Winter put Hogwarts in its icy clutches with the arrival of December. The iron-gray sky constantly threatened snow during the day, and dark night fell early. Students on their way to Herbology or Care of Magical Creatures bundled themselves up against the biting wind before venturing outside. The trees were soon stripped of the last leaves that clung to their skeletal frames, and even the owls seemed disgruntled when they arrived each morning with the mail.
The storm that had been threatening to break came roaring in the day before the Hufflepuff-Slytherin Quidditch match. No one felt too sorry for Slytherin, but everyone agreed that Hufflepuff had been dealt a rotten hand. Even though it was snowing like mad and the wind was bitterly cold, none of the students were interested in missing the game, and the stands were as full as ever when Madam Hooch tossed up the Quaffle.
To everyone's surprise, Hufflepuff took the early lead, scoring three times before Slytherin managed to put one in. Even in the blinding snow, the grim determination of the Hufflepuff team quickly became plain. Their formations were tight, their passes flawless, and their Bludgers well aimed. Slytherin, who had expected an easy win, suddenly found themselves being out-flown in every position. It was a sublime delight for Harry, Ron, and the rest of the Gryffindor team to see Malfoy streaking around the stadium, frantically searching for the Snitch. If he caught it early enough, Slytherin could win before Hufflepuff ground them into the field.
It was not to be. In the torrent of flakes, neither team's Seeker seemed able to find the elusive ball. Two cold hours passed before Cynthia Pennyworth closed her fingers on it, and that was only because it passed right in front of her nose. The stadium erupted in cheers when Cynthia lifted her arm triumphantly above her head, and the Hufflepuff team drifted down to the pitch, hugging each other. Malfoy threw his expensive Nimbus 2001 onto the frozen ground and stalked off the field. Harry and Ron were shouting as loudly as any Hufflepuff, reveling in the bliss of the moment.
With Quidditch over with for the next several weeks, the students entered Yuletide mode. Hagrid dragged six handsome firs into the Great Hall, and Professor Flitwick was put in charge of the decorations. One day he held class in front of the pine trees, teaching the students how to make icicles that didn't melt and candles that wouldn't burn down. Before long the Great Hall had been transformed into a winter wonderland, complete with trees covered in pinpricks of light that glittered like tiny, perfect stars. They came in every color of the rainbow, and though the students pressed him, Flitwick refused to tell how he had managed it.
The rest of the professors were getting into the holiday spirit as well; several of them volunteered to help Flitwick decorate the Great Hall. They floated ornaments onto the trees, magically wove garlands of pine and cranberries, and showered snow on everything like powdered sugar.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione were doing some homework in the mostly-empty Great Hall between classes one day when Professor Thornby suddenly began to sing. Harry's head jerked up in shock, but it was only a carol. He had never heard her sing before.
"I saw three ships come sailing in, on Christmas Day, on Christmas Day…"
Bellaton immediately joined in. "I saw three ships come sailing in, on Christmas Day in the morning."
Hagrid, who was lugging in a huge sack of pinecones, added a deep bass, and Professor Sprout and Professor McGonagall unexpectedly raised their voices, too. Flitwick chimed in with a high tenor, and the scattered students in the Great Hall looked on in amazement.
"And what was in those ships all three, on Christmas Day, on Christmas Day? And what was in those ships all three, on Christmas Day in the morning?"
They sounded good, with their voices covering several octaves between them. Students passing by outside on their way to class stopped and began spilling into the hall to listen. The professors sang on, oblivious, until they finished the last verse.
"Then let us all rejoice again, on Christmas Day, on Christmas Day, then let us all rejoice again, on Christmas Day in the morning!"
The students burst into applause. The teachers' heads all whipped around as one to see them standing there. Professor Sprout flushed as red as her poinsettias while Hagrid gruffly hemmed and hawed from under his beard, but Flitwick bowed atop his stool.
The Dueling Club continued to meet in the Great Hall, and Professors Thornby and Bellaton quickly learned to erect protective barriers around the decorations before the students began practicing. One evening Dean cursed Parvati with the Full-Body Bind and she toppled right into the nearest tree, which felled two more of them like dominos. Professor Flitwick found this all so funny that he didn't even seem to mind having to redo half of his work.
A general routine had been worked out for the Dueling Club; there were now three meetings a week, with the fourth and fifth years in one group and the sixth and seventh in another. At each meeting, the students were quickly divided up into groups depending on their skill in whatever charm or move they were practicing. Harry, Ron, and Hermione usually found themselves in the most advanced group, and so did Neville, although this stopped surprising people after a while. The Dueling Club meetings were gold to Harry and Ron, who felt that with each perfected curse, they drew one step nearer to the profession of Auror.
Malfoy seemed especially irritated by Harry, Ron, and Hermione's skill with the staff. The professors had not yet allowed them to cross swords, so to speak, but Malfoy watched the three of them with consternation as they went through the forms each week. "I'll bet he's wondering how a Mudblood, a Weasley and his arch-enemy got to be so good at something he didn't think they knew," Hermione laughed one night as they left the Great Hall.
"Practice, the same as him," Ron said lightly. "He just doesn't need to know when we practiced."
As Christmas drew nearer so did end-of-term exams. The fifth years' work load, which never really decreased, got even heavier as the tests approached. Their professors were constantly reminding them that their performance on these tests was a good indicator of how they would perform on their O.W.L.s. Harry, Ron, and Hermione hunkered down anew, and so did the rest of their classmates. The library was full of fifth and seventh years, and the only sounds were the scratch of quills on parchment and the swish of turning pages.
In Astronomy they had begun studying the constellation Orion and its neighbors – Taurus the Bull, the Seven Sisters, Canis Major and Canis Minor. Atop the Astronomy tower, wrapped tightly in heavy cloaks and scarves, the students pressed their eyes against the cold brass eyepieces of the telescopes and made their observations of the stars. Sirius was a blue-white gem in Canis Major, rising low after Orion's distinct form, the brightest star in the sky. Perhaps it was the stargazing, Harry found himself thinking about his godfather more and more as the days passed. At least the rash of wizard murders seemed to have ended for the time being, and Sirius' name did not appear in the Daily Prophet again, much to Harry's relief. But it was hard not communicating for so long, and the home stretch seemed to go on forever.
Eventually Harry remembered that he could talk to Sirius by way of Professor Thornby. One night he went up to his room early and enclosed himself in his four-poster with a candle, a heavy book, some parchment, quill and ink. He leaned back against his pillows and tried to think of what to say; a lot had happened since he had last seen Sirius. Harry didn't feel that he was very good at writing letters, so he settled for a raw summation of the last few months.
Dear Sirius,
It's been a long time since I got to talk to you, so I thought I'd send a letter. I don't know what you're up to, but I hope that Dumbledore is keeping you busy. We're not supposed to talk about you at all. McGonagall gave us a talking to after we saw your name in the paper. That weasel Malfoy was watching me for a reaction. If Voldemort's got a spy at Hogwarts, I'll bet he's it.
Bellaton and Professor Thornby started up the Dueling Club, so me, Ron, and Hermione get to practice with the staff again. I think we're getting pretty good at it. The teachers are keeping us busy since we have O.W.L.s this year. Ron wants to be an Auror too, and I think we just might make it. We're doing a lot better in Potions especially. It drives Snape mad having to give us high marks all the time.
I had a falling out with Cho the day before the Quidditch match against Ravenclaw. I don't think she's over Cedric yet. We lost because Ron got knocked off his broom just as Cho and I both saw the Snitch, and I had to catch him. He made Keeper, did you hear? He's not half bad either. Hufflepuff just beat Slytherin, so that was as good a day as they come.
Well, I guess I can tell you about all this when I see you in two weeks. Before you ask, I haven't been in any trouble. The Marauders would disapprove, but I've had too much work to do to get into any. Say hello to Remus for me.
Happy Christmas, Harry
Harry folded up the parchment and picked up the candle. He smiled when he realized that it was bright green. He tipped it carefully so that several drops of hot wax dripped onto the flap. After waiting just a few seconds, he pulled the tip of his quill through the wax and drew a lightning bolt. Not a bad seal for Harry Potter, he thought. He tucked the letter into his History of Magic textbook, put the book under his pillow, and blew out the candle.
The next day Harry lingered after class under the pretext of wanting to ask Professor Thornby a question. He pulled the letter out of his book and handed it to her; she smiled when she saw the seal. "I'll drop it off today," she said softly, and tucked it into her own weighty copy of A History of Magical Conflict.
**********
Just a week before the start of the holidays, Dumbledore announced that there would be a trip to Hogsmeade on the coming Saturday. The students absorbed this news with great enthusiasm. Since the attack on the town that past summer there had been no scheduled visits from the school, and it had felt odd never to have a weekend in town.
At breakfast on the morning before the Hogsmeade visit, a gray, half-dead owl crash-landed in front of Ron. "Errol!" he exclaimed, untying a sealed envelope from the poor bird's foot. "I thought you were going to be retired."
"Letter from mum?" said Fred.
"Yeah, it's for all of us," said Ron.
"Budge up then, let's see," said George. "Ginny, letter from mum!"
The redheaded Weasleys leaned over Ron's shoulder to read the parchment. As their eyes moved down the page, their faces began to darken. By the time they finished, all four of them were frowning.
"Git," said George.
"Prat," added Fred.
"Traitor," Ron said flatly. Ginny alone refrained from comment, a thoughtful look on her face.
"What is it?" Hermione asked.
"Read it." Ron passed her the letter. Harry looked down at it, and saw that it was not from Mrs. Weasley, but from Mr. Weasley instead.
Dear Fred, George, Ron, and Ginny,
By now you've surely heard about your upcoming trip to Hogsmeade. This isn't just an impromptu trip – a delegation is coming from the Ministry to inspect the school while you are out. I don't know if Dumbledore has seen fit to tell you, but it's up to him. If he hasn't mentioned it, then you shouldn't either.
I am writing to caution you about the people who will be coming. Minister Fudge, Lucius Malfoy, Dolores Umbridge, and several others will be there. You should avoid everyone in the party; the Minister is surrounding himself with sycophants and flatterers, and Umbridge is as ambitious and scheming as they come.
And now the last… I'm not even sure of how to say this. Percy will be in the delegation. He has been promoted to the position of Secretary to the Minister and has since moved out of the Burrow. We no longer see eye-to-eye on anything. I have tried to reason with him but he won't believe that he is being used. This whole business has broken your mother's heart. It pains me to say it, but you must be very careful around your brother from now on. Whatever you say to him, Minister Fudge will hear.
Be on your best behavior while the Ministry is at the school. Anything out of line will reflect poorly on Dumbledore. I don't think I need to remind you that the Ministry would need little excuse to try and oust him. I am sorry to have only unpleasant things to say, but that seems to be the way things are going at the moment. Your mother sends her love to you, Harry, and Hermione, and we are looking forward to seeing you all at Christmas.
Love, Dad
Harry and Hermione looked sadly down at the letter. Mr. Weasley's hand was unsteady in the paragraph about Percy. Harry was willing to bet that it wasn't just Mrs. Weasley's heart that was broken.
As it turned out, Dumbledore did see fit to tell the school that the Ministry was coming. That night at dinner he made the announcement. The students all seemed confused about the sudden news, but few of them seemed to think that it showed anything more than the Ministry's desire to ensure that they were being properly educated. The professors clearly knew otherwise; one and all, they were stone-faced as Dumbledore spoke. But by the next day, hardly any of the students seemed concerned about the Ministry delegation. There was a fresh coat of snow on the ground, the sun was shining brightly, and they were going to Hogsmeade!
When the hour of departure drew near, Harry, Ron, and Hermione turned up in the Great Hall with the rest of the students who were allowed to go to the village. Everyone was laughing and talking about what they were going to buy. As they stood there waiting, the Ministry officials entered the hall through a side door. Harry, Hermione, and the Weasleys watched silently as the group approached the staff table where several of the Hogwarts professors were waiting. There was Fudge in his lime green bowler and Lucius Malfoy in black with silver trim, his long, white hair gathered in a neat ponytail. They recognized Macnair, the Death Eater who had come to execute Buckbeak two years ago. Percy was walking close to the Minister of Magic, his flaming red hair making him easily visible. He never once glanced in the direction of the students. Perhaps it was just as well, because Fred, George, and Ron were all glowering fiercely at him.
One other official in particular stood out. There was a woman dressed all in pink with a frilly bow perched atop her bleach-blonde curls. Her body was short and squat, and so was her bizarre face. Her extraordinarily wide mouth furthered Harry's impression that he was looking at a toad that had been enlarged to almost-human size. Whenever Fudge said anything, she simpered and smirked in a sickening fashion.
"Who's the toad woman?" Ron whispered to George.
"That's Umbridge, I think," he replied. "Alicia's dad works at the Ministry, and that's what he says she looks like."
Professor Thornby, Flitwick, and Hagrid were bringing up the rear of the group. They were all dressed as if they were ready to go outdoors. At a word from Malfoy, they turned and walked toward the large group of students. At the same time, professors McGonagall, Sinistra, and Snape got up from the staff table. The Ministry group turned and walked out the side door again while the professors followed.
Flitwick, Hagrid, and Professor Thornby led the students out of the castle to an army of waiting sleighs. After they had all clambered in, the sleighs started forward of their own accord, bearing them across the grounds and down the road to Hogsmeade. The trip was quick; only minutes later, the village slid into view.
Harry had no idea what the village had looked like after the summer's battle, but it was clear that some things had changed. Here and there, a neatly sawed-off stump sat where a great tree had once grown. The building that housed Honeydukes was completely new, but others had not been replaced yet. They passed more than one building that was still under construction. Still, there were no piles of rubble and no scorch marks on any of the buildings; Christmas decorations were hanging everywhere, and the atmosphere was festive.
It seemed like all the students were making a beeline for Honeydukes, so Harry, Ron, and Hermione headed off in the opposite direction. They went to Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop for new quills, ink, and parchment, and while Hermione wasn't looking, Harry bought a handsome eagle feather quill ("never needs sharpening") and pots of gold and silver ink for her Christmas gift.
They went to Gladrags Wizard Wear where the Ron had his school robe lengthened. At Dervish and Banges, they exclaimed over a handsome array of Wizards' Chess sets and magical Christmas ornaments of every sort. There were candy canes that wriggled when licked, glass baubles for the tree that glowed with an inner light, and miniature snowmen made out of real snow that sang carols incessantly. Harry was most impressed by the self-winding music boxes. Instead of the usual tinkling, they emitted the sounds of a full orchestra when opened.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione spent the whole afternoon tramping around the village, stocking up on Honeydukes chocolates and party crackers from Zonko's. When Harry looked down at his watch, it was hard to believe how much time had passed. They had just enough time to buy a butterbeer apiece at the Three Broomsticks before returning to the sleighs. Harry was sorry that they hadn't had more time in Madam Rosmerta's brightly lit shop, but it was fun to drink the hot butterbeer while they rode back to the castle in the cold.
When the shivering students arrived back at the school, they found that the Ministry delegation had already departed. That was fine with Harry and his friends, who had no desire to be monitored by Fudge, Malfoy, or anyone else in the group. They sat down to a welcome meal in the Great Hall, tired after tramping around Hogsmeade all day in the snow. Harry hadn't noticed how much his shoulders were aching until now, when the warmth from the hot food began seeping into his chilled body.
When supper was over, the students all rose to leave, but Dumbledore forestalled the Gryffindors. "I am afraid," he said, "that Peeves has managed to booby-trap the main routes back to your dormitory. We are working on diffusing them, but in the meantime, you will have to take an alternate route that is not very straightforward. Professor Snape will escort you."
Snape strode up to their table, full of his usual bad humor. "Keep up with me, all of you," he said icily. "If you dawdle into one of Peeves' little jokes, I am not coming back for you. And trust me, you might never be seen again."
"Why isn't Professor McGonagall taking us?" called a third year.
"Because she is busy and I am not," Snape snapped, and no one asked any more questions.
The Houses set off in all different directions. Dumbledore had been right; they were going the roundabout way, as Snape first led them down the stairs toward the dungeons, down a long hallway, and up a set of stairs on the other side of the castle. It wasn't long before they saw exactly how busy Professor McGonagall was; she and several other professors were in the center of the castle near the moving staircases, looking for the jinxes and hexes that Peeves had left behind. Yellow paint was splattered all over the walls, Professor Sinistra was half-sunken in a new trick step, and a thorny hedge had sprung up at the top of the stairs. "That poltergeist has gone too far this time!" they heard Professor McGonagall growl as they passed on another staircase across the way.
Seamus started up a lively conversation about the Hufflepuff-Slytherin match, which was still a favorite topic among the Gryffindors. Somewhere along the way the topic changed to the English Quidditch teams, and before long half the nearby boys were arguing heatedly about which team was the best, Ron included. Harry didn't have a team he supported, so he left them behind in search of Hermione. He found her at the very front of the column, walking perilously close to Snape. She was oblivious to Snape's proximity, as her nose was in a new book she'd bought that afternoon.
"Good book?" Harry asked, falling into step beside her.
"Oh, yes!" she exclaimed, looking up at Harry with shining eyes. "It's all about the invention of magical products. Right now I'm reading about the development of Flesh-Eating Slug Repellant. It's really quite fascinating."
Harry gave her an incredulous look. Snape looked back at her over his shoulder and did the same. "Miss Granger, it is possible that you enjoy even duller topics than Professor Binns did."
Hermione looked up, startled. She opened her mouth to reply, but Snape suddenly jerked his head back around to face forward.
"Stop!" he shouted, throwing his arm out to the side to bar their way. His voice cut through the conversations, and everyone stopped dead in their tracks. Silence filled the hallway. For a long moment, Gryffindor House stood frozen, listening.
Then everything seemed to happen at once.
A suit of armor against the corridor wall raised its sword and lunged at Harry and Hermione so quickly that Harry had no chance to shout. Snape threw himself at them; the world spun crazily and Harry felt himself slam sideways into something solid. His head struck, and he saw spots. He shook his head to clear his vision, and found that he and Hermione sat alone in a heap on the floor. Harry barely had time to wonder what he had run into when Hermione screamed. The suit of armor was rushing toward them, one gauntleted fist raised high to strike.
"Petrificus Totalus!" The spell flashed past their faces and struck the animated knight. Its legs ceased moving but momentum carried it forward. Harry and Hermione scrambled sideways, and the frozen figure struck an invisible barrier and bounced off. It crashed across the flagstones and skidded to a halt.
Snape lowered his wand and leaned his shoulder against the stone wall of the corridor. His other hand gripped the hilt of the sword that was now protruding from his chest. A few inches of red-stained steel stood out from his back.
Thunderstruck, Harry stared at his least favorite teacher clutching the sword through his middle. He was aware of only a few things – the panicked thudding of his heart, Hermione's painful grip on his arm, and the dark stain spreading across Professor Snape's robes.
Harry and Hermione were freed of their paralysis when their teacher's legs gave way. He slid down the wall and they rushed to his side. Harry carefully removed Snape's hand from the sword. Breaking his grip was almost effortless. "Someone get Dumbledore," Harry said, his voice rising unnaturally. "Someone get –"
He broke off as Hermione laid a hand on his arm. She was staring past his shoulder. Harry twisted to look behind him, and his heart sank. Their fellow Gryffindors stood a few feet away behind the invisible barrier. Some of them were feeling its surface with their hands; the others were simply staring in horror. Dean Thomas stood near the front of the crowd, and his gaze locked with Harry's.
"Dean, can you hear me?" Harry asked.
Dean's mouth moved, but Harry heard nothing.
DUMBLEDORE, Harry mouthed as clearly as possible.
Dean nodded and pointed back the way they had come. RON, he mouthed back.
Harry nodded, and gestured broadly to indicate the barrier. Dean shook his head.
"They can't get through," Hermione said quietly.
Snape coughed, and they both looked at him. "It's a Stasis Wall," he said thickly. "You can only open them from the inside. I think you can manage it, Miss Granger."
Hermione threw a helpless look at Harry. All he could do was shake his head; they neither of them knew what to do.
Snape spoke up again. "It's a woven spell. You have to find the knot and unravel it. Carceris Renere. And you, Potter, must remove this sword." He broke off, gasping. Even without all the blood, the lack of venom in Snape's voice would have been enough to tell Harry just how badly hurt he was.
Hermione stood on unsteady legs, but her face was set with determination as she walked to the invisible wall. She drew her wand and commanded, "Carceris Renere!" Her hand was suddenly ensnared in silvery threads. She set her feet and quickly began snapping them, one after another.
Harry looked back to the Potions master. Whatever Snape thought of Harry trying to help him didn't show in his inscrutable gaze, but his pain was obvious. Harry raised his wand.
Snape set his jaw. "Do it," he said through gritted teeth.
Harry nodded with more confidence than he felt. "Exhaustum Sword!"
The sword hilt moved toward Harry. Snape let out a cry of aguish that went on and on, echoing in the corridor. Harry's kept his wand steady on the sword, drawing it smoothly out as quickly as he dared.
Snape's shouts choked off as the steel finally left his body, and he collapsed from his half-sitting position onto the floor. The sword hung suspended between him and Harry, glistening wet and crimson. Harry reached forward to take the hilt and felt it sink heavily into his hand, ending the spell. Hastily he set it aside and leaned forward to look at Snape. Black eyes glittered up at him from an ashen face that was covered in a fine sheen of sweat. A drop of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. "Well done, Potter," he whispered. "Ten points to Gryffindor." For a moment his mouth twitched as if he wanted to smile, but it faltered and his eyes drifted shut.
Harry's pulse raced with panic. He jerked his head around to see Hermione frantically ripping at the silver threads that tangled her fingers and wand. The wall was no longer clear, but was full of white cracks that spiderwebbed across it. Sounds were passing through it from the students on the other side, growing louder by the moment. Dean and the others looked fearfully from Snape to the corridor behind them, watching for approaching help.
Harry looked back to Snape. His breathing was very shallow now. "Professor!" he shouted, shaking his shoulder. "Wake up!" Nothing. The trickle of blood slid from the corner of Snape's mouth and down his cheek, a brilliant streak of red against too-pale skin. Harry put his fingers against the side of Snape's neck and felt a pulse that was weak and fading.
A shout from the other side of the cracking barrier drew his attention. He could see a group of people moving down the corridor toward them. Ron was in the front, with Dumbledore and what seemed like most of the Hogwarts professors right behind. All of them were coming at a dead run.
Harry knew they weren't going to make it. Snape was bleeding out all over the floor; Harry's knees were already in the puddle. He desperately wondered what to do, and something clicked in his mind, a memory from nowhere. Time slowed to a crawl. Harry leaned forward and placed his hand flat against Snape's bloodstained chest. His other hand clutched his wand tightly. He heard the words he spoke, felt his mouth move as if of its own accord.
"Donum Vitae!"
Blue light flared, filling Harry's vision, surrounding him and Professor Snape. Snape's eyes flew open and caught Harry's. His hand seized Harry's wrist as if he meant to pull his hand from his chest, but he didn't have the strength to move it. Harry felt warmth spreading through him. It was the most peaceful, amazing sensation; even though he could feel his own energy ebbing away, he had never felt so alive. It was incredible – except for Snape's terrified eyes silently willing him to let go…
Harry fell backwards onto the stone floor with a hard slap. Dumbledore looked blurry as he swept forward to stoop over Snape's body. Harry turned his head and saw Ron and Hermione kneeling by his side, smiling tremulously. The other students behind them stared as if they had never seen him before. Harry's world seemed to be graying around the edges. Professor Bellaton's face looked down at him, and Harry felt his body floating up from the floor, one of Bellaton's hands gently grasping his arm. "Damn you self-sacrificing Gryffindors," the big man said fondly. Everything went dark.
**********
Harry yawned and rolled over in bed. He opened his eyes briefly. It was pitch-dark, except for the candle burning at his bedside and the moon shining in through the stained-glass windows of the hospital wing. Harry snuggled into his pillow, and closed his eyes. He had been in the middle of such a nice dream...
Hospital wing? Harry sat bolt upright, remembering everything. On his left, a vase of yellow roses stood next to the candle on the bedside table. On his right, Ron lay sprawled on a red velvet sofa that had been magicked there. His mouth was slightly open and he was snoring softly.
Harry scanned the other beds, looking for one that was occupied. There! In a twinkling he was out of bed and running to the far end of the hospital wing, the flagstones cold beneath his bare feet. Harry slowed as he approached. It was Snape, lying on his back, carefully tucked in beneath crisp white sheets. In the moonlight he still looked very pale, but then again, he was always pale. He was still breathing.
Ron's sudden appearance at his side made Harry jump. "Ron! You scared me," he said, pressing a hand to his fluttering heart.
"Sorry, mate," Ron said, grinning. He held out Harry's glasses. "You okay, Harry?"
"Yeah," Harry said, taking the offering. "Thanks. How long have I been asleep?"
"About a day and a half. Madam Pomfrey said you'd be out for awhile after casting that spell." Ron looked curiously at his friend. "Where did you learn how to do that?" he asked. "Everybody's talking about it."
Harry frowned, staring straight ahead at nothing in particular. "No one taught me how to do it," he said, "but Professor Thornby cast it on me this summer when I was still poisoned. I didn't really know what I was doing. It was like a part of me knew how and the rest just sort of followed along."
"Blimey." Ron bit his lip and looked cautiously at his friend. "You know what that sounds like?"
Harry shook his head.
"Well, you're a Parselmouth because You-Know... um... I mean... Voldemort... was a Parselmouth. Right?"
"Yes..." Harry said slowly.
"And you got that way because he used Avada Kedavra on you, and that's a really powerful spell. It sounds like Donum Vitae is kind of like the opposite of that."
Harry looked at Ron. "Wow. That's brilliant! You could be right."
Ron grinned proudly. "I wonder if you learned to do anything else when she cast it?"
Harry's eyes widened. "I... I don't know," he said. "Is Snape going to be all right?"
"Dumbledore think so, thanks to you," Ron said. "He put him in some kind of a deep sleep, and Madam Pomfrey's been working on him. Bellaton is brewing up something to help him along."
"Do you know," said Harry, peering down at Snape, "I think they washed his hair!" He and Ron looked at each other. Grins twitched on their faces, and before long they were both sniggering behind their hands.
"What could possibly be funny?" a voice hissed behind them.
Harry and Ron whirled to face Madam Pomfrey. Ron sagged with relief, and Harry knew how he felt. Madam Pomfrey had sounded so much like Snape just then that for an instant, he had forgotten that the Potions master was out for the count right in front of him.
"Um... we were just checking on Sleeping Beauty here, and…" Ron began. He and Harry both dissolved into choking laughter.
Madam Pomfrey looked skyward in exasperation. "Well, I'm glad you're feeling better, Mr. Potter. A little sleep was all you needed, but I can't have you disturbing Professor Snape. Get on back to your dormitory, now," she said, shooing them off.
They left the hospital wing and headed off toward the Gryffindor common room. "You're the center of attention again," Ron whispered as they headed up a staircase. "There was no way to keep this from getting out. It's been all over the Daily Prophet."
Harry looked cautiously at his friend, but Ron's face betrayed no hint of jealousy. "Dumbledore says it was a setup," Ron continued. "Someone from the Ministry's delegation set the booby-trap in the main hallway. Peeves denied having anything to do with it, and he always takes credit for his pranks. And then they set the Stasis Wall trap in the other hallway, and it tripped when the right person walked through it."
"When who walked through it?" Harry said. "Was it me, or Hermione, or Snape? What about someone else?"
"I don't think anyone knows yet," Ron said, "but it was meant to kill whoever tripped it. This might have something to do with Trelawney's prophecy, you know."
"Well, that explains how either Hermione or I could have been the target, but what about Snape?" Harry whispered.
"Maybe Voldemort found out that he's a double agent," Ron said, lowering his voice to the barest of whispers. "He'd want him dead for sure."
"But once he'd been stabbed, the suit of armor came back for me and Hermione," Harry said.
"Maybe it thought he was done for and just figured to knock you off for fun," Ron said.
"This has to be Voldemort's work," Harry spat. "I can't see Fudge pulling a stunt like this."
Ron shook his head. "It's complicated. Whoever set the trap could have been under Fudge's orders or under Voldemort's. There were both kinds of people in the Ministry delegation. All I know for sure is that it wasn't Percy. He may be the most selfish git ever, but he wouldn't do something like that. Not willingly, anyway."
Harry sighed. "At least we're all still alive."
Ron grinned. "That was a bloody brilliant piece of work, Harry," he said. "Hermione's, too. All I did was run for help, but Professor McGonagall says the three of us do Gryffindor proud."
Harry grinned back.