Chapter 13
The Silver Goblet After the excitements of Christmas lessons seemed remarkably quiet. The teachers seemed to all have the same idea, to give them as much homework as possible. There was so much work, that Harry didn't get many chances to play on the Quiddax. It was very popular with the other Gryffindors, who considered Harry their hero for letting them use it. Malfoy was quietly fuming, but outwardly saying that Quiddax was out of date, and even that he had one at home, but nobody believed him. It was useful for practices, and Harry tried to get at least a couple of hours on it, because although it wasn't the same as actually being on his Firebolt, it was very close, and stopped him getting rusty. Much time was spent in the gloomy library studying hard. It was a relief when the second Quidditch Match arrived to take Harry's mind off the forthcoming exams. The game was against Hufflepuff, and after the victory over Slytherin, Gryffindor hopes were high. The morning of the match was very frosty, and for once Harry didn't have the familiar sick feeling in his stomach. For once he was feeling almost confident. They'd beaten Hufflepuff before, and they were going to do it again. All along the tables Gryffindors were eating merrily. Even Harry managed a smile. They were soon in their Quidditch robes and in the air. Harry immediately became calm and focused, searching the clear cold air for the snitch. Down below him the players were whizzing about, every so often rubbing their red hands. Harry didn't feel cold because of the magical jumper, but his hands and nose were a shade of deep purple. The other seeker was looking extremely cold, and was also looking rather miserable. Her name was Gimeini Kirsch, and was very thin with a mean looking face. Harry didn't like her much, she was always spreading rumours about others. She glared at him, but Harry sped round the pitch a few times, and then avoiding a few bludgers he watched from a lower down position than usual. The sun was struggling feebly against the icy air. Lizzy below him was working hard in goal. Gryffindor was definitely the better team. Hufflepuff had to work hard to keep up with the speeding Gryffindors. The score was already in the hundreds. Alicia had just scored another goal. The snitch suddenly fluttered just above the frozen ground. The Hufflepuff seeker was a lot closer and was already racing towards it. Without thinking Harry bent low over his Firebolt and sped towards the snitch. His whole body was focused on the snitch. The tiny golden ball was fluttering nonchalantly a few feet above the ground. It was dangerous to go so close to the ground, Harry could see out of the corner of his eye Gimeini level with him. Harry bent even lower, and tried to give the Firebolt an extra ounce of speed. His hand stretched out and closed around the snitch, but a second later the Gimeini's long fingers closed round the snitch and Harry's hand. The ball was yanked form Harry's fingers making Harry loose his balance and fall sprawling onto the frosty grass. The Gryffindor's in the stand were howling with rage. Madame Hooch swooped over. "Stop!" she roared to the Gimeini Kirsch who was doing a victory lap around the pitch to the fury of the majority of the spectators. "Gryffindor had that snitch. Gryffindor wins." She then bent over Harry who had fallen awkwardly on his wrist and was now holding it tightly to his chest. Pain was shooting through it. Around him the Gryffindors were cheering with venom. The disgraced seeker had crept off to a series of boos and hisses. Numbly Harry made his way to the hospital wing. Madame Pomfrey looked at his wrist carefully. She went to the large carved cupboard where the medicines and potions were kept, tutting about the dangers of Quidditch. She came back with a large ceramic bowl with an odd looking green cream that smelled vaguely of peppermint. She rubbed some onto Harry's wrist. She said lightly "This will stop it swelling, you've only sprained it, but take it easy for the next few days. Come back if it continues hurting." Harry entered the common room to scenes of elation. They had won the Quidditch Cup unless Ravenclaw beat Slytherin with at least a two hundred and thirty point margin, and they lost the next match against Ravenclaw. As this was almost impossible, Gryffindors were assured of a victory. Harry was treated as a hero. The Weasley's had raided the kitchen and returned laden with plates of cream cakes, iced buns and pumpkin pasties. Someone had brought a music stone, which was similar to muggle cassette players. It was broadcasting loud tinkling music. Everyone seemed to be in a top mood. Harry was swamped by Gryffindors coming to congratulate them. The feast was at it's height when four large tawny owls swooped in bearing a large barrel. A label was tied to its neck. To Harry and the Gryffindors, Congratulations on your victory. With compliments Professor McGonegall Harry grinned widely and held the flask of butterbeer high as he read the message. The Gryffindors cheered. Before they could finish, another owl swooped in the window. In its talons there was a large silver goblet. Four gold bats encircled the rim, while two owls, their wings outstretched were engraved on the base. Its label said simply To Harry. Some cups were brought, and Harry poured a small amount for the other Gryffindors. He poured a portion for himself in the new cup. Just then Neville came in with a large cut over his eye. The Gryffindors crowded round him. He was trembling violently. "Malfoy, was cross, he b.b.bewitched a knife" he stuttered. The Gryffindors looked mutinous. "Go and tell Professor McGonagall" Ron told him furiously. "I don't want to make things any worse," Neville told him miserably. "Well, have some butterbeer that McGonagall sent us," said Lizzy kindly. Neville nodded. And went over to the bench. "We're going to have to get out own back" raged Ron. "It's gone far enough, we'll."But what Ron was going to do, they didn't find out. Neville had collapsed on the floor and was a dreadful green colour. He was retching violently. Harry's silver goblet was in his hand. Harry had just time to see Sirius's face as he rushed past him. Harry had never seen him look so terrified. Sirius virtually threw Gryffindors out of the way in his attempt to reach Neville. He grabbed the now limp Neville in his arms and hurried out of the room. The Gryffindors stared silently at the closing portrait hole, their drinks and food forgotten. No-one felt like continuing the party, and quietly in small groups, they left the silent common room. Harry was sat on a large red stuffed chair looking blankly at the cup still lying on the floor, the golden butterbeer soaked into the rich red carpet. Hermione and Ron were looking equally shocked. Eventually Hermione broke the silence, "That cup was meant for you. Everyone else drank the butterbeer and they were alright. The cup must have been poisoned." Harry was still staring miserably at the floor. He then turned and looked into Hermione's eyes, looking scared, "It's my fault. I should have drunk from it. And now Neville is d." He stopped unable to continue. He felt tears pricking at his eyes. He forced them back, but he couldn't ignore the big lump in his throat, or the ache in his heart. "I have been so selfish. I should have gone like Dumbledore told me to. I will never forgive myself he if ." he broke off again, and looked back at Hermione and Ron. "It's not your fault," Hermione told him. "You've nothing to do with it." Hermione's reassurances didn't make Harry feel any better. He stood up and left the common room. He got ready for bed, even though he knew he wouldn't sleep. His thoughts ran round his head never stopping for breath. It was his fault. He'd put his friends in danger. He should have left, especially after the Hums. Neville could be dead, and it was because of him. Why couldn't he be left alone and have a normal life? Guilt racked his whole body. Seamus and Dean came up to bed, shortly followed by Ron, but Harry ignored them and pretended he was asleep. Neville's empty bed stuck out like a sore thumb. Sirius's bed was also empty. Harry didn't think he'd slept at all, but he must have done because he woke up to see weak sunlight streaming through the windows. Sirius and Neville's beds were still deserted. He quickly slipped on his clothes without waking any of the others, climbed down the steps, went through the common room. Nobody had cleared up, and half-eaten cream cakes lay on tables and the spilled butterbeer was now a sticky mess on the carpet. The silver goblet had gone. Harry left the common room. He strode along the empty corridors and made his way towards Dumbledore's office. He knocked on the door, but there was no answer. He knocked again, but he was answered with silence. Harry then walked to the hospital wing. As he walked along the corridor Nearly Headless Nick swept past him. Nick stopped and hovered in front of him, "You should not be wandering about the corridors young Harry. I'm very sorry about your friend." He looked like he was about to go on, but then he shimmered a little and floated off. Harry reached the hospital door and knocked quietly. The door opened and Professor Dumbledore appeared at it looking grim. "Ah Harry, I wondered if we would be seeing you." Harry looked at the floor. " I think it would be best if you waited in my office. The password is Spicy Toads. I will try not to be too long" "Sir. How's Neville. Is he, is he dead?" "No, Harry he's not dead, but he is gravely ill. Now I ask you to leave us. I will try to be with you shortly" And with that the wooden door closed leaving Harry feeling very alone and the tears pricking his eyes again. He slowly made his way back to Professor Dumbledore's office. He said the password and climbed the stairs. He flopped miserably down on the nearest chair. Fawkes flew softly over and landed carefully on his knee. His warmness was comforting and Harry let his mind clear and stared out of the window, watching the clouds scurrying across the sky. Harry had almost fallen asleep when Dumbledore finally arrived back in his office. "I've just had to tell your friends that you're still alive. You caused quite some fuss by disappearing off like that. Anyway Neville," any joviality in his voice, any twinkling of his eyes had left him with those last two words. "Neville is in a serious way. The cup as you probably gathered was poisoned. Luckily Sirius was able to treat him straight away or he would be dead, but I think that he will live. It may take many weeks for him to recover. And you Harry, how are you?" "I think I'd better leave," said Harry wretchedly. "I've selfishly put others in danger by staying here" Dumbledore was looking at him sadly but grimly, "Harry this is not your fault. If it is anyone's mistake it's mine. I have made a tragic error. Harry please believe me when I say that this didn't happen because of you." Dumbledore said this with such vehemence that Harry was quite shocked. How had Dumbledore been to blame? Was he just saying that to make Harry feel better? "Harry we can protect you here better than anywhere" Dumbledore said before Harry had a chance to think about it anymore. "I can't stay here," Harry said stoutly. "If I wasn't here Neville wouldn't have been attacked, and we wouldn't have been attacked by that thing on the way back from Hogsmeade. I must go." The look that Dumbledore now gave Harry was so filled with sadness, that Harry was quite startled. "I can see there will be no dissuading you. Very well. I will have to talk to the ministry and to Sirius. In the mean time you had better wait in the common room. We will get you when we are ready." Harry left the office, letting Fawkes fly effortlessly back to his perch and returned to the common room. It was empty. Everyone else was in lessons. Harry looked round sadly. He would be leaving all this. Leaving Hermione, Ron and Cho. Perhaps leaving for good. Harry went up to the dormitory and put his belongings in the trunk just in case they were needed. As he put his books in the trunk he found a small parcel. It took him a moment to remember what it was. Then he realised. It was for Cho. Finding his best quill that wrote in silver he wrote a little message. When you find this I will be gone. I hope you like it, and I love you Love Harry. It didn't sound quite right, but that was the best he could do. He tied on the label and he gave it to Hedwig to take to Cho's bedroom. Then finding he couldn't settle he returned to the common room and started a new book he had got from the library called Changing Faces. The story of the first Animagi and the importance of their discovery. It helped take his mind off his future. He suddenly felt strangely detached. He wasn't waiting to be sent away from the people he loved, and the only place that had ever felt like home. It didn't seem real anymore. He put his book down and wandered absently to the large window at the side of the common room. Below him on the Quidditch pitch a group of first years were learning Quidditch. Harry stared at them longingly. He didn't know when he'd be playing Quidditch again, he wondered if Gryffindor would still win the house cup without him. Who would replace him as seeker? His thoughts were rudely interrupted by an owl flying in a nearby window. It landed on the back of an armchair. It was a large owl, completely black with piercing orange eyes. It held Harry in its gaze for a full minute while Harry stared back suspiciously. It wasn't that unusual for owls to deliver messages to the common room, but this one did not appear to have a letter, nor was it usual for owls to sit staring at a human. Harry had never seen a completely black owl before. Suddenly the owl leapt off the chair back it was sitting on and flapped towards the fire. It stood before the glowing embers before flying out of the room letting out a tremendous screech as it did so. There is something wrong about this, thought Harry. Where was Sirius? He would have known what to do. Should he go and find him? Dumbledore had said to stay in the common room, and besides the owl hadn't seemed to do anything. Perhaps it had just been hungry, or tired from a long journey. Harry returned to his chair still puzzled at the strange behaviour. He didn't notice the green smoke that had begun curling and twisting from the fire. Harry started to read his book again. The first sign that anything was wrong came as he was reading about Switz, the famous Hanoverian Amigus of the fifteenth century. A strange smell, a cross between peppermint and bitter lemon wafted under his nose. Harry looked up and noticed the room was filled with a pale green smoke. The smoke bit at his eyes making tears run from them. The smoke was getting thicker and thicker choking Harry. He couldn't breathe. He made his way stumbling towards the portrait hole, his eyes screaming in pain. The green smoke curled round him smothering and choking him. He could hardly see the hole as he climbed into it. The Fat Lady's Portrait swung open and Harry collapsed outside, panting and his eyes streaming. A figure in a black robe was standing there. Harry had just time to see the white twisted face before the man pointed his wand at him and a powerful curse. Harry collapsed lifeless on the stone floor, while Snape returned his wand within the folds of his cloak.
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The Silver Goblet After the excitements of Christmas lessons seemed remarkably quiet. The teachers seemed to all have the same idea, to give them as much homework as possible. There was so much work, that Harry didn't get many chances to play on the Quiddax. It was very popular with the other Gryffindors, who considered Harry their hero for letting them use it. Malfoy was quietly fuming, but outwardly saying that Quiddax was out of date, and even that he had one at home, but nobody believed him. It was useful for practices, and Harry tried to get at least a couple of hours on it, because although it wasn't the same as actually being on his Firebolt, it was very close, and stopped him getting rusty. Much time was spent in the gloomy library studying hard. It was a relief when the second Quidditch Match arrived to take Harry's mind off the forthcoming exams. The game was against Hufflepuff, and after the victory over Slytherin, Gryffindor hopes were high. The morning of the match was very frosty, and for once Harry didn't have the familiar sick feeling in his stomach. For once he was feeling almost confident. They'd beaten Hufflepuff before, and they were going to do it again. All along the tables Gryffindors were eating merrily. Even Harry managed a smile. They were soon in their Quidditch robes and in the air. Harry immediately became calm and focused, searching the clear cold air for the snitch. Down below him the players were whizzing about, every so often rubbing their red hands. Harry didn't feel cold because of the magical jumper, but his hands and nose were a shade of deep purple. The other seeker was looking extremely cold, and was also looking rather miserable. Her name was Gimeini Kirsch, and was very thin with a mean looking face. Harry didn't like her much, she was always spreading rumours about others. She glared at him, but Harry sped round the pitch a few times, and then avoiding a few bludgers he watched from a lower down position than usual. The sun was struggling feebly against the icy air. Lizzy below him was working hard in goal. Gryffindor was definitely the better team. Hufflepuff had to work hard to keep up with the speeding Gryffindors. The score was already in the hundreds. Alicia had just scored another goal. The snitch suddenly fluttered just above the frozen ground. The Hufflepuff seeker was a lot closer and was already racing towards it. Without thinking Harry bent low over his Firebolt and sped towards the snitch. His whole body was focused on the snitch. The tiny golden ball was fluttering nonchalantly a few feet above the ground. It was dangerous to go so close to the ground, Harry could see out of the corner of his eye Gimeini level with him. Harry bent even lower, and tried to give the Firebolt an extra ounce of speed. His hand stretched out and closed around the snitch, but a second later the Gimeini's long fingers closed round the snitch and Harry's hand. The ball was yanked form Harry's fingers making Harry loose his balance and fall sprawling onto the frosty grass. The Gryffindor's in the stand were howling with rage. Madame Hooch swooped over. "Stop!" she roared to the Gimeini Kirsch who was doing a victory lap around the pitch to the fury of the majority of the spectators. "Gryffindor had that snitch. Gryffindor wins." She then bent over Harry who had fallen awkwardly on his wrist and was now holding it tightly to his chest. Pain was shooting through it. Around him the Gryffindors were cheering with venom. The disgraced seeker had crept off to a series of boos and hisses. Numbly Harry made his way to the hospital wing. Madame Pomfrey looked at his wrist carefully. She went to the large carved cupboard where the medicines and potions were kept, tutting about the dangers of Quidditch. She came back with a large ceramic bowl with an odd looking green cream that smelled vaguely of peppermint. She rubbed some onto Harry's wrist. She said lightly "This will stop it swelling, you've only sprained it, but take it easy for the next few days. Come back if it continues hurting." Harry entered the common room to scenes of elation. They had won the Quidditch Cup unless Ravenclaw beat Slytherin with at least a two hundred and thirty point margin, and they lost the next match against Ravenclaw. As this was almost impossible, Gryffindors were assured of a victory. Harry was treated as a hero. The Weasley's had raided the kitchen and returned laden with plates of cream cakes, iced buns and pumpkin pasties. Someone had brought a music stone, which was similar to muggle cassette players. It was broadcasting loud tinkling music. Everyone seemed to be in a top mood. Harry was swamped by Gryffindors coming to congratulate them. The feast was at it's height when four large tawny owls swooped in bearing a large barrel. A label was tied to its neck. To Harry and the Gryffindors, Congratulations on your victory. With compliments Professor McGonegall Harry grinned widely and held the flask of butterbeer high as he read the message. The Gryffindors cheered. Before they could finish, another owl swooped in the window. In its talons there was a large silver goblet. Four gold bats encircled the rim, while two owls, their wings outstretched were engraved on the base. Its label said simply To Harry. Some cups were brought, and Harry poured a small amount for the other Gryffindors. He poured a portion for himself in the new cup. Just then Neville came in with a large cut over his eye. The Gryffindors crowded round him. He was trembling violently. "Malfoy, was cross, he b.b.bewitched a knife" he stuttered. The Gryffindors looked mutinous. "Go and tell Professor McGonagall" Ron told him furiously. "I don't want to make things any worse," Neville told him miserably. "Well, have some butterbeer that McGonagall sent us," said Lizzy kindly. Neville nodded. And went over to the bench. "We're going to have to get out own back" raged Ron. "It's gone far enough, we'll."But what Ron was going to do, they didn't find out. Neville had collapsed on the floor and was a dreadful green colour. He was retching violently. Harry's silver goblet was in his hand. Harry had just time to see Sirius's face as he rushed past him. Harry had never seen him look so terrified. Sirius virtually threw Gryffindors out of the way in his attempt to reach Neville. He grabbed the now limp Neville in his arms and hurried out of the room. The Gryffindors stared silently at the closing portrait hole, their drinks and food forgotten. No-one felt like continuing the party, and quietly in small groups, they left the silent common room. Harry was sat on a large red stuffed chair looking blankly at the cup still lying on the floor, the golden butterbeer soaked into the rich red carpet. Hermione and Ron were looking equally shocked. Eventually Hermione broke the silence, "That cup was meant for you. Everyone else drank the butterbeer and they were alright. The cup must have been poisoned." Harry was still staring miserably at the floor. He then turned and looked into Hermione's eyes, looking scared, "It's my fault. I should have drunk from it. And now Neville is d." He stopped unable to continue. He felt tears pricking at his eyes. He forced them back, but he couldn't ignore the big lump in his throat, or the ache in his heart. "I have been so selfish. I should have gone like Dumbledore told me to. I will never forgive myself he if ." he broke off again, and looked back at Hermione and Ron. "It's not your fault," Hermione told him. "You've nothing to do with it." Hermione's reassurances didn't make Harry feel any better. He stood up and left the common room. He got ready for bed, even though he knew he wouldn't sleep. His thoughts ran round his head never stopping for breath. It was his fault. He'd put his friends in danger. He should have left, especially after the Hums. Neville could be dead, and it was because of him. Why couldn't he be left alone and have a normal life? Guilt racked his whole body. Seamus and Dean came up to bed, shortly followed by Ron, but Harry ignored them and pretended he was asleep. Neville's empty bed stuck out like a sore thumb. Sirius's bed was also empty. Harry didn't think he'd slept at all, but he must have done because he woke up to see weak sunlight streaming through the windows. Sirius and Neville's beds were still deserted. He quickly slipped on his clothes without waking any of the others, climbed down the steps, went through the common room. Nobody had cleared up, and half-eaten cream cakes lay on tables and the spilled butterbeer was now a sticky mess on the carpet. The silver goblet had gone. Harry left the common room. He strode along the empty corridors and made his way towards Dumbledore's office. He knocked on the door, but there was no answer. He knocked again, but he was answered with silence. Harry then walked to the hospital wing. As he walked along the corridor Nearly Headless Nick swept past him. Nick stopped and hovered in front of him, "You should not be wandering about the corridors young Harry. I'm very sorry about your friend." He looked like he was about to go on, but then he shimmered a little and floated off. Harry reached the hospital door and knocked quietly. The door opened and Professor Dumbledore appeared at it looking grim. "Ah Harry, I wondered if we would be seeing you." Harry looked at the floor. " I think it would be best if you waited in my office. The password is Spicy Toads. I will try not to be too long" "Sir. How's Neville. Is he, is he dead?" "No, Harry he's not dead, but he is gravely ill. Now I ask you to leave us. I will try to be with you shortly" And with that the wooden door closed leaving Harry feeling very alone and the tears pricking his eyes again. He slowly made his way back to Professor Dumbledore's office. He said the password and climbed the stairs. He flopped miserably down on the nearest chair. Fawkes flew softly over and landed carefully on his knee. His warmness was comforting and Harry let his mind clear and stared out of the window, watching the clouds scurrying across the sky. Harry had almost fallen asleep when Dumbledore finally arrived back in his office. "I've just had to tell your friends that you're still alive. You caused quite some fuss by disappearing off like that. Anyway Neville," any joviality in his voice, any twinkling of his eyes had left him with those last two words. "Neville is in a serious way. The cup as you probably gathered was poisoned. Luckily Sirius was able to treat him straight away or he would be dead, but I think that he will live. It may take many weeks for him to recover. And you Harry, how are you?" "I think I'd better leave," said Harry wretchedly. "I've selfishly put others in danger by staying here" Dumbledore was looking at him sadly but grimly, "Harry this is not your fault. If it is anyone's mistake it's mine. I have made a tragic error. Harry please believe me when I say that this didn't happen because of you." Dumbledore said this with such vehemence that Harry was quite shocked. How had Dumbledore been to blame? Was he just saying that to make Harry feel better? "Harry we can protect you here better than anywhere" Dumbledore said before Harry had a chance to think about it anymore. "I can't stay here," Harry said stoutly. "If I wasn't here Neville wouldn't have been attacked, and we wouldn't have been attacked by that thing on the way back from Hogsmeade. I must go." The look that Dumbledore now gave Harry was so filled with sadness, that Harry was quite startled. "I can see there will be no dissuading you. Very well. I will have to talk to the ministry and to Sirius. In the mean time you had better wait in the common room. We will get you when we are ready." Harry left the office, letting Fawkes fly effortlessly back to his perch and returned to the common room. It was empty. Everyone else was in lessons. Harry looked round sadly. He would be leaving all this. Leaving Hermione, Ron and Cho. Perhaps leaving for good. Harry went up to the dormitory and put his belongings in the trunk just in case they were needed. As he put his books in the trunk he found a small parcel. It took him a moment to remember what it was. Then he realised. It was for Cho. Finding his best quill that wrote in silver he wrote a little message. When you find this I will be gone. I hope you like it, and I love you Love Harry. It didn't sound quite right, but that was the best he could do. He tied on the label and he gave it to Hedwig to take to Cho's bedroom. Then finding he couldn't settle he returned to the common room and started a new book he had got from the library called Changing Faces. The story of the first Animagi and the importance of their discovery. It helped take his mind off his future. He suddenly felt strangely detached. He wasn't waiting to be sent away from the people he loved, and the only place that had ever felt like home. It didn't seem real anymore. He put his book down and wandered absently to the large window at the side of the common room. Below him on the Quidditch pitch a group of first years were learning Quidditch. Harry stared at them longingly. He didn't know when he'd be playing Quidditch again, he wondered if Gryffindor would still win the house cup without him. Who would replace him as seeker? His thoughts were rudely interrupted by an owl flying in a nearby window. It landed on the back of an armchair. It was a large owl, completely black with piercing orange eyes. It held Harry in its gaze for a full minute while Harry stared back suspiciously. It wasn't that unusual for owls to deliver messages to the common room, but this one did not appear to have a letter, nor was it usual for owls to sit staring at a human. Harry had never seen a completely black owl before. Suddenly the owl leapt off the chair back it was sitting on and flapped towards the fire. It stood before the glowing embers before flying out of the room letting out a tremendous screech as it did so. There is something wrong about this, thought Harry. Where was Sirius? He would have known what to do. Should he go and find him? Dumbledore had said to stay in the common room, and besides the owl hadn't seemed to do anything. Perhaps it had just been hungry, or tired from a long journey. Harry returned to his chair still puzzled at the strange behaviour. He didn't notice the green smoke that had begun curling and twisting from the fire. Harry started to read his book again. The first sign that anything was wrong came as he was reading about Switz, the famous Hanoverian Amigus of the fifteenth century. A strange smell, a cross between peppermint and bitter lemon wafted under his nose. Harry looked up and noticed the room was filled with a pale green smoke. The smoke bit at his eyes making tears run from them. The smoke was getting thicker and thicker choking Harry. He couldn't breathe. He made his way stumbling towards the portrait hole, his eyes screaming in pain. The green smoke curled round him smothering and choking him. He could hardly see the hole as he climbed into it. The Fat Lady's Portrait swung open and Harry collapsed outside, panting and his eyes streaming. A figure in a black robe was standing there. Harry had just time to see the white twisted face before the man pointed his wand at him and a powerful curse. Harry collapsed lifeless on the stone floor, while Snape returned his wand within the folds of his cloak.
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