, he sank to his knees, shaking uncontrollably. 
+“It’s all my fault, all my fault,” he sobbed. “Please 
+make it stop, I know I did wrong, oh please make it 
+stop and I’ll never, never again …” 
+“This will make it stop, Professor,” Harry said, his 
+voice cracking as he tipped the seventh glass of 
+potion into Dumbledore’s mouth. 
+Dumbledore began to cower as though invisible 
+torturers surrounded him; his flailing hand almost 
+knocked the refilled goblet from Harry’s trembling 
+hands as he moaned, “Don’t hurt them, don’t hurt 
+them, please, please, it’s my fault, hurt me instead …” 
+“Here, drink this, drink this, you’ll be all right,” said 
+Harry desperately, and once again Dumbledore 
+obeyed him, opening his mouth even as he kept his 
+eyes tight shut and shook from head to foot. 
+And now he fell forward, screaming again, hammering 
+his fists upon the ground, while Harry filled the ninth 
+goblet. 
+“Please, please, please, no … not that, not that, I’ll do 
+anything …” 
+“Just drink, Professor, just drink …” 
+Dumbledore drank like a child dying of thirst, but 
+when he had finished, he yelled again as though his 
+insides were on fire. “No more, please, no more …” 
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+Harry scooped up a tenth gobletful of potion and felt 
+the crystal scrape the bottom of the basin. 
+“We’re nearly there, Professor. Drink this, drink it. …” 
+He supported Dumbledore’s shoulders and again, 
+Dumbledore drained the glass; then Harry was on his 
+feet once more, refilling the goblet as Dumbledore 
+began to scream in more anguish than ever, “I want 
+to die! I want to die! Make it stop, make it stop, I want 
+to die!” 
+“Drink this, Professor. Drink this. …” 
+Dumbledore drank, and no sooner had he finished 
+than he yelled, “KILL ME!” 
+“This — this one will!” gasped Harry. “Just drink this 
+… It’ll be over … all over!” 
+Dumbledore gulped at the goblet, drained every last 
+drop, and then, with a great, rattling gasp, rolled over 
+onto his face. 
+“No!” shouted Harry, who had stood to refill the goblet 
+again; instead he dropped the cup into the basin, 
+flung himself down beside Dumbledore, and heaved 
+him over onto his back; Dumbledore’s glasses were 
+askew, his mouth agape, his eyes closed. “No,” said 
+Harry, shaking Dumbledore, “no, you’re not dead, you 
+said it wasn’t poison, wake up, wake up — 
+Rennervate!” he cried, his wand pointing at 
+Dumbledore’s chest; there was a flash of red light but 
+nothing happened. “Rennervate — sir — please —” 
+Dumbledore’s eyelids flickered; Harry’s heart leapt. 
+“Sir, are you — ?” 
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+“Water,” croaked Dumbledore. 
+“Water,” panted Harry. “Yes —” 
+He leapt to his feet and seized the goblet he had 
+dropped in the basin; he barely registered the golden 
+locket lying curled beneath it. 
+“Aguamenti!” he shouted, jabbing the goblet with his 
+wand. 
+The goblet filled with clear water; Harry dropped to 
+his knees beside Dumbledore, raised his head, and 
+brought the glass to his lips — but it was empty. 
+Dumbledore groaned and began to pant. 
+“But I had some — wait — Aguamenti!” said Harry 
+again, pointing his wand at the goblet. Once more, for 
+a second, clear water gleamed within it, but as he 
+approached Dumbledore’s mouth, the water vanished 
+again. 
+“Sir, I’m trying, I’m trying!” said Harry desperately, 
+but he did not think that Dumbledore could hear 
+him; he had rolled onto his side and was drawing 
+great, rattling breaths that sounded agonizing. 
+“Aguamenti — Aguamenti — AGUAMENTI!” 
+The goblet filled and emptied once more. And now 
+Dumbledore’s breathing was fading. His brain 
+whirling in panic, Harry knew, instinctively, the only 
+way left to get water, because Voldemort had planned 
+it so … 
+He flung himself over to the edge of the rock and 
+plunged the goblet into the lake, bringing it up full to 
+the brim of icy water that did not vanish. 
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+“Sir — here!” Harry yelled, and lunging forward, he 
+tipped the water clumsily over Dumbledore’s face. 
+It was the best he could do, for the icy feeling on his 
+arm not holding the cup was not the lingering chill of 
+the water. A slimy white hand had gripped his wrist, 
+and the creature to whom it belonged was pulling 
+him, slowly, backward across the rock. The surface of 
+the lake was no longer mirror-smooth; it was 
+churning, and everywhere Harry looked, white heads 
+and hands were emerging from the dark water, men 
+and women and children with sunken, sightless eyes 
+were moving toward the rock: an army of the dead 
+rising from the black water. 
+“Petrificus Totalus!” yelled Harry, struggling to cling to 
+the smooth, soaked surface of the island as he 
+pointed his wand at the Inferius that had his arm: It 
+released him, falling backward into the water with a 
+splash; he scrambled to his feet, but many more Inferi 
+were already climbing onto the rock, their bony hands 
+clawing at its slippery surface, their blank, frosted 
+eyes upon him, trailing waterlogged rags, sunken 
+faces leering. 
+“Petrificus Totalus!” Harry bellowed again, backing 
+away as he swiped his wand through the air; six or 
+seven of them crumpled, but more were coming 
+toward him. “Impedimenta! Incarcerous!” 
+A few of them stumbled, one or two of them bound in 
+ropes, but those climbing onto the rock behind them 
+merely stepped over or on the fallen bodies. Still 
+slashing at the air with his wand, Harry yelled, 
+“Sectumsempra! SECTUMSEMPRA!” 
+But though gashes appeared in their sodden rags and 
+their icy skin, they had no blood to spill: They walked 
+on, unfeeling, their shrunken hands outstretched 
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+toward him, and as he backed away still farther, he 
+felt arms enclose him from behind, thin, fleshless 
+arms cold as death, and his feet left the ground as 
+they lifted him and began to carry him, slowly and 
+surely, back to the water, and he knew there would 
+be no release, that he would be drowned, and become 
+one more dead guardian of a fragment of Voldemort’s 
+shattered soul. … 
+But then, through the darkness, fire erupted: crimson 
+and gold, a ring of fire that surrounded the rock so 
+that the Inferi holding Harry so tightly stumbled and 
+faltered; they did not dare pass through the flames to 
+get to the water. They dropped Harry; he hit the 
+ground, slipped on the rock, and fell, grazing his 
+arms, but scrambled back up, raising his wand and 
+staring around. 
+Dumbledore was on his feet again, pale as any of the 
+surrounding Inferi, but taller than any too, the fire 
+dancing in his eyes; his wand was raised like a torch 
+and from its tip emanated the flames, like a vast 
+lasso, encircling them all with warmth. 
+The Inferi bumped into each other, attempting, 
+blindly, to escape the fire in which they were 
+enclosed. … 
+Dumbledore scooped the locket from the bottom of 
+the stone basin and stowed it inside his robes. 
+Wordlessly, he gestured to Harry to come to his side. 
+Distracted by the flames, the Inferi seemed unaware 
+that their quarry was leaving as Dumbledore led 
+Harry back to the boat, the ring of fire moving with 
+them, around them, the bewildered Inferi 
+accompanying them to the water’s edge, where they 
+slipped gratefully back into their dark waters. 
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+Harry, who was shaking all over, thought for a 
+moment that Dumbledore might not be able to climb 
+into the boat; he staggered a little as he attempted it; 
+all his efforts seemed to be going into maintaining the 
+ring of protective flame around them. Harry seized 
+him and helped him back to his seat. Once they were 
+both safely jammed inside again, the boat began to 
+move back across the black water, away from the 
+rock, still encircled by that ring of fire, and it seemed 
+that the Inferi swarming below them did not dare 
+resurface. 
+“Sir,” panted Harry, “sir, I forgot — about fire — they 
+were coming at me and I panicked —” 
+“Quite understandable,” murmured Dumbledore. 
+Harry was alarmed to hear how faint his voice was. 
+They reached the bank with a little bump and Harry 
+leapt out, then turned quickly to help Dumbledore. 
+The moment that Dumbledore reached the bank he 
+let his wand hand fall; the ring of fire vanished, but 
+the Inferi did not emerge again from the water. The 
+little boat sank into the water once more; clanking 
+and tinkling, its chain slithered back into the lake 
+too. Dumbledore gave a great sigh and leaned against 
+the cavern wall. 
+“I am weak. …” he said. 
+“Don’t worry, sir,” said Harry at once, anxious about 
+Dumbledore’s extreme pallor and by his air of 
+exhaustion. “Don’t worry, I’ll get us back. … Lean on 
+me, sir. …” 
+And pulling Dumbledore’s uninjured arm around his 
+shoulders, Harry guided his headmaster back around 
+the lake, bearing most of his weight. 
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+“The protection was … after all … well-designed,” said 
+Dumbledore faintly. “One alone could not have done 
+it. … You did well, very well, Harry. …” 
+“Don’t talk now,” said Harry, fearing how slurred 
+Dumbledore’s voice had become, how much his feet 
+dragged. “Save your energy, sir. … We’ll soon be out 
+of here. …” 
+“The archway will have sealed again. … My knife …” 
+“There’s no need, I got cut on the rock,” said Harry 
+firmly. “Just tell me where. …” 
+“Here …” 
+Harry wiped his grazed forearm upon the stone: 
+Having received its tribute of blood, the archway 
+reopened instantly. They crossed the outer cave, and 
+Harry helped Dumbledore back into the icy seawater 
+that filled the crevice in the cliff. 
+“It’s going to be all right, sir,” Harry said over and 
+over again, more worried by Dumbledore’s silence 
+than he had been by his weakened voice. “We’re 
+nearly there. … I can Apparate us both back. … Don’t 
+worry. …” 
+“I am not worried, Harry,” said Dumbledore, his voice 
+a little stronger despite the freezing water. “I am with 
+you.” 
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+ 
+ 
+THE LIGHTNING-STRUCK TOWER 
+Once back under the starry sky, Harry heaved 
+Dumbledore onto the top of the nearest boulder and 
+then to his feet. Sodden and shivering, Dumbledore’s 
+weight still upon him, Harry concentrated harder 
+than he had ever done upon his destination: 
+Hogsmeade. Closing his eyes, gripping Dumbledore’s 
+arm as tightly as he could, he stepped forward into 
+that feeling of horrible compression. 
+He knew it had worked before he opened his eyes: The 
+smell of salt, the sea breeze had gone. He and 
+Dumbledore were shivering and dripping in the 
+middle of the dark High Street in Hogsmeade. For one 
+horrible moment Harry’s imagination showed him 
+more Inferi creeping toward him around the sides of 
+shops, but he blinked and saw that nothing was 
+stirring; all was still, the darkness complete but for a 
+few streetlamps and lit upper windows. 
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+“We did it, Professor!” Harry whispered with difficulty; 
+he suddenly realized that he had a searing stitch in 
+his chest. “We did it! We got the Horcrux!” 
+Dumbledore staggered against him. For a moment, 
+Harry thought that his inexpert Apparition had 
+thrown Dumbledore off balance; then he saw his face, 
+paler and damper than ever in the distant light of a 
+streetlamp. 
+“Sir, are you all right?” 
+“I’ve been better,” said Dumbledore weakly, though 
+the corners of his mouth twitched. “That potion … 
+was no health drink. …” 
+And to Harry’s horror, Dumbledore sank onto the 
+ground. 
+“Sir — it’s okay, sir, you’re going to be all right, don’t 
+worry —” 
+He looked around desperately for help, but there was 
+nobody to be seen and all he could think was that he 
+must somehow get Dumbledore quickly to the 
+hospital wing. 
+“We need to get you up to the school, sir. … Madam 
+Pomfrey …” 
+“No,” said Dumbledore. “It is … Professor Snape 
+whom I need. … But I do not think … I can walk very 
+far just yet. …” 
+“Right — sir, listen — I’m going to knock on a door, 
+find a place you can stay — then I can run and get 
+Madam —” 
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+“Severus,” said Dumbledore clearly. “I need Severus. 
+…” 
+“All right then, Snape — but I’m going to have to leave 
+you for a moment so I can —” 
+Before Harry could make a move, however, he heard 
+running footsteps. His heart leapt: Somebody had 
+seen, somebody knew they needed help — and 
+looking around he saw Madam Rosmerta scurrying 
+down the dark street toward them on high-heeled, 
+fluffy slippers, wearing a silk dressing gown 
+embroidered with dragons. 
+“I saw you Apparate as I was pulling my bedroom 
+curtains! Thank goodness, thank goodness, I couldn’t 
+think what to — but what’s wrong with Albus?” 
+She came to a halt, panting, and stared down, wide-
+eyed, at Dumbledore. 
+“He’s hurt,” said Harry. “Madam Rosmerta, can he 
+come into the Three Broomsticks while I go up to the 
+school and get help for him?” 
+“You can’t go up there alone! Don’t you realize — 
+haven’t you seen — ? 
+“If you help me support him,” said Harry, not 
+listening to her, “I think we can get him inside —” 
+“What has happened?” asked Dumbledore. 
+“Rosmerta, what’s wrong?” 
+“The — the Dark Mark, Albus.” 
+And she pointed into the sky, in the direction of 
+Hogwarts. Dread flooded Harry at the sound of the 
+words. … He turned and looked. 
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+There it was, hanging in the sky above the school: the 
+blazing green skull with a serpent tongue, the mark 
+Death Eaters left behind whenever they had entered a 
+building … wherever they had murdered. … 
+“When did it appear?” asked Dumbledore, and his 
+hand clenched painfully upon Harry’s shoulder as he 
+struggled to his feet. 
+“Must have been minutes ago, it wasn’t there when I 
+put the cat out, but when I got upstairs —” 
+“We need to return to the castle at once,” said 
+Dumbledore. “Rosmerta” — and though he staggered 
+a little, he seemed wholly in command of the situation 
+— “we need transport — brooms —” 
+“I’ve got a couple behind the bar,” she said, looking 
+very frightened. “Shall I run and fetch — ?” 
+“No, Harry can do it.” 
+Harry raised his wand at once. 
+“Accio Rosmerta’s Brooms!” 
+A second later they heard a loud bang as the front 
+door of the pub burst open; two brooms had shot out 
+into the street and were racing each other to Harry’s 
+side, where they stopped dead, quivering slightly at 
+waist height. 
+“Rosmerta, please send a message to the Ministry,” 
+said Dumbledore, as he mounted the broom nearest 
+him. “It might be that nobody within Hogwarts has 
+yet realized anything is wrong. … Harry, put on your 
+Invisibility Cloak.” 
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+Harry pulled his Cloak out of his pocket and threw it 
+over himself before mounting his broom: Madam 
+Rosmerta was already tottering back toward her pub 
+as Harry and Dumbledore kicked off from the ground 
+and rose up into the air. As they sped toward the 
+castle, Harry glanced sideways at Dumbledore, ready 
+to grab him should he fall, but the sight of the Dark 
+Mark seemed to have acted upon Dumbledore like a 
+stimulant: He was bent low over his broom, his eyes 
+fixed upon the Mark, his long silver hair and beard 
+flying behind him on the night air. And Harry too 
+looked ahead at the skull, and fear swelled inside him 
+like a venomous bubble, compressing his lungs, 
+driving all other discomfort from his mind. … 
+How long had they been away? Had Ron, Hermione, 
+and Ginny’s luck run out by now? Was it one of them 
+who had caused the Mark to be set over the school, or 
+was it Neville, or Luna, or some other member of the 
+D.A.? And if it was … he was the one who had told 
+them to patrol the corridors, he had asked them to 
+leave the safety of their beds. … Would he be 
+responsible, again, for the death of a friend? 
+As they flew over the dark, twisting lane down which 
+they had walked earlier, Harry heard, over the 
+whistling of the night air in his ears, Dumbledore 
+muttering in some strange language again. He 
+thought he understood why as he felt his broom 
+shudder when they flew over the boundary wall into 
+the grounds: Dumbledore was undoing the 
+enchantments he himself had set around the castle 
+so they could enter at speed. The Dark Mark was 
+glittering directly above the Astronomy Tower, the 
+highest of the castle. Did that mean the death had 
+occurred there? 
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+Dumbledore had already crossed the crenellated 
+ramparts and was dismounting; Harry landed next to 
+him seconds later and looked around. 
+The ramparts were deserted. The door to the spiral 
+staircase that led back into the castle was closed. 
+There was no sign of a struggle, of a fight to the 
+death, of a body. 
+“What does it mean?” Harry asked Dumbledore, 
+looking up at the green skull with its serpent’s tongue 
+glinting evilly above them. “Is it the real Mark? Has 
+someone definitely been — Professor?” 
+In the dim green glow from the Mark, Harry saw 
+Dumbledore clutching at his chest with his blackened 
+hand. 
+“Go and wake Severus,” said Dumbledore faintly but 
+clearly. “Tell him what has happened and bring him 
+to me. Do nothing else, speak to nobody else, and do 
+not remove your cloak. I shall wait here.” 
+“But —” 
+“You swore to obey me, Harry — go!” 
+Harry hurried over to the door leading to the spiral 
+staircase, but his hand had only just closed upon the 
+iron ring of the door when he heard running footsteps 
+on the other side. He looked around at Dumbledore, 
+who gestured him to retreat. Harry backed away, 
+drawing his wand as he did so. 
+The door burst open and somebody erupted through 
+it and shouted, “Expelliarmus!” 
+Harry’s body became instantly rigid and immobile, 
+and he felt himself fall back against the tower wall, 
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+propped like an unsteady statue, unable to move or 
+speak. He could not understand how it had happened 
+— Expelliarmus was not a Freezing Charm — 
+Then, by the light of the Mark, he saw Dumbledore’s 
+wand flying in an arc over the edge of the ramparts 
+and understood. … Dumbledore had wordlessly 
+immobilized Harry, and the second he had taken to 
+perform the spell had cost him the chance of 
+defending himself. 
+Standing against the ramparts, very white in the face, 
+Dumbledore still showed no sign of panic or distress. 
+He merely looked across at his disarmer and said, 
+“Good evening, Draco.” 
+Malfoy stepped forward, glancing around quickly to 
+check that he and Dumbledore were alone. His eyes 
+fell upon the second broom. 
+“Who else is here?” 
+“A question I might ask you. Or are you acting alone?” 
+Harry saw Malfoy’s pale eyes shift back to 
+Dumbledore in the greenish glare of the Mark. 
+“No,” he said. “I’ve got backup. There are Death 
+Eaters here in your school tonight.” 
+“Well, well,” said Dumbledore, as though Malfoy was 
+showing him an ambitious homework project. “Very 
+good indeed. You found a way to let them in, did 
+you?” 
+“Yeah,” said Malfoy, who was panting. “Right under 
+your nose and you never realized!” 
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+“Ingenious,” said Dumbledore. “Yet … forgive me … 
+where are they now? You seem unsupported.” 
+“They met some of your guards. They’re having a fight 
+down below. They won’t be long. … I came on ahead. I 
+— I’ve got a job to do.” 
+“Well, then, you must get on and do it, my dear boy,” 
+said Dumbledore softly. 
+There was silence. Harry stood imprisoned within his 
+own invisible, paralyzed body, staring at the two of 
+them, his ears straining to hear sounds of the Death 
+Eaters’ distant fight, and in front of him, Draco 
+Malfoy did nothing but stare at Albus Dumbledore, 
+who, incredibly, smiled. 
+“Draco, Draco, you are not a killer.” 
+“How do you know?” said Malfoy at once. 
+He seemed to realize how childish the words had 
+sounded; Harry saw him flush in the Mark’s greenish 
+light. 
+“You don’t know what I’m capable of,” said Malfoy 
+more forcefully. “You don’t know what I’ve done!” 
+“Oh yes, I do,” said Dumbledore mildly. “You almost 
+killed Katie Bell and Ronald Weasley. You have been 
+trying, with increasing desperation, to kill me all year. 
+Forgive me, Draco, but they have been feeble 
+attempts. … So feeble, to be honest, that I wonder 
+whether your heart has been really in it.” 
+“It has been in it!” said Malfoy vehemently. “I’ve been 
+working on it all year, and tonight —” 
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+Somewhere in the depths of the castle below Harry 
+heard a muffled yell. Malfoy stiffened and glanced 
+over his shoulder. 
+“Somebody is putting up a good fight,” said 
+Dumbledore conversationally. “But you were saying … 
+yes, you have managed to introduce Death Eaters 
+into my school, which, I admit, I thought impossible. 
+… How did you do it?” 
+But Malfoy said nothing: He was still listening to 
+whatever was happening below and seemed almost as 
+paralyzed as Harry was. 
+“Perhaps you ought to get on with the job alone,” 
+suggested Dumbledore. “What if your backup has 
+been thwarted by my guard? As you have perhaps 
+realized, there are members of the Order of the 
+Phoenix here tonight too. And after all, you don’t 
+really need help. … I have no wand at the moment. … 
+I cannot defend myself.” 
+Malfoy merely stared at him. 
+“I see,” said Dumbledore kindly, when Malfoy neither 
+moved nor spoke. “You are afraid to act until they join 
+you.” 
+“I’m not afraid!” snarled Malfoy, though he still made 
+no move to hurt Dumbledore. “It’s you who should be 
+scared!” 
+“But why? I don’t think you will kill me, Draco. Killing 
+is not nearly as easy as the innocent believe. … So tell 
+me, while we wait for your friends … how did you 
+smuggle them in here? It seems to have taken you a 
+long time to work out how to do it.” 
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+Malfoy looked as though he was fighting down the 
+urge to shout, or to vomit. He gulped and took several 
+deep breaths, glaring at Dumbledore, his wand 
+pointing directly at the latter’s heart. Then, as though 
+he could not help himself, he said, “I had to mend 
+that broken Vanishing Cabinet that no one’s used for 
+years. The one Montague got lost in last year.” 
+“Aaaah.” Dumbledore’s sigh was half a groan. He 
+closed his eyes for a moment. “That was clever. … 
+There is a pair, I take it?” 
+“In Borgin and Burkes,” said Malfoy, “and they make 
+a kind of passage between them. Montague told me 
+that when he was stuck in the Hogwarts one, he was 
+trapped in limbo but sometimes he could hear what 
+was going on at school, and sometimes what was 
+going on in the shop, as if the cabinet was traveling 
+between them, but he couldn’t make anyone hear 
+him. … In the end, he managed to Apparate out, even 
+though he’d never passed his test. He nearly died 
+doing it. Everyone thought it was a really good story, 
+but I was the only one who realized what it meant — 
+even Borgin didn’t know — I was the one who realized 
+there could be a way into Hogwarts through the 
+cabinets if I fixed the broken one.” 
+“Very good,” murmured Dumbledore. “So the Death 
+Eaters were able to pass from Borgin and Burkes into 
+the school to help you. … A clever plan, a very clever 
+plan … and, as you say, right under my nose.” 
+“Yeah,” said Malfoy, who bizarrely seemed to draw 
+courage and comfort from Dumbledore’s praise. 
+“Yeah, it was!” 
+“But there were times,” Dumbledore went on, “weren’t 
+there, when you were not sure you would succeed in 
+mending the cabinet? And you resorted to crude and 
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+badly judged measures such as sending me a cursed 
+necklace that was bound to reach the wrong hands … 
+poisoning mead there was only the slightest chance I 
+might drink. …” 
+“Yeah, well, you still didn’t realize who was behind 
+that stuff, did you?” sneered Malfoy, as Dumbledore 
+slid a little down the ramparts, the strength in his 
+legs apparently fading, and Harry struggled 
+fruitlessly, mutely, against the enchantment binding 
+him. 
+“As a matter of fact, I did,” said Dumbledore. “I was 
+sure it was you. 
+“Why didn’t you stop me, then?” Malfoy demanded. 
+“I tried, Draco. Professor Snape has been keeping 
+watch over you on my orders —” 
+“He hasn’t been doing your orders, he promised my 
+mother —” 
+“Of course that is what he would tell you, Draco, but 
+—” 
+“He’s a double agent, you stupid old man, he isn’t 
+working for you, you just think he is!” 
+“We must agree to differ on that, Draco. It so happens 
+that I trust Professor Snape —” 
+“Well, you’re losing your grip, then!” sneered Malfoy. 
+“He’s been offering me plenty of help — wanting all 
+the glory for himself— wanting a bit of the action — 
+‘What are you doing?’ ‘Did you do the necklace, that 
+was stupid, it could have blown everything —’ But I 
+haven’t told him what I’ve been doing in the Room of 
+Requirement, he’s going to wake up tomorrow and it’ll 
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+all be over and he won’t be the Dark Lord’s favorite 
+anymore, he’ll be nothing compared to me, nothing!” 
+“Very gratifying,” said Dumbledore mildly. “We all like 
+appreciation for our own hard work, of course. But 
+you must have had an accomplice, all the same … 
+someone in Hogsmeade, someone who was able to 
+slip Katie the — the — aaaah …” 
+Dumbledore closed his eyes again and nodded, as 
+though he was about to fall asleep. “… of course … 
+Rosmerta. How long has she been under the Imperius 
+Curse?” 
+“Got there at last, have you?” Malfoy taunted. 
+There was another yell from below, rather louder than 
+the last. Malfoy looked nervously over his shoulder 
+again, then back at Dumbledore, who went on: “So 
+poor Rosmerta was forced to lurk in her own 
+bathroom and pass that necklace to any Hogwarts 
+student who entered the room unaccompanied? And 
+the poisoned mead … well, naturally, Rosmerta was 
+able to poison it for you before she sent the bottle to 
+Slughorn, believing that it was to be my Christmas 
+present. … Yes, very neat … very neat … Poor Mr. 
+Filch would not, of course, think to check a bottle of 
+Rosmerta’s. Tell me, how have you been 
+communicating with Rosmerta? I thought we had all 
+methods of communication in and out of the school 
+monitored.” 
+“Enchanted coins,” said Malfoy, as though he was 
+compelled to keep talking, though his wand hand was 
+shaking badly. “I had one and she had the other and I 
+could send her messages —” 
+“Isn’t that the secret method of communication the 
+group that called themselves Dumbledore’s Army 
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+used last year?” asked Dumbledore. His voice was 
+light and conversational, but Harry saw him slip an 
+inch lower down the wall as he said it. 
+“Yeah, I got the idea from them,” said Malfoy, with a 
+twisted smile. “I got the idea of poisoning the mead 
+from the Mudblood Granger as well, I heard her 
+talking in the library about Filch not recognizing 
+potions.” 
+“Please do not use that offensive word in front of me,” 
+said Dumbledore. 
+Malfoy gave a harsh laugh. “You care about me saying 
+‘Mudblood’ when I’m about to kill you?” 
+“Yes, I do,” said Dumbledore, and Harry saw his feet 
+slide a little on the floor as he struggled to remain 
+upright. “But as for being about to kill me, Draco, you 
+have had several long minutes now, we are quite 
+alone, I am more defenseless than you can have 
+dreamed of finding me, and still you have not acted. 
+…” 
+Malfoy’s mouth contorted involuntarily, as though he 
+had tasted something very bitter. 
+“Now, about tonight,” Dumbledore went on, “I am a 
+little puzzled about how it happened. … You knew 
+that I had left the school? But of course,” he 
+answered his own question, “Rosmerta saw me 
+leaving, she tipped you off using your ingenious 
+coins, I’m sure.” 
+“That’s right,” said Malfoy. “But she said you were 
+just going for a drink, you’d be back. …” 
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+“Well, I certainly did have a drink … and I came back 
+… after a fashion,” mumbled Dumbledore. “So you 
+decided to spring a trap for me?” 
+“We decided to put the Dark Mark over the tower and 
+get you to hurry up here, to see who’d been killed,” 
+said Malfoy. “And it worked!” 
+“Well … yes and no …” said Dumbledore. “But am I to 
+take it, then, that nobody has been murdered?” 
+“Someone’s dead,” said Malfoy, and his voice seemed 
+to go up an octave as he said it. “One of your people 
+… I don’t know who, it was dark. … I stepped over the 
+body. … I was supposed to be waiting up here when 
+you got back, only your Phoenix lot got in the way. …” 
+“Yes, they do that,” said Dumbledore. 
+There was a bang and shouts from below, louder than 
+ever; it sounded as though people were fighting on the 
+actual spiral staircase that led to where Dumbledore, 
+Malfoy, and Harry stood, and Harry’s heart thundered 
+unheard in his invisible chest. … Someone was dead. 
+… Malfoy had stepped over the body … but who was 
+it? 
+“There is little time, one way or another,” said 
+Dumbledore. “So let us discuss your options, Draco.” 
+“My options!” said Malfoy loudly. “I’m standing here 
+with a wand — I’m about to kill you —” 
+“My dear boy, let us have no more pretense about 
+that. If you were going to kill me, you would have 
+done it when you first disarmed me, you would not 
+have stopped for this pleasant chat about ways and 
+means.” 
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+“I haven’t got any options!” said Malfoy, and he was 
+suddenly white as Dumbledore. “I’ve got to do it! He’ll 
+kill me! He’ll kill my whole family!” 
+“I appreciate the difficulty of your position,” said 
+Dumbledore. “Why else do you think I have not 
+confronted you before now? Because I knew that you 
+would have been murdered if Lord Voldemort realized 
+that I suspected you.” 
+Malfoy winced at the sound of the name. 
+“I did not dare speak to you of the mission with which 
+I knew you had been entrusted, in case he used 
+Legilimency against you,” continued Dumbledore. 
+“But now at last we can speak plainly to each other. 
+… No harm has been done, you have hurt nobody, 
+though you are very lucky that your unintentional 
+victims survived. … I can help you, Draco.” 
+“No, you can’t,” said Malfoy, his wand hand shaking 
+very badly indeed. “Nobody can. He told me to do it or 
+he’ll kill me. I’ve got no choice.” 
+“Come over to the right side, Draco, and we can hide 
+you more completely than you can possibly imagine. 
+What is more, I can send members of the Order to 
+your mother tonight to hide her likewise. Your father 
+is safe at the moment in Azkaban. … When the time 
+comes, we can protect him too. Come over to the right 
+side, Draco … you are not a killer. …” 
+Malfoy stared at Dumbledore. 
+“But I got this far, didn’t I?” he said slowly. “They 
+thought I’d die in the attempt, but I’m here … and 
+you’re in my power. … I’m the one with the wand. … 
+You’re at my mercy. …” 
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+“No, Draco,” said Dumbledore quietly. “It is my mercy, 
+and not yours, that matters now.” 
+Malfoy did not speak. His mouth was open, his wand 
+hand still trembling. Harry thought he saw it drop by 
+a fraction — 
+But suddenly footsteps were thundering up the stairs, 
+and a second later Malfoy was buffeted out of the way 
+as four people in black robes burst through the door 
+onto the ramparts. Still paralyzed, his eyes staring 
+unblinkingly, Harry gazed in terror upon four 
+strangers: It seemed the Death Eaters had won the 
+fight below. 
+A lumpy-looking man with an odd lopsided leer gave a 
+wheezy giggle. 
+“Dumbledore cornered!” he said, and he turned to a 
+stocky little woman who looked as though she could 
+be his sister and who was grinning eagerly. 
+“Dumbledore wandless, Dumbledore alone! Well done, 
+Draco, well done!” 
+“Good evening, Amycus,” said Dumbledore calmly, as 
+though welcoming the man to a tea party. “And you’ve 
+brought Alecto too. … Charming …” 
+The woman gave an angry little titter. “Think your 
+little jokes’ll help you on your deathbed then?” she 
+jeered. 
+“Jokes? No, no, these are manners,” replied 
+Dumbledore. 
+“Do it,” said the stranger standing nearest to Harry, a 
+big, rangy man with matted gray hair and whiskers, 
+whose black Death Eater’s robes looked 
+uncomfortably tight. He had a voice like none that 
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+Harry had ever heard: a rasping bark of a voice. Harry 
+could smell a powerful mixture of dirt, sweat, and, 
+unmistakably, of blood coming from him. His filthy 
+hands had long yellowish nails. 
+“Is that you, Fenrir?” asked Dumbledore. 
+“That’s right,” rasped the other. “Pleased to see me, 
+Dumbledore?” 
+“No, I cannot say that I am.” 
+Greyback grinned, showing pointed teeth. Blood 
+trickled down his chin and he licked his lips slowly, 
+obscenely. 
+“But you know how much I like kids, Dumbledore.” 
+“Am I to take it that you are attacking even without 
+the full moon now? This is most unusual. … You have 
+developed a taste for human flesh that cannot be 
+satisfied once a month?” 
+“That’s right,” said Fenrir Greyback. “Shocks you 
+that, does it, Dumbledore? Frightens you?” 
+“Well, I cannot pretend it does not disgust me a little,” 
+said Dumbledore. “And, yes, I am a little shocked that 
+Draco here invited you, of all people, into the school 
+where his friends live. …” 
+“I didn’t,” breathed Malfoy. He was not looking at 
+Fenrir; he did not seem to want to even glance at him. 
+“I didn’t know he was going to come —” 
+“I wouldn’t want to miss a trip to Hogwarts, 
+Dumbledore,” rasped Greyback. “Not when there are 
+throats to be ripped out… Delicious, delicious …” 
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+And he raised a yellow fingernail and picked at his 
+front teeth, leering at Dumbledore. “I could do you for 
+afters, Dumbledore.” 
+“No,” said the fourth Death Eater sharply. He had a 
+heavy, brutal-looking face. “We’ve got orders. Draco’s 
+got to do it. Now, Draco, and quickly.” 
+Malfoy was showing less resolution than ever. He 
+looked terrified as he stared into Dumbledore’s face, 
+which was even paler, and rather lower than usual, 
+as he had slid so far down the rampart wall. 
+“He’s not long for this world anyway, if you ask me!” 
+said the lopsided man, to the accompaniment of his 
+sister’s wheezing giggles. “Look at him — what’s 
+happened to you, then, Dumby?” 
+“Oh, weaker resistance, slower reflexes, Amycus,” 
+said Dumbledore. “Old age, in short … One day, 
+perhaps, it will happen to you … if you are lucky. …” 
+“What’s that mean, then, what’s that mean?” yelled 
+the Death Eater, suddenly violent. “Always the same, 
+weren’t yeh, Dumby, talking and doing nothing, 
+nothing. I don’t even know why the Dark Lord’s 
+bothering to kill yer! Come on, Draco, do it!” 
+But at that moment there were renewed sounds of 
+scuffling from below and a voice shouted, “They’ve 
+blocked the stairs — Reducto! REDUCTO!” 
+Harry’s heart leapt: So these four had not eliminated 
+all opposition, but merely broken through the fight to 
+the top of the tower, and, by the sound of it, created a 
+barrier behind them — 
+“Now, Draco, quickly!” said the brutal-faced man 
+angrily. 
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+But Malfoy’s hand was shaking so badly that he could 
+barely aim. 
+“I’ll do it,” snarled Fenrir, moving toward Dumbledore 
+with his hands outstretched, his teeth bared. 
+“I said no!” shouted the brutal-faced man; there was a 
+flash of light and the werewolf was blasted out of the 
+way; he hit the ramparts and staggered, looking 
+furious. Harry’s heart was hammering so hard it 
+seemed impossible that nobody could hear him 
+standing there, imprisoned by Dumbledore’s spell — 
+if he could only move, he could aim a curse from 
+under the cloak — 
+“Draco, do it or stand aside so one of us —” screeched 
+the woman, but at that precise moment, the door to 
+the ramparts burst open once more and there stood 
+Snape, his wand clutched in his hand as his black 
+eyes swept the scene, from Dumbledore slumped 
+against the wall, to the four Death Eaters, including 
+the enraged werewolf, and Malfoy. 
+“We’ve got a problem, Snape,” said the lumpy 
+Amycus, whose eyes and wand were fixed alike upon 
+Dumbledore, “the boy doesn’t seem able —” 
+But somebody else had spoken Snape’s name, quite 
+softly. 
+“Severus …” 
+The sound frightened Harry beyond anything he had 
+experienced all evening. For the first time, 
+Dumbledore was pleading. 
+Snape said nothing, but walked forward and pushed 
+Malfoy roughly out of the way. The three Death Eaters 
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+fell back without a word. Even the werewolf seemed 
+cowed. 
+Snape gazed for a moment at Dumbledore, and there 
+was revulsion and hatred etched in the harsh lines of 
+his face. 
+“Severus … please …” 
+Snape raised his wand and pointed it directly at 
+Dumbledore. 
+“Avada Kedavra!” 
+A jet of green light shot from the end of Snape’s wand 
+and hit Dumbledore squarely in the chest. Harry’s 
+scream of horror never left him; silent and unmoving, 
+he was forced to watch as Dumbledore was blasted 
+into the air. For a split second, he seemed to hang 
+suspended beneath the shining skull, and then he fell 
+slowly backward, like a great rag doll, over the 
+battlements and out of sight. 
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+ 
+ 
+FLIGHT OF THE PRINCE 
+Harry felt as though he too were hurtling through 
+space; it had not happened. … It could not have 
+happened. … 
+“Out of here, quickly,” said Snape. 
+He seized Malfoy by the scruff of the neck and forced 
+him through the door ahead of the rest; Greyback and 
+the squat brother and sister followed, the latter both 
+panting excitedly. As they vanished through the door, 
+Harry realized he could move again. What was now 
+holding him paralyzed against the wall was not magic, 
+but horror and shock. He threw the Invisibility Cloak 
+aside as the brutal-faced Death Eater, last to leave 
+the tower top, was disappearing through the door. 
+“Petrificus Totalus!” 
+The Death Eater buckled as though hit in the back 
+with something solid and fell to the ground, rigid as a 
+waxwork, but he had barely hit the floor when Harry 
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+was clambering over him and running down the 
+darkened staircase. 
+Terror tore at Harry’s heart. … He had to get to 
+Dumbledore and he had to catch Snape. … Somehow 
+the two things were linked. … He could reverse what 
+had happened if he had them both together. … 
+Dumbledore could not have died. … 
+He leapt the last ten steps of the spiral staircase and 
+stopped where he landed, his wand raised: The dimly 
+lit corridor was full of dust; half the ceiling seemed to 
+have fallen in; and a battle was raging before him, but 
+even as he attempted to make out who was fighting 
+whom, he heard the hated voice shout, “It’s over, time 
+to go!” and saw Snape disappearing around the corner 
+at the far end of the corridor; he and Malfoy seemed 
+to have forced their way through the fight unscathed. 
+As Harry plunged after them, one of the fighters 
+detached themselves from the fray and flew at him: It 
+was the werewolf, Fenrir. He was on top of Harry 
+before Harry could raise his wand: Harry fell 
+backward, with filthy matted hair in his face, the 
+stench of sweat and blood filling his nose and mouth, 
+hot greedy breath at his throat — 
+“Petrificus Totalus!” 
+Harry felt Fenrir collapse against him; with a 
+stupendous effort he pushed the werewolf off and 
+onto the floor as a jet of green light came flying 
+toward him; he ducked and ran, headfirst, into the 
+fight. His feet met something squashy and slippery on 
+the floor and he stumbled: There were two bodies 
+lying there, lying facedown in a pool of blood, but 
+there was no time to investigate. Harry now saw red 
+hair flying like flames in front of him: Ginny was 
+locked in combat with the lumpy Death Eater, 
+Amycus, who was throwing hex after hex at her while 
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+she dodged them: Amycus was giggling, enjoying the 
+sport: “Crucio — Crucio — you can’t dance forever, 
+pretty —” 
+“Impedimenta!” yelled Harry. 
+His jinx hit Amycus in the chest: He gave a piglike 
+squeal of pain, was lifted off his feet and slammed 
+into the opposite wall, slid down it, and fell out of 
+sight behind Ron, Professor McGonagall, and Lupin, 
+each of whom was battling a separate Death Eater. 
+Beyond them, Harry saw Tonks fighting an enormous 
+blond wizard who was sending curses flying in all 
+directions, so that they ricocheted off the walls 
+around them, cracking stone, shattering the nearest 
+window — 
+“Harry, where did you come from?” Ginny cried, but 
+there was no time to answer her. He put his head 
+down and sprinted forward, narrowly avoiding a blast 
+that erupted over his head, showering them all in bits 
+of wall. Snape must not escape, he must catch up 
+with Snape — 
+“Take that!” shouted Professor McGonagall, and Harry 
+glimpsed the female Death Eater, Alecto, sprinting 
+away down the corridor with her arms over her head, 
+her brother right behind her. He launched himself 
+after them but his foot caught on something, and next 
+moment he was lying across someone’s legs. Looking 
+around, he saw Neville’s pale, round face flat against 
+the floor. 
+“Neville, are you — ?” 
+“M’all right,” muttered Neville, who was clutching his 
+stomach, “Harry … Snape ’n’ Malfoy … ran past …” 
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+“I know, I’m on it!” said Harry, aiming a hex from the 
+floor at the enormous blond Death Eater who was 
+causing most of the chaos. The man gave a howl of 
+pain as the spell hit him in the face: He wheeled 
+around, staggered, and then pounded away after the 
+brother and sister. Harry scrambled up from the floor 
+and began to sprint along the corridor, ignoring the 
+bangs issuing from behind him, the yells of the others 
+to come back, and the mute call of the figures on the 
+ground whose fate he did not yet know. … 
+He skidded around the corner, his trainers slippery 
+with blood; Snape had an immense head start. Was it 
+possible that he had already entered the cabinet in 
+the Room of Requirement, or had the Order made 
+steps to secure it, to prevent the Death Eaters 
+retreating that way? He could hear nothing but his 
+own pounding feet, his own hammering heart as he 
+sprinted along the next empty corridor, but then 
+spotted a bloody footprint that showed at least one of 
+the fleeing Death Eaters was heading toward the front 
+doors — perhaps the Room of Requirement was 
+indeed blocked — 
+He skidded around another corner and a curse flew 
+past him; he dived behind a suit of armor that 
+exploded. He saw the brother and sister running 
+down the marble staircase ahead and aimed jinxes at 
+them, but merely hit several bewigged witches in a 
+portrait on the landing, who ran screeching into 
+neighboring paintings. As he leapt the wreckage of 
+armor, Harry heard more shouts and screams; other 
+people within the castle seemed to have awoken. … 
+He pelted toward a shortcut, hoping to overtake the 
+brother and sister and close in on Snape and Malfoy, 
+who must surely have reached the grounds by now. 
+Remembering to leap the vanishing step halfway 
+down the concealed staircase, he burst through a 
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+tapestry at the bottom and out into a corridor where a 
+number of bewildered and pajama-clad Hufflepuffs 
+stood. 
+“Harry! We heard a noise, and someone said 
+something about the Dark Mark —” began Ernie 
+Macmillan. 
+“Out of the way!” yelled Harry, knocking two boys 
+aside as he sprinted toward the landing and down the 
+remainder of the marble staircase. The oak front 
+doors had been blasted open, there were smears of 
+blood on the flagstones, and several terrified students 
+stood huddled against the walls, one or two still 
+cowering with their arms over their faces. The giant 
+Gryffindor hourglass had been hit by a curse, and the 
+rubies within were still falling, with a loud rattle, onto 
+the flagstones below. 
+Harry flew across the entrance hall and out into the 
+dark grounds: He could just make out three figures 
+racing across the lawn, heading for the gates beyond 
+which they could Disapparate — by the looks of them, 
+the huge blond Death Eater and, some way ahead of 
+him, Snape and Malfoy … 
+The cold night air ripped at Harry’s lungs as he tore 
+after them; he saw a flash of light in the distance that 
+momentarily silhouetted his quarry. He did not know 
+what it was but continued to run, not yet near 
+enough to get a good aim with a curse — 
+Another flash, shouts, retaliatory jets of light, and 
+Harry understood: Hagrid had emerged from his 
+cabin and was trying to stop the Death Eaters 
+escaping, and though every breath seemed to shred 
+his lungs and the stitch in his chest was like fire, 
+Harry sped up as an unbidden voice in his head said: 
+not Hagrid … not Hagrid too … 
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+Something caught Harry hard in the small of the back 
+and he fell forward, his face smacking the ground, 
+blood pouring out of both nostrils: He knew, even as 
+he rolled over, his wand ready, that the brother and 
+sister he had overtaken using his shortcut were 
+closing in behind him. … 
+“Impedimenta!” he yelled as he rolled over again, 
+crouching close to the dark ground, and miraculously 
+his jinx hit one of them, who stumbled and fell, 
+tripping up the other; Harry leapt to his feet and 
+sprinted on after Snape. 
+And now he saw the vast outline of Hagrid, 
+illuminated by the light of the crescent moon revealed 
+suddenly behind clouds; the blond Death Eater was 
+aiming curse after curse at the gamekeeper; but 
+Hagrid’s immense strength and the toughened skin 
+he had inherited from his giantess mother seemed to 
+be protecting him. Snape and Malfoy, however, were 
+still running; they would soon be beyond the gates, 
+able to Disapparate — 
+Harry tore past Hagrid and his opponent, took aim at 
+Snape’s back, and yelled, “Stupefy!” 
+He missed; the jet of red light soared past Snape’s 
+head; Snape shouted, “Run, Draco!” and turned. 
+Twenty yards apart, he and Harry looked at each 
+other before raising their wands simultaneously. 
+“Cruc —” 
+But Snape parried the curse, knocking Harry 
+backward off his feet before he could complete it; 
+Harry rolled over and scrambled back up again as the 
+huge Death Eater behind him yelled, “Incendio!” Harry 
+heard an explosive bang and a dancing orange light 
+spilled over all of them: Hagrid’s house was on fire. 
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+“Fang’s in there, yer evil — !” Hagrid bellowed. 
+“Cruc —” yelled Harry for the second time, aiming for 
+the figure ahead illuminated in the dancing firelight, 
+but Snape blocked the spell again. Harry could see 
+him sneering. 
+“No Unforgivable Curses from you, Potter!” he 
+shouted over the rushing of the flames, Hagrid’s yells, 
+and the wild yelping of the trapped Fang. “You haven’t 
+got the nerve or the ability —” 
+“Incarc —” Harry roared, but Snape deflected the spell 
+with an almost lazy flick of his arm. 
+“Fight back!” Harry screamed at him. “Fight back, you 
+cowardly —” 
+“Coward, did you call me, Potter?” shouted Snape. 
+“Your father would never attack me unless it was four 
+on one, what would you call him, I wonder?” 
+“Stupe —” 
+“Blocked again and again and again until you learn to 
+keep your mouth shut and your mind closed, Potter!” 
+sneered Snape, deflecting the curse once more. “Now 
+come!” he shouted at the huge Death Eater behind 
+Harry. “It is time to be gone, before the Ministry turns 
+up —” 
+“Impedi —” 
+But before he could finish this jinx, excruciating pain 
+hit Harry; he keeled over in the grass. Someone was 
+screaming, he would surely die of this agony, Snape 
+was going to torture him to death or madness — 
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+“No!” roared Snape’s voice and the pain stopped as 
+suddenly as it had started; Harry lay curled on the 
+dark grass, clutching his wand and panting; 
+somewhere overhead Snape was shouting, “Have you 
+forgotten our orders? Potter belongs to the Dark Lord 
+— we are to leave him! Go! Go!” 
+And Harry felt the ground shudder under his face as 
+the brother and sister and the enormous Death Eater 
+obeyed, running toward the gates. Harry uttered an 
+inarticulate yell of rage: In that instant, he cared not 
+whether he lived or died. Pushing himself to his feet 
+again, he staggered blindly toward Snape, the man he 
+now hated as much as he hated Voldemort himself — 
+“Sectum — !” 
+Snape flicked his wand and the curse was repelled yet 
+again; but Harry was mere feet away now and he 
+could see Snape’s face clearly at last: He was no 
+longer sneering or jeering; the blazing flames showed 
+a face full of rage. Mustering all his powers of 
+concentration, Harry thought, Levi — 
+“No, Potter!” screamed Snape. There was a loud BANG 
+and Harry was soaring backward, hitting the ground 
+hard again, and this time his wand flew out of his 
+hand. He could hear Hagrid yelling and Fang howling 
+as Snape closed in and looked down on him where he 
+lay, wandless and defenseless as Dumbledore had 
+been. Snape’s pale face, illuminated by the flaming 
+cabin, was suffused with hatred just as it had been 
+before he had cursed Dumbledore. 
+“You dare use my own spells against me, Potter? It 
+was I who invented them — I, the Half-Blood Prince! 
+And you’d turn my inventions on me, like your filthy 
+father, would you? I don’t think so … no!” 
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+Harry had dived for his wand; Snape shot a hex at it 
+and it flew feet away into the darkness and out of 
+sight. 
+“Kill me then,” panted Harry, who felt no fear at all, 
+but only rage and contempt. “Kill me like you killed 
+him, you coward —” 
+“DON’T—” screamed Snape, and his face was 
+suddenly demented, inhuman, as though he was in 
+as much pain as the yelping, howling dog stuck in the 
+burning house behind them — “CALL ME COWARD!” 
+And he slashed at the air: Harry felt a white-hot, 
+whiplike something hit him across the face and was 
+slammed backward into the ground. Spots of light 
+burst in front of his eyes and for a moment all the 
+breath seemed to have gone from his body, then he 
+heard a rush of wings above him and something 
+enormous obscured the stars. Buckbeak had flown at 
+Snape, who staggered backward as the razor-sharp 
+claws slashed at him. As Harry raised himself into a 
+sitting position, his head still swimming from its last 
+contact with the ground, he saw Snape running as 
+hard as he could, the enormous beast flapping behind 
+him and screeching as Harry had never heard him 
+screech — 
+Harry struggled to his feet, looking around groggily for 
+his wand, hoping to give chase again, but even as his 
+fingers fumbled in the grass, discarding twigs, he 
+knew it would be too late, and sure enough, by the 
+time he had located his wand, he turned only to see 
+the hippogriff circling the gates. Snape had managed 
+to Disapparate just beyond the school’s boundaries. 
+“Hagrid,” muttered Harry, still dazed, looking around. 
+“HAGRID?” 
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+He stumbled toward the burning house as an 
+enormous figure emerged from out of the flames 
+carrying Fang on his back. With a cry of 
+thankfulness, Harry sank to his knees; he was 
+shaking in every limb, his body ached all over, and 
+his breath came in painful stabs. 
+“Yeh all righ’, Harry? Yeh all righ’? Speak ter me, 
+Harry. …” 
+Hagrid’s huge, hairy face was swimming above Harry, 
+blocking out the stars. Harry could smell burnt wood 
+and dog hair; he put out a hand and felt Fang’s 
+reassuringly warm and alive body quivering beside 
+him. 
+“I’m all right,” panted Harry. “Are you?” 
+“ ’Course I am … take more’n that ter finish me.” 
+Hagrid put his hands under Harry’s arms and raised 
+him up with such force that Harry’s feet momentarily 
+left the ground before Hagrid set him upright again. 
+He could see blood trickling down Hagrid’s cheek 
+from a deep cut under one eye, which was swelling 
+rapidly. 
+“We should put out your house,” said Harry, “the 
+charm’s ‘Aguamenti’ …” 
+“Knew it was summat like that,” mumbled Hagrid, 
+and he raised a smoldering pink, flowery umbrella 
+and said, “Aguamenti!” 
+A jet of water flew out of the umbrella tip. Harry 
+raised his wand arm, which felt like lead, and 
+murmured “Aguamenti” too: Together, he and Hagrid 
+poured water on the house until the last flame was 
+extinguished. 
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+“S’not too bad,” said Hagrid hopefully a few minutes 
+later, looking at the smoking wreck. “Nothin’ 
+Dumbledore won’ be able to put righ’ …” 
+Harry felt a searing pain in his stomach at the sound 
+of the name. In the silence and the stillness, horror 
+rose inside him. 
+“Hagrid …” 
+“I was bindin’ up a couple o’ bowtruckle legs when I 
+heard ’em comin’,” said Hagrid sadly, still staring at 
+his wrecked cabin. “They’ll’ve bin burnt ter twigs, 
+poor little things. …” 
+“Hagrid …” 
+“But what happened, Harry? I jus’ saw them Death 
+Eaters runnin’ down from the castle, but what the 
+ruddy hell was Snape doin’ with ’em? Where’s he gone 
+— was he chasin’ them?” 
+“He …” Harry cleared his throat; it was dry from panic 
+and the smoke. “Hagrid, he killed …” 
+“Killed?” said Hagrid loudly, staring down at Harry. 
+“Snape killed? What’re yeh on abou’, Harry?” 
+“Dumbledore,” said Harry. “Snape killed … 
+Dumbledore.” 
+Hagrid simply looked at him, the little of his face that 
+could be seen completely blank, uncomprehending. 
+“Dumbledore wha’, Harry?” 
+“He’s dead. Snape killed him. …” 
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+“Don’ say that,” said Hagrid roughly. “Snape kill 
+Dumbledore — don’ be stupid, Harry. Wha’s made 
+yeh say tha’?” 
+“I saw it happen.” 
+“Yeh couldn’ have.” 
+“I saw it, Hagrid.” 
+Hagrid shook his head; his expression was 
+disbelieving but sympathetic, and Harry knew that 
+Hagrid thought he had sustained a blow to the head, 
+that he was confused, perhaps by the aftereffects of a 
+jinx. … 
+“What musta happened was, Dumbledore musta told 
+Snape ter go with them Death Eaters,” Hagrid said 
+confidently. “I suppose he’s gotta keep his cover. 
+Look, let’s get yeh back up ter the school. Come on, 
+Harry. …” 
+Harry did not attempt to argue or explain. He was still 
+shaking uncontrollably. Hagrid would find out soon 
+enough, too soon. … As they directed their steps back 
+toward the castle, Harry saw that many of its 
+windows were lit now. He could imagine, clearly, the 
+scenes inside as people moved from room to room, 
+telling each other that Death Eaters had got in, that 
+the Mark was shining over Hogwarts, that somebody 
+must have been killed. … 
+The oak front doors stood open ahead of them, light 
+flooding out onto the drive and the lawn. Slowly, 
+uncertainly, dressing-gowned people were creeping 
+down the steps, looking around nervously for some 
+sign of the Death Eaters who had fled into the night. 
+Harry’s eyes, however, were fixed upon the ground at 
+the foot of the tallest tower. He imagined that he 
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+could see a black, huddled mass lying in the grass 
+there, though he was really too far away to see 
+anything of the sort. Even as he stared wordlessly at 
+the place where he thought Dumbledore’s body must 
+lie, however, he saw people beginning to move toward 
+it. 
+“What’re they all lookin’ at?” said Hagrid, as he and 
+Harry approached the castle front, Fang keeping as 
+close as he could to their ankles. “Wha’s tha’, lyin’ on 
+the grass?” Hagrid added sharply, heading now 
+toward the foot of the Astronomy Tower, where a 
+small crowd was congregating. “See it, Harry? Righ’ at 
+the foot o’ the tower? Under where the Mark … Blimey 
+… yeh don’ think someone got thrown — ?” 
+Hagrid fell silent, the thought apparently too horrible 
+to express aloud. Harry walked alongside him, feeling 
+the aches and pains in his face and his legs where the 
+various hexes of the last half hour had hit him, 
+though in an oddly detached way, as though 
+somebody near him was suffering them. What was 
+real and inescapable was the awful pressing feeling in 
+his chest. … 
+He and Hagrid moved, dreamlike, through the 
+murmuring crowd to the very front, where the 
+dumbstruck students and teachers had left a gap. 
+Harry heard Hagrid’s moan of pain and shock, but he 
+did not stop; he walked slowly forward until he 
+reached the place where Dumbledore lay and 
+crouched down beside him. He had known there was 
+no hope from the moment that the full Body-Bind 
+Curse Dumbledore had placed upon him lifted, 
+known that it could have happened only because its 
+caster was dead, but there was still no preparation for 
+seeing him here, spread-eagled, broken: the greatest 
+wizard Harry had ever, or would ever, meet. 
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+Dumbledore’s eyes were closed; but for the strange 
+angle of his arms and legs, he might have been 
+sleeping. Harry reached out, straightened the half-
+moon spectacles upon the crooked nose, and wiped a 
+trickle of blood from the mouth with his own sleeve. 
+Then he gazed down at the wise old face and tried to 
+absorb the enormous and incomprehensible truth: 
+that never again would Dumbledore speak to him, 
+never again could he help. … 
+The crowd murmured behind Harry. After what 
+seemed like a long time, he became aware that he was 
+kneeling upon something hard and looked down. 
+The locket they had managed to steal so many hours 
+before had fallen out of Dumbledore’s pocket. It had 
+opened, perhaps due to the force with which it hit the 
+ground. And although he could not feel more shock or 
+horror or sadness than he felt already, Harry knew, 
+as he picked it up, that there was something wrong. 
+… 
+He turned the locket over in his hands. This was 
+neither as large as the locket he remembered seeing 
+in the Pensieve, nor were there any markings upon it, 
+no sign of the ornate S that was supposed to be 
+Slytherin’s mark. Moreover, there was nothing inside 
+but for a scrap of folded parchment wedged tightly 
+into the place where a portrait should have been. 
+Automatically, without really thinking about what he 
+was doing, Harry pulled out the fragment of 
+parchment, opened it, and read by the light of the 
+many wands that had now been lit behind him: 
+To the Dark Lord 
+I know I will be dead long before you read this 
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+but I want you to know that it was I who discovered 
+your secret. 
+I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it 
+as soon as I can. 
+I face death in the hope that when you meet your 
+match, 
+you will be mortal once more. 
+R.A.B. 
+Harry neither knew nor cared what the message 
+meant. Only one thing mattered: This was not a 
+Horcrux. Dumbledore had weakened himself by 
+drinking that terrible potion for nothing. Harry 
+crumpled the parchment in his hand, and his eyes 
+burned with tears as behind him Fang began to howl. 
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+ 
+ 
+THE PHOENIX LAMENT 
+“C’mere, Harry …” 
+“No.” 
+“Yeh can’ stay here, Harry. … Come on, now. …” 
+“No.” 
+He did not want to leave Dumbledore’s side, he did 
+not want to move anywhere. Hagrid’s hand on his 
+shoulder was trembling. Then another voice said, 
+“Harry, come on.” 
+A much smaller and warmer hand had enclosed his 
+and was pulling him upward. He obeyed its pressure 
+without really thinking about it. Only as he walked 
+blindly back through the crowd did he realize, from a 
+trace of flowery scent on the air, that it was Ginny 
+who was leading him back into the castle. 
+Incomprehensible voices battered him, sobs and 
+shouts and wails stabbed the night, but Harry and 
+Ginny walked on, back up the steps into the entrance 
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+hall. Faces swam on the edges of Harry’s vision, 
+people were peering at him, whispering, wondering, 
+and Gryffindor rubies glistened on the floor like drops 
+of blood as they made their way toward the marble 
+staircase. 
+“We’re going to the hospital wing,” said Ginny. 
+“I’m not hurt,” said Harry. 
+“It’s McGonagall’s orders,” said Ginny. “Everyone’s up 
+there, Ron and Hermione and Lupin and everyone —” 
+Fear stirred in Harry’s chest again: He had forgotten 
+the inert figures he had left behind. 
+“Ginny, who else is dead?” 
+“Don’t worry, none of us.” 
+“But the Dark Mark — Malfoy said he stepped over a 
+body —” 
+“He stepped over Bill, but it’s all right, he’s alive.” 
+There was something in her voice, however, that 
+Harry knew boded ill. 
+“Are you sure?” 
+“Of course I’m sure … he’s a — a bit of a mess, that’s 
+all. Greyback attacked him. Madam Pomfrey says he 
+won’t — won’t look the same anymore. …” 
+Ginny’s voice trembled a little. 
+“We don’t really know what the aftereffects will be — I 
+mean, Greyback being a werewolf, but not 
+transformed at the time.” 
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+“But the others … There were other bodies on the 
+ground. …” 
+“Neville and Professor Flitwick are both hurt, but 
+Madam Pomfrey says they’ll be all right. And a Death 
+Eater’s dead, he got hit by a Killing Curse that huge 
+blond one was firing off everywhere — Harry, if we 
+hadn’t had your Felix potion, I think we’d all have 
+been killed, but everything seemed to just miss us —” 
+They had reached the hospital wing. Pushing open 
+the doors, Harry saw Neville lying, apparently asleep, 
+in a bed near the door. Ron, Hermione, Luna, Tonks, 
+and Lupin were gathered around another bed near 
+the far end of the ward. At the sound of the doors 
+opening, they all looked up. Hermione ran to Harry 
+and hugged him; Lupin moved forward too, looking 
+anxious. 
+“Are you all right, Harry?” 
+“I’m fine. … How’s Bill?” 
+Nobody answered. Harry looked over Hermione’s 
+shoulder and saw an unrecognizable face lying on 
+Bill’s pillow, so badly slashed and ripped that he 
+looked grotesque. Madam Pomfrey was dabbing at his 
+wounds with some harsh-smelling green ointment. 
+Harry remembered how Snape had mended Malfoy’s 
+Sectumsempra wounds so easily with his wand. 
+“Can’t you fix them with a charm or something?” he 
+asked the matron. 
+“No charm will work on these,” said Madam Pomfrey. 
+“I’ve tried everything I know, but there is no cure for 
+werewolf bites.” 
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+“But he wasn’t bitten at the full moon,” said Ron, who 
+was gazing down into his brother’s face as though he 
+could somehow force him to mend just by staring. 
+“Greyback hadn’t transformed, so surely Bill won’t be 
+a — a real — ?” 
+He looked uncertainly at Lupin. 
+“No, I don’t think that Bill will be a true werewolf,” 
+said Lupin, “but that does not mean that there won’t 
+be some contamination. Those are cursed wounds. 
+They are unlikely ever to heal fully, and — and Bill 
+might have some wolfish characteristics from now 
+on.” 
+“Dumbledore might know something that’d work, 
+though,” Ron said. “Where is he? Bill fought those 
+maniacs on Dumbledore’s orders, Dumbledore owes 
+him, he can’t leave him in this state —” 
+“Ron — Dumbledore’s dead,” said Ginny. 
+“No!” Lupin looked wildly from Ginny to Harry, as 
+though hoping the latter might contradict her, but 
+when Harry did not, Lupin collapsed into a chair 
+beside Bill’s bed, his hands over his face. Harry had 
+never seen Lupin lose control before; he felt as though 
+he was intruding upon something private, indecent. 
+He turned away and caught Ron’s eye instead, 
+exchanging in silence a look that confirmed what 
+Ginny had said. 
+“How did he die?” whispered Tonks. “How did it 
+happen?” 
+“Snape killed him,” said Harry. “I was there, I saw it. 
+We arrived back on the Astronomy Tower because 
+that’s where the Mark was. … Dumbledore was ill, he 
+was weak, but I think he realized it was a trap when 
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+we heard footsteps running up the stairs. He 
+immobilized me, I couldn’t do anything, I was under 
+the Invisibility Cloak — and then Malfoy came 
+through the door and disarmed him —” 
+Hermione clapped her hands to her mouth and Ron 
+groaned. Luna’s mouth trembled. 
+“— more Death Eaters arrived — and then Snape — 
+and Snape did it. The Avada Kedavra.” Harry couldn’t 
+go on. 
+Madam Pomfrey burst into tears. Nobody paid her 
+any attention except Ginny, who whispered, “Shh! 
+Listen!” 
+Gulping, Madam Pomfrey pressed her fingers to her 
+mouth, her eyes wide. Somewhere out in the 
+darkness, a phoenix was singing in a way Harry had 
+never heard before: a stricken lament of terrible 
+beauty. And Harry felt, as he had felt about phoenix 
+song before, that the music was inside him, not 
+without: It was his own grief turned magically to song 
+that echoed across the grounds and through the 
+castle windows. 
+How long they all stood there, listening, he did not 
+know, nor why it seemed to ease their pain a little to 
+listen to the sound of their mourning, but it felt like a 
+long time later that the hospital door opened again 
+and Professor McGonagall entered the ward. Like all 
+the rest, she bore marks of the recent battle: There 
+were grazes on her face and her robes were ripped. 
+“Molly and Arthur are on their way,” she said, and the 
+spell of the music was broken: Everyone roused 
+themselves as though coming out of trances, turning 
+again to look at Bill, or else to rub their own eyes, 
+shake their heads. “Harry, what happened? According 
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+to Hagrid you were with Professor Dumbledore when 
+he — when it happened. He says Professor Snape was 
+involved in some —” 
+“Snape killed Dumbledore,��� said Harry. 
+She stared at him for a moment, then swayed 
+alarmingly; Madam Pomfrey, who seemed to have 
+pulled herself together, ran forward, conjuring a chair 
+from thin air, which she pushed under McGonagall. 
+“Snape,” repeated McGonagall faintly, falling into the 
+chair. “We all wondered … but he trusted … always … 
+Snape … I can’t believe it. …” 
+“Snape was a highly accomplished Occlumens,” said 
+Lupin, his voice uncharacteristically harsh. “We 
+always knew that.” 
+“But Dumbledore swore he was on our side!” 
+whispered Tonks. “I always thought Dumbledore 
+must know something about Snape that we didn’t. …” 
+“He always hinted that he had an ironclad reason for 
+trusting Snape,” muttered Professor McGonagall, now 
+dabbing at the corners of her leaking eyes with a 
+tartan-edged handkerchief. “I mean … with Snape’s 
+history … of course people were bound to wonder … 
+but Dumbledore told me explicitly that Snape’s 
+repentance was absolutely genuine. … Wouldn’t hear 
+a word against him!” 
+“I’d love to know what Snape told him to convince 
+him,” said Tonks. 
+“I know,” said Harry, and they all turned to look at 
+him. “Snape passed Voldemort the information that 
+made Voldemort hunt down my mum and dad. Then 
+Snape told Dumbledore he hadn’t realized what he 
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+was doing, he was really sorry he’d done it, sorry that 
+they were dead.” 
+They all stared at him. 
+“And Dumbledore believed that?” said Lupin 
+incredulously. “Dumbledore believed Snape was sorry 
+James was dead? Snape hated James. …” 
+“And he didn’t think my mother was worth a damn 
+either,” said Harry, “because she was Muggle-born. … 
+‘Mudblood,’ he called her. …” 
+Nobody asked how Harry knew this. All of them 
+seemed to be lost in horrified shock, trying to digest 
+the monstrous truth of what had happened. 
+“This is all my fault,” said Professor McGonagall 
+suddenly. She looked disoriented, twisting her wet 
+handkerchief in her hands. “My fault. I sent Filius to 
+fetch Snape tonight, I actually sent for him to come 
+and help us! If I hadn’t alerted Snape to what was 
+going on, he might never have joined forces with the 
+Death Eaters. I don’t think he knew they were there 
+before Filius told him, I don’t think he knew they were 
+coming.” 
+“It isn’t your fault, Minerva,” said Lupin firmly. “We 
+all wanted more help, we were glad to think Snape 
+was on his way. …” 
+“So when he arrived at the fight, he joined in on the 
+Death Eaters’ side?” asked Harry, who wanted every 
+detail of Snape’s duplicity and infamy, feverishly 
+collecting more reasons to hate him, to swear 
+vengeance. 
+“I don’t know exactly how it happened,” said Professor 
+McGonagall distractedly. “It’s all so confusing. … 
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+Dumbledore had told us that he would be leaving the 
+school for a few hours and that we were to patrol the 
+corridors just in case … Remus, Bill, and 
+Nymphadora were to join us … and so we patrolled. 
+All seemed quiet. Every secret passageway out of the 
+school was covered. We knew nobody could fly in. 
+There were powerful enchantments on every entrance 
+into the castle. I still don’t know how the Death 
+Eaters can possibly have entered. …” 
+“I do,” said Harry, and he explained, briefly, about the 
+pair of Vanishing Cabinets and the magical pathway 
+they formed. “So they got in through the Room of 
+Requirement.” 
+Almost against his will he glanced from Ron to 
+Hermione, both of whom looked devastated. 
+“I messed up, Harry,” said Ron bleakly. “We did like 
+you told us: We checked the Marauder’s Map and we 
+couldn’t see Malfoy on it, so we thought he must be in 
+the Room of Requirement, so me, Ginny, and Neville 
+went to keep watch on it … but Malfoy got past us.” 
+“He came out of the room about an hour after we 
+started keeping watch,” said Ginny. “He was on his 
+own, clutching that awful shriveled arm —” 
+“His Hand of Glory,” said Ron. “Gives light only to the 
+holder, remember?” 
+“Anyway,” Ginny went on, “he must have been 
+checking whether the coast was clear to let the Death 
+Eaters out, because the moment he saw us he threw 
+something into the air and it all went pitch-black —” 
+“— Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder,” said Ron 
+bitterly. “Fred and George’s. I’m going to be having a 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+word with them about who they let buy their 
+products.” 
+“We tried everything, Lumos, Incendio,” said Ginny. 
+“Nothing would penetrate the darkness; all we could 
+do was grope our way out of the corridor again, and 
+meanwhile we could hear people rushing past us. 
+Obviously Malfoy could see because of that hand 
+thing and was guiding them, but we didn’t dare use 
+any curses or anything in case we hit each other, and 
+by the time we’d reached a corridor that was light, 
+they’d gone.” 
+“Luckily,” said Lupin hoarsely, “Ron, Ginny, and 
+Neville ran into us almost immediately and told us 
+what had happened. We found the Death Eaters 
+minutes later, heading in the direction of the 
+Astronomy Tower. Malfoy obviously hadn’t expected 
+more people to be on the watch; he seemed to have 
+exhausted his supply of Darkness Powder, at any 
+rate. A fight broke out, they scattered and we gave 
+chase. One of them, Gibbon, broke away and headed 
+up the tower stairs —” 
+“To set off the Mark?” asked Harry. 
+“He must have done, yes, they must have arranged 
+that before they left the Room of Requirement,” said 
+Lupin. “But I don’t think Gibbon liked the idea of 
+waiting up there alone for Dumbledore, because he 
+came running back downstairs to rejoin the fight and 
+was hit by a Killing Curse that just missed me.” 
+“So if Ron was watching the Room of Requirement 
+with Ginny and Neville,” said Harry, turning to 
+Hermione, “were you — ?” 
+“Outside Snape’s office, yes,” whispered Hermione, 
+her eyes sparkling with tears, “with Luna. We hung 
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+around for ages outside it and nothing happened. … 
+We didn’t know what was going on upstairs, Ron had 
+taken the map. … It was nearly midnight when 
+Professor Flitwick came sprinting down into the 
+dungeons. He was shouting about Death Eaters in 
+the castle, I don’t think he really registered that Luna 
+and I were there at all, he just burst his way into 
+Snape’s office and we heard him saying that Snape 
+had to go back with him and help and then we heard 
+a loud thump and Snape came hurtling out of his 
+room and he saw us and — and —” 
+“What?” Harry urged her. 
+“I was so stupid, Harry!” said Hermione in a high-
+pitched whisper. “He said Professor Flitwick had 
+collapsed and that we should go and take care of him 
+while he — while he went to help fight the Death 
+Eaters —” She covered her face in shame and 
+continued to talk into her fingers, so that her voice 
+was muffled. “We went into his office to see if we 
+could help Professor Flitwick and found him 
+unconscious on the floor … and oh, it’s so obvious 
+now, Snape must have Stupefied Flitwick, but we 
+didn’t realize, Harry, we didn’t realize, we just let 
+Snape go!” 
+“It’s not your fault,” said Lupin firmly. “Hermione, 
+had you not obeyed Snape and got out of the way, he 
+probably would have killed you and Luna.” 
+“So then he came upstairs,” said Harry, who was 
+watching Snape running up the marble staircase in 
+his mind’s eye, his black robes billowing behind him 
+as ever, pulling his wand from under his cloak as he 
+ascended, “and he found the place where you were all 
+fighting. …” 
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+“We were in trouble, we were losing,” said Tonks in a 
+low voice. “Gibbon was down, but the rest of the 
+Death Eaters seemed ready to fight to the death. 
+Neville had been hurt, Bill had been savaged by 
+Greyback … It was all dark … curses flying 
+everywhere … The Malfoy boy had vanished, he must 
+have slipped past, up the stairs … then more of them 
+ran after him, but one of them blocked the stair 
+behind them with some kind of curse. … Neville ran 
+at it and got thrown up into the air —” 
+“None of us could break through,” said Ron, “and that 
+massive Death Eater was still firing off jinxes all over 
+the place, they were bouncing off the walls and barely 
+missing us. …” 
+“And then Snape was there,” said Tonks, “and then 
+he wasn’t —” 
+“I saw him running toward us, but that huge Death 
+Eater’s jinx just missed me right afterward and I 
+ducked and lost track of things,” said Ginny. 
+“I saw him run straight through the cursed barrier as 
+though it wasn’t there,” said Lupin. “I tried to follow 
+him, but was thrown back just like Neville. …” 
+“He must have known a spell we didn’t,” whispered 
+McGonagall. “After all — he was the Defense Against 
+the Dark Arts teacher. … I just assumed that he was 
+in a hurry to chase after the Death Eaters who’d 
+escaped up to the tower. …” 
+“He was,” said Harry savagely, “but to help them, not 
+to stop them … and I’ll bet you had to have a Dark 
+Mark to get through that barrier — so what happened 
+when he came back down?” 
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+“Well, the big Death Eater had just fired off a hex that 
+caused half the ceiling to fall in, and also broke the 
+curse blocking the stairs,” said Lupin. “We all ran 
+forward — those of us who were still standing anyway 
+— and then Snape and the boy emerged out of the 
+dust — obviously, none of us attacked them —” 
+“We just let them pass,” said Tonks in a hollow voice. 
+“We thought they were being chased by the Death 
+Eaters — and next thing, the other Death Eaters and 
+Greyback were back and we were fighting again — I 
+thought I heard Snape shout something, but I don’t 
+know what —” 
+“He shouted, ‘It’s over,’ ” said Harry. “He’d done what 
+he’d meant to do.” 
+They all fell silent. Fawkes’s lament was still echoing 
+over the dark grounds outside. As the music 
+reverberated upon the air, unbidden, unwelcome 
+thoughts slunk into Harry’s mind. … Had they taken 
+Dumbledore’s body from the foot of the tower yet? 
+What would happen to it next? Where would it rest? 
+He clenched his fists tightly in his pockets. He could 
+feel the small cold lump of the fake Horcrux against 
+the knuckles of his right hand. 
+The doors of the hospital wing burst open, making 
+them all jump: Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were striding up 
+the ward, Fleur just behind them, her beautiful face 
+terrified. 
+“Molly — Arthur —” said Professor McGonagall, 
+jumping up and hurrying to greet them. “I am so 
+sorry —” 
+“Bill,” whispered Mrs. Weasley, darting past Professor 
+McGonagall as she caught sight of Bill’s mangled face. 
+“Oh, Bill!” 
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+Lupin and Tonks had got up hastily and retreated so 
+that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley could get nearer to the 
+bed. Mrs. Weasley bent over her son and pressed her 
+lips to his bloody forehead. 
+“You said Greyback attacked him?” Mr. Weasley 
+asked Professor McGonagall distractedly. “But he 
+hadn’t transformed? So what does that mean? What 
+will happen to Bill?” 
+“We don’t yet know,” said Professor McGonagall, 
+looking helplessly at Lupin. 
+“There will probably be some contamination, Arthur,” 
+said Lupin. “It is an odd case, possibly unique. … We 
+don’t know what his behavior might be like when he 
+awakens. …” 
+Mrs. Weasley took the nasty-smelling ointment from 
+Madam Pomfrey and began dabbing at Bill’s wounds. 
+“And Dumbledore …” said Mr. Weasley. “Minerva, is it 
+true … Is he really … ?” 
+As Professor McGonagall nodded, Harry felt Ginny 
+move beside him and looked at her. Her slightly 
+narrowed eyes were fixed upon Fleur, who was gazing 
+down at Bill with a frozen expression on her face. 
+“Dumbledore gone,” whispered Mr. Weasley, but Mrs. 
+Weasley had eyes only for her eldest son; she began 
+to sob, tears falling onto Bill’s mutilated face. 
+“Of course, it doesn’t matter how he looks. … It’s not 
+r-really important … but he was a very handsome 
+little b-boy … always very handsome … and he was g-
+going to be married!” 
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+“And what do you mean by zat?” said Fleur suddenly 
+and loudly. “What do you mean, ‘’e was going to be 
+married?’ ” 
+Mrs. Weasley raised her tear-stained face, looking 
+startled. “Well — only that —” 
+“You theenk Bill will not wish to marry me anymore?” 
+demanded Fleur. “You theenk, because of these bites, 
+he will not love me?” 
+“No, that’s not what I —” 
+“Because ’e will!” said Fleur, drawing herself up to her 
+full height and throwing back her long mane of silver 
+hair. “It would take more zan a werewolf to stop Bill 
+loving me!” 
+“Well, yes, I’m sure,” said Mrs. Weasley, “but I 
+thought perhaps — given how — how he —” 
+“You thought I would not weesh to marry him? Or 
+per’aps, you hoped?” said Fleur, her nostrils flaring. 
+“What do I care how he looks? I am good-looking 
+enough for both of us, I theenk! All these scars show 
+is zat my husband is brave! And I shall do zat!” she 
+added fiercely, pushing Mrs. Weasley aside and 
+snatching the ointment from her. 
+Mrs. Weasley fell back against her husband and 
+watched Fleur mopping up Bill’s wounds with a most 
+curious expression upon her face. Nobody said 
+anything; Harry did not dare move. Like everybody 
+else, he was waiting for the explosion. 
+“Our Great-Auntie Muriel,” said Mrs. Weasley after a 
+long pause, “has a very beautiful tiara — goblin-made 
+— which I am sure I could persuade her to lend you 
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+for the wedding. She is very fond of Bill, you know, 
+and it would look lovely with your hair.” 
+“Thank you,” said Fleur stiffly. “I am sure zat will be 
+lovely.” 
+And then, Harry did not quite see how it happened, 
+both women were crying and hugging each other. 
+Completely bewildered, wondering whether the world 
+had gone mad, he turned around: Ron looked as 
+stunned as he felt and Ginny and Hermione were 
+exchanging startled looks. 
+“You see!” said a strained voice. Tonks was glaring at 
+Lupin. “She still wants to marry him, even though 
+he’s been bitten! She doesn’t care!” 
+“It’s different,” said Lupin, barely moving his lips and 
+looking suddenly tense. “Bill will not be a full 
+werewolf. The cases are completely —” 
+“But I don’t care either, I don’t care!” said Tonks, 
+seizing the front of Lupin’s robes and shaking them. 
+“I’ve told you a million times. …” 
+And the meaning of Tonks’s Patronus and her mouse-
+colored hair, and the reason she had come running to 
+find Dumbledore when she had heard a rumor 
+someone had been attacked by Greyback, all 
+suddenly became clear to Harry; it had not been 
+Sirius that Tonks had fallen in love with after all. 
+“And I’ve told you a million times,” said Lupin, 
+refusing to meet her eyes, staring at the floor, “that I 
+am too old for you, too poor … too dangerous. …” 
+“I’ve said all along you’re taking a ridiculous line on 
+this, Remus,” said Mrs. Weasley over Fleur’s shoulder 
+as she patted her on the back. 
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+“I am not being ridiculous,” said Lupin steadily. 
+“Tonks deserves somebody young and whole.” 
+“But she wants you,” said Mr. Weasley, with a small 
+smile. “And after all, Remus, young and whole men do 
+not necessarily remain so.” 
+He gestured sadly at his son, lying between them. 
+“This is … not the moment to discuss it,” said Lupin, 
+avoiding everybody’s eyes as he looked around 
+distractedly. “Dumbledore is dead. …” 
+“Dumbledore would have been happier than anybody 
+to think that there was a little more love in the world,” 
+said Professor McGonagall curtly, just as the hospital 
+doors opened again and Hagrid walked in. 
+The little of his face that was not obscured by hair or 
+beard was soaking and swollen; he was shaking with 
+tears, a vast, spotted handkerchief in his hand. 
+“I’ve … I’ve done it, Professor,” he choked. “M-moved 
+him. Professor Sprout’s got the kids back in bed. 
+Professor Flitwick’s lyin’ down, but he says he’ll be all 
+righ’ in a jiffy, an’ Professor Slughorn says the 
+Ministry’s bin informed.” 
+“Thank you, Hagrid,” said Professor McGonagall, 
+standing up at once and turning to look at the group 
+around Bill’s bed. “I shall have to see the Ministry 
+when they get here. Hagrid, please tell the Heads of 
+Houses — Slughorn can represent Slytherin — that I 
+want to see them in my office forthwith. I would like 
+you to join us too.” 
+As Hagrid nodded, turned, and shuffled out of the 
+room again, she looked down at Harry. “Before I meet 
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+them I would like a quick word with you, Harry. If 
+you’ll come with me. …” 
+Harry stood up, murmured “See you in a bit” to Ron, 
+Hermione, and Ginny, and followed Professor 
+McGonagall back down the ward. The corridors 
+outside were deserted and the only sound was the 
+distant phoenix song. It was several minutes before 
+Harry became aware that they were not heading for 
+Professor McGonagall’s office, but for Dumbledore’s, 
+and another few seconds before he realized that of 
+course, she had been deputy headmistress. … 
+Apparently she was now headmistress … so the room 
+behind the gargoyle was now hers. 
+In silence they ascended the moving spiral staircase 
+and entered the circular office. He did not know what 
+he had expected: that the room would be draped in 
+black, perhaps, or even that Dumbledore’s body 
+might be lying there. In fact, it looked almost exactly 
+as it had done when he and Dumbledore had left it 
+mere hours previously: the silver instruments 
+whirring and puffing on their spindle-legged tables, 
+Gryffindor’s sword in its glass case gleaming in the 
+moonlight, the Sorting Hat on a shelf behind the 
+desk. But Fawkes’s perch stood empty, he was still 
+crying his lament to the grounds. And a new portrait 
+had joined the ranks of the dead headmasters and 
+headmistresses of Hogwarts: Dumbledore was 
+slumbering in a golden frame over the desk, his half-
+moon spectacles perched upon his crooked nose, 
+looking peaceful and untroubled. 
+After glancing once at this portrait, Professor 
+McGonagall made an odd movement as though 
+steeling herself, then rounded the desk to look at 
+Harry, her face taut and lined. 
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+“Harry,” she said, “I would like to know what you and 
+Professor Dumbledore were doing this evening when 
+you left the school.” 
+“I can’t tell you that, Professor,” said Harry. He had 
+expected the question and had his answer ready. It 
+had been here, in this very room, that Dumbledore 
+had told him that he was to confide the contents of 
+their lessons to nobody but Ron and Hermione. 
+“Harry, it might be important,” said Professor 
+McGonagall. 
+“It is,” said Harry, “very, but he didn’t want me to tell 
+anyone.” 
+Professor McGonagall glared at him. “Potter” — Harry 
+registered the renewed use of his surname — “in the 
+light of Professor Dumbledore’s death, I think you 
+must see that the situation has changed somewhat —
+” 
+“I don’t think so,” said Harry, shrugging. “Professor 
+Dumbledore never told me to stop following his orders 
+if he died.” 
+“But —” 
+“There’s one thing you should know before the 
+Ministry gets here, though. Madam Rosmerta’s under 
+the Imperius Curse, she was helping Malfoy and the 
+Death Eaters, that’s how the necklace and the 
+poisoned mead —” 
+“Rosmerta?” said Professor McGonagall incredulously, 
+but before she could go on, there was a knock on the 
+door behind them and Professors Sprout, Flitwick, 
+and Slughorn traipsed into the room, followed by 
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+Hagrid, who was still weeping copiously, his huge 
+frame trembling with grief. 
+“Snape!” ejaculated Slughorn, who looked the most 
+shaken, pale and sweating. “Snape! I taught him! I 
+thought I knew him!” 
+But before any of them could respond to this, a sharp 
+voice spoke from high on the wall: A sallow-faced 
+wizard with a short black fringe had just walked back 
+into his empty canvas. 
+“Minerva, the Minister will be here within seconds, he 
+has just Disapparated from the Ministry.” 
+“Thank you, Everard,” said Professor McGonagall, 
+and she turned quickly to her teachers. 
+“I want to talk about what happens to Hogwarts 
+before he gets here,” she said quickly. “Personally, I 
+am not convinced that the school should reopen next 
+year. The death of the headmaster at the hands of one 
+of our colleagues is a terrible stain upon Hogwarts’s 
+history. It is horrible.” 
+“I am sure Dumbledore would have wanted the school 
+to remain open,” said Professor Sprout. “I feel that if a 
+single pupil wants to come, then the school ought to 
+remain open for that pupil.” 
+“But will we have a single pupil after this?” said 
+Slughorn, now dabbing his sweating brow with a 
+silken handkerchief. “Parents will want to keep their 
+children at home and I can’t say I blame them. 
+Personally, I don’t think we’re in more danger at 
+Hogwarts than we are anywhere else, but you can’t 
+expect mothers to think like that. They’ll want to keep 
+their families together, it’s only natural.” 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+“I agree,” said Professor McGonagall. “And in any 
+case, it is not true to say that Dumbledore never 
+envisaged a situation in which Hogwarts might close. 
+When the Chamber of Secrets reopened he considered 
+the closure of the school — and I must say that 
+Professor Dumbledore’s murder is more disturbing to 
+me than the idea of Slytherin’s monster living 
+undetected in the bowels of the castle. …” 
+“We must consult the governors,” said Professor 
+Flitwick in his squeaky little voice; he had a large 
+bruise on his forehead but seemed otherwise 
+unscathed by his collapse in Snape’s office. “We must 
+follow the established procedures. A decision should 
+not be made hastily.” 
+“Hagrid, you haven’t said anything,” said Professor 
+McGonagall. “What are your views, ought Hogwarts to 
+remain open?” 
+Hagrid, who had been weeping silently into his large, 
+spotted handkerchief throughout this conversation, 
+now raised puffy red eyes and croaked, “I dunno, 
+Professor … that’s fer the Heads of House an’ the 
+headmistress ter decide …” 
+“Professor Dumbledore always valued your views,” 
+said Professor McGonagall kindly, “and so do I.” 
+“Well, I’m stayin’,” said Hagrid, fat tears still leaking 
+out of the corners of his eyes and trickling down into 
+his tangled beard. “It’s me home, it’s bin me home 
+since I was thirteen. An’ if there’s kids who wan’ me 
+ter teach ’em, I’ll do it. But … I dunno … Hogwarts 
+without Dumbledore …” He gulped and disappeared 
+behind his handkerchief once more, and there was 
+silence. 
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+“Very well,” said Professor McGonagall, glancing out 
+of the window at the grounds, checking to see 
+whether the Minister was yet approaching, “then I 
+must agree with Filius that the right thing to do is to 
+consult the governors, who will make the final 
+decision. 
+“Now, as to getting students home … there is an 
+argument for doing it sooner rather than later. We 
+could arrange for the Hogwarts Express to come 
+tomorrow if necessary —” 
+“What about Dumbledore’s funeral?” said Harry, 
+speaking at last. 
+“Well …” said Professor McGonagall, losing a little of 
+her briskness as her voice shook. “I — I know that it 
+was Dumbledore’s wish to be laid to rest here, at 
+Hogwarts —” 
+“Then that’s what’ll happen, isn’t it?” said Harry 
+fiercely. 
+“If the Ministry thinks it appropriate,” said Professor 
+McGonagall. “No other headmaster or headmistress 
+has ever been —” 
+“No other headmaster or headmistress ever gave more 
+to this school,” growled Hagrid. 
+“Hogwarts should be Dumbledore’s final resting 
+place,” said Professor Flitwick. 
+“Absolutely,” said Professor Sprout. 
+“And in that case,” said Harry, “you shouldn’t send 
+the students home until the funeral’s over. They’ll 
+want to say —” 
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+The last word caught in his throat, but Professor 
+Sprout completed the sentence for him. 
+“Good-bye.” 
+“Well said,” squeaked Professor Flitwick. “Well said 
+indeed! Our students should pay tribute, it is fitting. 
+We can arrange transport home afterward.” 
+“Seconded,” barked Professor Sprout. 
+“I suppose … yes …” said Slughorn in a rather 
+agitated voice, while Hagrid let out a strangled sob of 
+assent. 
+“He’s coming,” said Professor McGonagall suddenly, 
+gazing down into the grounds. “The Minister … and 
+by the looks of it, he’s brought a delegation …” 
+“Can I leave, Professor?” said Harry at once. 
+He had no desire at all to see, or be interrogated by, 
+Rufus Scrimgeour tonight. 
+“You may,” said Professor McGonagall. “And quickly.” 
+She strode toward the door and held it open for him. 
+He sped down the spiral staircase and off along the 
+deserted corridor; he had left his Invisibility Cloak at 
+the top of the Astronomy Tower, but it did not matter; 
+there was nobody in the corridors to see him pass, 
+not even Filch, Mrs. Norris, or Peeves. He did not 
+meet another soul until he turned into the passage 
+leading to the Gryffindor common room. 
+“Is it true?” whispered the Fat Lady as he approached 
+her. “It is really true? Dumbledore — dead?” 
+“Yes,” said Harry. 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+She let out a wail and, without waiting for the 
+password, swung forward to admit him. 
+As Harry had suspected it would be, the common 
+room was jam-packed. The room fell silent as he 
+climbed through the portrait hole. He saw Dean and 
+Seamus sitting in a group nearby: This meant that 
+the dormitory must be empty, or nearly so. Without 
+speaking to anybody, without making eye contact at 
+all, Harry walked straight across the room and 
+through the door to the boys’ dormitories. 
+As he had hoped, Ron was waiting for him, still fully 
+dressed, sitting on his bed. Harry sat down on his 
+own four-poster and for a moment, they simply stared 
+at each other. 
+“They’re talking about closing the school,” said Harry. 
+“Lupin said they would,” said Ron. 
+There was a pause. 
+“So?” said Ron in a very low voice, as though he 
+thought the furniture might be listening in. “Did you 
+find one? Did you get it? A — a Horcrux?” 
+Harry shook his head. All that had taken place 
+around that black lake seemed like an old nightmare 
+now; had it really happened, and only hours ago? 
+“You didn’t get it?” said Ron, looking crestfallen. “It 
+wasn’t there?” 
+“No,” said Harry. “Someone had already taken it and 
+left a fake in its place.” 
+“Already taken — ?” 
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+Wordlessly, Harry pulled the fake locket from his 
+pocket, opened it, and passed it to Ron. The full story 
+could wait. … It did not matter tonight … nothing 
+mattered except the end, the end of their pointless 
+adventure, the end of Dumbledore’s life. … 
+“R.A.B.,” whispered Ron, “but who was that?” 
+“Dunno,” said Harry, lying back on his bed fully 
+clothed and staring blankly upwards. He felt no 
+curiosity at all about R.A.B.: He doubted that he 
+would ever feel curious again. As he lay there, he 
+became aware suddenly that the grounds were silent. 
+Fawkes had stopped singing. 
+And he knew, without knowing how he knew it, that 
+the phoenix had gone, had left Hogwarts for good, just 
+as Dumbledore had left the school, had left the world 
+… had left Harry. 
+P a g e  | 710 
+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+ 
+ 
+THE WHITE TOMB 
+All lessons were suspended, all examinations 
+postponed. Some students were hurried away from 
+Hogwarts by their parents over the next couple of 
+days — the Patil twins were gone before breakfast on 
+the morning following Dumbledore’s death, and 
+Zacharias Smith was escorted from the castle by his 
+haughty-looking father. Seamus Finnigan, on the 
+other hand, refused point-blank to accompany his 
+mother home; they had a shouting match in the 
+entrance hall that was resolved when she agreed that 
+he could remain behind for the funeral. She had 
+difficulty in finding a bed in Hogsmeade, Seamus told 
+Harry and Ron, for wizards and witches were pouring 
+into the village, preparing to pay their last respects to 
+Dumbledore. 
+Some excitement was caused among the younger 
+students, who had never seen it before, when a 
+powder-blue carriage the size of a house, pulled by a 
+dozen giant winged palominos, came soaring out of 
+the sky in the late afternoon before the funeral and 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+landed on the edge of the forest. Harry watched from 
+a window as a gigantic and handsome olive-skinned, 
+black-haired woman descended the carriage steps 
+and threw herself into the waiting Hagrid’s arms. 
+Meanwhile a delegation of Ministry officials, including 
+the Minister of Magic himself, was being 
+accommodated within the castle. Harry was diligently 
+avoiding contact with any of them; he was sure that, 
+sooner or later, he would be asked again to account 
+for Dumbledore’s last excursion from Hogwarts. 
+Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were spending all 
+of their time together. The beautiful weather seemed 
+to mock them; Harry could imagine how it would have 
+been if Dumbledore had not died, and they had had 
+this time together at the very end of the year, Ginny’s 
+examinations finished, the pressure of homework 
+lifted … and hour by hour, he put off saying the thing 
+that he knew he must say, doing what he knew was 
+right to do, because it was too hard to forgo his best 
+source of comfort. 
+They visited the hospital wing twice a day: Neville had 
+been discharged, but Bill remained under Madam 
+Pomfrey’s care. His scars were as bad as ever — in 
+truth, he now bore a distinct resemblance to Mad-Eye 
+Moody, though thankfully with both eyes and legs — 
+but in personality he seemed just the same as ever. 
+All that appeared to have changed was that he now 
+had a great liking for very rare steaks. 
+“… so eet ees lucky ’e is marrying me,” said Fleur 
+happily, plumping up Bill’s pillows, “because ze 
+British overcook their meat, I ’ave always said this.” 
+“I suppose I’m just going to have to accept that he 
+really is going to marry her,” sighed Ginny later that 
+evening, as she, Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat beside 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+the open window of the Gryffindor common room, 
+looking out over the twilit grounds. 
+“She’s not that bad,” said Harry. “Ugly, though,” he 
+added hastily, as Ginny raised her eyebrows, and she 
+let out a reluctant giggle. 
+“Well, I suppose if Mum can stand it, I can.” 
+“Anyone else we know died?” Ron asked Hermione, 
+who was perusing the Evening Prophet. 
+Hermione winced at the forced toughness in his voice. 
+“No,” she said reprovingly, folding up the newspaper. 
+“They’re still looking for Snape but no sign …” 
+“Of course there isn’t,” said Harry, who became angry 
+every time this subject cropped up. “They won’t find 
+Snape till they find Voldemort, and seeing as they’ve 
+never managed to do that in all this time …” 
+“I’m going to go to bed,” yawned Ginny. “I haven’t 
+been sleeping that well since … well … I could do with 
+some sleep.” 
+She kissed Harry (Ron looked away pointedly), waved 
+at the other two, and departed for the girls’ 
+dormitories. The moment the door had closed behind 
+her, Hermione leaned forward toward Harry with a 
+most Hermione-ish look on her face. 
+“Harry, I found something out this morning, in the 
+library.” 
+“R.A.B.?” said Harry, sitting up straight. 
+He did not feel the way he had so often felt before, 
+excited, curious, burning to get to the bottom of a 
+mystery; he simply knew that the task of discovering 
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+the truth about the real Horcrux had to be completed 
+before he could move a little farther along the dark 
+and winding path stretching ahead of him, the path 
+that he and Dumbledore had set out upon together, 
+and which he now knew he would have to journey 
+alone. There might still be as many as four Horcruxes 
+out there somewhere, and each would need to be 
+found and eliminated before there was even a 
+possibility that Voldemort could be killed. He kept 
+reciting their names to himself, as though by listing 
+them he could bring them within reach: the locket … 
+the cup … the snake … something of Gryffindor’s or 
+Ravenclaw’s … the locket … the cup … the snake … 
+something of Gryffindor’s or Ravenclaw’s … 
+This mantra seemed to pulse through Harry’s mind as 
+he fell asleep at night, and his dreams were thick with 
+cups, lockets, and mysterious objects that he could 
+not quite reach, though Dumbledore helpfully offered 
+Harry a rope ladder that turned to snakes the 
+moment he began to climb. … 
+He had shown Hermione the note inside the locket 
+the morning after Dumbledore’s death, and although 
+she had not immediately recognized the initials as 
+belonging to some obscure wizard about whom she 
+had been reading, she had since been rushing off to 
+the library a little more often than was strictly 
+necessary for somebody who had no homework to do. 
+“No,” she said sadly, “I’ve been trying, Harry, but I 
+haven’t found anything. … There are a couple of 
+reasonably well-known wizards with those initials — 
+Rosalind Antigone Bungs … Rupert ���Axebanger’ 
+Brookstanton … but they don’t seem to fit at all. 
+Judging by that note, the person who stole the 
+Horcrux knew Voldemort, and I can’t find a shred of 
+evidence that Bungs or Axebanger ever had anything 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+to do with him. … No, actually, it’s about … well, 
+Snape.” 
+She looked nervous even saying the name again. 
+“What about him?” asked Harry heavily, slumping 
+back in his chair. 
+“Well, it’s just that I was sort of right about the Half-
+Blood Prince business,” she said tentatively. 
+“D’you have to rub it in, Hermione? How d’you think I 
+feel about that now?” 
+“No — no — Harry, I didn’t mean that!” she said 
+hastily, looking around to check that they were not 
+being overheard. “It’s just that I was right about 
+Eileen Prince once owning the book. You see … she 
+was Snape’s mother!” 
+“I thought she wasn’t much of a looker,” said Ron. 
+Hermione ignored him. 
+“I was going through the rest of the old Prophets and 
+there was a tiny announcement about Eileen Prince 
+marrying a man called Tobias Snape, and then later 
+an announcement saying that she’d given birth to a 
+—” 
+“— murderer,” spat Harry. 
+“Well … yes,” said Hermione. “So … I was sort of 
+right. Snape must have been proud of being ‘half a 
+Prince,’ you see? Tobias Snape was a Muggle from 
+what it said in the Prophet.” 
+“Yeah, that fits,” said Harry. “He’d play up the pure-
+blood side so he could get in with Lucius Malfoy and 
+the rest of them. … He’s just like Voldemort. Pure-
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+blood mother, Muggle father … ashamed of his 
+parentage, trying to make himself feared using the 
+Dark Arts, gave himself an impressive new name — 
+Lord Voldemort — the Half-Blood Prince — how could 
+Dumbledore have missed — ?” 
+He broke off, looking out the window. He could not 
+stop himself dwelling upon Dumbledore’s inexcusable 
+trust in Snape … but as Hermione had just 
+inadvertently reminded him, he, Harry, had been 
+taken in just the same. … In spite of the increasing 
+nastiness of those scribbled spells, he had refused to 
+believe ill of the boy who had been so clever, who had 
+helped him so much. … 
+Helped him … it was an almost unendurable thought 
+now. 
+“I still don’t get why he didn’t turn you in for using 
+that book,” said Ron. “He must’ve known where you 
+were getting it all from.” 
+“He knew,” said Harry bitterly. “He knew when I used 
+Sectumsempra. He didn’t really need Legilimency. … 
+He might even have known before then, with 
+Slughorn talking about how brilliant I was at Potions. 
+… Shouldn’t have left his old book in the bottom of 
+that cupboard, should he?” 
+“But why didn’t he turn you in?” 
+“I don’t think he wanted to associate himself with that 
+book,” said Hermione. “I don’t think Dumbledore 
+would have liked it very much if he’d known. And 
+even if Snape pretended it hadn’t been his, Slughorn 
+would have recognized his writing at once. Anyway, 
+the book was left in Snape’s old classroom, and I’ll bet 
+Dumbledore knew his mother was called ‘Prince.’ ” 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+“I should’ve shown the book to Dumbledore,” said 
+Harry. “All that time he was showing me how 
+Voldemort was evil even when he was at school, and I 
+had proof Snape was too —” 
+“ ‘Evil’ is a strong word,” said Hermione quietly. 
+“You were the one who kept telling me the book was 
+dangerous!” 
+“I’m trying to say, Harry, that you’re putting too much 
+blame on yourself. I thought the Prince seemed to 
+have a nasty sense of humor, but I would never have 
+guessed he was a potential killer. …” 
+“None of us could’ve guessed Snape would … you 
+know,” said Ron. 
+Silence fell between them, each of them lost in their 
+own thoughts, but Harry was sure that they, like him, 
+were thinking about the following morning, when 
+Dumbledore’s body would be laid to rest. He had 
+never attended a funeral before; there had been no 
+body to bury when Sirius had died. He did not know 
+what to expect and was a little worried about what he 
+might see, about how he would feel. He wondered 
+whether Dumbledore’s death would be more real to 
+him once it was over. Though he had moments when 
+the horrible fact of it threatened to overwhelm him, 
+there were blank stretches of numbness where, 
+despite the fact that nobody was talking about 
+anything else in the whole castle, he still found it 
+difficult to believe that Dumbledore had really gone. 
+Admittedly he had not, as he had with Sirius, looked 
+desperately for some kind of loophole, some way that 
+Dumbledore would come back. … He felt in his pocket 
+for the cold chain of the fake Horcrux, which he now 
+carried with him everywhere, not as a talisman, but 
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+as a reminder of what it had cost and what remained 
+still to do. 
+Harry rose early to pack the next day; the Hogwarts 
+Express would be leaving an hour after the funeral. 
+Downstairs, he found the mood in the Great Hall 
+subdued. Everybody was wearing their dress robes 
+and no one seemed very hungry. Professor 
+McGonagall had left the thronelike chair in the middle 
+of the staff table empty. Hagrid’s chair was deserted 
+too; Harry thought that perhaps he had not been able 
+to face breakfast, but Snape’s place had been 
+unceremoniously filled by Rufus Scrimgeour. Harry 
+avoided his yellowish eyes as they scanned the Hall; 
+Harry had the uncomfortable feeling that Scrimgeour 
+was looking for him. Among Scrimgeour’s entourage 
+Harry spotted the red hair and horn-rimmed glasses 
+of Percy Weasley. Ron gave no sign that he was aware 
+of Percy, apart from stabbing pieces of kipper with 
+unwonted venom. 
+Over at the Slytherin table Crabbe and Goyle were 
+muttering together. Hulking boys though they were, 
+they looked oddly lonely without the tall, pale figure of 
+Malfoy between them, bossing them around. Harry 
+had not spared Malfoy much thought. His animosity 
+was all for Snape, but he had not forgotten the fear in 
+Malfoy’s voice on that tower top, nor the fact that he 
+had lowered his wand before the other Death Eaters 
+arrived. Harry did not believe that Malfoy would have 
+killed Dumbledore. He despised Malfoy still for his 
+infatuation with the Dark Arts, but now the tiniest 
+drop of pity mingled with his dislike. Where, Harry 
+wondered, was Malfoy now, and what was Voldemort 
+making him do under threat of killing him and his 
+parents? 
+Harry’s thoughts were interrupted by a nudge in the 
+ribs from Ginny. Professor McGonagall had risen to 
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+Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling 
+her feet, and the mournful hum in the Hall died away 
+at once. 
+“It is nearly time,” she said. “Please follow your Heads 
+of Houses out into the grounds. Gryffindors, after 
+me.” 
+They filed out from behind their benches in near 
+silence. Harry glimpsed Slughorn at the head of the 
+Slytherin column, wearing magnificent, long, emerald 
+green robes embroidered with silver. He had never 
+seen Professor Sprout, Head of the Hufflepuffs, 
+looking so clean; there was not a single patch on her 
+hat, and when they reached the entrance hall, they 
+found Madam Pince standing beside Filch, she in a 
+thick black veil that fell to her knees, he in an ancient 
+black suit and tie reeking of mothballs. 
+They were heading, as Harry saw when he stepped 
+out onto the stone steps from the front doors, toward 
+the lake. The warmth of the sun caressed his face as 
+they followed Professor McGonagall in silence to the 
+place where hundreds of chairs had been set out in 
+rows. An aisle ran down the center of them: There 
+was a marble table standing at the front, all chairs 
+facing it. It was the most beautiful summer’s day. 
+An extraordinary assortment of people had already 
+settled into half of the chairs; shabby and smart, old 
+and young. Most Harry did not recognize, but a few 
+he did, including members of the Order of the 
+Phoenix: Kingsley Shacklebolt; Mad-Eye Moody; 
+Tonks, her hair miraculously returned to vividest 
+pink; Remus Lupin, with whom she seemed to be 
+holding hands; Mr. and Mrs. Weasley; Bill supported 
+by Fleur and followed by Fred and George, who were 
+wearing jackets of black dragon skin. Then there was 
+Madame Maxime, who took up two and a half chairs 
+on her own; Tom, the landlord of the Leaky Cauldron 
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+in London; Arabella Figg, Harry’s Squib neighbor; the 
+hairy bass player from the Wizarding group the Weird 
+Sisters; Ernie Prang, driver of the Knight Bus; Madam 
+Malkin, of the robe shop in Diagon Alley; and some 
+people whom Harry merely knew by sight, such as the 
+barman of the Hog’s Head and the witch who pushed 
+the trolley on the Hogwarts Express. The castle ghosts 
+were there too, barely visible in the bright sunlight, 
+discernible only when they moved, shimmering 
+insubstantially on the gleaming air. 
+Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny filed into seats at 
+the end of a row beside the lake. People were 
+whispering to each other; it sounded like a breeze in 
+the grass, but the birdsong was louder by far. The 
+crowd continued to swell; with a great rush of 
+affection for both of them, Harry saw Neville being 
+helped into a seat by Luna. Neville and Luna alone of 
+the D.A. had responded to Hermione’s summons the 
+night that Dumbledore had died, and Harry knew 
+why: They were the ones who had missed the D.A. 
+most … probably the ones who had checked their 
+coins regularly in the hope that there would be 
+another meeting. 
+Cornelius Fudge walked past toward the front rows, 
+his expression miserable, twirling his green bowler 
+hat as usual; Harry next recognized Rita Skeeter, 
+who, he was infuriated to see, had a notebook 
+clutched in her red-taloned hand, and then, with a 
+worse jolt of fury, Dolores Umbridge, an unconvincing 
+expression of grief upon her toadlike face, a black 
+velvet bow set atop her iron-colored curls. At the sight 
+of the centaur Firenze, who was standing like a 
+sentinel near the water’s edge, she gave a start and 
+scurried hastily into a seat a good distance away. 
+The staff was seated at last. Harry could see 
+Scrimgeour looking grave and dignified in the front 
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+row with Professor McGonagall. He wondered whether 
+Scrimgeour or any of these important people were 
+really sorry that Dumbledore was dead. But then he 
+heard music, strange, otherworldly music, and he 
+forgot his dislike of the Ministry in looking around for 
+the source of it. He was not the only one: Many heads 
+were turning, searching, a little alarmed. 
+“In there,” whispered Ginny in Harry’s ear. 
+And he saw them in the clear green sunlit water, 
+inches below the surface, reminding him horribly of 
+the Inferi: a chorus of merpeople singing in a strange 
+language he did not understand, their pallid faces 
+rippling, their purplish hair flowing all around them. 
+The music made the hair on Harry’s neck stand up, 
+and yet it was not unpleasant. It spoke very clearly of 
+loss and of despair. As he looked down into the wild 
+faces of the singers, he had the feeling that they, at 
+least, were sorry for Dumbledore’s passing. Then 
+Ginny nudged him again and he looked around. 
+Hagrid was walking slowly up the aisle between the 
+chairs. He was crying quite silently, his face gleaming 
+with tears, and in his arms, wrapped in purple velvet 
+spangled with golden stars, was what Harry knew to 
+be Dumbledore’s body. A sharp pain rose in Harry’s 
+throat at this sight: For a moment, the strange music 
+and the knowledge that Dumbledore’s body was so 
+close seemed to take all warmth from the day. Ron 
+looked white and shocked. Tears were falling thick 
+and fast into both Ginny’s and Hermione’s laps. 
+They could not see clearly what was happening at the 
+front. Hagrid seemed to have placed the body 
+carefully upon the table. Now he retreated down the 
+aisle, blowing his nose with loud trumpeting noises 
+that drew scandalized looks from some, including, 
+Harry saw, Dolores Umbridge … but Harry knew that 
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+Dumbledore would not have cared. He tried to make a 
+friendly gesture to Hagrid as he passed, but Hagrid’s 
+eyes were so swollen it was a wonder he could see 
+where he was going. Harry glanced at the back row to 
+which Hagrid was heading and realized what was 
+guiding him, for there, dressed in a jacket and 
+trousers each the size of a small marquee, was the 
+giant Grawp, his great ugly boulderlike head bowed, 
+docile, almost human. Hagrid sat down next to his 
+half-brother, and Grawp patted Hagrid hard on the 
+head, so that his chair legs sank into the ground. 
+Harry had a wonderful momentary urge to laugh. But 
+then the music stopped, and he turned to face the 
+front again. 
+A little tufty-haired man in plain black robes had got 
+to his feet and stood now in front of Dumbledore’s 
+body. Harry could not hear what he was saying. Odd 
+words floated back to them over the hundreds of 
+heads. “Nobility of spirit” … “intellectual contribution” 
+… “greatness of heart” … It did not mean very much. 
+It had little to do with Dumbledore as Harry had 
+known him. He suddenly remembered Dumbledore’s 
+idea of a few words, “nitwit,” “oddment,” “blubber,” 
+and “tweak,” and again had to suppress a grin. … 
+What was the matter with him? 
+There was a soft splashing noise to his left and he 
+saw that the merpeople had broken the surface to 
+listen too. He remembered Dumbledore crouching at 
+the water’s edge two years ago, very close to where 
+Harry now sat, and conversing in Mermish with the 
+Merchieftainess. Harry wondered where Dumbledore 
+had learned Mermish. There was so much he had 
+never asked him, so much he should have said. … 
+And then, without warning, it swept over him, the 
+dreadful truth, more completely and undeniably than 
+it had until now. Dumbledore was dead, gone. … He 
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+clutched the cold locket in his hand so tightly that it 
+hurt, but he could not prevent hot tears spilling from 
+his eyes: He looked away from Ginny and the others 
+and stared out over the lake, toward the forest, as the 
+little man in black droned on. … There was movement 
+among the trees. The centaurs had come to pay their 
+respects too. They did not move into the open but 
+Harry saw them standing quite still, half hidden in 
+shadow, watching the wizards, their bows hanging at 
+their sides. And Harry remembered his first 
+nightmarish trip into the forest, the first time he had 
+ever encountered the thing that was then Voldemort, 
+and how he had faced him, and how he and 
+Dumbledore had discussed fighting a losing battle not 
+long thereafter. It was important, Dumbledore said, to 
+fight, and fight again, and keep fighting, for only then 
+could evil be kept at bay, though never quite 
+eradicated. … 
+And Harry saw very clearly as he sat there under the 
+hot sun how people who cared about him had stood 
+in front of him one by one, his mother, his father, his 
+godfather, and finally Dumbledore, all determined to 
+protect him; but now that was over. He could not let 
+anybody else stand between him and Voldemort; he 
+must abandon forever the illusion he ought to have 
+lost at the age of one, that the shelter of a parent’s 
+arms meant that nothing could hurt him. There was 
+no waking from his nightmare, no comforting whisper 
+in the dark that he was safe really, that it was all in 
+his imagination; the last and greatest of his protectors 
+had died, and he was more alone than he had ever 
+been before. 
+The little man in black had stopped speaking at last 
+and resumed his seat. Harry waited for somebody else 
+to get to their feet; he expected speeches, probably 
+from the Minister, but nobody moved. 
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+Then several people screamed. Bright, white flames 
+had erupted around Dumbledore’s body and the table 
+upon which it lay: Higher and higher they rose, 
+obscuring the body. White smoke spiraled into the air 
+and made strange shapes: Harry thought, for one 
+heart-stopping moment, that he saw a phoenix fly 
+joyfully into the blue, but next second the fire had 
+vanished. In its place was a white marble tomb, 
+encasing Dumbledore’s body and the table on which 
+he had rested. 
+There were a few more cries of shock as a shower of 
+arrows soared through the air, but they fell far short 
+of the crowd. It was, Harry knew, the centaurs’ 
+tribute: He saw them turn tail and disappear back 
+into the cool trees. Likewise, the merpeople sank 
+slowly back into the green water and were lost from 
+view. 
+Harry looked at Ginny, Ron, and Hermione: Ron’s 
+face was screwed up as though the sunlight were 
+blinding him. Hermione’s face was glazed with tears, 
+but Ginny was no longer crying. She met Harry’s gaze 
+with the same hard, blazing look that he had seen 
+when she had hugged him after winning the 
+Quidditch Cup in his absence, and he knew that at 
+that moment they understood each other perfectly, 
+and that when he told her what he was going to do 
+now, she would not say, “Be careful,” or “Don’t do it,” 
+but accept his decision, because she would not have 
+expected anything less of him. And so he steeled 
+himself to say what he had known he must say ever 
+since Dumbledore had died. 
+“Ginny, listen …” he said very quietly, as the buzz of 
+conversation grew louder around them and people 
+began to get to their feet, “I can’t be involved with you 
+anymore. We’ve got to stop seeing each other. We 
+can’t be together.” 
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+She said, with an oddly twisted smile, “It’s for some 
+stupid, noble reason, isn’t it?” 
+“It’s been like … like something out of someone else’s 
+life, these last few weeks with you,” said Harry. “But I 
+can’t … we can’t … I’ve got things to do alone now.” 
+She did not cry, she simply looked at him. 
+“Voldemort uses people his enemies are close to. He’s 
+already used you as bait once, and that was just 
+because you’re my best friend’s sister. Think how 
+much danger you’ll be in if we keep this up. He’ll 
+know, he’ll find out. He’ll try and get to me through 
+you.” 
+“What if I don’t care?” said Ginny fiercely. 
+“I care,” said Harry. “How do you think I’d feel if this 
+was your funeral … and it was my fault. …” 
+She looked away from him, over the lake. 
+“I never really gave up on you,” she said. “Not really. I 
+always hoped. … Hermione told me to get on with life, 
+maybe go out with some other people, relax a bit 
+around you, because I never used to be able to talk if 
+you were in the room, remember? And she thought 
+you might take a bit more notice if I was a bit more — 
+myself.” 
+“Smart girl, that Hermione,” said Harry, trying to 
+smile. “I just wish I’d asked you sooner. We could’ve 
+had ages … months … years maybe. …” 
+“But you’ve been too busy saving the Wizarding 
+world,” said Ginny, half laughing. “Well … I can’t say 
+I’m surprised. I knew this would happen in the end. I 
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+knew you wouldn’t be happy unless you were hunting 
+Voldemort. Maybe that’s why I like you so much.” 
+Harry could not bear to hear these things, nor did he 
+think his resolution would hold if he remained sitting 
+beside her. Ron, he saw, was now holding Hermione 
+and stroking her hair while she sobbed into his 
+shoulder, tears dripping from the end of his own long 
+nose. With a miserable gesture, Harry got up, turned 
+his back on Ginny and on Dumbledore’s tomb, and 
+walked away around the lake. Moving felt much more 
+bearable than sitting still, just as setting out as soon 
+as possible to track down the Horcruxes and kill 
+Voldemort would feel better than waiting to do it. … 
+“Harry!” 
+He turned. Rufus Scrimgeour was limping rapidly 
+toward him around the bank, leaning on his walking 
+stick. 
+“I’ve been hoping to have a word … do you mind if I 
+walk a little way with you?” 
+“No,” said Harry indifferently, and set off again. 
+“Harry, this was a dreadful tragedy,” said Scrimgeour 
+quietly. “I cannot tell you how appalled I was to hear 
+of it. Dumbledore was a very great wizard. We had our 
+disagreements, as you know, but no one knows better 
+than I —” 
+“What do you want?” asked Harry flatly. 
+Scrimgeour looked annoyed, but as before, hastily 
+modified his expression to one of sorrowful 
+understanding. 
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+“You are, of course, devastated,” he said. “I know that 
+you were very close to Dumbledore. I think you may 
+have been his favorite pupil ever. The bond between 
+the two of you —” 
+“What do you want?” Harry repeated, coming to a 
+halt. 
+Scrimgeour stopped too, leaned on his stick, and 
+stared at Harry, his expression shrewd now. 
+“The word is that you were with him when he left the 
+school the night that he died.” 
+“Whose word?” said Harry. 
+“Somebody Stupefied a Death Eater on top of the 
+tower after Dumbledore died. There were also two 
+broomsticks up there. The Ministry can add two and 
+two, Harry.” 
+“Glad to hear it,” said Harry. “Well, where I went with 
+Dumbledore and what we did is my business. He 
+didn’t want people to know.” 
+“Such loyalty is admirable, of course,” said 
+Scrimgeour, who seemed to be restraining his 
+irritation with difficulty, “but Dumbledore is gone, 
+Harry. He’s gone.” 
+“He will only be gone from the school when none here 
+are loyal to him,” said Harry, smiling in spite of 
+himself. 
+“My dear boy … even Dumbledore cannot return from 
+the —” 
+“I am not saying he can. You wouldn’t understand. 
+But I’ve got nothing to tell you.” 
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+Scrimgeour hesitated, then said, in what was 
+evidently supposed to be a tone of delicacy, “The 
+Ministry can offer you all sorts of protection, you 
+know, Harry. I would be delighted to place a couple of 
+my Aurors at your service —” 
+Harry laughed. “Voldemort wants to kill me himself, 
+and Aurors won’t stop him. So thanks for the offer, 
+but no thanks.” 
+“So,” said Scrimgeour, his voice cold now, “the 
+request I made of you at Christmas —” 
+“What request? Oh yeah … the one where I tell the 
+world what a great job you’re doing in exchange for—” 
+“— for raising everyone’s morale!” snapped 
+Scrimgeour. 
+Harry considered him for a moment. 
+“Released Stan Shunpike yet?” 
+Scrimgeour turned a nasty purple color highly 
+reminiscent of Uncle Vernon. 
+“I see you are —” 
+“Dumbledore’s man through and through,” said 
+Harry. “That’s right.” 
+Scrimgeour glared at him for another moment, then 
+turned and limped away without another word. Harry 
+could see Percy and the rest of the Ministry delegation 
+waiting for him, casting nervous glances at the 
+sobbing Hagrid and Grawp, who were still in their 
+seats. Ron and Hermione were hurrying toward 
+Harry, passing Scrimgeour going in the opposite 
+direction. Harry turned and walked slowly on, waiting 
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+for them to catch up, which they finally did in the 
+shade of a beech tree under which they had sat in 
+happier times. 
+“What did Scrimgeour want?” Hermione whispered. 
+“Same as he wanted at Christmas,” shrugged Harry. 
+“Wanted me to give him inside information on 
+Dumbledore and be the Ministry’s new poster boy.” 
+Ron seemed to struggle with himself for a moment, 
+then he said loudly to Hermione, “Look, let me go 
+back and hit Percy!” 
+“No,” she said firmly, grabbing his arm. 
+“It’ll make me feel better!” 
+Harry laughed. Even Hermione grinned a little, 
+though her smile faded as she looked up at the castle. 
+“I can’t bear the idea that we might never come back,” 
+she said softly. “How can Hogwarts close?” 
+“Maybe it won’t,” said Ron. “We’re not in any more 
+danger here than we are at home, are we? 
+Everywhere’s the same now. I’d even say Hogwarts is 
+safer, there are more wizards inside to defend the 
+place. What d’you reckon, Harry?” 
+“I’m not coming back even if it does reopen,” said 
+Harry. 
+Ron gaped at him, but Hermione said sadly, “I knew 
+you were going to say that. But then what will you 
+do?” 
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+“I’m going back to the Dursleys’ once more, because 
+Dumbledore wanted me to,” said Harry. “But it’ll be a 
+short visit, and then I’ll be gone for good.” 
+“But where will you go if you don’t come back to 
+school?” 
+“I thought I might go back to Godric’s Hollow,” Harry 
+muttered. He had had the idea in his head ever since 
+the night of Dumbledore’s death. “For me, it started 
+there, all of it. I’ve just got a feeling I need to go there. 
+And I can visit my parents’ graves, I’d like that.” 
+“And then what?” said Ron. 
+“Then I’ve got to track down the rest of the Horcruxes, 
+haven’t I?” said Harry, his eyes upon Dumbledore’s 
+white tomb, reflected in the water on the other side of 
+the lake. “That’s what he wanted me to do, that’s why 
+he told me all about them. If Dumbledore was right — 
+and I’m sure he was — there are still four of them out 
+there. I’ve got to find them and destroy them, and 
+then I’ve got to go after the seventh bit of Voldemort’s 
+soul, the bit that’s still in his body, and I’m the one 
+who’s going to kill him. And if I meet Severus Snape 
+along the way,” he added, “so much the better for me, 
+so much the worse for him.” 
+There was a long silence. The crowd had almost 
+dispersed now, the stragglers giving the monumental 
+figure of Grawp a wide berth as he cuddled Hagrid, 
+whose howls of grief were still echoing across the 
+water. 
+“We’ll be there, Harry,” said Ron. 
+“What?” 
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+“At your aunt and uncle’s house,” said Ron. “And 
+then we’ll go with you wherever you’re going.” 
+“No —” said Harry quickly; he had not counted on 
+this, he had meant them to understand that he was 
+undertaking this most dangerous journey alone. 
+“You said to us once before,” said Hermione quietly, 
+“that there was time to turn back if we wanted to. 
+We’ve had time, haven’t we? 
+“We’re with you whatever happens,” said Ron. “But 
+mate, you’re going to have to come round my mum 
+and dad’s house before we do anything else, even 
+Godric’s Hollow.” 
+“Why?” 
+“Bill and Fleur’s wedding, remember?” 
+Harry looked at him, startled; the idea that anything 
+as normal as a wedding could still exist seemed 
+incredible and yet wonderful. 
+“Yeah, we shouldn’t miss that,” he said finally. 
+His hand closed automatically around the fake 
+Horcrux, but in spite of everything, in spite of the 
+dark and twisting path he saw stretching ahead for 
+himself, in spite of the final meeting with Voldemort 
+he knew must come, whether in a month, in a year, 
+or in ten, he felt his heart lift at the thought that 
+there was still one last golden day of peace left to 
+enjoy with Ron and Hermione. 
+ 
+