Chapter 34
"AND I WILL MOVE THE EARTH"
The exchange between Hermione and Ron about Jon put both of them in a bad mood that lasted the rest of the day and evening. By Friday morning, however, Ron seemed to have forgotten his disagreement with Hermione, waking up in high spirits for their final day as he prepared for his turn in the Tournament the next day. With luck, Hermione would be as forgiving as Ron. Based on how that had turned out in the past, he wasn't too hopeful.
"It's really hard to believe, isn't it?" he asked Harry as they dressed for breakfast. "I mean, I can hardly believe it myself and I'm the one who figured it out!"
"Are you sure you'll be able to open the actual Vault?" Harry asked, half-teasing. Ron had practiced with the model for the hours, forming the image he believed would open the door of the vault, then having Harry jumble it up for him again.
"Feels like I've been doing nothing but for days now!" Ron said. "I've got the time down to about ten minutes now, on average – that's well below the 15-minute time limit."
They headed down for breakfast, joining an anxious Hermione who was waiting for delivery of her copy of the Daily Prophet. "Good morning, Hermione!" Ron said, giving her a kiss on the forehead before seating himself beside her. "And how are you this fine morning?"
"All right," she said distractedly, scanning the windows for any sign of the post owls. "How are you?"
"Never better," Ron said bracingly. He looked up and down the table to see if anyone was eating yet, but there was no food on any of the four House tables. "What's keeping breakfast?"
"No idea," Hermione said. "I wonder what's keeping the Daily Prophet this morning?"
"Maybe Skeeter couldn't get the article done in time," Ron suggested. "And they had to go with something else."
"Not likely," Harry said dully. "You saw how much she wanted that interview, Ron."
"I can't believe she had the temerity to come back here after she – she –" Hermione sputtered.
"Too bad you weren't with us," Ron grinned at her. "You could probably chase her out of here, no problem."
"I wish I had been there," Hermione said feelingly. "She wouldn't have gotten a thing out of us!"
"But then Ron wouldn't have a chance to go to Diagon Alley tomorrow," Harry pointed out. "It was pretty clear she had the Ministry behind her, somehow. I still can't puzzle out why, though."
At that moment breakfast appeared on the tables in front of them, and Ron reached forward eagerly. "Good, breakfast at last! I'm starving, and this is our last morning here."
"What, you're leaving tomorrow?" Hermione asked, surprised.
"Yeah, of course," Ron said, looking at her blankly. "Aren't you?"
"Well, I thought –" she looked at Harry "— I thought we were going to stay with Harry and help him after school finished this year."
Ron, who'd been spooning porridge into a bowl stopped, embarrassed, and looked at Harry. "Oh – right, we were… Well, Dad and Mum would love for you to come and stay at the Burrow, Harry, any time. I would too."
Harry smiled, grateful. "Thanks, Ron, and Hermione. I'm going to try and find a place to live in Godric's Hollow, maybe even where my mum and dad lived, if it can be rebuilt. I never did get around to visiting it during the year." Now that he'd realized that, Harry felt somewhat ashamed of himself for not visiting either the house where Voldemort had been stopped, sixteen years ago, or his parents' graves there in Godric's Hollow.
At that moment there was a rustling of many wings as the owl posts arrived with the morning's mail. Hermione had her eight Knuts ready and quickly exchanged it for the copy of the Daily Prophet the owl had delivered. Unrolling it, she smoothed out the copy and froze, staring at the front page in shock.
"What is it?" Ron asked, looking at her expression. "They didn't cancel the Tournament did they?" he said worriedly. But Hermione could not speak to reply. She looked up at Harry and Ron, then suddenly looked beyond them, scanning the other tables for something – or someone.
"What's it say?" Harry asked, now concerned by her reaction.
Hermione finally found her tongue. "You're not going to believe this," she said quietly, her voice barely more than a whisper. "I can't read this aloud – you'll have to come to this side of the table to see it." Ron and Harry looked at each other, then slipped under the table, coming up on either side of Hermione and looking at the headline on the paper.
"Blimey!" Ron said, shocked as well. Harry, reading it as well, could hardly believe what he saw as well:
Ministry Denies Knowledge of Centaur "Student" at Hogwarts
A spokesperson for Minster of Magic Rufus Scrimgeour, amidst protests from numerous Wizarding families, denied any knowledge of a centaur posing as a student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Thursday evening, writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent for the Daily Prophet.
"Obviously, the Ministry is just as shocked and appalled by such news as the normal, decent Wizarding families who send their children to Hogwarts, expecting a normal, decent education," Dolores Umbridge, Junior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic, told the Prophet correspondent. "A full investigation into this shocking allegation will be underway shortly, and let me assure all Wizarding parents who are concerned for their children's safety that new safeguards will be in place by the beginning of the fall year."
The allegations stem from an interview with students at the school who witnessed a female centaur, identified under the human name of Deirdre Recaunt, transform from human to centaur form one evening in the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest, a known refuge for a herd of wild centaurs. Other students, also present during the transformation, apparently chose to remain silent, aiding in the cover-up.
"She's supposed to be from 'a small village' somewhere near the school," the student, who spoke under condition of anonymity, told Daily Prophet Special Correspondent Rita Skeeter. "But no one knows where this village, if it even exists, is supposed to be. She's also acted very strange during the entire school year, not like a normal person at all. That's why a lot of students were suspicious about her."
Nor is this the first time a centaur has been within the walls of Hogwarts castle. Since March 1996 a centaur named Firense ("She's even misspelled his name!" Hermione pointed out scornfully) has taught Divination classes at school, after the human Divination teacher, Sibyll Trelawney, was fired for poor performance of her duties by Ministry personnel. Although subsequently rehired, Trelawney's performance was never reevaluated by the school Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall, who refused any comment on this matter or on the centaurs currently teaching and attending the school.
"There's not even a mention of you or Ron!" Hermione hissed, her voice low so only the two of them could hear. All across the Great Hall, other students with copies of the Prophet were reading the story as well, with clusters of students standing around behind them reading over their shoulder or talking about the article.
Harry looked around for Deirdre, wondering if she had come downstairs for breakfast yet, but there was no sign of her. Malfoy, however, was very much in evidence. Slytherin students were clustered behind him, reading over his shoulder, as he talked with others around him. Malfoy looked Harry's way and their eyes met; Malfoy nodded at him with a smug grin while Harry countered with look of purest loathing.
The doors of the Great Hall opened and Deirdre and Jon walked in. The entire Hall fell unnaturally quiet, and both of them stopped, confused, at the reaction their entrance seemed to have precipitated. Then someone at the Slytherin table made a whinnying sound, and the room exploded into laughter and catcalls. Many Slytherins followed suit, making neighing sounds and stamping their feet, mocking Deirdre while students at the other House tables watched, some shouting disapproval of the derisive behavior, although many others said nothing.
Deirdre, for her part, reversed direction and walked along the Slytherin table to where Malfoy was sitting. Students at the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables stood to watch what would happen; many Gryffindors leapt to their feet as well, Hermione, Ron and Harry among them. "What does she think she's doing?" Hermione whispered, watching in horror as Deirdre stopped not ten feet from Malfoy and his cronies, with Jon standing behind her. Harry could see that Jon's hand was in his robe's pocket; he looked ready to draw his wand if things should come to the worst.
"I see you found a way to get yourself in the news, Malfoy," Deirdre said evenly as Malfoy gave her a self-satisfied smirk.
"I don't know what you mean," Malfoy said smoothly. "The student who talked about you wasn't identified. For all we know," he said, raising his voice so the entire Hall could hear him clearly. "Harry Potter could have been the one to follow you into the Forbidden Forest and discover your dirty little secret."
"Dirty little secret?" Jon repeated angrily. "Malfoy, there's been a centaur teaching in this school for over two years now! The only reason Deirdre couldn't walk in here openly is because of people like you, who think only pure-blood wizards should be entitled to the benefits of magic!"
As Harry watched this play out, he saw with some consternation that Crabbe and Goyle were moving slowly along the wall to a position behind Jon and Deirdre. He couldn't tell if either of them were aware of what Crabbe and Goyle were up to.
Malfoy had stood and was pointing at Jon threateningly. "You can keep your dirty Mudblood mouth shut!" There was a gasp as Malfoy used the derogatory word Mudblood. "Or I'll shut it for you, if you prefer!" His hand went into his robe pocket.
But as Jon started to pull his own wand hand clear of his robe, Crabbe and Goyle pounced, grabbing his arms and preventing him from drawing his wand. Malfoy leisurely pulled out his own.
"Attacking students in the Great Hall, Crown?" he said with mock disappointment, shaking his head slowly. "I think that's going to cost you – fifty points from Gryffindor!" There were gasps from the Gryffindor table; as a prefect and Head Boy, Malfoy had the right to take points from other students, except for prefects.
"Let him go!" Deirdre cried, looking at Crabbe and Goyle holding Jon, who, strangely, seemed not to be struggling.
"Or what?" Malfoy sneered at her challengingly. "Will you run and call for your herd to come rescue you?" There were snickers and chuckles from the Slytherins gathered nearby.
Harry was about to draw his own wand when Deirdre, turning back toward Malfoy, said, "No," then took a deep breath, and began to change, growing taller and longer as the lower part of her quickly transformed into a palomino body. Malfoy stepped back, his mouth agape and both hands raised before him as if for protection; he seemed to have forgotten he was holding a wand.
But Deirdre had turned to look behind her at Crabbe and Goyle, who were still holding Jon. Her back legs, now only a few feet from the three, lashed out, a hoof landing solidly in each of Crabbe and Goyle's chests. They both flew through the air, landing a dozen feet behind Jon.
At the same moment, Deirdre reached into the robe still covering her upper torso and drew her own wand, pointing it at Malfoy's and saying, "Expelliarmus!" Malfoy's wand flew from his hand.
"As you can see, Malfoy," she said coolly, pointing her wand at him as he stared at her in shock. "I do not need anyone to come 'rescue' me."
"Freak!" Pansy Parkinson, who had had been seated next to Malfoy, hissed as she leapt to her feet and stood next to Malfoy, glaring at Deirdre. Her hand was inside her own robe, as if she meant to draw her wand as well. "You don't belong here!"
"That is not for you to decide, Miss Parkinson," another voice replied from the front of the room. Everyone turned to see Professor McGonagall walking rapidly toward them. She stopped between Malfoy and Deirdre, looking at Jon, standing behind her and Crabbe and Goyle, who were still lying, stunned, upon the floor. "Tell me what has occurred here," she said.
"She attacked Crabbe and Goyle!" Malfoy said instantly, pointing at Deirdre accusingly. "And me as well!"
"You seem to have gotten off rather lightly," McGonagall observed dryly. "Compared to your two friends."
"She attacked me with a wand," Malfoy protested, saying the final word as if Deirdre had used an Unforgivable Curse on him. "Centaurs aren't allowed wands!"
"Every student in this school is allowed a wand," McGonagall corrected him. She turned to Deirdre. "What happened?"
"When Jon and I came into the Hall," Deirdre said, looking evenly at Malfoy, who was glaring malevolently at her. "Malfoy here made a very rude sound, although I doubt he realized it. Centaurs do not whinny like horses.
"I came over to congratulate him for getting the news that I was a centaur printed in your wizards' newspaper, and those two –" she indicated Crabbe and Goyle, who were now getting slowly to their feet "— moved around behind Jon and grabbed him when he tried to draw his wand."
"See?!" Malfoy cried, pointing again at Deirdre. "She admits they drew first!"
"Drawing one's wand is not itself a hostile act," McGonagall pointed out. "It only becomes important when trying to determine the primary instigator of a fight. Continue," she nodded toward Deirdre.
"I told them to let go of Jon and when they refused I transformed and kicked them in the chest," Deirdre went on. "I then disarmed Malfoy, who'd drawn his own wand."
Several of the Slytherins, Zabini and Nott among them, tried to object that Deirdre wasn't being truthful, but McGonagall held up a hand for silence. "I saw enough of what happened to know who's telling the truth." She turned to Malfoy. "Since today is the last official day of classes you're required to attend, I will allow you, Crabbe and Goyle some leniency; instead of detention, you will each deliver 100 lines of "I will not start fights in the Great Hall."
When Malfoy glared at her mutinously, McGonagall added, "You may deliver these lines to me whenever you like, but until you do, you will not receive your examination results, nor will they be entered at the Wizarding Examination Authority Office."
Malfoy scowled and appeared about to say something unpleasant when he was saved by Professor Snape, who had walked up to the group unnoticed (except by Harry, who'd wondered what trickery he would try to apply to get Malfoy off) and asked, "What is going on here, Headmistress?"
"Three of your students," McGonagall replied, her spectacles flashing, "have been disciplined for fighting." Snape looked from her to Jon, then at Deirdre. If he was surprised to see her in centaur form, he displayed no outward evidence of it.
"Have the other students involved been disciplined as well?" Snape asked.
"No," Malfoy said loudly, with a dirty look at McGonagall.
"Be quiet, Draco," Snape said softly. Malfoy shut up, and Snape looked at McGonagall inquiringly. "May I ask why not?"
"I determined they were not at fault," McGonagall said coldly, obviously not happy being publicly challenged by Snape for her disciplinary decisions.
"Both Mr. Crown and…Miss Recaunt…" Snape observed. "Are being accorded preferential status at Hogwarts now?"
"Of course not," McGonagall said tartly. "But neither will they be punished for things beyond their control."
"However –"
"The matter is closed, Severus," McGonagall cut him off. "Your students have their assignment. Please impress upon them the importance of completing it if they wish to receive the results of their examinations." McGonagall turned and walked back to the High Table, where Professors Flitwick, Sprout, Tonks and several other teachers had arrived and were watching the end of the confrontation.
"She –" Malfoy turned to Snape, beginning to protest, but Snape silenced him with a quick motion of his hand, then pointed to the doors of the Great Hall. Malfoy turned and angrily stalked off, followed by Crabbe and Goyle, who were still groaning and rubbing their aching chests.
Dozens of murmured conversations began at once as everyone began talking about the altercation. Harry sat down with Ron and Hermione again, watching as Jon and Deirdre, now back in human form, walked over to the Ravenclaw table, only to stop when several Ravenclaw girls scooted away from the place at the table where Deirdre was about to be seated. She looked at them, apparently in shock at their reaction, then at Jon, then turned and ran from the room. Jon had started to follow her but she shook her head violently and waved him away from her. Sighing, Jon walked over to the Gryffindor table where Harry, Ron and Hermione were seated.
"Interesting last day," Jon said with obvious irony, looking unhappy as he sat down opposite them.
"Why didn't you go after her?" Hermione asked gently.
"I think she's had her fill of humans for a while," Jon said. "Those girls back there have known her all year, but they shied away from her just now like she had dragon pox or something."
"They were probably in shock from what they'd just seen."
"You mean, finding out that she's a centaur?" Jon's expression was opaque. "I got the impression that none of you were very upset by that idea when you found out."
"Well, of course not," Hermione said quickly. "I think it's a wonderful idea, in fact!"
"And you probably wouldn't pull away from her if she came up to you, would you?" Jon continued.
"Of course not!"
"So it probably hurt when people she thought would accept her for what she is, can't seem do that," Jon finished.
He stood up. "I've got to go," he said flatly. "I've got to figure out what to do about my – well, you know… I still haven't figured out how to get back into that room."
Harry stood as well. "Come on," he said. "I have something to tell you about that." Once out of the Great Hall, Harry described his meeting with Dobby in the corridor outside the Room of Requirement some weeks before, and Dobby's indication that he would retrieve the boxes placed in the hidden objects room when Harry gave him the proper word.
"But you have no idea what the proper word is," Jon surmised. By this time they had reached the seventh floor corridor where the Room of Requirement was located.
"Right," Harry admitted.
"Did you try a Memory Charm?" Jon asked.
Harry started. "No, I hadn't. I forgot they could be used to help remember as well as forget!" he said, chagrinned.
Why don't we give it a try?" Jon said, taking out his wand. "Concentrate on what to tell Dobby to get him to retrieve the leather boxes." He waved the wand at Harry's head saying, "Recognoso!"
After a few seconds, however, Harry shook his head. "Nothing's coming to mind," he said, disappointed.
"You've really buried that memory," Jon said. "Harry, will you give me permission to use Leglimency on you?"
"You can perform Leglimency?" Harry asked, surprised. This was the first time Jon had admitted knowing something about the technique.
"How did you learn it?" Hermione asked at once.
"An advanced class at Merlin's," Jon replied. "It can come in handy sometimes when dealing with Muggles who become suspicious of unusual goings-on."
He faced Harry. "Okay, Harry. Keep eye contact with me, and think about telling Dobby the word he needs to hear to retrieve the boxes." Their eyes met and locked. The corridor seemed to shift oddly, tilting back and forth, and suddenly Harry was staring at the ceiling. A face came into focus above him. It was Hermione.
"Are you alright?" she asked anxiously. "You and Jon both just fainted!"
Harry sat up. He touched the back of his head and winced in pain; he had hit the floor rather hard when he fell. "Why would Jon trying to use Leglimency on me make us both faint?" he asked of no one in particular.
"It shouldn't," Jon said. He'd come round as well and was sitting up, staring at Harry. "Something in your head stopped me from getting in there."
What d'you mean?" Ron asked anxiously. "Do you think someone is in there already? Like Harry's possessed or something?" He looked alarmed.
"I don't know," Jon said, looking concerned.
It was a sobering moment for them all, and they spent the rest of the day in a dispirited mood; the festiveness of their last day at Hogwarts had been thoroughly shattered. Ron practiced silently with the model of the Vault. Hermione poured over several books from the Library dealing with Leglimency, but as time approached for the end-of-year feast she still had no idea what might have caused both Harry and Jon to faint. Jon had left for a while, to find Deirdre, but had returned, silent and brooding, and sat staring into the fireplace.
For his own part, Harry was feeling nothing about leaving the school. It was done, and he knew more now than he might have if he'd stayed away from Hogwarts trying to find Voldemort's Horcruxes on his own. Indeed, it was his fervent hope that those boxes in the Room of Requirement contained three of the four Horcruxes he needed to destroy before he could take on Voldemort himself.
As the appointed time drew nigh, Hermione put away her books and the group trudged down to the Great Hall for the end-of-year feast. In spite of his downcast mood, Harry smiled as he saw the colors adorning the Great Hall – it had been decked out in the blue and bronze colors of Ravenclaw, who'd won the House Cup that year. The Hufflepuffs, who'd won the Quidditch Cup, appeared to be pleased with themselves as well. It wasn't often that those two Houses both came out on top at the end of the year.
McGonagall appeared and made her way to the center chair of the High Table. She was dressed in a magnificent emerald robe and cloak, with an elegant matching witch's hat rather than her normal black one. All of the teachers present at the High Table were robed similarly, including Tonks in a shocking pink robe that matched her new hair color. In spite of all the brilliant colors, however, the teachers appeared somber and subdued.
McGonagall looked out over the Hall, seeming to take in the full effect of the year behind them, her first year as Headmistress of Hogwarts. As the conversations in the Great Hall died away, she began to speak. "Here we are at end of a very important year. Last June, we lost a person who was very important to many of the students and teachers here – Albus Dumbledore. I have been very proud and grateful to call him my teacher, and my friend, for many years now, and it was with mixed emotions I took over his position as Head of Hogwarts. For some time we were afraid the school might not even continue.
"However, all of you have made me very proud that we were able to persevere, and that all of you were able to be here with all of us. A special congratulations to Hufflepuff, who won the Quidditch Cup this year –" there was renewed cheering from the Hufflepuff table, and Professor Sprout, seated at the high table between Professors Flitwick and Tonks, applauded along with her students. "– and to Ravenclaw, who won the House Cup this year." Ravenclaw students cheered and applauded, and diminutive Professor Flitwick, shorter even than Professor Sprout, beamed and waved at his students in turn.
"Before we begin the feast," Professor McGonagall continued. "I would like to say a few words about someone who bears mentioning. Harry Potter, will you stand up, please?" Harry, surprised at hearing himself singled out, looked at Ron and Hermione on either side of him, then stood slowly. The entire Hall had gone quiet, waiting for McGonagall to resume speaking.
"Nearly seventeen years ago," McGonagall said slowly, speaking very clearly. "A terrible thing happened. A very Dark, very evil wizard, who'd grown so powerful that even his name was no longer spoken for the fear it generated, learned of the location of a young witch and wizard who opposed him, and set out to kill them. Unfortunately, he succeeded – but when he attempted to kill this boy, Harry Potter, he was, amazingly, unsuccessful. In fact, his failure is legendary among us, for it brought about his end – or so we thought.
"We learned, a few years ago, that he was still among the living, and he was eventually able, somehow, to restore himself to full vigor. How, he walks among us once again.
"I tell you this," she continued, "not to frighten you, nor to impress you, for neither fear nor impressive deeds will help you achieve your goals, but to give you the knowledge you need in order to make the best decisions you can.
"Harry Potter, as one of the seventh-year students who will be leaving Hogwarts this year, is just one of many who will do so today and in years to come. He will, as will the rest of you, go out and make his choices in life, for the better, I hope, of both himself and others."
McGonagall took out her wand and waved it. Goblets appeared in front of every student and teacher in the Hall, filled with a brown liquid. "I wish to make a toast," she said, raising the goblet, and everyone stood as she said:
"May the best you've ever seen,
Be the worst you'll ever see.
May a mouse never leave your girnal,
With a tear drop in his eye.
May you always keep hale and hearty,
Till you are old enough to die.
May you always be just as happy
As we wish you always to be."
McGonagall raised the goblet to her lips, and she and everyone drank.
"What's a 'girnal?' " Harry heard Ron whisper to Hermione. She shushed him.
McGonagall, her eyes bright, waved her wand again and the goblets disappeared. "Very well," she said, clapping her hands; food appeared on all the plates on the tables. "Let's eat!"
After dinner, feeling well-sated and a bit tired, Harry, Ron and Hermione returned to Gryffindor Tower and flopped into comfortable chairs. There was nothing much to do until tomorrow morning, when they would board the Hogwarts Express, which would leave at 7 a.m. the next morning rather than 11 a.m., its normal time, for the trip to King's Cross. From there, Hermione had told them (although she wasn't entirely clear on how) students wanting to attend the Vault Tournament would travel to Diagon Alley.
A while later Jon joined them; he seemed a bit happier as he said, "I talked Deirdre into going to Diagon Alley to watch Ron open the Vault."
"Is she doing better now?" Hermione asked, concerned.
"I thought for a while she was just going to disappear back into the Forbidden Forest," Jon said candidly. "But she decided that now is not the time to start reacting badly to the bad behavior of others."
"I've got to ask you something," Ron said suddenly to Jon.
"Go ahead."
"Have you ever snogged Deirdre while she was, um… a centaur?"
"Ron!" Hermione said, scandalized by the question. "That's a very personal question to ask someone!"
"Well, I may never get a chance to ask it again," Ron said reasonably.
Jon had reddened at the question, but didn't appear otherwise embarrassed. "Yes, we've kissed while she's been transformed. It's not much different except she's about a foot taller than me that way. It's sort of like dating a basketball player."
"A what player?" Ron asked.
"Just another American sport," Jon said. "Played mostly by taller people."
Harry was smiling as he listened to this exchange; it seemed that Ron and Jon had developed something of a friendship of their own. Too bad, Harry reflected, it had come so late in the year. If only –
He suddenly grabbed his forehead, crying out involuntarily as a searing pain shot through his scar. It was the first time it had hurt in months and it caught him completely off guard. Moaning, Harry slid from the chair onto the floor, his hands pressed against his scar. Hermione, Ron and Jon leapt to his side.
"What is it, Harry?" Hermione said urgently. "What's happening?"
"V-Voldemort," Harry whispered. "He – he's furious… " Another wave of agony swept through him and Harry fell forward, pressing his face into the area rug beneath him, his hands clasped against his forehead.
"W-what's he furious about?" Ron asked tensely. "H-Harry?" The pain subsided a bit and Harry realized that the common room had gone deathly silent. He felt the eyes of everyone there upon him. Even though his eyes were tightly closed against the pain, he knew Ginny was hurrying toward them; her footsteps, and the flowery smell he always associated with her, were most evident to his senses.
And he knew what Voldemort was furious about. He could feel the burning hot anger through his scar, the desire to inflict punishment and humiliation, the frustration of a year-long wait only to be vexed by the incompetence of others.
Harry pushed himself upright again, looking at Ron, Hermione, Jon and now Ginny, who had joined them just as he'd sensed she was, and whispered to them, "He's furious with… me."
Hermione looked toward him, horror-struck, then at Ron, who returned her gaze with equal emotion. Ginny and Jon, each more pragmatic, glanced at each other then back at Harry. "Why, Harry," Ginny asked, very quietly, so only the four of them might hear. "Why is he angry at you?
"T-those boxes," Harry whispered, pressing a hand against his forehead. The pain was subsiding now, as Voldemort must have reined in his anger and frustration. "He, he just found out they're gone from the vaults in Gringotts. And he blames me."
It was several hours before Harry was able to convince the four of them that he didn't need to go to the infirmary, or McGonagall, for help. Either way was liable to bring Ron's plans to open the Mystery Vault to a quick halt; McGonagall probably would not allow them, or any of the students, to travel to Diagon Alley if she feared Voldemort was after Harry.
Hermione and Ginny were both convinced Harry was in danger no matter where he was. "We should at least let Lupin know," both of them pressed him. "He may have expected something like this to happen."
"Why would he expect that?" Harry'd argued. "My scar doesn't hurt anymore." The pain had subsided to a prickly feeling that gave Harry the impression Voldemort was in deep concentration. Truthfully, Harry did wish there was a way to find out what he was thinking.
"Look," Harry finally said. "We could be at this all night. Voldemort has never shown up to attack me – he's always found a way to draw me to him somehow."
"What about your first year at Hogwarts?" Hermione objected. "He was here."
"He was here to get the Sorcerer's Stone," Harry countered. "Not me. I doubt he would have bothered with me, at least not then, if I hadn't walked right into his and Professor Quirrel's hands." That, and the fact that Professor Dumbledore had arranged for the Mirror of Erised to give the Stone only to the person who looked into it wanting to find, but not use, it. I just wish, Harry thought to himself, that I hadn't made myself and the Stone available to Voldemort by chasing after it. My brain surprises even me sometimes. Harry blinked – that last thought had come, unbidden, into his head, and he had no idea why.
"Fine, then," Hermione said, throwing up her hands. "Have it your way. I suppose Voldemort would be a fool to show up in Diagon Alley looking for a fight, anyway… Goodnight, then. I'll see you all in the entrance hall tomorrow morning at 6:30." That was where they were supposed to report the next morning for the trip to Hogsmeade Station. Hermione went up to bed, shaking her head wearily.
Ginny, who'd remained mostly silent during Harry and Hermione's argument, now spoke up. "Harry, are you sure about this?" She still, Harry felt inwardly, trusted him completely, and only needed him to say so for her benefit.
"I do," he said quietly, giving her a reassuring smile. Ron and Jon, who had listened to his argument with Hermione as well and supported his reasoning (although for different reasons of their own, apparently), were now standing back, giving Harry and Ginny privacy. "It will be alright tomorrow."
"I hope so, she said. She hesitated, then stroked his face with her hand. "It would be rather poor form of you to come all this way and then die."
He managed a wry smile at her black humor. "Yes, that would tend to muck up my life a bit, wouldn't it?" They both smiled and she suddenly leaned forward, putting her arms around him.
"Alright," she said into his ear. "Let's go for it." She let go of him and went to the girls' staircase, where she stopped and said, "See you tomorrow morning," and went upstairs as well.
Harry, Ron and Jon went up to their dormitories as well, where Harry, exhausted by the ordeal with Voldemort's anger and his argument with Hermione, decided to wait until the morning to pack for the trip back to King's Cross. He fell asleep almost immediately upon lying down, but dreamed that he was talking with Professor Dumbledore while walking through the corridors of the castle, while Snape followed them around trying to get Dumbledore's attention.
"I can't figure this word out," Harry complained in the dream. "It's like there's something in my head and I don't know how to get it out, but I need to so I can stop Voldemort."
Dumbledore, who was carrying a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans and idly eating from it, listened carefully to Harry's story and patted him sympathetically on the shoulder.
"I'm sure there is a very good reason why you cannot remember the word, Harry," he said mildly, after Harry had finished explaining the problem. "The mind can often play tricks."
"Have you ever had this problem, Professor?" Harry asked.
"No," Dumbledore admitted. "At least, not often. I was rather confused, once, when driving from Birmingham to Southampton, I–"
"Excuse me, sir," Harry interrupted, intrigued. "What do you mean, 'driving?' "
Dumbledore smiled. "Is it really so implausible an idea that I've operated a motor vehicle, Harry?"
Harry was impressed. "I just never thought you would have the need, sir."
"Necessity is not always a primary motivation, Harry. I had been curious for some time about motorized vehicles and thought the time was ripe to have a trip. This was well over a decade ago, Harry, before you were ever in school.
"I was traveling in Wiltshire, near a town I seem to have forgotten the name of," Dumbledore continued, "when I saw a most intriguing sign. It said, 'the magic roundabout.' Naturally, I was quite interested in seeing something that Muggles themselves had built and described as 'magic.'
"Alas," Dumbledore stopped and turned to Harry. "Not being very accomplished in driving and already rather unsure regarding the road signage, I'm afraid I spent several hours trying to find the correct road to take, until finally the automobile I was operating refused to move any more – I fear it was quite annoyed with me." Harry smiled.
"In any event," the old wizard concluded, "I decided that it would be best if I left driving to those more interested in it than I, and with a keener sense of direction.
"However, Harry, I digress," Dumbledore said. "You needn't worry about those boxes or their content – they will come to you when you need them." He reached into a pocket of his robe and pulled out a watch, the one Harry had seen him use before, the one with twelve hands and planets around the edge instead of numbers. "I must be off," he said, placing a hand on Harry shoulder in a fatherly way. "I hope you have a good time in Diagon Alley, Harry. Don't you agree, Severus?" he said, turning his head to one side, and Harry felt Snape's presence; but when he turned his head, however, there was no one there. Looking back, he found that Dumbledore had gone as well.
"Professor Dumbledore!" he called. "Come back! Professor –!"
But Harry sat up in his own bed, in darkness. Everyone else in the room – Dean, Seamus, Neville and Ron – seemed to be asleep. It had only been a dream, though if it had seemed all too real.
Harry lay back down, half hoping the morning would come quickly, and half dreading what would happen. He hoped his decision not to involve McGonagall in the business about his scar had been the correct one. Moments later, he was asleep once again.
The Hogwarts Express pulled away from Hogsmeade Station at exactly 7 a.m. the next morning, bearing most of the school's students and faculty. A few had elected to remain behind – Harry had been happy to see that Malfoy, Nott, Crabbe and Goyle had elected not to go. Neither had Professor Snape, which may have provoked some concern in McGonagall; she had elected to remain behind as well, although she was standing in the entrance hall as Harry, Ron and Hermione walked out the double doors to the carriages waiting beyond. She had nodded at Ron as he left and said, "Good luck, Mr. Weasley." Ron, who for his part was so startled by McGonagall's words that he walked into one of the doors.
The trip itself was an odd combination of anticipation and boredom. Normally taking from 11 a.m. until early evening to travel between King's Cross and Hogsmeade Station, the Hogwarts Express was traveling slightly faster in order to cover the distance in less than seven hours so it would arrive before the 2 p.m. start time of the Tournament Round. Ron, sitting with Harry, Hermione, Ginny, Neville, Luna, Jon and Deirdre in a cramped compartment, nervously worked the dial on the model of the Vault, moving the tiles into the proper order. Harry noticed that he let no one, not even Harry himself, see the image that he created, but spun the dial hard each time he completed it; the spin caused the tiles to move and spin randomly into a new pattern.
In contrast to Hermione, Ginny and even Luna, who were discussing almost every aspect of the Vault and what had occurred during every round – including the attempt by Bane to open the vault, something thought they might have considered too touchy a subject – Harry noticed that neither he, nor Neville, nor Jon, had much to say beyond short interjections in the girls' conversation. Neville was playing idly with a Galleon, and Jon had taken a book from his robe and was reading it. Perhaps each of them, like Harry, had thoughts and concerns to occupy their time during the trip.
Harry's own concerns – Voldemort's fury over losing the Horcruxes from the vaults in Gringotts, the impending upheaval the centaurs spoke of, his recurrent visions of Dumbledore – these, but especially the first two, weighed upon him. He could only imagine what might concern Neville – his status, which had seemed to wane as Harry's slowly rebuilt; or his relationship with Luna, which had similarly seemed to decline. In contrast, Jon seemed to have few concerns beyond his relationship with Deirdre and his Corvette, trapped up in the Room of Requirement. But then, Harry considered, Jon had always been something of an enigma.
A few hours after leaving Hogsmeade Station, owls arrived with the edition of the Daily Prophet. Quite a few students had requested a copy with Round 13 Vault Tournament information; many of them hadn't realized they would receive it on the way to the Tournament itself, however. Luna, who happened to be staring out the window of the compartment, suddenly remarked, "How interesting! This owl is flying at exactly the same speed as the train. Harry looked up – the bird was flying hard, doing its best to keep up with the train even with a pouch tied to its leg. He leapt to the window, pushed it open, and stepped aside so the bird could land, gratefully, on the sill.
It looked at Harry and extended its leg, the one with the pouch on it, and Harry extracted the paper and placed eight Knuts in the pouch. But the owl, ruffling its feathers at him, didn't fly off. Harry expected it needed a moment's rest.
"Has anyone got a bowl I can use for some water?" Harry asked.
Hermione took out her wand and waved it, then caught the small bowl she'd conjured from thin air. "Here, Harry."
"Thanks." Taking the bowl, Harry murmured "Aguamenti," and a stream of water poured from the tip of his wand, filling the bowl, which he placed on the sill. The owl hooted gratefully and began to drink as he sat back down, handing the copy of the Prophet to Hermione, who thanked him.
Unrolling the paper and looking at its front page, Hermione snorted, catching Ron and Harry's attention. "What's it say?" Ron asked. Hermione began reading:
Unqualified Student to Try for Tournament Prize
Round 13 of the Mystery Vault Tournament will take place this Saturday, officials at Gringotts Wizarding Bank announced on Friday morning, refereed once again by Mr. Bill Weasley, a Cursebreaker for the Bank.
Among the many problems encountered by Gringotts as this tournament has taken place, none may end up being so sticky as this one: one of this week's contestants, Ronald Weasley, 18, of Ottery St. Catchpole, Devon, the youngest son of Mr. and Mrs. Arthur and Molly Weasley and brother to Bill Weasley.
A number of other competitors have voiced objections that there is an obvious conflict of interest in having a brother of the referee trying to open the Vault. When asked about this, Bill Weasley shrugged and said, "I pointed that out as well; it doesn't seem to bother Chief Goblin Artag. Although I suspect that if Ron does get the Vault open, I may have to worry about my job!" he cracked. Other Gringotts officials have declined to comment.
"It looks like this article has Rita Skeeter's hand in it as well," Hermione said darkly. "Although she didn't put her name on it."
"Who cares what she thinks?" Neville said with a shrug. "When Ron opens that Vault we know who'll have the last laugh!"
Harry, glancing toward Ron, caught him looking at Neville with a pained expression. Ron's eyes met his for a moment, then he looked back down at the model he was holding, frowning.
The train arrived in King's Cross well after 1 p.m. The students and faculty left the train, milling about Platform 9¾ waiting to find out how they would get to Diagon Alley. Hermione was the first to spot the Auror, talking with Professors Tonks and Flitwick, near one end of the platform. "They must have something in mind," she muttered to Harry. "We have less than 15 minutes to get everyone to Charing Cross Road and through the Leaky Cauldron. It can't be done, even if everyone could Apparate!"
A moment later Tonks began speaking, her voice amplified magically. "Listen up, everyone! We're going to begin sending you to Diagon Alley. Come to this end of the platform, staring with first years."
The first years made their way apprehensively to the front of the Platform where the Aurors and other Hogwarts teachers had gathered. "Each House form a circle," Tonks called out, "and place a finger on the object in the center. Some of you may have already done this before."
"Portkeys!" Harry said aloud, and Hermione nodded.
"That's the only thing that makes sense," she agreed. There were flashes of light as the first-years disappeared.
"Second years, come up!" the Auror handing out the Portkeys called out. In short order the rest of the students on the Platform dwindled rapidly in number, until only the seventh-years were left. And Luna, Harry noticed, had stayed behind with Neville. Even so, there were still a couple dozen of them left to travel.
The Auror, who Harry could see plainly now that most of the students on the platform were gone, was one he hadn't met before. He was bespectacled, young and gangling, perhaps only a year or so older than Tonks, and didn't have a very noticeable presence; in fact, Tonks had pretty much led the transfer of students off the Platform.
"We have only four Portkeys left," he said, pushing his glasses back on his nose. "But, that looks like enough." He handed them to Tonks who passed them to prefects in each of the Houses, although there were virtually no Slytherins in the lot, and none of them prefects.
"Slytherins," Tonks told them. "You'll travel with the Ravenclaws." A reasonable choice, Harry thought, given that there weren't many of either House present and that of the other three Houses, Slytherins tended to get on best with the Ravenclaws.
"Alright, on my mark," the bespectacled Auror said, holding out his wand. "You first," he said, pointing to the Ravenclaws and Slytherins. "One – two – three!" The group disappeared in a flash of blue light. "Next!" he pointed to the Hufflepuffs.
When the Gryffindors' turn came, upon landing they found themselves in a long, dimly-lit room. It appeared to be the upper room of a empty store. There were numerous old boxes and dusty items piled along the wall. The Auror, who had come with them on the last Portkey, turned into the gloom, lighting his wand. "This way," he said, leading them down a staircase where they found they had ported into the Aurors' Station in Diagon Alley, located not far from the exit to the Leaky Cauldron.
Tonks, who was waiting for them in the doorway, was urging them all to follow her. "We need to get a move on," she said hurriedly. "It's nearly two, and I don't know where Ron is in the contestant order." She stood, silently counting them as they passed her, stepping out into Diagon Alley itself. The last three to pass her e were Harry, Hermione and Ron.
"Ready, Ron?" she asked brightly as she gave a final nod to the Auror, who smiled and nodded back, then bounded up behind Harry and Ron to put her arms around their shoulders, only to trip and stagger into them. "Sorry, sorry! Are you both okay?"
"Fine," said Harry, but Ron looked as if he'd hardly noticed. There was a faintly green pallor in his face.
"Let's get a move on, then," Tonks told them. "It's your show today, you know."
Ron nodded automatically, staring into nothingness, and Harry said quietly to Tonks, "We'll be along shortly, Professor."
Tonks looked from Harry's face, to Ron, then nodded curtly. "Alright, then." She went ahead, leaving Harry and Hermione alone with Ron.
It appeared that, faced with the reality of the challenge itself, Ron's nerves were beginning to tell. He looked at Harry and Hermione and said, in a sick whisper, "I don't know if I can do this."
"Just nerves, Ron," Harry said reassuringly. "You can do it. We've seen you come through time and again when it comes down to it."
"Yes," Hermione agreed. "You've always done well on the Quidditch pitch when we've needed you to!"
"But this is a lot more important than some Quidditch game!" Ron said tightly; he was breathing rapidly. "If I'm wrong –"
"If you're wrong," Harry said quickly. "You haven't lost anything, and you'll have tried. That's a lot more than most wizards can say about the Mystery Vault."
"True," Ron said; looking at it from that viewpoint seemed to cheer him. Then he looked sick again. "What if it breaks all my arms and legs?"
"Then don't try to open it unless you're convinced you've got it right," Harry said.
Ron took a deep, shuddering breath. "Alright," he said raggedly, "Let's go, before I change my mind."
They strode toward the crowd waiting in front of Gringotts, Harry and Hermione in front, Ron trailing behind them. A sea of faces parted to let them past. There were familiar faces, from Hogwarts: Lisa Turpin, Su Li and Morag MacDougal from Ravenclaw; Ernie Macmillan, Justin Finch-Fletchley, and Wayne Hopkins from the Hufflepuffs; Malcolm Baddock and Graham Pritchard were there from the Slytherins, glaring sullenly at them. And from Gryffindor there were the Creevey brothers, Colin and Dennis, Seamus Finnigan; Dean Thomas, Demelza Robins, Jimmy Peakes and Ritchie Coote from their Gryffindor team; Lavender Brown was there as well, waving at Ron, with Romilda Vane beside her.
Other people they knew well were there: Tom, the barman at the Leaky Cauldron, had apparently closed his shop to watch, as had several other shopkeepers, Fred and George included. They both gave Ron thumbs-up as they passed.
They also passed a few people Harry recognized: Mr. Borgin, of Borgin & Burkes, stared at Ron appraisingly as they passed; Dawlish, the Auror, who had tried to stop Dumbledore's escape from Hogwarts during the reign of Dolores Umbridge; Perkins, Arthur Weasley's assistant from the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office; and a small, stout, bespectacled man Harry suddenly remembered was a wizard named Worple, that he'd been introduced to during Professor Slughorn's Christmas party in his sixth year.
As they approached the platform where the Vault rested, Harry could see Ginny, Luna, Neville, Jon and Deirdre standing together. Luna and Ginny waved; Harry smiled back as he, Hermione and Ron ascended the steps to the podium. Harry and Hermione stopped at the top and let Ron walk by. He'd made it halfway to the seats sitting next to the podium before he realized they weren't behind him. He stopped, looking back at them. Hermione nodded, indicating he should go on, and a moment later he turned and approached the seats, shaking as he sat down. Harry and Hermione descended to ground level and joined the others at the edge of the barrier in front of the platform.
Bill came out of the Bank and joined Ron on the platform, addressing the crowd from in front of the podium. "Good afternoon, everyone! Welcome to the thirteenth Round of the Vault Competition. We have two contestants today, the first one being up here right now, so let me introduce you to – ah, hold on." A small paper airplane circling nearby had distracted him. He reached up, plucked the small swooping object out of the air, then opened and read it. "Hmm," he said, frowning. "Apparently we have a line-up change. Hold on for a second, everyone." And he walked rapidly off the platform back into the bank.
"What's going on?" Hermione wondered. "How can they have a 'line-up change' – they didn't give anyone's name except Ron's in the Prophet this morning!" Ron, who'd been left sitting alone on the platform, spread his arms as if questioning what was going on. Harry shrugged back at him.
Bill was back a few seconds later. "Sorry for the delay, everyone," he said. "Just a bit of crossed owls, that's all." Even though his manner was light, Harry thought he detected an undertone of irritation, as if he hadn't liked what he'd just heard inside the bank. "Our first competitor this afternoon," he said as a willowy figure stepped from the shadows of the Bank entrance, "is Professor Charity Burbage, of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."
"What?" Hermione exclaimed. "Not her!" as much of the crowd began muttering and arguing amongst themselves. On the platform, Ron's startled gaze switched back and forth between his brother Bill, Professor Burbage, and Harry and Hermione in the crowd. He finally settled on Bill, who said nothing else but made a barely perceptible shake of his head.
"What's she doing?" Hermione said, upset to see Professor Burbage on the platform. Harry looked at Ginny, Luna and Neville: they were all as shocked as Hermione was.
"She's a teacher at Hogwarts? I don't recall ever even seeing her before today," Harry muttered.
"You probably haven't, Harry," Hermione said, looking at the thin woman with a rather odd combination of disbelief and irritation. "It's just that she rarely speaks to anyone outside her classes. She tends to keep a low profile. There's a rumor she's a Squib, just like Filch."
"'S not true," Ginny said, looking over at them. "I've seen her do magic. She's not very good at it, though – she's completely self-conscious if she thinks someone is watching her. I don't know how she's going to get through this –" Ginny indicated the Vault competition "— if she can't get the simplest spell right when she thinks someone is watching her. She's actually kind of a nitwit."
Harry smiled. He'd heard that word used a lot recently, he recalled. Rita Skeeter had called them nitwits at the end of the interview she'd forced them into giving her; the goblin on the fake Galleon had called him one while he tried to figure out how to use it to get in touch with Fred and George. Where else had he heard it –?
Burbage had moved to stand next to the podium, beside Bill, who was going over the by-now familiar rules of the Tournament while the crowd babbled amongst itself and Ron stared, bemused, at the Hogwarts teacher who'd suddenly tipped him from the first position.
"At least," Harry commented to Hermione, "Ron'll have a chance to see someone else try to open the Vault before him."
"I'm not sure it's going to be much of a try," Hermione said skeptically. "I'll be surprised if she manages five minutes before she runs off the platform."
Bill finished the preliminaries and turned to Burbage. "Are you ready, Professor?" he asked.
"I am," she responded. Her voice was thin and reedy, Harry thought. It reminded him of the same dull monotone Professor Binns, the History of Magic professor, spoke in. "Before I begin, however, I'd like to explain what I'm doing here today."
"Thought that much'd be obvious, Prof – you fancy a bit o' whut's inside that there box," came a voice from the crowd. Laughter spread throughout the onlookers.
"I do," Professor Burbage admitted. "Unlike most, however, it will be my intention, if successful, to use whatever is within the Vault behind me for the aid of those in our society that do not share the benefits we do of the gift of magic.
"Even less fortunate than Muggles are those commonly known as 'Squibs' – persons born of magical families who have little or no magical abilities themselves. I plan to use whatever treasure is found to begin research into helping those poor unfortunates find a better life for themselves – and, if possible, a way to restore any latent magical abilities they may have to full power."
"How nice!" Luna exclaimed, clapping her hands happily. No one else joined in. "My mother would have liked her," she said, turning to Neville, who nodded but was apparently at a loss for words over what Burbage had said.
"A noble cause," Deirdre said, looking at Burbage with an expression that was a mixture of disbelief and hope.
"But how realistic is it?" Jon asked her. "Would the Ministry approve such research?" He looked over at Harry.
"I don't think so," Harry said slowly. "I don't think anything like that is in their long-range goals."
Burbage had dropped her token into the hourglass, which then spun end-for-end, beginning her 15 minutes of the competition. "We'll see how this goes, now," Hermione said quietly.
Professor Burbage had not wasted any time walking around the Vault; she'd immediately taken her wand out and was spinning the dial, moving or spinning tiles rapidly from one position to another. Ron was watching this performance with a look of sick uncertainty; clearly, he'd had the same thought that Hermione and Harry'd had, that somehow Burbage had found out what his plan was and was trying to implement it before he could.
After several minutes, however, Harry couldn't see that Burbage had made any progress with the symbols on the magic square tiles. They looked no less jumbled than before. Still, Burbage continued to spin the dial purposefully, sending tiles sliding up and down, backward and forward, or spinning clockwise or anti-clockwise from one position to the next.
"Is she getting any closer?" Harry finally muttered to Hermione.
"How should I know?" she muttered back, sounding irritated. "Ron never told me what the pattern was."
"Oh."
Professor Burbage had stopped arranging the tiles. Looking at the pattern on them, Harry couldn't see that she'd achieved anything at all, but she moved forward, one arm outstretched toward the handle. As she stepped in front of it, there was an unexpected gust of wind that whipped her robe about her. The crowd huddled down as the wind tore at their cloaks and hats as well. Harry shielded his face, trying to watch Burbage, but she wasn't moving or otherwise reacting to the gust.
As the wind subsided, Burbage suddenly turned away from the Vault, her head downcast, and walked back to the podium where Bill hastily joined her. He leaned forward to hear what she was saying, her head still looking downward. Burbage turned and walked off the platform.
A cheer had gone up among the Weasley supporters, but Harry was puzzled by Burbage's sudden change of demeanor and resignation. She had seemed very focused, very lucid, and very determined, right up until the moment she conceded defeat. That was not the actions of a person, even if some did consider her a nitwit.
"Folks," Bill said, holding up his hands for quiet. "Professor Burbage said she was very sorry to have to give up her efforts. We're going to move on to the next competitor – Hogwarts student Ronald Weasley!"
A cheer went up from the Hogwarts students and staff in the crowd. Harry and Neville whooped while Dean and Seamus chanted "Weasley! Weasley!" which the rest of the crowd took up as Ron slowly stood, smiling nervously, and stepped up to the hourglass, which Bill had reset so that all the sand was in the lower chamber.
"When you're ready," Bill told him, pointing to the slot on the hourglass. Ron nodded, swallowing convulsively, then slid the token in the slot, flipping the hourglass and starting his time running.
He turned immediately toward the Vault, pulling out his wand, and then, inexplicably, stopping in his tracks. "Oh, no," Hermione whimpered. "He's freezing up!"
"Come on, Ron!" Harry shouted. "You can do it!"
"Yeah, get a move on, will ya?" came Fred's voice from the crowd. "We want to see what's inside already!"
Other Hogwarts students from the present and the past took up the cheer. Harry saw Oliver Wood, now a reservist with Puddlemere United, and Lee Jordan, Fred and George's friend, both cheering him on. Ron turned, looking out over the crowd and everyone cheering for him, then looked over toward Harry, Hermione and his friends gathered around them.
Then he nodded and turned back to the Vault. His wand flicked and spun deftly as the tiles on the front of the Vault slide and turned. Harry could see a pattern slowly emerging from the arrangement of the symbols on the tiles. It looked so simple, Harry wondered how no one could have seen it before. Soon it had taken shape: a stylized image that began to look familiar: a globe with a lever and fulcrum underneath it, and the figure of a bearded man on the other end, pushing it downward.
In less than ten minutes Ron had all but completed the image. He spun the dial a last time, there was a final spin of one of the tile faces, and it clicked into place. The tiles suddenly began to shimmer and blur. Ron stepped back, surprised, and the crowd gasped as the fifteen tiles transformed into a solid image showing the same engraved image Ron had shown them in the book, of Archimedes moving the Earth. There was a loud CLICK-CLACK-CLUNK from the door, as if several heavy bolts had dropped into place.
The crowd was mesmerized. People shouted out, "It must've unlocked!" "Open it!" "Let's see what's inside!"
But Ron turned back to his friends, waving frantically for them to join him on the platform. "Come on!" Neville said, pulling Luna toward the steps leading up the platform. Harry and the others followed, and they clustered behind Ron.
"Ron," Bill warned him from the podium. "You have five minutes left. You have to open the Vault for the competition to be over and yourself to be declared the winner."
Ron turned to the rest of them. "I want us to open it together," he said all in a rush. "I couldn't have gotten to this point without your help or support – All of you," he said, looking at Deirdre.
"But you should open it, Ron," Hermione told him. "You've worked on it all this time. And even if we do turn the handle with you, you're the only one who had a token, so you're the only one who can win."
Ron laughed and touched her cheek tenderly. "Hermione," he said, "Trust you to find logic in a moment like this!"
"Well, come on!" Neville said, stepping up to the Vault. "If we all going to do this let's get a move on!" He reached up to grab the handle. "We all want to see what's inside this –"
Neville vanished.
Hermione and Ginny screamed. "He's gone!" Deirdre cried. "He disappeared!"
Harry had seen it too. "It was a Portkey," he said flatly. Jon, looking at him, nodded agreement. But where had it taken him?
"Where's Professor Burbage?" Harry bellowed, turning to the crowd. People were shouting wildly in the crowd.
"She Apparated out!" Bill shouted. Harry turned back to the Vault. His eyes fastened onto the handle Neville had just taken hold of.
"Come on!" Harry said. He rushed toward the Vault and grabbed the handle. Nothing happened. "Why won't it work for us?" he demanded, of no one and everyone.
"A Portkey would have gone with him!" Hermione shouted.
"But the handle's still here!" Ron said wildly, pointing at it. He reached up and grabbed it, pulling it downward. There was a loud CLANK and the sound of air being sucked inside the Vault. But Ron didn't disappear. He released the handle with a muttered curse and turned back to face the others.
"There might have been something placed on the handle," Jon said. It might have been a sheath conjured or transfigured over it to look like the handle.
Bill had stepped up and caught Jon's last statement. "If anyone did it, it was Burbage!" he said. "I checked over the Vault just before lunch when I got here to prepare for the Round!"
"We've got to find him!" Luna shouted hysterically. She no longer seemed vague or dreamy. "We've got to get him back! What if – what if … " she couldn't complete the statement.
And Harry didn't want to, either. He turned to Hermione. "How can we figure out where he is?"
She shook her head uncertainly. "I don't know. It's too much to hope for that he still has a D.A. token."
"No!" Harry shouted. "He was playing with a Galleon on the Hogwarts Express!"
"Good!" Hermione reached into her purse, pushing her hand much further in than it seemed possible. "I've got a compartment here in my purse," she said softly to Harry, "where I keep some things that might be handy." She brought out a fake Galleon, one of the special tokens she'd made for Dumbledore's Army members to get messages from Harry.
"I put a special identifier in each one of these coins," she said quickly. "Your token, Harry, had a link with each one of them, so that when you changed the numbers to a date and time the same change would appear on each coin. Luckily, I put the same link in my token as well. But," she faltered, "I don't know how we can get to him, even if we can figure out where he is!"
"Leave that to me," Jon said. Hermione looked up at him; his expression was one of grim determination. She nodded and passed her wand over the coin. There was several seconds' pause and Hermione said, awed, "He's back at Hogwarts!"
"Then so are we," Jon said. He tapped Hermione's Galleon and said, "Portus." There was a blue glow around the coin and it leapt in her hand, then lay still. "I've set it to activate 30 seconds from now," he said.
"Gather around," Harry said. He took the Portkey from Hermione and put it in his palm. "Everyone put one finger on it." Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Luna, Deirdre and Jon each did so. "I hope you all understand the seriousness of what we're heading into."
They all nodded. "Good," Harry said. He had to time this exactly right. "Then I hope you'll all understand why I have to do this."
"Do what," Ron asked.
The Galleon flashed blue, and Harry jerked it away from them, stepping back and turning away while shielding the Portkey from the others with his body. They reached for him, but too late – the Portkey pulled Harry away and sent him whirling and spinning amid bright, blurred colors, until at last his feet hit ground again.