Chapter 14
Speculations
John was still wondering about his father's hasty departure from the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom as he and his friends entered the Great Hall that evening. He glanced up at the High Table and was relieved to see Harry sitting there between Professor Tonks and another teacher John had never seen before, looking perfectly calm. He sat down at the Gryffindor table together with Ron and Lizzie, who hadn't mentioned anything about his father's behaviour since their class. He tried to catch Harry's eye, when Professor Hagrid rose and the Hall gradually fell silent.
'As yeh can see we've got two new faces here ternight,' said Hagrid, turning to Harry and the unknown teacher, smiling broadly. 'Professor Evans here will be teachin' Defence Against the Dark Arts, and Professor Lovegood is our new Divination teacher.'
Although the new teachers were unknown to most of the students, the applause was rather enthusiastic, as they had all been looking forward to having Defence Against the Dark Arts classes again. John noted that Harry was smiling now, and not behaving oddly in any way.
'Your dad was really good in class today,' said Sabrina Wood, who was in the same class as John, Ron and Lizzie, but hadn't talked to them much so far. 'You never told us he was so good at Defence Against the Dark Arts. I was under the impression that he was a Muggle.'
'Oh, well,' John muttered, 'don't want to brag, you know ...'
'Where did he learn all this?' Sabrina went on. 'Did he use to be an Auror or something?'
'Er ...' John was at a loss. Where had his father learnt it all?
'The Tutshill Tornados have performed abysmally this season, don't you think?' Lizzie suddenly said to Sabrina, having noticed John's predicament and quickly coming to his aid. Sabrina immediately forgot about John and his father; Quidditch was her great passion, and she never missed an opportunity to discuss it – preferably for hours – with anyone who was willing to listen.
John sighed with relief and looked up at the High Table again. Professor Parkinson was sitting several seats away from his father, next to Professor Flitwick. She didn't seem interested in talking to him, however, but frequently threw annoyed glances at Professors Tonks and Lovegood, who were talking animatedly to Harry.
Up at the High Table, Harry had also noticed that Pansy Parkinson seemed very interested in what was happening at his end of the table. He had a vague memory of having knocked her over earlier that day, as he was running to Tonks's office, and wondered fleetingly whether she was annoyed with him because of that.
'Why on earth is Pansy Parkinson working here, anyway?' he said to Tonks and Luna. 'I thought she was going to marry Draco Malfoy.'
Luna giggled. 'Oh, yes, she was. She waited for him for years, but I think she's finally given up on him now. Old Draco hasn't got quite all his marbles these days, or so they say.'
'Yes,' Tonks said, smirking. 'He lives alone at Malfoy Manor and refuses to see anyone except his old cronies Crabbe and Goyle. He hasn't been out of the house for years. I always suspected that he was connected to the Death Eaters in some way, but nothing was ever proven. And he certainly doesn't seem to be up to anything like that nowadays.'
'But is she really qualified to teach Potions?' Harry said incredulously.
'Certainly not,' said Tonks. 'But it's really difficult to get anyone for the Potions job. Nobody wants to walk in Snape's footsteps.' Tonks's expression hardened. 'Not that I blame them – anyone who's been taught by him must have a lifelong revulsion for the subject. That ... that ... traitor!' Tonks took a sip of pumpkin juice from her goblet and Harry noticed that her hand was shaking. Luna was looking at her with a peculiar expression on her face, but she said nothing. Harry suddenly remembered that Snape was to blame for Remus Lupin's death as well, not just Ron's, Hermione's, Dumbledore's and countless others.
'Shouldn't he have died by now?' Tonks whispered to Harry. Luna was talking to Professor Sinistra on her other side and Tonks didn't seem to want her to hear.
'Sirius survived in Azkaban for twelve years,' Harry said slowly.
'Well, Snape's been there fifteen now,' Tonks said fiercely, 'and he's not an Animagus like Sirius was. It should be more difficult for him to ward off the Dementors.'
'Yes,' said Harry, 'but Snape's really good at Occlumency. That probably helps.'
'I don't know how you can be so calm about this, Harry,' Tonks hissed. 'If it wasn't for Snape this whole thing with Ginny would probably never have happened. I've never wanted to use an Unforgivable Curse on anyone before, but if I had found him ... I'd have used the Killing Curse!'
'I'm not calm about it, Tonks,' Harry said between clenched teeth. 'Believe you me, I'm not calm about it. I've only used a Killing Curse once in my life, and that was on Lucius Malfoy after that very incident. If Snape had been there, I'd have killed him first. But I'm never going to use an Unforgivable Curse again ... not even on him, if I should happen to meet him.'
They were interrupted by Luna. 'So, tell me, Harry, when are you going to London?'
'What?' Harry said, startled. 'I mean, I'm not going to London. Why would you think that?'
'Oh, right – I saw that in the Orb ... Never mind,' Luna said quickly and turned back to Professor Sinistra.
Tonks rolled her eyes. 'I told you; she makes all sorts of crazy predictions all the time. Don't pay any attention to her.'
'Yes, she said I was alive, didn't she?' said Harry.
Tonks was quiet for a moment. 'Yes, well ...' she said hesitantly. 'One prediction come true doesn't make up for all the rubbish she comes out with.'
'One pretty big prediction, though,' Harry said, looking thoughtfully at Luna.
Harry had thought he would have trouble sleeping that night, but he fell asleep as soon as he put his head on his pillow. This time he began dreaming about the dungeon-like room immediately. Harry had been troubled by the dream he had in the afternoon. To whom had that horrible, cruel laugh, which sounded so familiar to him, belonged? Harry wasn't sure. He hadn't given it that much attention either – he had been more interested in the first part of the dream, the part about Ginny.
But Ginny wasn't part of the dream now. There was only that cold, bare room. Yet again he was unable to move, unable to see properly, but this time there were no muffled voices and no laugh. Harry dreamt about the room for a long time. He lay there, immobile, not even bothering to try to free himself, wondering if something would happen sooner or later ... But nothing did.
He woke in the morning, feeling strangely tired despite the fact that he had slept for almost ten hours. His forehead prickled unpleasantly where his scar had used to be. These dreams were beginning to bother him, and he wished he could talk to someone about them; someone older and more experienced, like Sirius or Dumbledore. Perhaps he should mention the matter to Hagrid? But no, Hagrid had never been of much help in similar situations.
It was Saturday, and Harry stayed in bed for a while, looking out of the window. The sky was grey, and it looked like it was going to rain. Suddenly, a tawny owl appeared outside the window, tapping on the glass with its beak. Harry got up quickly to let it in, and removed a note from its leg. He stared at the note. It was written in pink ink, and it reeked of perfume.
Dear Henry,
I think you owe me an apology for bumping into me so ungraciously yesterday, and not even stopping to apologise. I have therefore decided that you may buy me a drink at The Leaky Cauldron today at noon.
Don't keep me waiting,
Pansy Parkinson
