Chapter 17
"Hermione?" Ron asked cautiously. They were sitting in front of the fire in the Common Room. Hermione stared into the fire with a dazed look, as though she were not really there.
"What?" she finally asked, after several moments.
"Er.what exactly happened in Charms today, Hermione?"
She turned to face him, the dazed look replaced by a look of great pain. "I found out who opened the Chamber of Secrets fifty years ago," she said in a hollow voice.
Ron started visibly; he had certainly not been expecting this. "You-you what?" he stammered.
"I found who opened the Chamber of Secrets fifty years ago," Hermione repeated dully. "With the diary."
Ron brushed that aside, staring at her in unbelief. "Hermione-are you sure you're okay? What on earth d'you mean, you found out who opened the Chamber of Secrets? How could you?"
"Ron," said Hermione, "It was Hagrid. Hagrid opened the Chamber of Secrets last time."
"WHAT?" Ron yelled, standing so suddenly that the chair in which he had been sitting tipped over. The other occupants of the Common Room turned in their direction briefly, curious expressions on their faces, but did not bother them.
"It was the diary," Hermione continued hollowly. "T.M. Riddle's diary."
"Hermione," said Ron patiently, "Riddle's diary is blank. Remember? Blank. Nothing written on it. Certainly nothing to convict Hagrid of opening the Chamber of Secrets."
"No, Ron," said Hermione. She seemed to have returned to the present; the hollow tone was still there, but the conviction behind the words was unmistakable. "Come here, I'll show you."
Ron pulled his chair closer to hers. Hermione pulled the diary from her bag and opened a bottle of ink; dipping her quill in she made a mark on the first page.
"Wicked," said Ron softly as the diary sucked the ink in.
"Now watch this, Ron," said Hermione.
"This is Hermione Granger," she wrote in an unsteady hand. A moment later, the ink reformed into new words-words that Hermione had never written. Ron's eyes widened as he read the glistening paragraph.
"Hello, Hermione Granger. I thought you might be back."
Hermione did not write anything else; she simply looked up at Ron and raised an eyebrow. "See?" she whispered. Without writing any more she closed the diary and tucked it once more into her schoolbag.
"Now do you believe me?" she asked.
"Yeah, but what-how did you find out about Hagrid?" Ron asked, still gaping at the black book.
Hermione quickly explained what had happened during Charms. "Riddle might have got the wrong person," said Ron after she had finished.
"How many monsters do you think this place could hold?" Hermione asked dully. "Besides, we always knew Hagrid had been expelled-and the attacks must've stopped after he was kicked out."
"It figures," said Ron finally. "You know, if Hagrid got wind of some monster locked up in the castle, he would try to give it some exercise.."
Hermione nodded wordlessly. After a moment she asked the knottiest question of all: "Do you think we should go ask Hagrid about it all?"
In the end, they decided they would not say anything to Hagrid unless there was another attack, and as more and more days went by without the slightest disturbance, they became hopeful that they would never need to talk to him about why he'd been expelled.
Besides that, the Mandrakes had thrown a very loud and raucous party in Greenhouse Three. This made Professor Sprout very happy. "The moment they start trying to move into each other's pots, we'll know they're fully mature," she told her class. "Then we'll be able to revive those poor people in the hospital wing."
* * *
"Hermione-I don't know who did it-I just found-," Watching fearfully, Parvati Patil pushed open the door.
The contents of Hermione's trunk had been thrown everywhere. Her cloak lay ripped on the floor. The bedclothes had been pulled off her four-poster and the drawer had been pulled out of her bedside cabinet, the contents strewn all over her mattress.
"I don't know who did it," Parvati whispered again. "I came in here and saw it.I'm really, really, sorry, Hermione.."
Wordlessly, Hermione walked over to the bed, treading on a few loose pages of The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2.
With a sigh, she replacing books in her trunk. It was not until she had placed the last book (Is there Harm in Charms? By Ima Freke) in her trunk that she noticed it.
Without more than a nod to Parvati, who was still standing in the middle of the room with a deeply apologetic expression, she flew out of her dormitory and down to the Common Room, where Ron was immersed in Transfiguration homework.
"Ron, someone broke into my dormitory and stuff was all over the place and Riddle's diary is gone," she said breathlessly.
"What?" said Ron, looking up from Mastering the Art of Transfiguration. "You mean someone stole it?"
"Yes," said Hermione in a low voice. "But why would someone steal it? And who would steal it?"
"Someone in Gryffindor," said Ron, peering suspiciously around the near- empty Common Room. "Nobody else knows our password."
"Exactly," said Hermione.
* * *
The next morning was given over to a Gryffindor Quidditch match. As Ron and Hermione prepared to leave for the field, Hermione suddenly stopped. "Wait," she said suddenly. "I've left my sweater in the dormitory."
"C'mon, Hermione, it's nearly June," said Ron incredulously. "Why d'you need a sweater?"
"You're wearing one," said Hermione pointedly. "Go on out to the field without me, I'll be there in a minute." She spun on her heel and raced off in the direction of the Gryffindor portrait hole, leaving Ron alone in the middle of the entrance hall.
"Whatever," he muttered, and followed the stream of students outside.
He found a seat in the stadium beside Dean, Seamus, and Hagrid. Putting his hat beside him to keep clear a place for Hermione, he turned his attention to the field.
The teams-Gryffindor and Hufflepuff-walked on to the field to tumultuous applause. Ron's stomach gave a lurch as he spotted the Gryffindor Seeker, a fifth-year boy he didn't know. Harry's the real Seeker, he thought bitterly.
Last year, after Professor McGonagall had witnessed him safe Neville Longbottom's Remembrall from a fifty-foot dive, he had been placed on the Gryffindor Quidditch team-the only first year to make the team in over a century. Now his position had been replaced by Roy Salinger, a fifth-year who didn't play half as well.
Ron's attention was brought back to the pitch as Professor McGonagall marched to the center, an enormous purple megaphone clutched in her right hand. His heart gave a lurch.
"This match has been canceled," Professor McGonagall barked through the megaphone, addressing the packed stadium. There were boos and shouts. Oliver Wood, captain of the Gryffindor team, looked devastated.
"But Professor," he shouted, "The match-the Cup-Gryffindor-,"
Professor McGonagall ignored him and continued to shout into her megaphone:
"All students are to make their way back to their House Common Rooms, where their Heads of Houses will give them further information. As quickly as you can, please!"
Then she lowered the megaphone and began to run to the side of the stadium where the Gryffindor supporters were arranged, all sporting red and gold. Surprisingly, she was coming right toward Ron.
"Weasley, I think you'd better come with me.." She said when she reached him. Wondering how McGonagall could possibly suspect him now, Ron followed her across the pitch and into the entrance hall. She led him up the marble staircase, but to his surprise he wasn't being taken to anyone's office this time.
"This will be a bit of a shock," said Professor McGonagall gently as they neared the infirmary. "There has been another attack. Another double attack."
She pushed the door open slowly and she and Ron entered. Ron's heart pounded loudly; his stomach felt as though it would never be still again. What happened? What happened? What happened? He kept asking himself.
Madam Pomfrey was bending over a fifth-year girl with long, curly hair who Ron didn't know. And on the bed next to her was-
"Hermione!" Ron gasped.
Hermione lay utterly still, her eyes open and glassy.
"They were found a few corridors away from the entrance hall," said Professor McGonagall.
Ron stared at her, horror-stricken. She was wearing her sweater, he noticed, and she had a cup in one hand.
"Why did she have the cup," Ron said. It wasn't a question; more of an excuse to say something.
"She was coming back from Gryffindor Tower, I assume," said Professor McGonagall softly. Professor Flitwick said he saw her get a drink on her way out. The water was found spilled on the floor beside them-I assume it was spilled in her surprise at whatever had crept up on her."
"Oh," said Ron, knowing he had to respond.
"I must escort you back to Gryffindor Tower," she said after a moment. "I need to address the students in any case."
* * *
"All students will return to their House Common Rooms by six o'clock in the evening. No student is to leave the dormitories after that time. You will be escorted to each lesson by a teacher. No student is to use the bathroom unaccompanied by a teacher. All further Quidditch training and matches are to be postponed. There will be no more evening activities."
The Gryffindors packed inside the Common Room listened to McGonagall in stony silence. She rolled up the parchment from which she had been reading and said in a somewhat choked voice, "I need hardly add that I have rarely been so distressed. It is likely that the school will be closed unless the culprit behind these attacks is caught. I would urge anyone who thinks they know anything about them to come forward."
She climbed somewhat awkwardly out of the portrait hole.
Ron could not seem to get rid of the picture of Hermione, lying on the hospital bed as though carved out of stone.
* * *
"Did you hear.?" "Yes, that's what I heard. Can you believe it?" "I knew that he was behind it all, I knew it." "Dumbledore's sure desperate." "Wouldn't you be?"
The murmurs and whispers greeted Ron as he entered the Great Hall the next morning. Surprisingly, they were not directed at him.
"Ron," said George, coming up to him with a strangely pained look on his face. "Did you hear what the Minister of Magic did last night?"
"What?" asked Ron uneasily, taking a slice of toast from a platter in the middle of the long table.
"Er-he arrested Hagrid last night, Ron. Took him to Azkaban."
Ron's jaw dropped. "Serious?" he croaked.
"Yeah," said George. He sat down beside Ron and helped himself to a glass of cold orange juice.
"Why?" asked Ron, although he knew the answer.
"Some daft story about him being the Heir of Slytherin," said George, taking a large gulp of the orange juice.
Ron didn't touch his toast. "Oh," he said dully. So it hadn't mattered that he and Hermione'd kept their mouths shut-but of course, Dumbledore would have known it already. Somehow, though, Ron was sure that Dumbledore had not agreed to take Hagrid away. What about Dumbledore? He asked himself. It was not until George answered that he realized he'd spoken aloud.
"That's the other part," said George. "You going to eat this?" when Ron shook his head, George slid the plate of toast over and took a large bite.
"What's the other part?" Ron asked, unable to stop himself.
"Lucius Malfoy came with a written order for Dumbledore's suspension. All the governors of the school'd signed it-though I bet Malfoy had to blackmail every one of `em. Anyway, Dumbledore's gone now. McGonagall's filling in until Dumbledore comes back.or until the governors elect a new Headmaster."
Ron paled. "But-but-," he stammered.
"But what?" asked George.
"But with Dumbledore gone, half the school'll be attacked!" Ron said.
"Yeah, I know," said George, downing the rest of the orange juice. "Say, Ron, could you get me more juice?"
"No," Ron said waspishly, and turned away. Hagrid gone? Dumbledore gone? It was as if the Heir of Slytherin had been given free rein over the school. No one, no one, would be able to restore order if Dumbledore could not.
"It looks like they're going to close the school," said George solemnly, slipping back into his seat with a full glass of orange juice. "If the attacks don't stop."
"Yeah," mumbled Ron.
"Ron, what's wrong with you this morning?" asked George, his mouth full of porridge.
Ron turned around, scowling. "My two best friends are gone. One of them's probably dead. The school's going to be closing, I'll never get a chance to graduate from Hogwarts-,"
"Well neither will I," said George reasonably.
Ron scowled deeper. "All right then," he snapped, "I'll never get a chance to be a third year at Hogwarts. The Heir of Slytherin's taken over the school, people I know and live with are next on his list. Care to hear more?" he drew a deep breath, but George stopped him, an odd look on his face.
"Sorry for asking," George said. All ambivalence was gone from his tone. "I didn't realize-I mean, I forgot-,"
"It's okay," said Ron wearily. "But I'm going back to Gryffindor Tower. G'bye."
He stood up quickly and left the hall, his stomach feeling emptier than it had when he had entered. But he didn't care; all he wanted now was to be alone. He seriously considered skipping the first class of the day to go back to sleep, but decided that was a good way to get detention fast.
Seamus Finnigan came up to get him an hour later. "We've had some good news," he said in a forced bright tone.
"Yeah, I heard about that good news," Ron said. "Hagrid's been sacked and so has Dumbledore."
"No, really," Seamus said. "Professor Sprout said that the Mandrakes'd be ready for cutting next Monday. Er.that means that Hermione and those others will, you know, be back to normal."
"Sure," said Ron. He was only half-listening. Before Seamus had come up he'd been looking at the small photograph album, the one he hadn't looked at since the start of the year. When he'd heard footsteps, he'd tucked it quickly back under the bed, but one red leather corner peeked out at him, and he was staring at it hard, trying to ignore the pricking at his eyes.
"Unfortunately, we've still got exams-starting next Thursday. Er.I guess your friend Hermione will be sad that she didn't get to study up on them."
"Yeah, I guess so," said Ron dully.
"Listen, are you even paying attention to what I'm saying?" asked Seamus irritably.
"No," said Ron truthfully.
"Fine then, I'm leaving," Seamus said. As he got to the door he turned around and called back, "Class starts in ten minutes. You'd better be in the Common Room in five; McGonagall's waiting to take us."
"Hermione?" Ron asked cautiously. They were sitting in front of the fire in the Common Room. Hermione stared into the fire with a dazed look, as though she were not really there.
"What?" she finally asked, after several moments.
"Er.what exactly happened in Charms today, Hermione?"
She turned to face him, the dazed look replaced by a look of great pain. "I found out who opened the Chamber of Secrets fifty years ago," she said in a hollow voice.
Ron started visibly; he had certainly not been expecting this. "You-you what?" he stammered.
"I found who opened the Chamber of Secrets fifty years ago," Hermione repeated dully. "With the diary."
Ron brushed that aside, staring at her in unbelief. "Hermione-are you sure you're okay? What on earth d'you mean, you found out who opened the Chamber of Secrets? How could you?"
"Ron," said Hermione, "It was Hagrid. Hagrid opened the Chamber of Secrets last time."
"WHAT?" Ron yelled, standing so suddenly that the chair in which he had been sitting tipped over. The other occupants of the Common Room turned in their direction briefly, curious expressions on their faces, but did not bother them.
"It was the diary," Hermione continued hollowly. "T.M. Riddle's diary."
"Hermione," said Ron patiently, "Riddle's diary is blank. Remember? Blank. Nothing written on it. Certainly nothing to convict Hagrid of opening the Chamber of Secrets."
"No, Ron," said Hermione. She seemed to have returned to the present; the hollow tone was still there, but the conviction behind the words was unmistakable. "Come here, I'll show you."
Ron pulled his chair closer to hers. Hermione pulled the diary from her bag and opened a bottle of ink; dipping her quill in she made a mark on the first page.
"Wicked," said Ron softly as the diary sucked the ink in.
"Now watch this, Ron," said Hermione.
"This is Hermione Granger," she wrote in an unsteady hand. A moment later, the ink reformed into new words-words that Hermione had never written. Ron's eyes widened as he read the glistening paragraph.
"Hello, Hermione Granger. I thought you might be back."
Hermione did not write anything else; she simply looked up at Ron and raised an eyebrow. "See?" she whispered. Without writing any more she closed the diary and tucked it once more into her schoolbag.
"Now do you believe me?" she asked.
"Yeah, but what-how did you find out about Hagrid?" Ron asked, still gaping at the black book.
Hermione quickly explained what had happened during Charms. "Riddle might have got the wrong person," said Ron after she had finished.
"How many monsters do you think this place could hold?" Hermione asked dully. "Besides, we always knew Hagrid had been expelled-and the attacks must've stopped after he was kicked out."
"It figures," said Ron finally. "You know, if Hagrid got wind of some monster locked up in the castle, he would try to give it some exercise.."
Hermione nodded wordlessly. After a moment she asked the knottiest question of all: "Do you think we should go ask Hagrid about it all?"
In the end, they decided they would not say anything to Hagrid unless there was another attack, and as more and more days went by without the slightest disturbance, they became hopeful that they would never need to talk to him about why he'd been expelled.
Besides that, the Mandrakes had thrown a very loud and raucous party in Greenhouse Three. This made Professor Sprout very happy. "The moment they start trying to move into each other's pots, we'll know they're fully mature," she told her class. "Then we'll be able to revive those poor people in the hospital wing."
* * *
"Hermione-I don't know who did it-I just found-," Watching fearfully, Parvati Patil pushed open the door.
The contents of Hermione's trunk had been thrown everywhere. Her cloak lay ripped on the floor. The bedclothes had been pulled off her four-poster and the drawer had been pulled out of her bedside cabinet, the contents strewn all over her mattress.
"I don't know who did it," Parvati whispered again. "I came in here and saw it.I'm really, really, sorry, Hermione.."
Wordlessly, Hermione walked over to the bed, treading on a few loose pages of The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2.
With a sigh, she replacing books in her trunk. It was not until she had placed the last book (Is there Harm in Charms? By Ima Freke) in her trunk that she noticed it.
Without more than a nod to Parvati, who was still standing in the middle of the room with a deeply apologetic expression, she flew out of her dormitory and down to the Common Room, where Ron was immersed in Transfiguration homework.
"Ron, someone broke into my dormitory and stuff was all over the place and Riddle's diary is gone," she said breathlessly.
"What?" said Ron, looking up from Mastering the Art of Transfiguration. "You mean someone stole it?"
"Yes," said Hermione in a low voice. "But why would someone steal it? And who would steal it?"
"Someone in Gryffindor," said Ron, peering suspiciously around the near- empty Common Room. "Nobody else knows our password."
"Exactly," said Hermione.
* * *
The next morning was given over to a Gryffindor Quidditch match. As Ron and Hermione prepared to leave for the field, Hermione suddenly stopped. "Wait," she said suddenly. "I've left my sweater in the dormitory."
"C'mon, Hermione, it's nearly June," said Ron incredulously. "Why d'you need a sweater?"
"You're wearing one," said Hermione pointedly. "Go on out to the field without me, I'll be there in a minute." She spun on her heel and raced off in the direction of the Gryffindor portrait hole, leaving Ron alone in the middle of the entrance hall.
"Whatever," he muttered, and followed the stream of students outside.
He found a seat in the stadium beside Dean, Seamus, and Hagrid. Putting his hat beside him to keep clear a place for Hermione, he turned his attention to the field.
The teams-Gryffindor and Hufflepuff-walked on to the field to tumultuous applause. Ron's stomach gave a lurch as he spotted the Gryffindor Seeker, a fifth-year boy he didn't know. Harry's the real Seeker, he thought bitterly.
Last year, after Professor McGonagall had witnessed him safe Neville Longbottom's Remembrall from a fifty-foot dive, he had been placed on the Gryffindor Quidditch team-the only first year to make the team in over a century. Now his position had been replaced by Roy Salinger, a fifth-year who didn't play half as well.
Ron's attention was brought back to the pitch as Professor McGonagall marched to the center, an enormous purple megaphone clutched in her right hand. His heart gave a lurch.
"This match has been canceled," Professor McGonagall barked through the megaphone, addressing the packed stadium. There were boos and shouts. Oliver Wood, captain of the Gryffindor team, looked devastated.
"But Professor," he shouted, "The match-the Cup-Gryffindor-,"
Professor McGonagall ignored him and continued to shout into her megaphone:
"All students are to make their way back to their House Common Rooms, where their Heads of Houses will give them further information. As quickly as you can, please!"
Then she lowered the megaphone and began to run to the side of the stadium where the Gryffindor supporters were arranged, all sporting red and gold. Surprisingly, she was coming right toward Ron.
"Weasley, I think you'd better come with me.." She said when she reached him. Wondering how McGonagall could possibly suspect him now, Ron followed her across the pitch and into the entrance hall. She led him up the marble staircase, but to his surprise he wasn't being taken to anyone's office this time.
"This will be a bit of a shock," said Professor McGonagall gently as they neared the infirmary. "There has been another attack. Another double attack."
She pushed the door open slowly and she and Ron entered. Ron's heart pounded loudly; his stomach felt as though it would never be still again. What happened? What happened? What happened? He kept asking himself.
Madam Pomfrey was bending over a fifth-year girl with long, curly hair who Ron didn't know. And on the bed next to her was-
"Hermione!" Ron gasped.
Hermione lay utterly still, her eyes open and glassy.
"They were found a few corridors away from the entrance hall," said Professor McGonagall.
Ron stared at her, horror-stricken. She was wearing her sweater, he noticed, and she had a cup in one hand.
"Why did she have the cup," Ron said. It wasn't a question; more of an excuse to say something.
"She was coming back from Gryffindor Tower, I assume," said Professor McGonagall softly. Professor Flitwick said he saw her get a drink on her way out. The water was found spilled on the floor beside them-I assume it was spilled in her surprise at whatever had crept up on her."
"Oh," said Ron, knowing he had to respond.
"I must escort you back to Gryffindor Tower," she said after a moment. "I need to address the students in any case."
* * *
"All students will return to their House Common Rooms by six o'clock in the evening. No student is to leave the dormitories after that time. You will be escorted to each lesson by a teacher. No student is to use the bathroom unaccompanied by a teacher. All further Quidditch training and matches are to be postponed. There will be no more evening activities."
The Gryffindors packed inside the Common Room listened to McGonagall in stony silence. She rolled up the parchment from which she had been reading and said in a somewhat choked voice, "I need hardly add that I have rarely been so distressed. It is likely that the school will be closed unless the culprit behind these attacks is caught. I would urge anyone who thinks they know anything about them to come forward."
She climbed somewhat awkwardly out of the portrait hole.
Ron could not seem to get rid of the picture of Hermione, lying on the hospital bed as though carved out of stone.
* * *
"Did you hear.?" "Yes, that's what I heard. Can you believe it?" "I knew that he was behind it all, I knew it." "Dumbledore's sure desperate." "Wouldn't you be?"
The murmurs and whispers greeted Ron as he entered the Great Hall the next morning. Surprisingly, they were not directed at him.
"Ron," said George, coming up to him with a strangely pained look on his face. "Did you hear what the Minister of Magic did last night?"
"What?" asked Ron uneasily, taking a slice of toast from a platter in the middle of the long table.
"Er-he arrested Hagrid last night, Ron. Took him to Azkaban."
Ron's jaw dropped. "Serious?" he croaked.
"Yeah," said George. He sat down beside Ron and helped himself to a glass of cold orange juice.
"Why?" asked Ron, although he knew the answer.
"Some daft story about him being the Heir of Slytherin," said George, taking a large gulp of the orange juice.
Ron didn't touch his toast. "Oh," he said dully. So it hadn't mattered that he and Hermione'd kept their mouths shut-but of course, Dumbledore would have known it already. Somehow, though, Ron was sure that Dumbledore had not agreed to take Hagrid away. What about Dumbledore? He asked himself. It was not until George answered that he realized he'd spoken aloud.
"That's the other part," said George. "You going to eat this?" when Ron shook his head, George slid the plate of toast over and took a large bite.
"What's the other part?" Ron asked, unable to stop himself.
"Lucius Malfoy came with a written order for Dumbledore's suspension. All the governors of the school'd signed it-though I bet Malfoy had to blackmail every one of `em. Anyway, Dumbledore's gone now. McGonagall's filling in until Dumbledore comes back.or until the governors elect a new Headmaster."
Ron paled. "But-but-," he stammered.
"But what?" asked George.
"But with Dumbledore gone, half the school'll be attacked!" Ron said.
"Yeah, I know," said George, downing the rest of the orange juice. "Say, Ron, could you get me more juice?"
"No," Ron said waspishly, and turned away. Hagrid gone? Dumbledore gone? It was as if the Heir of Slytherin had been given free rein over the school. No one, no one, would be able to restore order if Dumbledore could not.
"It looks like they're going to close the school," said George solemnly, slipping back into his seat with a full glass of orange juice. "If the attacks don't stop."
"Yeah," mumbled Ron.
"Ron, what's wrong with you this morning?" asked George, his mouth full of porridge.
Ron turned around, scowling. "My two best friends are gone. One of them's probably dead. The school's going to be closing, I'll never get a chance to graduate from Hogwarts-,"
"Well neither will I," said George reasonably.
Ron scowled deeper. "All right then," he snapped, "I'll never get a chance to be a third year at Hogwarts. The Heir of Slytherin's taken over the school, people I know and live with are next on his list. Care to hear more?" he drew a deep breath, but George stopped him, an odd look on his face.
"Sorry for asking," George said. All ambivalence was gone from his tone. "I didn't realize-I mean, I forgot-,"
"It's okay," said Ron wearily. "But I'm going back to Gryffindor Tower. G'bye."
He stood up quickly and left the hall, his stomach feeling emptier than it had when he had entered. But he didn't care; all he wanted now was to be alone. He seriously considered skipping the first class of the day to go back to sleep, but decided that was a good way to get detention fast.
Seamus Finnigan came up to get him an hour later. "We've had some good news," he said in a forced bright tone.
"Yeah, I heard about that good news," Ron said. "Hagrid's been sacked and so has Dumbledore."
"No, really," Seamus said. "Professor Sprout said that the Mandrakes'd be ready for cutting next Monday. Er.that means that Hermione and those others will, you know, be back to normal."
"Sure," said Ron. He was only half-listening. Before Seamus had come up he'd been looking at the small photograph album, the one he hadn't looked at since the start of the year. When he'd heard footsteps, he'd tucked it quickly back under the bed, but one red leather corner peeked out at him, and he was staring at it hard, trying to ignore the pricking at his eyes.
"Unfortunately, we've still got exams-starting next Thursday. Er.I guess your friend Hermione will be sad that she didn't get to study up on them."
"Yeah, I guess so," said Ron dully.
"Listen, are you even paying attention to what I'm saying?" asked Seamus irritably.
"No," said Ron truthfully.
"Fine then, I'm leaving," Seamus said. As he got to the door he turned around and called back, "Class starts in ten minutes. You'd better be in the Common Room in five; McGonagall's waiting to take us."