Chapter 22
The Secret Keeper
Harry discovered early on the next week of school that Malfoy may have taken his father's words to heart. By Monday morning breakfast in the Great Hall, Malfoy seemed to have regained a measure of his popularity – he was laughing and boisterous, joking with other members of his House at the Slytherin table, and Pansy Parkinson was once again at his side. "I wonder how much he had to pay her to sit there?" Ron muttered, and for once Hermione didn't scold him for rudeness.
Harry wondered what Malfoy had done, once he'd returned from Azkaban yesterday, to get back into the good graces of his classmates. There'd been nothing in the conversation he'd overheard between Malfoy and his father that would've caused such a change, Harry felt; on the other hand, he hadn't heard their entire conversation. It was becoming all the more important to return to Azkaban and have a talk with Lucius Malfoy disguised as his son. Doing that, Harry hoped, he could discover some kind of clue about the Helm of Gryffindor, or any of the other Horcruxes Voldemort must have made.
In Transfiguration class that morning, Tonks was having the class review the basics of Untransfiguration, or returning a Transfigured object to its original form, in preparation for their N.E.W.T. work in that particular subject.
"How does one tell whether an object has been Transfigured or not?" Tonks asked the class. "Miss Granger," she said, as Hermione immediately raised her hand.
"The usual method is to use Scarpin's Revelaspell," Hermione replied promptly.
"Right. On my desk here I have three objects," Tonks pointed to an eraser, a small flower vase, and a book. "Oops!" she said suddenly, as her wand, hitting the vase, knocked it to the floor where it shattered into pieces. Harry winced as several people in the room laughed. He knew Tonks was dead clumsy – she even said so herself – but he would never laugh at her for it.
The Slytherins in the class, particularly Malfoy, however, laughed longer and more derisively than the other students. For her part, Tonks simply ignored them, then pointed her wand at the pieces and said "Reparo," quietly. The vase reassembled itself and she replaced it on the desk.
"Alright, then," she said, continuing as if nothing had occurred, "I'd like someone to come forward and determine which of these objects have been transfigured. Who would like to come up and have a go?"
A few people raised their hands, with Hermione, as usual, being the first. As Harry watched Tonks scan the class , however, when her eyes met his she gave a small wink. "Mr. Malfoy?" she said. "Will you do the honors, please?"
Malfoy, sitting in the center of the group of other Slytherins in the class, looked around to see that all eyes were on him before saying, "Well, Professor Tonks, it seems pretty obvious that the vase you've just repaired is the object."
"Really?" Tonks said, sounding interested in Malfoy's reply. "And how did you reach that conclusion?"
"I've read work by Adalbert Waffling suggesting that Reparo is misidentified as a Charm spell when it should actually be considered Transfiguration."
"I see," Tonks said gravely, as if Malfoy had just made a very salient point. "And how did you verify Waffling's hypothesis?"
"Well, he's the expert," Malfoy said with a shrug. "Why should I bother with that?"
"Nothing ventured, nothing gained, Mr. Malfoy," Tonks said brightly. "Come up and let's have a shifty."
Grinning at the other Slytherins, who were laughing and joking about Malfoy "showing the Professor how it's done" and "don't be jealous, Pansy, it's only schoolwork," Malfoy left his seat and strutted to the front of the class, where he stood, arms folded insolently, waiting for Tonks to tell him what to do.
After several seconds waiting for Malfoy to proceed, Tonks asked, "Have you ever used Scarpin's Revelaspell before, Mr. Malfoy?"
"Of course!" Malfoy said, sounding annoyed.
"On what?" Tonks asked.
Malfoy was silent for a moment, then said dismissively, "It's not important."
Harry snorted under his breath. He would just bet that Malfoy had used that spell when trying to fix the Vanishing Cabinet in the Room of Requirement last year, an effort that took him nearly the entire school year to complete.
"Then please proceed," Tonks said. "Cast it on the vase."
Malfoy, looking annoyed but still smirking at the other Slytherins, took out his wand and tapped the vase, saying "Specialis Revelio!"
Nothing happened.
Malfoy tapped the vase again, repeating the spell. There was still no response from the vase. He rounded on Tonks angrily. "You switched the vase for one that hadn't been broken, to make me look stupid!"
"You're doing that quite capably by yourself," Tonks replied dryly. "That is the vase I broke just a few minutes ago. What does that tell you about Waffling's idea?"
Malfoy looked at her mutinously and made no reply. After several seconds Tonks turned to the class. "Anyone? Hermione," she nodded as Hermione's hand instantly shot into the air.
"If Reparo were a Transfiguration spell, Revelaspell would have shown one on the vase," Hermione said. "But it is in fact really a Charm spell; the nature of the object isn't changed, nor its appearance. It works only to restore order or undo physical damage.
"Very good, Miss Granger," Tonks said, smiling. "Five points for Gryffindor." Hermione beamed at her.
"That's not fair!" Malfoy said, outraged. "I came up and did the spell! Why does she get points?"
"Here's your chance, then, since you've been doing some reading. Name another spell that is used to detect transfigured objects."
Malfoy merely glared back at her.
"Perhaps your reading should extend to your homework assignments, Mr. Malfoy," Tonks said pointedly. "Take your seat, please."
Malfoy walked back so he passed close to Hermione; as he did he turned and muttered something to her under his breath. She stiffened suddenly but didn't otherwise react.
"Would you like to share your comment with the class, Mr. Malfoy?" Tonks said, beginning to sound annoyed now.
Malfoy turned, an unconvincing look of innocence on his face. "I didn't say anything, Professor."
"Not aloud," Tonks agreed. "But did you know that my Auror training included how to read lips? It's a skill that comes in handy at unexpected times, such as when a wizard is trying to hex you but can't pull it off nonverbally. Or here and now, with you?"
"So what did I 'say' to Granger?" Malfoy challenged her.
"Let's just say it's earned you detention this Saturday," Tonks said flatly, her patience at an end.
"Sorry, can't," Malfoy said with a sneer.
"Excuse me?" Tonks said, not believing she'd heard correctly.
"Can't this weekend. I have an appointment with Professor Snape this Saturday," Malfoy said, puffing out his chest. "And for the next several Saturdays after that. He's said I must attend these appointments, so I can't be in detention those days."
"Not a problem," Tonks said, now examining Malfoy through narrowed eyes, as if she was trying to somehow discern the reason for his meetings with Snape. "I'll just arrange to have your detentions on the next few Sundays." Malfoy scowled but said nothing, taking his seat.
That could be good, Harry thought to himself; if he could find a way to get some Polyjuice Potion in the next week or two, and a strand of Malfoy's hair, he could take on his appearance and make the trip to Azkaban to see Lucius Malfoy.
At lunch Harry and Ron discussed the sudden change in Malfoy's fortunes. Harry was of the opinion that Malfoy had done just what his father suggested: He'd made peace with Snape.
"That makes sense," Ron agreed, speaking around the last mouthful of steak and kidney pie he was eating. "But it's not like we've seen them rowing at all."
"True," Harry admitted. "But when did you ever hear of Malfoy having weekly appointments with Snape before? I'd like to know what they'll be doing during them," he added, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.
"Probably nothing good," Ron said off-handedly. He'd pushed away his now-empty plate. "But when has he ever been up to anything else?" He reached into his book bag, pulled out the model of the Mystery Vault and began fiddling with the dial, arranging the tiles almost at random.
"Have you figured that thing out yet?" Harry asked, amused.
"I wish I could," Ron said earnestly. "There's something about this thing that I can't quite put my finger on. It reminds me of something; just what, I haven't a clue, though."
"What's up?" Ginny said, walking up to where they were sitting at the Gryffindor table. "I heard your mate Malfoy's the new cock of the walk with the Slytherins today."
Ron made a rude sound. "What else did you hear?" Harry asked.
Ginny sat down beside Harry. "The word is," she said quietly, "Snape called all the Slytherins into their common room last night and told them that there would be no more isolating Draco or ignoring him or blackmailing or any of that stuff."
"Too bad," Ron said, disappointed. "I thought he was doing well as a loner."
"Any reason why Snape had them ease up on him?" Harry asked.
"Nothing definite," Ginny said, glancing back toward the Slytherin table to see if anyone was watching them. "But a couple of fifth-years though they saw Malfoy walking toward Snape's office a while before his announcement. That was after he left the Great Hall, just after you and Jon came in."
"So he did take his father's advice," Harry murmured.
"He probably would," Ginny said. "If he thought it would win his approval. For all that he tried to do last year, he really wants his parents to be proud of him."
"How d'you know that?" Harry looked at her in surprise.
"Moaning Myrtle," Ginny replied. "They talked, you know."
"I know," Harry nodded. He'd seen Malfoy and Myrtle together in the boys' bathroom near the end of the last school year. When Malfoy saw him, though, the first thing he'd done had been to draw his wand. Harry did the same, and it ended up with Malfoy badly hurt; only Snape's timely arrival (although Harry had never figured out how Snape happened to be so close by) had saved Malfoy's life.
"He told her quite a lot of things in just the few times they talked," Ginny said. "And they're both lonely, you know; Malfoy's just got more reason to hide it."
"So Myrtle talks to you?" Harry guessed.
"Sometimes… she's not always talkative, but she does have her moments. And she does like to gossip," Ginny smiled. "She told me last year about you and her when you were trying to figure out the golden egg during the Tri-Wizard Tournament. That was before we were together – I think she was trying to warm me off of you, Harry."
Harry felt his face turn crimson; he hadn't expected Myrtle to mention that to anyone, least of all Ginny.
"Well, isn't that a cozy scene?" a familiar voice behind Harry said.
"Indeed, I'm getting more and more used to seeing our sister embarrass boys every day," replied another familiar voice, twin to the first one.
Harry and Ginny both spun around, and Harry grinned in delight at seeing two figures who hadn't been seen at Hogwarts for some time now – Fred and George Weasley!
"Oy!" Harry almost shouted. "What're you two doing here?"
"Just thought we'd come and see what you'd done with the place since we've been gone," Fred said airily, looking about the Great Hall. "Could do with a coat of paint. It still looks a bit Umbridge-y to me."
"Eww, don't say that," Ginny said, wrinkling her nose. She jumped up and gave them each a hug. "Y'know, now that you're here, you could talk to McGonagall about finishing out your last year," she said cajolingly; it was evidently a subject she'd broached with the pair before.
"Nah, little sister, that ship has sailed," George said firmly. "Besides, we couldn't afford to give up the time at the shop."
"Yeah, Puking Pastilles don't bake themselves, you know," Fred said matter-of-factly.
"Besides that, I don't think we'd quite get the welcome you think we would," George said. "Old Filch saw us as we were coming into the entrance hall – his eyes liked to bug out of his head, he was so mad." George looked at Fred. "He really, really must've wanted to give us those whippings he was planning on when we left."
"No doubt," Fred agreed. "Almost seven years with us and just when he finally gets permission to break out the whips, we break out of the school. Maybe we should leave him a Daydream Charm, for old times' sake." After a moment the both of them chuckled.
"So what's up," Harry asked them. "Why are you here?"
"We had a little business in Hogsmeade," Fred replied. "Had another shifty at Zonko's – we're still getting requests to open up a local shop."
"That'll really make Filch's eyes bug out," Ron observed.
"Which almost makes it worth it," George said with a grin.
"But we've still got to run the numbers before we make any final commitments," Fred cautioned.
"We're also doing our part to increase knowledge here at Hogwarts." George said, dropping the book bag that was slung across his shoulders on the table in front of them. He opened the bag and pulled out several books. "We have a few choice items to donate to the Library here."
"Well, that's very generous of you," Ginny said, looking over the books. "And uncharacteristic, I might add. So what's up?" she asked slyly.
"You wound us, dear little sister," Fred said in an aggrieved tone. "Truly, you do."
"Just as we recognize the need to give back to the institution that made it possible for us to learn so much," George added in exactly the same tone, "you disparage our generosity. We are devastated."
"Yeah, pull the other one," Ginny said, but she added, "Well, it's really nice of you to do that."
"Glad you think so," Fred said, beaming. "Why don't you come along with us to the Library and help us convince old lady Pince we mean it?"
"Really?" Ginny said in a startled voice. She looked at Ron, who looked puzzled for a moment, then incensed.
"What about me, then?" he said, outraged. "Are you gonna hog all the glory for yourselves and leave none for me?"
"Course not!" George said, sounding just as outraged that Ron would think so. "We want you to come along, too!"
"Oh!" Ron stood, then cast a quick glance at Harry and said, "And what about Harry?"
"Well…" Fred gave Harry a long look before saying, "Harry, no offense, but this is a family affair."
Ron looked Fred in astonishment. "Are you mental?" he blurted out.
"WHAT?" Ginny shouted. Several heads in the Hall turned to look at them. "Are you crazy, Fred?! Harry's as much family as any of us! If it wasn't for him you wouldn't even have your shop! If you don't want him along now, I'm not going, either!"
"Me either!" said Ron loudly.
"No –" Harry was shaking his head and trying to stop any further outbursts "— don't worry about it, Ginny. I understand. Ron, I understand." Harry almost thought he did understand; there were times when family was more important than friendship. Even if he couldn't understand why this was one of those times, he knew he could trust Fred and George to know what they were doing.
Ginny folded her arms across her chest and looked at her twin brothers. "Well I don't," she said flatly. Ron folded his arms across his chest as well, glaring at them balefully.
Fred looked at George with a disappointed expression, almost comically so. "You'd think after all this time they'd know us a bit better, wouldn't you, George?"
"Well, I always knew Ron was a bit thick," George said matter-of-factly, "but I did expect Ginny to catch on before now."
Ginny's stern expression relaxed. "So Harry can come along then?"
"No," said Fred, so softly only the four others there with him could hear. "But it's for his own protection. We have a little business to conduct, but we don't want Harry walking around with us so he won't be blamed for anything."
"Oh, but you want us walking around with you so we do, is that it?" Ron flared up once more.
"No," George shook his head. "We really do want Ginny's help convincing Pince to let us donate these books to the Library. And we have a few stops to make before we leave. But you both will be back down in the Great Hall by the time we leave, so nobody will be able to blame you for what happens."
"What's going to happen?" Harry asked.
"Best you don't know, mate," Fred said with a wink. "See you round." The twins left with Ron and Ginny. Harry sat down, wondering what they were up to.
He was still pondering, several minutes later, when he was joined in quick succession, first by Hermione, then by Jon, who were both late getting out of their Ancient Runes class.
"We just had an amazing lesson today," Hermione was telling Harry as Jon joined them. I never saw Professor Vector look so astonished in all the years I've had classes with her."
"What happened?" Harry asked distractedly; he was still wondering what the Weasleys were up to.
"Jon showed her a possible solution to the Magic Dodecahedron puzzle," Hermione said, beaming at Jon, who was shaking his head.
"I don't think she really believed me, Hermione," he said diffidently.
"Well, no," she agreed. "You didn't actually prove anything. But I think the concept you described is sound."
"Thanks," Jon said, smiling. "I'm glad you think so." Hermione smiled back. Harry fidgeted a bit, starting to feel uncomfortable. How did these two talk to each other when he or Ron weren't around?
Hermione suddenly turned to Harry and asked, "Where's Ron at?"
"Umm… Fred and George showed up, they asked Ron and Ginny to go with them to the Library, to donate some books to Madame Pince and do some other things."
"Why didn't you go with them?" Hermione wanted to know.
"Fred and George wanted me to stay here."
"Why?" Hermione said, puzzled.
"Dunno. Oh, damn it!" Harry said, remembering suddenly that he had a question for them.
"What happened?"
"Oh, I was going to ask Fred and George for a favor. I hope they come back here before they leave."
"What kind of favor?" Hermione asked curiously.
"Just a favor," Harry said vaguely.
"Oh, a secret," Hermione said, eyeing him suspiciously. "I'll bet I could guess."
"You probably could," Harry said. He wasn't very interested in telling her just yet; she'd been upset when she'd heard about Ron's impersonation of his father. Harry didn't care to hear what she might think of him taking Polyjuice Potion so he could pretend to be Draco Malfoy in order to talk to his father in Azkaban prison.
At that moment Ron returned to the Great Hall, walking swiftly along the ends of the row of the four House tables and then up to where they were sitting. He looked as if he were biting his tongue to keep from laughing.
"Where're Fred and George?" Harry finally asked, when Ron kept looking toward the doors to the entrance hall.
"Gone," said Ron quickly. "They were in a hurry."
"Damn!" Harry said again. "I wanted ask them about – well, you know what," he said, eyeing Hermione significantly. Ron looked at her then back to Harry.
"Well, about that – I asked them, just before they took off. They said no problem."
Hermione, disgusted at the secrecy (seeing as it was at her expense), pulled a copy of the Prophet out of her book bag and proceeded to become engrossed in it, ignoring them.
Harry and Ron proceeded to ignore her as well. "So what were they up to?" Harry asked.
"We did drop off those books," Ron said. "Funny, Fred and George completely misjudged Pince. She was thrilled to get those books! Praised Fred and George up and down, said they were doing the school and the Library a great service, and so on, blah-blah. They were completely dumbfounded, you should have seen it!" he finished, laughing.
"What'd they do, then?"
"Then they wanted to go up to our dormitory, said they had something to leave you; they wanted to put it in your trunk."
"But my trunk is locked," Harry protested.
"Yes, but we're talking Fred and George here," Ron reminded them. They had it open in about 30 seconds."
Somewhat nettled, Harry asked, "What did they put in my trunk, then?"
"They said you'd find it and a letter in your trunk explaining why they dropped it off," Ron said. "Wouldn't tell me what it was, either," he added, sounding vexed.
"Then what?" Harry pressed. "And where was Ginny during all this?"
"She stayed up in the Gryffindor common room," Ron said. He was nearly bursting with excitement, he could barely contain himself. "They told her to. Said it would be best if we weren't all together when they left. They sent me off to wait for them in the entrance hall while they dropped off a final, er, 'gift' for someone."
"A gift?" Harry said. "Just before they left the school? Ron, what do you think they –"
"WEASLEY!!"
The entire Great Hall jumped as the doors to the entrance hall burst open, revealing a very wet, and very angry, Severus Snape. There were outbursts of laughter at his drenched clothing and dripping hair, but they quickly died away as he glared at the tables where the merriment was loudest. Leaving a trail of wet footprints, he strode squishily up to where they now sat, staring at him in astonishment.
"Mr. Weasley," Snape said, in a remarkably calm voice. "Do you know what I just found in my office?"
"No, sir," Ron said, truthfully.
"It was quite fascinating, really," Snape went on, still unnaturally calm. "An entire swamp seems to have found its way there. Do you have any idea why it might be there, Mr. Weasley?"
"Nooo… sir," Ron said, not sounding nearly as truthful this time.
"Oh, I think you do," Snape corrected him. "I seem to recall a swamp in the fifth floor's east wing a few years ago, put there by your brothers."
"Er – if you say so, sir," Ron said blandly.
Snape eyed him maliciously. "They were never punished for that misdeed, were they?"
"Well, I believe at the time, sir, everyone in school, all the teachers included, were happy to see the trouble it was causing Professor Umbridge," Ron pointed out.
"Silence!" Snape commanded ringingly. "No matter what you may think of the person holding the position, the Head of this school is always to be treated with respect." Ron remained silent.
"Now, since the Weasley twins are no longer attending Hogwarts, I cannot punish them," Snape continued, looking at Ron, Hermione and Harry through narrowed eyes.
"I suppose not, sir," Ron agreed.
"So I shall have to punish you instead," Snape finished silkily. "Detention, Mr. Weasley, this Friday night, in my office."
"But this Friday's the Hallowe'en Feast!" Ron howled as several Slytherins, Malfoy included, laughed.
"Perhaps you should have pointed that out to your brothers before you allowed them to vandalize my office," Snape replied.
"Professor Snape," Hermione said, trying to keep her voice level. "Surely you can reconsider the time and allow Ron to be with his friends that evening; there is plenty of time on the weekend –"
"Perhaps you would like to serve detention as well, Miss Granger?" Snape cut over her. When she did not reply he smiled triumphantly.
Harry did not trust himself to say anything at all, lest Snape use it to inflict even more punishment on Ron, but he stared loathingly at the greasy-haired, sallow-faced man before him, the one person he could now say he hated more than Voldemort himself.
Hearing nothing else from Hermione or Harry, Snape said, "Be in my office at 6 p.m., Weasley. I don't think you'll need to worry about eating beforehand – what I have in mind for your detention may make be difficult to handle on a full stomach." He turned and strode imperiously the doors to the entrance hall, leaving a flabbergasted Ron staring after him, with Harry, Hermione and Jon looking on.
Ron spent the rest of the afternoon bitterly abusing Snape and the unfairness of being punished for something his brothers had done. Of course it wasn't first time it had happened, given Fred and George's precociousness. "They did this to me all the time!" Ron complained late in the day, finally switching to his brothers, having torn the fabric of Severus Snape's injustices to tatters. "Between having them, and Percy and Charlie to deal with, I was lucky to have survived to go to Hogwarts!"
Harry and Hermione, neither of whom had any brothers or sisters (Hermione was an only child and Harry's cousin Dudley didn't count, in his opinion) both thought Ron's protestations were a bit much. Neither of them said anything, though, knowing Ron was simply blowing off steam because of Snape's detention.
Somehow, in all the commiseration with Ron and listening to the horror stories of other students describing Snape's terrorizing his remaining classes for the day, then roaming the corridors seemingly searching for new victims of his wrath, Harry had forgotten about Fred and George leaving something in his trunk. As they trudged tiredly up the steps of Gryffindor Tower toward their dormitory after dinner, Ron suddenly whacked Harry on the arm and said, "We forgot about your trunk!"
"Come on!" Harry said, and with renewed vigor they ran up the rest of the steps and into their room. Neither Dean, Seamus nor Neville were yet in bed; Harry took out his wand, pointed it at his trunk, and removed the enchantment that magically locked it. The trunk popped open and both Harry and Ron dived into it, looking for whatever Fred and George had left in it for him.
Quite a few things had collected in Harry's trunk over the course of the previous year and the past few months of this school year. They piled up several old school books, scrolls of parchment, his Omnioculars from the Quidditch World Cup, the photo album Hagrid had given him of his parents, the various sweaters Mrs. Weasley had knitted him, two cards Ginny had sent him in past years, his duplicate Wand-Mate from Fred and George, and the two-way mirror Sirius had given him during his fifth year, now broken. There was also a great heap of rubbish: old candy wrappers, dry ink wells, a wrapper containing a half-eaten sandwich, and other detritus from years past. Nothing had turned up from Fred and George, however.
"Are you sure they put something in here?" Harry finally asked, looked at the heap of items they'd taken from his trunk. There wasn't much left in the trunk, only some broken quills and pieces of scrap parchment.
"I watched 'em put something in there, Harry," Ron said, rubbing his forehead, trying to think. "They wouldn't let me get too close, though; I dunno what it looked like."
Harry sighed and stared at the bottom of the trunk. "Well, whatever they left, if anything, it sure isn't obvious," he said, annoyed. A moment later he and Ron both did a double-take.
"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Ron said wryly.
"Yeah. Of course it's not obvious: it's Fred and George!" Harry said. "We've been stupid!"
They dived back into the pile of objects on the floor, looking for something out of the ordinary in the midst of Harry's things. After several minutes of looking, however, nothing had turned up.
Harry looked his trunk once, again, pulling out the last few scraps of parchment. None of them looked important; they were only idle doodling he'd done –
But one scrap made him pause. He'd written, apparently, the names "Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot & Prongs" on a piece of parchment. Just like on the Marauder's Map. But Harry could not remember when he ever might have done that. On a hunch he took out his wand, tapped the piece of parchment, and said, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."
Words spread out from the point where he'd tapped the parchment. Harry read aloud,
Harry,
Congratulations on finding our message, mate. Sorry to hide it like this, but we wanted to be sure only you would be likely to find it.
Your trunk is most likely nearly empty right now. Tap your wand on the inside lining on the left side and say "Open Caraway" (we thought "Open Sesame" was too obvious). This will reveal the Portable Drawer we've developed. Inside you'll find a list of magical detection and revealment spells we'lve put together. Hope they're helpful!
Close the Drawer with "Close Caraway."
Ron told us about you needing Polyjuice Potion – we have some brewing, it'll be ready in a few weeks. It's a brilliant plan, by the way!
– George and Fred
P.S. Tell Ron we're selling Portable Drawers for 15 Galleons
"Figures," Ron said. "You'd think it'd kill them to give their own brother something every once in a while. Whyn't you have a go at that drawer, Harry."
Harry tapped the inside left side of his trunk, saying "Open caraway," as he did so. The liner fell away from the side of the trunk, revealing a sizable drawer in which he found a parchment sheet with the list of spells on it.
"That'll come in handy," Harry said, admiring the roominess inside the drawer. He put the parchment sheet back into the magic drawer, then tapped it saying, "Close caraway!" and the drawer promptly shut and disappeared in the lining.
Hogwarts teachers, on the other hand, had quite a different view of what Harry, as well as all other seventh-year students, should be doing with their time that fall. Each teacher, as Ron later complained during that week, seemed to think his or her subject had suddenly become the only thing anyone at school was studying.
"Well, we knew this was going to happen," Hermione said pragmatically after their Wednesday classes, the one day they had courses all day together. "We've got a lot of studying to do for our N.E.W.T.s tests."
Saying this, however, hardly endeared her to Harry and Ron, who were beginning to feel crushed under the weight of homework and reading assignments. Their one reprieve, it seemed to Harry, was Quidditch practice, where he could stop worrying about Untransfiguration spells, Protean Charms, and the like, and just fly and enjoy the game. His enthusiasm for Quidditch began to come back.
Hallowe'en Day arrived and with it a definite dip in the temperature. The Great Hall's ceiling showed a gray, subdued sky; fireplaces roared to life throughout the castle in response to the colder weather. As six p.m. approached Ron's mood steadily declined; near the appointed time he stalked off for detention with Snape while Harry, Hermione, Ginny and Jon made their way down for the Feast.
The Great Hall had been transformed for Hallowe'en: instead of candles floating overhead, there were hundreds of pumpkins with candles glowing inside them. Bats were flying hither and thither around the room; squeaking so that students kept looking up apprehensively as they streaked back and forth over the tables. There were black and orange runners along the walls and edges of the tables and flaming orange streamers wove themselves through the air; indeed, the air in the Great Hall was so full of fluttering, floating and flying things one might wonder how they avoided crashing into each other.
The House ghosts as well as several others floated about the Hall, chatting with students. As Harry, Hermione, Ginny and Jon seated themselves at the table, they saw Nearly-Headless Nick reminding Dean Thomas that it was also the 505th anniversary of his death, something Dean didn't seem as interested in as Nick did; Dean shot Harry a long-suffering glance as they were sitting down.
"Ah, welcome!" Nick said, seeing them and turning their way. Dean made his escape to go sit next to Seamus. "Good to see you all here this year!"
"Hello, Sir Nicholas," Hermione said. "How are you tonight?""Quite well, my dear," Nick said, beaming at the use of his title and first name. "Your new Headmistress has certainly outdone herself for this first celebration of her administration."
The food arrived, appearing suddenly on their plates as it did during every feast. Feeling a bit guilty at enjoying it since Ron was now enduring one of Snape's detentions instead of being here with them, Harry nonetheless piled his plate full of victuals and proceeded to tuck in.
Hermione and Ginny were discussing classwork. Ginny was keen to hear about N.E.W.T.s preparation and Hermione equally keen to talk about it. Harry tuned out that conversation and began working on his generous portion of mashed potatoes and gravy.
Jon, across the table from Harry, was eating as well but also trying to look at all the activities going on in the Great Hall. It was true that this was about the most festive time one would see, at least until the end-of-term Feast in June. Thinking about that, Harry wondered: just how much would he, Harry, miss all this? This was his last year here, after all, and Ron's and Hermione's as well. After they left, the only people he knew well who would still be here were Ginny and Luna, who each still had their seventh year to get through.
Harry looked up as someone approached the table. It was Deirdre Recaunt, who sat down beside Jon. Jon, smiling at her, tried to offer her some pumpkin pasties, which she declined.
Some other Gryffindors had noticed Deirdre as well. "Oy, Recaunt!" Romilda Vane, several chairs away and sitting next to Jack Sloper, shouted. "Whyn't you go back to your own table?"
"Shut it, Romilda," Ginny shot back at her. "Deirdre can sit where she wants to."
"She's a Ravenclaw," Vane said. "We're supposed to sit at our House table during feasts!"
"Actually, that's not precisely the case," Nearly-Headless Nick interjected, gliding over the table to a spot between Deirdre and Romilda. "School tradition has had the House tables for nearly its entire history, but as a tradition it's not a –"
"Who asked you?" Vane said nastily.
Nick looked at her disapprovingly. "I daresay no one asked me, young lady," he said tartly. "But as you saw fit to utter falsehoods about school rules I thought some correction was in order."
"Are you calling me a liar?" Vane looked at Nick as if she doubted he would dare say so aloud.
"Would you prefer that I do so, Miss Vane?" Another voice rang out. Professor McGonagall had left her seat at the Great Table and was now between the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor tables, directly behind her.
Vane had spun around at McGonagall's voice; the sight of the headmistress standing, hands on hips, not ten feet from her quickly took the fire out of her. "No ma'am," she said, abashed.
"Very well," McGonagall said. "No one is required to sit at a particular table simply because of their House affiliation. I hope that is clear to everyone," she said, raising her voice so the entire Hall could hear her plainly. She turned and walked back to her seat at the Great Table as conversation slowly returned to normal throughout the Hall.
"That one doesn't like me much," Deirdre said to Jon in a low voice. "I don't know why, except she seems to think she deserves first choice among the boys in this school."
"That doesn't bother you, does it?" Jon asked her.
"No, but it's rather presumptuous," Deirdre replied, "without even a dominance ritual to establish order."
A dominance ritual? Harry thought, puzzled. He'd never heard of girls doing that. Was it some aspect of girl interaction neither Hermione nor Ginny had ever mentioned to him?
"I don't think that's how it works around here," Jon said. His eyes flicked to Harry's and he gave a small wink that Deirdre didn't see.
"I've noticed that," Deirdre said, "but maybe it's not so bad, though – I haven't missed it much."
"What is it you're talking about?" Harry blurted out. "A pecking order or something like that?"
Deirdre giggled. "Oh, no, no. Pecking's for chickens and while I have nothing against them, on the whole they're rather dim."
Harry made a rather confused face at this. Hermione and Ginny, who'd both still been chatting about N.E.W.T. work, stopped and turned to listen to Deirdre.
"What I mean is," Deirdre continued, "that we are all part of a social order, and we all interact with each other. In my, uh, group we understand our place in the order. It seems to be a bit different here – girls are friends one day, rivals the next, and back to friends the day after. People here who have almost nothing to do with each other keep challenging each other for dominance."
Hermione and Ginny looked at each other. "It's not quite that simple," Hermione began. "We all have something to do with one another –"
Deirdre tossed her hair impatiently. "I suppose that's true, if you all regard yourself as one big – well, family, I suppose. But that's not how you act, it seems."
"How do you think we act?" Jon asked, leaning toward her with interest.
"You're a good example, you know," she told him bluntly. "You went off to fight that blond boy one night, you told me. Because he dared you! You weren't even acting to protect yourself or your family; you just went and had a fight with him because you wanted to. You both wanted to."
"Yes, that's true," Jon said.
"Doesn't that strike you as being rather foolish?" Deirdre asked challengingly.
"It struck me as him being rather foolish," Jon replied evenly, keeping eye contact with her.
Deirdre snorted. "That is so egotistical!" she cried, getting up off the bench and standing over Jon, shaking a finger at him angrily. "I don't know why I put up with talking to you!" She walked to the end of the table, then, looking back at him, broke into a run and exited through the entrance doors, slamming them shut behind her.
Jon shook his head, smiling, and got to his feet as well. "Wait a minute," Harry said. "You're not going after her, are you?"
"Yeah," Jon said, "I am. I need to talk to her."
"I don't think she wants to talk to you, Jon," Ginny said. She looked skeptical about the wisdom in following Deirdre as well.
"She's just not used to the way things are done here," Jon explained. "She's not used to having large groups of people around her."
"'Large groups?'" Hermione repeated. "We've only got about 300 people in the whole school! How big is her village, anyway?"
"I don't know," Jon said, "but that's not really the point, is it? Just give her the benefit of the doubt. At least she's trying to learn, the same way I am – by going out into the world to see what's out there. Many students here have never even left Britain." When Hermione opened her mouth to protest Jon cut her off. "I know you have, Hermione. You've been to France, and Bulgaria. So I would think you would understand better than most." Hermione's expression went from puzzled to hurt; Jon looked at her a long moment, then turned and walked out of the Hall.
Harry turned to Hermione. "You went to Bulgaria? When did that happen?"
"Oh, never mind," Hermione snapped, turning red. Not looking at either Harry or Ginny, she jumped to her feet and ran from the room as well.
Harry was still staring at the door in bewilderment when something bounced off his chest and landed on the table in front of him. Looking down, Harry saw it was a Peppermint Toad. At the Hufflepuff table, Zacharias Smith was sitting down; he had just thrown it at Harry. "Malfoy wanted you to have that, Potter," he called. "It seems like your breath is driving off everyone at your table!" There were peals of laughter from the Slytherin table; some students at Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff chuckled as well. The Gryffindor table, of course, didn't consider it remotely funny and there were hisses and a few cross words hurtled back at them.
Ginny leaned over and said in a low voice, "Let's get out of here." Harry nodded and they got to their feet, inciting a few catcalls and thinly-veiled wonderings about where they were going. "Ignore them," Ginny muttered as they walked past the ends of the Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin tables.
"What a disaster," Harry said as they walked across the entrance hall to the staircase on its east side. "Er – where are we going?" he asked as they started up the staircase.
"Just walking," Ginny said, taking his arm. "I might as well take the opportunity to talk to you while I have you alone."
They walked aimlessly through the corridors, up one set of staircases and down another, until Harry almost felt he didn't know where he was in the castle. After this week, and especially after tonight, it was nice to just not think about things for a change. Even though the corridors were cold and dimly lit, Harry's nose held a flowery scent that somehow made him feel a bit more cheerful than he otherwise would have.
"So," Ginny finally asked as they walked along a stretch of deserted corridor. "What's up with you avoiding me lately?"
Harry stopped dead. "I haven't been avoiding you," he finally said.
Ginny shrugged. "You haven't exactly been chatty with me either, have you? We haven't been alone together for months now."
"Er – why should we need to be alone?" Harry asked nervously.
"So I can talk to you, you idiot," Ginny said with gentle exasperation. "You don't seem to have much time for me at all anymore."
"Well, there are just things I have to do, you know –" Harry began in a low voice.
"Oh please, we've already been through all that," Ginny held up a hand, cutting him off. "You've been busier than a one-armed goblin at the Gringotts mint: N.E.W.T. studies, Quidditch, the Marauder's Map, flying down to London every few weeks to that Vault Tournament so Ron can daydream he's going to open it somehow. And you've just been off to Azkaban to see Crabbe's father! Is all that what you meant last summer by 'things you have to do?' "
"I –"
"Look, Harry." Ginny stopped and faced him squarely. "I wish I could be selfish and tell you to let someone else handle it, but we both know better than that. You are the bravest, best person I've ever known." Ginny's eyes were fixed on his; they were bright with emotion. "I just don't want to lose you. Do you know that?"
Harry nodded slowly and she drew him to her in a fierce hug. Harry let himself enjoy the moment; whatever else he had to deal with this year, whatever happened to him, he would remember this moment.
Ginny let him go and they walked on, enjoying the solitude and the warmth of each other's presence in the cool corridors. Once again, Harry was reminded that, what he had to do was for Ginny and Ron and Hermione, their families and everyone at Hogwarts; indeed, for everyone in the Wizarding world, everyone who'd had to deal with the death and suffering Voldemort and his Death Eaters had put them through, both now, and in years past. For neither can live while the other survives… he would have to work ceaselessly, Harry knew, until he'd found what they needed to stop Voldemort.
Harry threw himself back into the search for Voldemort's Horcruxes with renewed vigor; as with Quidditch, getting back into the game, so to speak, sharpened his interest considerably. Hermione also returned to their research in Wizarding family books from the Library and, with Fred and George's suggestion, Harry began studying detection spells in his schoolbooks and other tomes in the Library.
The only person whose eagerness didn't return with great force was Ron; after the Hallowe'en night detention with Snape "stewing some really nasty stuff," as he recounted the experience, he was disappointed that they weren't going to the Fifth Round of the Vault Tournament, scheduled for the next day.
Reading about it in the Prophet the following Monday, however, Round Five had almost been nonexistent. There had been two contestants, both of whom had failed to even attempt an opening; the news of dire consequences at such attempts had already left their mark, and St. Mungo's had stopped sending emergency teams to the Tournament, forcing Gringotts to hire independent Healers on Tournament days in case of emergency.
Harry paid most of these things little heed. Between Quidditch practice, where everyone on the team was showing improvement – even Ron, who seemed to be conquering the nervousness that sometimes made him less effectual as Keeper, to studying spells he could use to detect Horcruxes as well as spells such as the Imperius Curse (if he ever decided to check Neville for it) and discussing them with Hermione, who suggested applications for some of the spells Harry never would have thought of, to the slow but steady increase of N.E.W.T.-level work they were all being subjected to, the days blurred into weeks. Even Ron had stopped complaining about not going to the Vault Tournaments. He hadn't even mentioned going to the Fifth Round, a special one that had been scheduled for the day after Hallowe'en; Harry had thought it would be one he'd dearly love to attend, even though it would be on the same day as the Ravenclaw-Slytherin Quidditch match.
As it turned out, the Ravenclaw-Slytherin game, on the third Saturday of November, was a disaster for the Ravenclaw team. Slytherin commanded the pitch after Ravenclaw's Keeper was knocked out of the game, from a questionable block by Crabbe, that left him open to a Bludger hit from Goyle. Harry found himself appraising the skill with which the two Slytherins had set up the hit even as he shouted for Madam Hooch to call the foul. Malfoy was Seeker again; the entire team was working well together, much better than Harry had seen them in recent years; the Slytherins had fallen into some disarray after Marcus Flint (who, after all, had the benefit of an extra year at Hogwarts to Captain the team) had departed. But Flint's skill at captaining Quidditch hadn't continued after Hogwarts; he was now working in the security section at the Ministry of Magic, Harry reflected smugly.
However, none of that helped the Ravenclaws when Malfoy caught the Snitch and Slytherin won 250 to 70. As Harry and the rest of the spectators walked back to school, he wished Ron was around to bounce observations off of; apparently Ron hadn't been able to find him or had sat with someone else. It wasn't until after dinner that he saw Ron, however, and he didn't seem very interested in discussing the match; he was pale and looked unsteady on his feet, as if he were ill. When Harry asked how he felt, however, Ron just said he'd accidentally taken a bite from a Puking Pastille and hadn't felt well all afternoon. Harry shrugged and continued with his research in spell detection magic.
The only disadvantage to not going to London every other weekend was that Harry no longer had easy access to Fred and George. He received an owl from them the Sunday after the Ravenclaw-Slytherin match telling him they were almost finished brewing the Polyjuice potion and that they would send it back with Ron after the next Vault Tournament Round. That puzzled Harry, because they had no plans to attend the next round. He sent Hedwig off with a reply saying that he'd have to make other arrangements since they weren't coming to the next Vault Tournament.
November gave way to December and even colder temperatures and bleaker, more windblown days. By the end of November, however, Harry had found out just why Ron hadn't been around during the Ravenclaw-Slytherin game and why he'd gone missing the last Saturday of the month, coincidentally the day of the next Vault Tournament Round: Ron was sneaking off to Diagon Alley on his own.
The Sunday after Round Seven, Harry, Ron, Hermione and Jon had studied right through lunch in their efforts to complete a difficult chapter in Transfigurations. At last flipping his copy of Advanced Transfiguration closed, Harry stretched mightily and groaned. "I need to get up and move around," he said, standing slowly and working his arms back and forth to loosen them.
"Why don't we go outside for a while?" Hermione suggested. "It's not too cold, we could walk around a bit and get some air at the same time." They all agreed and a few minutes later were walking down the main staircase in the entrance hall.
Dean and Seamus were walking in just as they approached the double entrance doors. "Going out?" Dean said happily; he seemed a bit giddy. "I feel great!"
"We've just come back from Three Broomsticks," Seamus amplified. He, too, seemed pleased with himself. "Had a few butterbeers to celebrate."
"What were you celebrating?" Hermione asked.
"Me birthday," Seamus said, grinning. "It's on Monday, but we thought we'd get a bit of a jump on it. D'you think I can get a cake for dinner tonight, so I can blow out the candles?"
"You never know," Harry said, smiling. It had occurred to him to ask Dobby the house-elf to arrange it when they returned to the castle. It would certainly be a high spot for Seamus's day. Dean and Seamus waved and helped each other up the staircase.
"You know, a butterbeer sounds pretty good right now," Jon said matter-of-factly, looking at Harry.
"You know, it does," Harry agreed. "Ron, what d'you think?"
But Ron didn't look very keen to go. In fact, Harry was surprised to see he'd begun to look a bit green at the idea. "I dunno," he said slowly. "My stomach's feeling a bit fluttery; maybe a walk around the grounds will calm it down."
"You can walk down with us to Three Broomsticks, Ron," Hermione said. "Perhaps Madam Rosemerta can make you a nice cup of tea," she added, a bit cattishly.
Ron looked at each of them, his face now almost comically green. "Alright then," he said suddenly, stepping between them, over to the signout book. "I'll sign us all out."
"Don't be silly," Hermione said, taking the quill from him. "We each have to sign the book ourselves, both in and out. You should know that – Mr. Filch has told us about a hundred times –" She stared at the book for several seconds, then looked back at Ron, who was slowly backing away now, looking sicker than ever.
"Ronald," she said, looking at him with a quickly hardening expression. "It says here that you signed out yesterday at 1:30 p.m., and back in at 5:15 p.m.."
"It does?" Ron said, sounding unconvincingly surprised.
"Yes, it does," Hermione said, her voice now positively flinty. "Where were you for four hours?"
"Well, I –" Ron cleared his throat "– I actually went down to Three Broomsticks yesterday and had a few. Butterbeers, you know. To take a break from all the studying and – you know, stuff, we've been doing lately."
"Um, no, Ron," Jon said, almost apologetically. "After Hermione and I finished our studies yesterday, Deirdre and I went to Three Broomsticks to spend some time together. We left here a bit after three and got back just before the curfew."
"He's right," Hermione said flatly, looking in the logbook. "They signed out about 3:15 p.m. and signed in at 5:55 p.m.."
"Ron?" Harry said, looking at him inquiringly. He had to have a good reason for this. Harry refused to believe, after all these years, that Ron was up to something dodgy.
"Alright, then," Ron said flatly. He looked nearly as hurt as Harry felt. "If you must know, I went to Diagon Alley to see the Vault Tournament! Happy now?" he finished defiantly.
All of them slumped in relief. But only for a moment, then Hermione stamped her foot in anger and frustration. "Ron, you great silly prat! Why didn't you just tell us that at the beginning?"
"Because you don't care!" Ron said loudly. He'd backed away from all of them, toward the staircase; several students coming down had stopped at the landing and were staring. Ron didn't notice them. "You think the Vault Tournament is stupid and a waste of time! You just want to sit around and study about –"
"Don't say it, Ron!" Hermione said warningly, cutting over him.
"Well, I've got things I want to do too, Hermione," Ron told her. "I want to win the Vault Tournament! I know you don't think I can–"
"I've never said that!" Hermione protested.
"But you're thinking it, aren't you? Aren't you?"
"No," Hermione said. But she'd remained silent just a bit too long.
"Right," Ron scoffed. "Poor Ron hasn't got much of a brain," he said, mocking her tone of voice. "He's always having me do his homework for him."
"Stop it!" Hermione shouted at him. She turned away, covering her face.
"Ron," Jon said, stepping forward. "She's been trying to help you. You know that –"
"Don't you start on me," Ron snapped at him. "You're the cause of all this in the first place!"
"He is NOT!" Hermione screamed, spinning to face Ron again. "He's just my friend! Why don't you get that?!"
At that moment Filch burst through the door at the north end of the room. "What the devil is all the racket going on –" He stopped, seeing Ron and the rest of them in confrontation. At the same time, the doors to the Great Hall creaked open and several students peered out at them in frank curiosity.
This was getting way too public, Harry thought. He stepped toward Ron saying, "Look, let's just go and have a drink and talk things out." He extended a hand toward Ron, "Come on, Ron."
But Ron did something unbelievable. He pulled his wand and pointed it, not at Harry or at anyone else, but into the air. "No, I'm not going anywhere! You go have a bleedin' drink if you think it'll do any good, Harry! Maybe when you see You-Know-Who, you can decide whether having a drink with him will do you any good!" Ron turned and bolted up the staircase, pushing his way through the students standing there staring at him. Everyone in the entrance hall stood watching his exit.
Filch was the first to recover. "Alright, go on, the lot of you," he waved at the students standing on the landing and in the doorway of the Great Hall. They quickly disappeared, those on the landing running into the Hall and pulling the doors shut behind them.
"So," he said to Harry, Hermione and Jon, the last three of them standing there. "Are ye signing out or not?" His tone was neither sarcastic nor sympathetic. Harry didn't know what to do; Ron had never seemed so out of control before. Hermione herself was shaking and seemed on the verge of breaking down.
She suddenly stepped up to the signout book, scratched her name and the time on the first empty line, and ran out the door.
"Come on," Harry said to Jon; they signed the book as well and hurried after her. They found her already sitting in Three Broomsticks, bottles of butterbeer already set up for them, when they arrived.
It was nearly curfew when they got back, and both Harry and Jon felt acutely uncomfortable after having listened to Hermione describe in excruciating detail everything that was wrong with Ronald Weasley: he was lazy, thoughtless, shiftless, ill-mannered, vulgar, undisciplined, cheap, and not a very good kisser. At least she seemed to have worked out most of her frustrations by venting to Harry and Jon.
Harry nearly forgot about Seamus's birthday, too; it was fortunate that he happened to look into the Great Hall as they returned from Hogsmeade and saw Seamus and Dean just finishing up their dinners. "Be right back," Harry said to Hermione and Jon, and sprinted through the door on the right side of the main staircase and dashed down a flight of stairs and along the corridor until he came upon a picture of a bowl of fruit. For a moment he stood there, knowing it was the way into the kitchens but absolutely blank about how to get through it, until he remembered to tickle the green pear. Giggling, it turned into a large green door handle, which Harry quickly turned and ran through.
It had been a long time since he'd come down to the kitchen, with its enormous, high-ceiling room, large as the Great Hall above it and filled with glittering brass pots and pans and a large brick fireplace at the far end. As before, there were a great many house-elves scurrying around, busily going about their chores, although a few had noticed him and were bowing and curtseying at his approach.
"Welcome, sir!" one of them said to him, bowing so low his ears flopped over, nearly touching the floor. "How can we help you, sir? Is there some food you are wanting?"
"Er, hi," Harry said, looking around. "I was looking for Dobby."
"Dobby is here, Harry Potter, sir!" Dobby suddenly appeared nearby, his large green tennis-ball shaped eyes glistening with happy tears as he beamed at Harry. "Dobby is so happy to see Harry Potter! It has been so long! What can Dobby do for Harry Potter, sir?"
"Well, it's one of my classmate's birthday today," Harry explained, "and he said something about getting a cake. I just came down to see if you could whip up a cake for him. It's short notice, I know, I'm sorry."
Dobby looked about at the other elfs who'd stopped to watch this exchange. "Do you all hear?" he said to them, great tears welling up in his eyes. "Do you all see how wonderful Harry Potter is? He does not come to the kitchen to get food for himself – he comes to ask for food for one of his friends! He is truly a selfless and wonderful wizard!" All the house-elves in the kitchen suddenly burst into applause. Harry looked around, dumbstuck and feeling embarrassed.
"It will be done, Harry Potter! Dobby swears it, or he will –"
"Dobby, don't promise to hurt yourself or anything like that if it doesn't get done!" Harry said quickly. "Just – thanks, and I'll talk to you soon."
Dobby bowed low again, then dashed off to comply with Harry's request.
Harry turned to go, but another house-elf caught his eye, one he hadn't thought about in some time as well. This house-elf, however, of all the house-elves in the kitchen, had not greeted Harry with a beaming smile, bow or curtsey. Aged and decrepit-looking, he regarded Harry with a look Harry knew must be deepest loathing and said, "The Potter boy forgets Kreacher, doesn't he?"
"Hello, Kreacher," Harry said, despite his aversion to the demented house-elf, whom he'd sent to the kitchens of Hogwarts at the beginning of his sixth-year, after he'd been given ownership according to the terms of Sirius's will. "I haven't forgotten you, no. I just haven't had anything for you to do, lately."
Kreacher turned away. "The nasty Potter boy never thinks of Kreacher unless he needs something from him. It is the way of all wizards, oh yes. But Kreacher wishes he was with proper wizards, like his mistress. She would make proper use of him, she would."
"She's been dead for years, Kreacher," Harry reminded him.
Kreacher was not listening, however. "Kreacher wants to go home, he does," he muttered, apparently not realizing he was still speaking aloud. "He wants to work for wizards who will treat him correctly, and not force him to work with common house-elves, oh no." Several of the house-elves looked at him, Harry saw, and their expressions were a mixture of pity, disgust, and umbrage.
Harry shook his head, turned, and ran back up to the entrance hall, where he found Jon and Hermione standing at the doors of the Great Hall, staring inside, where several students were gathered around Seamus and Dean singing a birthday song. Harry stuck his head through the doors as well, and Seamus, seeing him, raised both arms in the air in glee. A few student stepped back and Harry saw a large cake was sitting in front of Seamus, magical candles were floating above it.
"Harry, look!" Seamus shouted happily. "My cake!"
Harry raised a hand with a thumbs-up gesture, and Seamus returned it, then inhaled deeply and blew out the candles, which literally blew away themselves, dissolving to nothingness as their flames went out.
As Hermione and Jon walked with Harry up to Gryffindor Tower, she said, "It was very nice of you to remember to do that for Seamus, Harry."
"I thought it'd give him a boost for his birthday," Harry said. "I don't get much chance to talk to him anymore. Sometimes I even forget he's around at all."
I wonder how much I've been taking Ron for granted, Harry added to himself. Would he have gone running off to the Vault Tournament alone if I'd take the time to understand how much it meant to him?