Harry lay awake for hours that night. Through a gap in the curtains around his four-poster he watched snow starting to drift past the tower window and wondered . . .
Could he be a descendant of Salazar Slytherin?
"NO, of course not. What the hell is he thinking?" James asked horrified but stopped when he received a glare from Lilly.
He didn't know anything about his father's family, after all. The Dursleys had always forbidden questions about his Wizarding relatives.
Quietly, Harry tried to say something in Parseltongue. The words wouldn't come. It seemed he had to be face-to-face with a snake to do it.
But I'm in Gryffindor, Harry thought.The Sorting Hat wouldn't have put me in here if I had Slytherin blood. . . .
Ah, said a nasty little voice in his brain, but the Sorting Hat wanted to put you in Slytherin, don't you remember?
"He is questioning the Sorting Hat's choice? Your son really is something." Marlene laughed.
Harry turned over. He'd see Justin the next day in Herbology and he'd explain that he'd been calling the snake off, not egging it on, which (he thought angrily, pummeling his pillow) any fool should have realized.
By next morning, however, the snow that had begun in the night had turned into a blizzard so thick that the last Herbology lesson of the term was canceled:
"Iwould be happy for them if the situation was not so tense." Fabian muttered.
Harry fretted about this next to the fire in the Gryffindor common room, while Ron and Hermione used their time off to play a game of wizard chess.
"For heaven's sake, Harry," said Hermione, exasperated, as one of Ron's bishops wrestled her knight off his horse and dragged him off the board. "Go and find Justin if it's so important to you."
So Harry got up and left through the portrait hole, wondering where Justin might be.
A group of the Hufflepuffs who should have been in Herbology were sitting at the back of the library, but they didn't seem to be working. Between the long lines of high bookshelves, Harry could see that their heads were close together and they were having what looked like an absorbing conversation. He couldn't see whether Justin was among them. He was walking toward them when something of what they were saying met his ears, and he paused to listen, hidden in the Invisibility section.
"So anyway," a stout boy was saying, "I told Justin to hide up in our dormitory. I mean to say, if Potter's marked him down as his next victim, it's best if he keeps a low profile for a while. Of course, Justin's been waiting for something like this to happen ever since he let slip to Potter he was Muggleborn. Justin actually told him he'd been down for Eton. That's not the kind of thing you bandy about with Slytherin's heir on the loose, is it?"
"They are thinking that he did it." Molly gasped.
"But that's not possible, he was in the hospital wing when the last boy was attacked." Tonks said frowning.
"That would be absolutely right Miss Tonks but unfortunately Mr Potter's friends here seem to be completely unaware to this." Dumbledore replied.
"You definitely think it is Potter, then, Ernie?" said a girl with blonde pigtails anxiously.
"Hannah," said the stout boy solemnly, "he's a Parselmouth. Everyone knows that's the mark of a Dark wizard. Have you ever heard of a decent one who could talk to snakes? They called Slytherin himself Serpent-tongue."
There was some heavy murmuring at this, and Ernie went on, "Remember what was written on the wall? Enemies of the Heir, Beware. Potter had some sort of run-in with Filch. Next thing we know, Filch's cat's attacked. That first year, Creevey, was annoying Potter at the Quidditch match, taking pictures of him while he was lying in the mud. Next thing we know — Creevey's been attacked."
"That's ridiculous, they can't accuse him like this." Sirius billowed in anger.
"They are just kids Padfoot. You can't blame them for thinking like that." Remus mused.
"He always seems so nice, though," said Hannah uncertainly, "and, well, he's the one who made You-Know-Who disappear. He can't be all bad, can he?"
"I like this girl." Lilly smiled faintly.
Ernie lowered his voice mysteriously, the Hufflepuffs bent closer, and Harry edged nearer so that he could catch Ernie's words.
"No one knows how he survived that attack by You-Know-Who. I mean to say, he was only a baby when it happened. He should have been blasted into smithereens. Only a really powerful Dark wizard could have survived a curse like that." He dropped his voice until it was barely more than a whisper, and said, "That's probably why You-Know-Who wanted to kill him in the first place. Didn't want another Dark Lord competing with him. I wonder what other powers Potter's been hiding?"
Harry couldn't take anymore. Clearing his throat loudly, he stepped out from behind the bookshelves. If he hadn't been feeling so angry, he would have found the sight that greeted him funny: Every one of the Hufflepuffs looked as though they had been Petrified by the sight of him, and the color was draining out of Ernie's face.
"Hello," said Harry. "I'm looking for Justin Finch-Fletchley."
The Hufflepuffs' worst fears had clearly been confirmed. They all looked fearfully at Ernie.
"What do you want with him?" said Ernie in a quavering voice.
"I wanted to tell him what really happened with that snake at the Dueling Club," said Harry.
Ernie bit his white lips and then, taking a deep breath, said, "We were all there. We saw what happened."
"Then you noticed that after I spoke to it, the snake backed off?" said Harry.
"All I saw," said Ernie stubbornly, though he was trembling as he spoke, "was you speaking Parseltongue and chasing the snake toward Justin."
"I didn't chase it at him!" Harry said, his voice shaking with anger. "It didn't even touch him!"
"It was a very near miss," said Ernie. "And in case you're getting ideas," he added hastily, "I might tell you that you can trace my family back through nine generations of witches and warlocks and my blood's as pure as anyone's, so —"
"What's wrong with these students? Aren't Hufflepuffs supposed to be the soft ones?" Sirius asked frowning.
"Hufflepuffs are loyal not cowards." Tonks huffed.
"Possessive much cousin? You aren't even sorted." Sirius teased.
"Stop messing with her Sirius." Marlene glared shutting Sirius instantly.
"I don't care what sort of blood you've got!" said Harry fiercely. "Why would I want to attack Muggle-borns?"
"I've heard you hate those Muggles you live with," said Ernie swiftly.
"It's not possible to live with the Dursleys and not hate them," said Harry.
"I'd like to see you try it."
He turned on his heel and stormed out of the library, earning himself a reproving glare from Madam Pince, who was polishing the gilded cover of a large spell book.
Harry blundered up the corridor, barely noticing where he was going, he was in such a fury. The result was that he walked into something very large and solid, which knocked him backward onto the floor.
"Oh, hello, Hagrid," Harry said, looking up.
Hagrid's face was entirely hidden by a woolly, snow-covered balaclava, but it couldn't possibly be anyone else, as he filled most of the corridor in his moleskin overcoat. A dead rooster was hanging from one of his massive, gloved hands.
Tonks stared at him horrified making the others chuckle slightly.
"All righ', Harry?" he said, pulling up the balaclava so he could speak. "Why aren't yeh in class?"
"Canceled," said Harry, getting up. "What're you doing in here?" Hagrid held up the limp rooster. "Second one killed this term," he explained. "It's either foxes or a Blood- Suckin' Bugbear, an' I need the headmaster's permission ter put a charm around the hen coop."
"What the heck is going on in this school?" Moody grumbled.
"Yeh sure yeh're all righ'? Yeh look all hot an' bothered —"
Harry couldn't bring himself to repeat what Ernie and the rest of the Hufflepuffs had been saying about him.
"It's nothing," he said. "I'd better get going, Hagrid, it's Transfiguration next and I've got to pick up my books."
He walked off, his mind still full of what Ernie had said about him.
"Justin's been waiting for something like this to happen ever since he let slip to Potter he was Muggle-born. . . ."
Harry stamped up the stairs and turned along another corridor, which was particularly dark; the torches had been extinguished by a strong, icy draft that was blowing through a loose windowpane. He was halfway down the passage when he tripped headlong over something lying on the floor.
He turned to squint at what he'd fallen over and felt as though his stomach had dissolved.
"No…" Molly's hands automatically came up to her eyes as she leaned into Arthur for support. Everyone stared at the scene with morose eyes.
Justin Finch-Fletchley was lying on the floor, rigid and cold, a look of shock frozen on his face, his eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. And that wasn't all.
Next to him was another figure, the strangest sight Harry had ever seen. It was Nearly Headless Nick, no longer pearly-white and transparent, but black and smoky, floating immobile and horizontal, six inches off the floor. His head was half off and his face wore an expression of shock identical to Justin's.
"That thing petrified him too?" Glidon gasped.
"He is a ghost." Fabian said shaking his head in disbelief.
Harry got to his feet, his breathing fast and shallow, his heart doing a kind of drumroll against his ribs. He looked wildly up and down the deserted corridor and saw a line of spiders scuttling as fast as they could away from the bodies.
The only sounds were the muffled voices of teachers from the classes on either side.
He could run, and no one would ever know he had been there. But he couldn't just leave them lying here. . . . He had to get help. . . . Would anyone believe he hadn't had anything to do with this?
As he stood there, panicking, a door right next to him opened with a bang. Peeves the Poltergeist came shooting out.
"Why, it's potty wee Potter!" cackled Peeves, knocking Harry's glasses askewas he bounced past him. "What's Potter up to? Why's Potter lurking —"
Peeves stopped, halfway through a midair somersault. Upside down, he spotted Justin and Nearly Headless Nick. He flipped the right way up, filled his lungs and, before Harry could stop him, screamed, "ATTACK! ATTACK! ANOTHER ATTACK! NO MORTAL OR GHOST IS SAFE! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES! ATTAAAACK!"
"Huge shock that one got." Moody said his magical eye staring at Peeves's fleeing figure.
Crash — crash — crash — door after door flew open along the corridor and people flooded out. For several long minutes, there was a scene of such confusion that Justin was in danger of being squashed and people kept standing in Nearly Headless Nick. Harry found himself pinned against the wall as the teachers shouted for quiet. Professor McGonagall came running, followed by her own class, one of whom still had black-and-white-striped hair. She used her wand to set off a loud bang, which restored silence, and ordered everyone back into their classes. No sooner had the scene cleared somewhat than Ernie the Hufflepuff arrived, panting, on the scene.
"Caught in the act!" Ernie yelled, his face stark white, pointing his finger dramatically at Harry.
"Tell me, why is he in the wrong place at the wrong time?" Lilly said eyeing James through the corner of her eye.
"That will do, Macmillan!" said Professor McGonagall sharply.
Peeves was bobbing overhead, now grinning wickedly, surveying the scene; Peeves always loved chaos. As the teachers bent over Justin and Nearly Headless Nick, examining them, Peeves broke into song:
"Oh, Potter, you rotter, oh, what have you done,
You're killing off students, you think it's good fun —"
"That's enough, Peeves!" barked Professor McGonagall, and Peeves zoomed away backward, with his tongue out at Harry.
Justin was carried up to the hospital wing by Professor Flitwick and Professor Sinistra of the Astronomy department, but nobody seemed to know what to do for Nearly Headless Nick. In the end, Professor McGonagall conjured a large fan out of thin air, which she gave to Ernie with instructions to waft Nearly Headless Nick up the stairs. This Ernie did, fanning Nick along like a silent blackhovercraft. This left Harry and Professor McGonagall alone together.
"This way, Potter," she said.
"Professor," said Harry at once, "I swear I didn't —"
"This is out of my hands, Potter," said Professor McGonagall curtly.
They marched in silence around a corner and she stopped before a large and extremely ugly stone gargoyle.
"Lemon drop!" she said. This was evidently a password, because the gargoyle sprang suddenly to life and hopped aside as the wall behind him split in two. Even full of dread for what was coming, Harry couldn't fail to be amazed. Behind the wall was a spiral staircase that was moving smoothly upward, like an escalator. As he and Professor McGonagall stepped onto it, Harry heard the wall thud closed behind them. They rose upward in circles, higher and higher, until at last, slightly dizzy, Harry saw a gleaming oak door ahead, with a brass knocker in the shape of a griffin.
"Ah, my office." Dumbledore smiled gently.
It opened silently and they entered. Professor McGonagall told Harry to wait and left him there, alone.
Harry looked around. One thing was certain: of all the teachers' offices Harry had visited so far this year, Dumbledore's was by far the most interesting. If he hadn't been scared out of his wits that he was about to be thrown out of school, he would have been very pleased to have a chance to look around it.
"I would take that as a complement." Dumbledore smiled his mysterious smiles.
It was a large and beautiful circular room, full of funny little noises. A number of curious silver instruments stood on spindle-legged tables, whirring and emitting little puffs of smoke. The walls were covered with portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses, all of whom were snoozing gently in their frames. There was also an enormous, claw-footed desk, and, sitting on a shelf behind it, a shabby, tattered wizard's hat — the Sorting Hat.
Harry hesitated. He cast a wary eye around the sleeping witches and wizards on the walls. Surely it couldn't hurt if he took the hat down and tried it on again?
Just to see . . . just to make sure it had put him in the right House —
"Oh Harry…" Lilly looked at him sadly.
He walked quietly around the desk, lifted the hat from its shelf, and lowered it slowly onto his head. It was much too large and slipped down over his eyes, just as it had done the last time he'd put it on. Harry stared at the black inside of the hat, waiting. Then a small voice said in his ear, "Bee in your bonnet, Harry Potter?"
"Er, yes," Harry muttered. "Er — sorry to bother you — I wanted to ask —"
"You've been wondering whether I put you in the right House," said the hat smartly.
"It's creepy. How does it get to know everything? It's a hat." Sirius scowled.
"It's the Sorting Hat, Mr Black." Dumbledore answered as if that would explain everything.
"Yes . . . you were particularly difficult to place. But I stand by what I said before" — Harry's heart leapt — "you would have done well in Slytherin —"
"That doesn't help much, does it?" Fabian muttered.
Harry's stomach plummeted. He grabbed the point of the hat and pulled it off.
It hung limply in his hand, grubby and faded. Harry pushed it back onto its shelf, feeling sick.
"You're wrong," he said aloud to the still and silent hat. It didn't move. Harry backed away, watching it. Then a strange, gagging noise behind him made him wheel around.
He wasn't alone after all. Standing on a golden perch behind the door was a decrepit-looking bird that resembled a half-plucked turkey. Harry stared at it and the bird looked balefully back, making its gagging noise again. Harry thought it looked very ill. Its eyes were dull and, even as Harry watched, a couple more feathers fell out of its tail.
"What is that bird?" Tonks asked curiously.
"It's a phoenix Nymphadora." Remus replied smiling.
"Don't call me Nymphadora." Tonks huffed pouting.
Harry was just thinking that all he needed was for Dumbledore's pet bird to die while he was alone in the office with it, when the bird burst into flames.
Harry yelled in shock and backed away into the desk. He looked feverishly around in case there was a glass of water somewhere but couldn't see one; the bird, meanwhile, had become a fireball; it gave one loud shriek and next second there was nothing but a smoldering pile of ash on the floor.
The office door opened. Dumbledore came in, looking very somber.
"Professor," Harry gasped. "Your bird — I couldn't do anything — he just caught fire —"
To Harry's astonishment, Dumbledore smiled.
"About time, too," he said. "He's been looking dreadful for days; I've been
telling him to get a move on."
He chuckled at the stunned look on Harry's face.
"Well, of course he is stunned. He just watched his headmaster's pet die." Glidon chuckled.
"Fawkes is a phoenix, Harry. Phoenixes burst into flame when it is time for them to die and are reborn from the ashes. Watch him . . ."
Harry looked down in time to see a tiny, wrinkled, newborn bird poke its head out of the ashes. It was quite as ugly as the old one.
"It's a shame you had to see him on a Burning Day," said Dumbledore, seating himself behind his desk. "He's really very handsome most of the time, wonderful red and gold plumage. Fascinating creatures, phoenixes. They can carry immensely heavy loads, their tears have healing powers, and they make highly faithful pets."
In the shock of Fawkes catching fire, Harry had forgotten what he was there for, but it all came back to him as Dumbledore settled himself in the high chair behind the desk and fixed Harry with his penetrating, light-blue stare.
Before Dumbledore could speak another word, however, the door of the office flew open with an almighty bang and Hagrid burst in, a wild look in his eyes, his balaclava perched on top of his shaggy black head and the dead rooster still swinging from his hand.
"It wasn' Harry, Professor Dumbledore!" said Hagrid urgently. "I was talkin' ter him seconds before that kid was found, he never had time, sir —"
Dumbledore tried to say something, but Hagrid went ranting on, waving the rooster around in his agitation, sending feathers everywhere.
"— it can't've bin him, I'll swear it in front o' the Ministry o' Magic if I have to —"
"I guess I understand why you guys like him so much." Tonks said smiling at Hagrid's bewildered expression.
"Hagrid, I —"
"— yeh've got the wrong boy, sir, I know Harry never —"
"Hagrid!" said Dumbledore loudly. "I do not think that Harry attacked those people."
"Oh," said Hagrid, the rooster falling limply at his side. "Right. I'll wait outside then, Headmaster."
And he stomped out looking embarrassed.
"Poor Hagrid." Marlene nodded.
"You don't think it was me, Professor?" Harry repeated hopefully as Dumbledore brushed rooster feathers off his desk.
"No, Harry, I don't," said Dumbledore, though his face was somber again.
"But I still want to talk to you."
Harry waited nervously while Dumbledore considered him, the tips of his long fingers together.
"I must ask you, Harry, whether there is anything you'd like to tell me," he said gently. "Anything at all."
Harry didn't know what to say. He thought of Malfoy shouting, "You'll be next, Mudbloods!" and of the Polyjuice Potion simmering away in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Then he thought of the disembodied voice he had heard twice and remembered what Ron had said: "Hearing voices no one else can hear isn't a good sign, even in the Wizarding world." He thought, too, about what everyone was saying about him, and his growing dread that he was somehow connected with Salazar Slytherin. . . .
"No," said Harry. "There isn't anything, Professor. . . ."
"NOTHING?" Lilly shrieked, "He says there's nothing wrong?" Lilly was practically glaring at James by the time the memory started fading into the next one. James crouched under her furious glare smiling sheepishly.
Marlene patted Lilly on her back trying to calm her down.
"Don't be so mad Lills it's not his fault he has James for a father." She said making the others laugh as James scratched the back of his head adorably.