Chapter Thirteen; Breach of Trust
Harry,
Congratulations on winning your match and making captain! Are you aware that your father was the Gryffindor Captain, too? Quidditch skill must run in the family.
Just a word of general advice – keep an eye on the Bludgers because if they hit you, you're going to know about it! The Weasley twins are fantastic but they can't be everywhere at once. I've had my jaw broken by a speeding Bludger once because I wasn't paying enough attention. (I was playing Beater at the time; I have no excuse!) Even after Madam Pomfrey healed it my jaw stayed numb for hours and I could barely speak. James made the 'Oh, so insightful' observation that it was probably the only time I'd ever been quiet for more than ten minutes.
You know James would be proud of you, just as much as I am.
Keep in touch
Sirius.
Harry happily sat reading and re-reading Sirius' letter over breakfast the next morning and all the way through History of Magic. The letter stayed in his pocket for the next few days, but Harry didn't dare take it out during Potions or Care of Magical Creatures when Snape or any of the Slytherins were around.
Malfoy hadn't been in a good mood all week, mainly due to Slytherin losing spectacularly to Ravenclaw by almost three hundred points in their first match. This was great news for the other Houses because if Gryffindor beat Slytherin later in the season, they wouldn't make it into the final for the first time in nearly twenty years, which everyone took great pleasure in reminding the Slytherins of.
However, this didn't stop Malfoy from badmouthing the Gryffindors during lessons. Harry ignored him for as long as he could and was more than pleased when Hagrid overheard Malfoy and took twenty points from Slytherin.
The class had just started studying Fwoopers; brightly coloured African birds that sang almost constantly. The birds were fun to listen to at first but by the end of the lesson their ears were ringing.
Even though the fifth years were working harder than ever, most of their lessons still proved fun. Professor Flitwick had been teaching them a Chameleon Charm and those that caught on quick enough were able to cause all sorts of mischief. Professor Flitwick was delighted.
McGonagall wasn't so amused with students fading from sight during her lessons and reappearing half a minute later on the other side of the classroom. At the cost of ten points per Chameleon Charm, the students quickly learnt to keep their fun confined to the common room in the evenings.
Divination was actually more bearable than usual. Tarot cards were fairly easy to read once you got the hang of it. Professor Trelawney was still predicting Harry's death, but by now, Harry had developed the knack of blocking her voice out whenever she started, focusing more on creating ridiculous predictions from the cards.
In fact, the only lesson Harry had a problem with, apart from Potions, was Defence Against the Dark Arts. He hadn't dreaded them this much since Lockhart had taught it three years ago.
Today was no exception.
'Nice work, Mr Thomas, remember to keep your wand steady. Excellent, Mr Weasley, that's near perfect, keep it up.'
Professor Torr strode up and down in front of the class, inspecting their Fire Shield Charms. Ron was looking particularly smug at the praise. Harry hastily returned his attention to his own efforts as Professor Torr glanced expectantly in his direction.
Waving his wand in a complicated motion through the air in front of him, Harry concentrated hard.
'Ignis scutum!' he commanded firmly.
A burst of fiery heat blew across his face as a stream of fire materialised before him, rising up over his head. But before the Shield could fully take form, the fire abruptly burnt itself out, leaving behind a thick cloud of dark smoke and a scattering of hot glowing embers.
Harry closed his eyes, grimacing in frustration.
'Not bad, Mr Potter,' Professor Torr said coolly, her lip curling slightly. 'Though perhaps if you wouldn't mind paying your full attention you wouldn't be so far behind.'
Harry scowled once she'd turned her back on him. Her attitude was nothing short of infuriating. Why didn't she try to help him instead of ridiculing his efforts? Even with his O.W.L results at risk, Harry couldn't bring himself to ask for Professor Torr's assistance, not when Hermione was actually willing to help him.
Ron made it very clear that he thought Harry was just being plain stubborn and immature.
'You're just miffed that you've found something you're not very good at,' said Ron, admiring his Defence essay that Professor Torr had marked with a perfect score. 'You can't be perfect at everything – that's Hermione's job.'
It was an irrational feeling but Harry couldn't help but feel a little resentful towards Ron. Ron had proved to be quite apt at these defence spells, displaying a competent aptitude that he'd lacked in his other subjects. It was a wonder why Professor Torr even bothered asking him if he needed any help when others were so obviously in greater need of it.
BANG!
The entire classroom was suddenly engulfed in thick smoke. Harry couldn't see more than two feet in any direction before closing his eyes to keep them from stinging. Someone bumped against Harry as they passed, fumbling blindly. Everyone around him were coughing and spluttering, helplessly trying to wave the smoke away.
The windows were flung open and the smoke billowed out, repelled by Professor Torr as she waved her wand, one hand over her mouth, coughing forcibly. When the last wisps of smoke had flown outside, the windows slammed shut. Professor Torr's angry violet eyes glared stonily around the silent class, before slowly coming to rest on Neville.
Neville stared back, wide-eyed like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car.
'B-but it w-wasn't me!' he stammered as everyone turned to look at him.
It went without saying that Neville was notoriously accident prone and scatter-brained. Something was guaranteed to go wrong for him in almost every lesson. In their last Potions lesson for example, Neville's Paralysis Potion had set like cold, lumpy custard, fusing itself to the inside of his cauldron. The result was one detention courtesy of Snape. Things broke, items were lost and spells backfired occasionally, but Neville had never denied having anything to do with it, he just accepted the consequences.
Until now.
'I didn't do it, Professor!' he insisted.
Professor Torr glared at him, arms folded. She didn't believe him.
With a pleading look, Neville turned to Hermione who had been working beside him. Hermione was nervously fidgeting with her wand. She looked at him apologetically, mouthing the word 'sorry'.
'Mr. Longbottom,' Professor Torr said coldly. 'Stay behind after class.'
Neville nodded miserably.
Twenty minutes later the bell rang and the class were dismissed. As they filled out Neville proceeded to Professor Torr's desk. Hermione dashed past him and suddenly banged her hip against the corner of the desk. A small white vase of little yellow flowers wobbled dangerously close to the edge ... and fell.
'Accio vase!'
A split second before it could hit the floor, the little vase flew back up, spilling the flowers out onto the floor in all directions. Heart thumping, Harry caught the fragile vase in his hands. Professor Torr swept over to them. She stood, hands on hips, glaring disapprovingly at Hermione.
'Miss Granger, what do you think you're doing? Running through a crowded classroom – it's dangerous! You could hurt yourself or break something.'
She held out her slender hand to Harry. Without a word, Harry handed her vase back. Professor Torr set it on her desk, turning back to Hermione.
'I'm very sorry Professor,' said Hermione meekly. Kneeling down, she hastily started to gather up the flowers.
'I think you ought to apologise to your classmates for the loss of five points,' said Professor Torr coldly. Her violet eyes flicked over to Harry. 'Mr Potter, the lesson is over; you, therefore, should be gone.'
Silently Harry turned and left, meeting up with Ron who had been hovering in the corridor just outside the door. Looking back, Harry saw Hermione hand Professor Torr a slightly squashed bunch of flowers, holding one hand clenched behind her back. Turning to leave, she quickly transferred whatever she held into a deep pocket. Hurriedly leaving the room, she caught up with Harry and Ron.
'Are you okay?' asked Ron as they started off down the corridor.
'Yes, it's only a bruise,' said Hermione, tenderly rubbing her hip.
'You know, it's very strange ...' Harry said slowly. 'Neville's normally the clumsy one.'
Hermione went slightly pink.
'It was an accident.' she insisted.
'Like the spell backfiring just now?'
Hermione bit her lip.
'Neville wasn't lying when he said it wasn't him.' Harry said quietly, looking at Hermione who was now avoiding his stare.
Ron looked back and forth between them, looking confused.
'What are you getting at, Harry?' he asked.
'That Hermione deliberately cast her spell incorrectly and let Neville take the blame for it.'
Ron stared at her in total shock.
'Okay ... now I'm really lost ... what the hell did you do that for?'
Hermione didn't answer right away. She beckoned them to follow and silently led them downstairs and into a disused classroom. From inside her pocket, she drew out two small cubes, not much smaller than a pair of Snitches, one pale blue and one pale yellow.
'What are these?' Ron asked, picking up the blue cube and examining it closely.
'They're Voice Boxes,' said Hermione. 'They record and play back sound, similar to a Muggle tape recorder.'
'Where did you get them?'
'Owl-ordered them from Teen Witch magazine. I've been using them for class notes.'
'Is that all you've been using them for?' Harry asked suspiciously.
Hermione shook her head. Holding her hand out to Ron, he gave her back the blue Voice Box. Holding it in her open palm, Hermione whispered an incantation. The cube glowed and then...
# - deserve an award,
For the role that you played,
No more masquerade- #
Professor Torr's voice, reduced to a near whisper, repeated the song she'd performed on Halloween.
Hermione silenced it, and then held up the yellow cube.
'Now listen to this one.'
Once again, Professor Torr's voice came from the Box.
# - Mr Longbottom, stay behind after class. #
Harry frowned, looked up at Hermione.
'Hear it?' she asked.
'Yeah,' said Ron, frowning. 'They're different.'
'Almost completely different voice prints,' Hermione stated matter-of-factly.
'But they sound so-'
'Similar? They'd have to be, otherwise it would be too obvious that neither of these are Professor Torr's real voice. Look.'
From the blue cube rose a dark wavy blue line, floating in the air in front of them.
'This is the voice she used to sing at Halloween.' Hermione explained. 'But this is what I found underneath.' The line split in two. One was the original deep blue while the new one was dull green. 'Want to hear it?'
Harry nodded.
The new line glowed and the song began again.
# - It comes so easy,
When you get to the part - #
Harry and Ron cringed. This voice was awful! Deeper, grating and completely out of tune.
'Who on Earth is that?' Ron demanded. 'It sounds like a strangled cat!'
'That strangled cat would be Professor Torr,' said Hermione, suppressing a smile.
'Eh?' Ron was lost again.
'That's her real voice under the fake one, the one we all hear. But this is the latest sample, the one I've just got.'
A wavy line emerged from the yellow cube, splitting itself in two on Hermione's command; one yellow and one brown. The brown matched up with the green line but the yellow didn't match up with the blue.
'The brown and green lines are both samples of Professor Torr's real voice but the others are not. She's dubbed her voice with completely different prints. I noticed her voice sounded odd at the dance so I recorded it to break down later on ... but I wanted a second sample, just to be sure ... that's why I cast that smoke-screen ... I hid the second cube in that bunch of flowers when no one could see me-'
'Leaving Neville to take the blame?' said Ron.
'I didn't mean to get Neville into trouble!' Hermione snapped. 'It's not my fault that she put the blame on Neville, if I owned up to it she'd think I was just doing it to get him out of trouble!'
'And she'd be right.'
'Yes and Neville would still have been held responsible!' she huffed, shoving the cubes back into her pocket and folding her arms.
'And what, may I ask, is the point of this?' asked Ron, his face clouding suspiciously. He glanced at Harry who in turn stole a glance at Hermione. Ron raised his eyebrows in sudden understanding.
'Oh, come on! You don't think she's some of sort of agent for You-Know-Who, do you?'
'We never said that, Ron,' said Harry bracingly.
'Ron,' said Hermione quickly, 'we just felt that it was better to be safe than sorry. We want to make sure that she can be trusted.'
Ron frowned.
'And what do those voice prints prove? That she dubs her real voice with a decent singing one, once in a while? Oh, yeah, now there's a capital offence,' he said sarcastically.
Reluctantly, Hermione had to admit that the voice samples by themselves didn't prove anything and they all knew it.
'Okay, maybe it's simply a false alarm and there's some perfectly rational explanation for these,' she said evenly. 'But personally, I'd feel better if we knew a little more.'
Ron remained adamant that both Harry and Hermione were barking up the wrong tree for no reason. Walking back to the common room, Harry insisted that they would drop the subject unless something else came up. As of yet, they had no evidence of anything, if indeed, there was anything to be proven.
*
December arrived, bringing the Christmas holidays, along with a Hogsmeade weekend for the remaining students on Christmas Day. Harry wrote to Sirius and they arranged to meet up in Hogsmeade to spend the day together. Remus had briefly returned to Hogsmeade but had gone with Buckbeak on another mission for Dumbledore. Sirius confessed in his letter that he'd been asked to go, but Remus had insisted they swap so that Sirius got to spend Christmas with Harry.
Harry was again growing impatient to talk to his godfather. He wasn't sure how he was going to bring up the subject of Professor Torr's dodgy vocals but then decided that he wouldn't. He didn't want to spoil the day by talking about some weird professor of his. The talisman Harry refused to take off as he'd promised Sirius, hung around his neck like a dead weight, making its presence felt. Harry felt uncomfortable knowing that Professor Torr had that ring of hers on at all times as well. Even if the talisman did alert her to whatever danger he might be in, Harry wasn't reassured that she'd be first by his side instead of his godfather.
*
On Christmas morning, Harry woke up to the sound of Hedwig screeching in his ear, bringing a present from Sirius. Eagerly Harry ripped off the paper to find a jar of Bruise Balm. The note attached, baring a large paw print, read; Should come in handy at your next match! Merry Christmas from Padfoot,
Harry also received another Weasley sweater, this time a royal blue, and a large box of mince pies. Hermione had given him a red Voice Box ('You never know when you might need one.') and he received a tin of broomstick polish from Ron, as a refill for his servicing kit.
The castle had been decorated overnight. Everything inside was covered in a thin layer of strangely warm frost and huge icicles hung from the ceilings and torch brackets. A mini ice-rink had been formed in the Entrance Hall; several students were happily skating in circles while others slid helplessly across the hall on their backsides. Outside several feet of snow had fallen and many people were pelting their friends with snowballs or building snowmen.
After lunch, Harry, Ron and Hermione headed out to Hogsmeade, wrapped up in cloaks, scarves, gloves and hats, their warm breath forming misty clouds in front of them as they trudged through the snow and into the village.
Ron and Hermione both headed straight for Honeydukes the sweet shop, while Harry set off to meet Sirius. The Three Broomsticks was very warm and inviting, drawing Harry in like a magnet and up to the bar to order a Butterbeer. Sitting by the frosted windows near the door, Harry held his tankard with both hands to warm them up, his emerald green eyes sweeping the room, patiently waiting.
*
Harry drained the last of his Butterbeer and glanced around the tavern. Madam Rosmerta was serving a group of young warlocks who were trying to coax her into standing beneath the mistletoe. Playfully, Madam Rosmerta pretended not to see the mistletoe and repeatedly stood in the wrong place. Many Hogwarts students were scattered around the room, happily chatting and showing off their gifts to one other.
There was no sign of a large, shaggy black dog.
With a small sigh, Harry looked glanced out of the window at the swirling snow, then down at his watch. It was quarter past one. Sirius promised he'd be here at one. Maybe his watch was fast? Anxiously, Harry swivelled round in his seat to check the clock on the wall behind the bar. No, it was definitely fifteen minutes past.
'Harry?'
Harry spun round. Ron and Hermione had just entered the pub, both looking about uncertainly.
'Harry, where's Snuffles?' asked Hermione, brow furrowed. 'You did say one o'clock, didn't you?'
'Yeah,' said Harry, again looking round the pub. 'He said he'd be here but I haven't seen him.'
'Do you think something might have happened?' Ron whispered nervously, lowering his voice as a warlock strode past them.
Harry stood up.
'Come on, let's check his room.'
They crossed the pub to the narrow passageway partly hidden behind the bar, which led to the staircase for the upper floors. Harry took the stairs two at a time.
Why hadn't Sirius come to meet him? Was he ill in bed, perhaps? The last time Harry had seen his godfather he hadn't looked particularly well, admitting to a headache and not sleeping …
Trying to stay calm, Harry led Hermione and Ron down the candle-lit corridor. Room 5 was right at the far end. Checking carefully that no one was about, Harry slowly raised a hand and knocked softly on the door.
There was no answer.
He knocked again, a little louder, and pressed his ear to the door. Nothing.
'I don't think he's in,' said Hermione uneasily. 'Shouldn't we go back downstairs and wait for him?'
Harry tried the handle. It didn't move.
'Cervus,' he whispered, and twisted it again.
This time the handle turned and Harry opened the door.
'Sirius?' he called softly, sticking his head in.
Again, he heard nothing. Pushing the door open wide, Harry stepped over the threshold.
It was clear at a glance that Sirius was not there. The dark panelled room was simply furnished. Two neatly made beds, a writer's bureau, a tall wardrobe and a mirror hanging on the wall. The adjourning bathroom was empty too.
'Where is he?' asked Harry, looking hopelessly about the room for some indication of his godfather's whereabouts.
'Madam Rosmerta might know,' said Ron. 'We could go back down and ask her –'
'Oh, I see,' came a grumbling voice from behind them. 'Don't bother asking me, then. I'll just hang around here and be ignored, shall I?'
Harry, Ron and Hermione jumped, looking about the room for the owner of the voice. But there was no one in sight.
'Who's there?' demanded Harry, pulling his wand out of his pocket. 'Show yourself.'
'I'm right here, you idiot! What's the matter, you blind?'
Slowly, Harry turned to the direction of the voice. His gaze fell upon the nondescript wooden framed mirror hanging opposite.
'Ah!' said the mirror excitedly. 'You must be Harry!'
Harry glanced back over his shoulder at Ron and Hermione, perplexed. He was used to witches and wizards recognising him as the Boy-Who-Lived, but never before had he been addressed by a piece of furniture.
'Excuse me,' he said nervously, 'but how do you know who I am?'
'Well, it's not like I heard about anyone else when your godfather moved in,' said the mirror wearily. 'You were all he talked about the first week or two.'
'Sirius? You've seen Sirius?' Harry stepped right up to the mirror, staring hard at his own reflection.
'Course I've seen him, he lives here,' drawled the mirror. 'But if what you mean is, have I seen him today, then sure, I saw him this morning. Boy, was he grumpy. I should warn you, he is not a morning person. Try to make pleasant conversation and he threatens to put his fist through me if I didn't shut up.' The mirror sighed. 'That guy has been getting worse since his friend left.'
'Worse how?' asked Hermione, coming up behind Harry. 'Has he been sick?'
'Only if you count major mood-swings. One minute he'd be perfectly fine, then the next he'd be like a bear with a sore head. I don't know how his friend put up with it. Anything seemed capable of setting him off. I don't think they've spoken for a while, actually.'
'Sirius and Remus were arguing? About what?' said Harry incredulously.
'Not sure. Something about you, I think. Oh, and the letters Sirius was receiving; seemed to irritate Remus something chronic.'
'Any idea why?' asked Hermione. 'Who were they from?'
'They never mentioned a name, not when I was paying attention anyway. But every time your godfather got one he'd just go … I dunno … kinda spaced out, like he wasn't all there, you know? He got one this morning and he left pretty quickly.'
'What letter?' demanded Harry, 'Where is it?'
The mirror fell silent, presumably a little disgruntled by Harry's forceful tone.
'It's in the bin,'
Harry seized the waste bin that stood beside the bureau. A small sheet of slightly crumpled parchment lay in the bottom.
'Is it from Remus?' asked Ron. Hermione leaned over Harry's shoulder as he smoothed the parchment out. 'Maybe something urgent came up?'
'I sincerely doubt that Remus would send Sirius a perfumed scented letter,' Harry coughed, holding the letter at arms length.
'Unless there's something they're not telling us, of course,' Ron muttered, forcing a laugh.
Hermione took a delicate sniff of the parchment. Wrinkling her nose, she hastily waved her hand in front of her face.
'That's rather strong,' she said, taking a step back. 'What does it say?'
Harry squinted hard at the delicate loopy handwriting. It was very small and difficult to read. Try as Harry might he could only make out a few words and they didn't tell him anything. The only name that was legible was that of the addressee; Sirius.
'This isn't any use, I can't even read it,' said Harry, angrily thrusting it at Hermione. 'It's definitely not Remus' handwriting.' He glared up at the mirror. 'D'you have any idea where he's gone?'
'Nope,' quipped the mirror.
'Well, when did he leave?'
The mirror mulled it over.
'About an hour ago, give or take ten minutes.'
'But then he must have left shortly before I got here,' said Harry.
'Right after he finished that letter. Guess he's gone to meet someone. It seemed pretty urgent, considering how fast he left,' added the mirror, not helping Harry's stressful position in the slightest.
Not wanting to worry Harry further, Hermione quickly put forward the suggestion that they go out and look for Sirius around Hogsmeade.
'He can't have gone far. He's probably still in the village,' she said, stuffing the letter into her pocket. Harry seemed to calm down a little at her words, although she wasn't sure if she was right. Still, a plan of action gave Harry something to focus on.
'You're right. I'm gonna go look for him,'
'Do I even get a 'thank you'?' sighed the mirror mournfully as Harry hurried out into the corridor, Ron at his heels. 'Just forget about the mirror … everybody else does,'
Hermione, poised in the doorway, turned and aimed her wand at the mirror.
'Mundo!'
A cloud of gold sparks whooshed out of her wand and swirled around the mirror. In an instant the glass was sparkling clean, not a smudge to be seen; the dust on the frame was gone and the frame was shifted ever so slight to straighten itself up.
'Hey, that tickled!' giggled the mirror, 'But thanks!'
'Don't mention it,' smiled Hermione, 'You won't tell anyone that we were here, will you?'
'If I had lips, they'd be sealed.'
'Thank you,' said Hermione, shutting the door and racing away to catch up with the boys.
*
Harry hadn't felt this uneasy since the morning of his surprise birthday party, thinking that something had happened to the Weasleys after waking to a silent and seemingly deserted house.
For over an hour Harry led his friends up and down the streets, right round the edge of the village and back again without a sign of his godfather anywhere. Looking over his shoulder, Harry could see that Ron and Hermione were half inclined to give up, but they stayed with him without a word about the freezing weather or the fact that their search seemed almost pointless - Sirius wasn't in Hogsmeade.
'Maybe we should split up?' Hermione asked Harry, re-arranging her scarf.
'We could meet up in front of the Three Broomsticks in, say, half an hour?' added Ron, his teeth chattering.
Harry agreed and each of them set off in a different direction, disappearing into the crowds. Struggling through the deep snow, Harry continued up the street. He hardly seemed aware of the cold. He walked as quickly as the snowdrifts would allow, eyes darting from one person to the next as they passed him by, scanning the entrances to small, darkened alleyways and up the brightly lit main streets.
Harry hesitantly pushed his robe sleeve up to check his watch. It was now getting on for three o'clock. Goosebumps rose on his exposed wrist and he quickly shoved his sleeve back down and pressed on.
Sirius had promised to come and spend the day with Harry - he wouldn't go back on his promise, surely. So something must have happened. Perhaps Remus had come back and had needed to speak with Sirius urgently, like Ron had said? Something to do with Voldemort? If it had been a dire emergency, then Sirius wouldn't have had time to tell Harry that he would be able to meet him …
After half an hour, just as Harry was about to reluctantly admit defeat and go back to the Three Broomsticks, he spotted something that made his heart and body stop cold.
Professor Torr, dressed in a green velvet hooded cloak with fluffy white trim, had just emerged from Honeydukes, arms loaded with fancy gift boxes. Smiling her perfect smile, she looked down at her companion.
A large, shaggy black dog.
Harry stood rooted to the spot, blinking hard for a moment, not even noticing the people jostling past him. He watched as Professor Torr and the dog crossed the road together and disappeared down a side street leading to the outskirts of the village.
Slowly, as though hypnotised, Harry followed. He turned onto the street in time to see the hem of Professor Torr's cloak whip round another corner.
Harry broke into a jog to catch up. He knew that Ron and Hermione were going to be worried if he didn't meet them, but all he could think of was to follow.
Within minutes, Professor Torr had left the main streets of the village and was making her way round the outskirts, taking a path through the darkened back streets, the dog trotting obediently by her side.
Harry, wishing he had his Invisibility Cloak with him, kept about fifty metres behind them, only speeding up when he lost sight of them. Once, Professor Torr looked back over her shoulder and Harry quickly moved back to hide behind a building. Peering round the corner a few moments later, he saw the dog had stopped, looking questioningly up at her. Professor Torr shook her head, smiled, and they continued on their way.
Soon, Harry had to resort to following the footprints in the snow, not paying much attention to anything else until he looked up to see that he'd come a full circle; he'd arrived in the alley that ran behind the Three Broomsticks. The foot and paw prints led straight to a long, low building at the rear of the tavern.
Harry slowly crept closer, straining his ears for any sound. The building smelt of hay and through the double doors, Harry could make out a stall. A slender chestnut horse lifted its head, its warm breath exploding in a misty cloud as it snorted.
Harry paused at the stable door, eyeing the horse cautiously. It stared benignly at him with its dark eyes. It leaned its head out, sniffing eagerly for a treat. Harry shook his head and spread his empty hands. Disappointed, the horse retreated back into its stall and turned its back on Harry, pulling hay from a rack.
Harry tiptoed inside. A few other stalls were occupied. There was no sign of Professor Torr or the dog.
'Caw?'
Startled, Harry jerked back a pace. Buckbeak the Hippogriff was curiously poking his feathered head out of his stall to see who was sneaking around, eyes narrowing slightly as Harry continued his approach. Pausing a few feet from him, Harry bowed to Buckbeak and waited. Buckbeak, unable to bend his knees probably, lowered his head as far as the door would allow, permitting Harry to come closer.
Harry was half frozen by now and he was sure that his chattering teeth could be heard a mile off as he crept as quietly as he could down the passage. He stopped, listening. Muffled sounds could be heard, not too far off. Harry crept to the next stall. The door was slightly open. Half crouched Harry leaned over to peer through the crack.
His mouth fell open in silent horror, eyes wide.
There, among the bales of hay, were Professor Torr and his godfather. No longer in the guise of a dog, Sirius was half lying in the hay, his arms wrapped round Professor Torr who was practically sitting on his lap, forcing him back gently, their lips locked in a passionate kiss. Her hands running over his chest and down the length of his body, easing off his cloak …
Harry wasn't sure how long he stood there. Ten seconds, a minute? Did it matter?
Time stopped.
When it started again, Harry spun on his heel and ran.
*
To Be Continued
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Please review
All comments and constructive criticism are appreciated.
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Authors Notes
Evol norgara – You looked like an elf in a photo? That can't be bad! And sorry, the pie rule stands. *peers about the room, lowers voice and beckons Evol closer* Try bribing the guard on the main gate, the one that looks suspiciously how Dudley Dursley would be if you aged him sixty years. Nice guy, will do anything for a buttered crumpet.
Elbereth94 – Yeah, I'm sorry too. But I really can't say anything! *whines* It'll spoil everything if I do!
Christy – Well, as you can now see, we have sparks between Professor Torr and Sirius! *plays little fanfare* I did consider having Professor Torr give more input to the Quidditch trials but she was better off on the sidelines – otherwise most people would have started showing off, they needed to concentrate on the trial, not the coach. Ah, had to have Sirius there at the match! He said he came to watch Harry play during the third year so why break with tradition? ^_^
MorganD – I can assure you that pointing out the mistakes and silly errors do not annoy me. When I look back on the chapter and suddenly realise how obvious some of them are, that annoys me! And that's entirely my fault. Some of them, like spilt/split, don't bother me too much because that kind of error is very easy to make and difficult to spot – especially since the spellchecker doesn't pick up on them. The apostrophises … well, my New Years resolution is to master the correct use of them. My wonderful Beta Lil Lupin is helping me out a lot with them, but clearly still making a few slip ups here and there. Sorry Lil! She does a great job correcting my grammar and so on, although a few mistakes are blatantly slipping through the net. *sigh* We'll get there eventually.
So, really, please don't stop pointing mistakes out to me – how else am I going to know about them? I need to know where my weak spots are! Apostrophises on the whole are improving, as far as Lil is concerned. ^_^ She sent me some rules on the use of them and they're a great help. Hopefully my next fic won't have so many little errors. (I went through this chapter again before posting and corrected another three mistakes!)
15 page reviews?? In the words of Ron Weasley – 'Bloody hell!' Hope FairyTale appreciates it! ^_^
Evil spapple pie – Music skill? Hhm, an alien concept with me I'm afraid! ^_^ Probably my greatest musical achievement to date is teaching myself to play Jingle Bells. LOL. I'm sure you're all dully impressed. Oh! You can speak Japanese??! How cool is that?! I know maybe 12 words – no where near enough to string together a sentence. I've been picking up a few words over the past six /seven months now that I'm learning a martial art. I'd love to be fluent in a different language – can't see it happening though! ^_^ Best of luck to you with your Japanese!
Corrie – Ohh, you're back again! I like this; reviewers coming back for more; makes me smile all day! ^_^ Glad you like it so far.