Chapter One Hundred and Nine - The Eye of the Snake

The walk to their next Care of Magical Creatures lesson was filled with apprehension. Though Harry had returned to Hagrid's cabin twice over the course of the preceding days, he could not make him see reason. Hagrid simply did not understand the danger that Umbridge posed to his position at Hogwarts, trusting implicitly in Dumbledore's authority above all else.

Millie had even offered to help him plan his lessons, but Hagrid insisted that he didn't want to spoil the surprise.

"I might have the only domesticated herd in Britain!" he told her jovially.

This did not bode well. Hagrid thought his Blast-Ended Skrewts were domesticated, and they had never ended a class with them without someone getting scorched.

Fortunately, Umbridge was not in sight as they trudged through the snow toward Hagrid's cabin. Harry breathed a sigh of relief, though he was alone in this feeling. Many of his fellow students stared at Hagrid with alarm. Even without the looming threat of Umbridge, Hagrid's appearance was enough to cause concern. His bruised face had turned green and yellow. Some of his wounds still looked fresh and bleeding. Harry wondered again what had happened that Hagrid was refusing to share.

It didn't help ease the worry of his students that he carried what appeared to be half a dead cow over his massive shoulders.

"We'll be workin' in the forest today!" Hagrid called, his cheerful voice belying the severity of his injuries. "They prefer the dark."

Harry saw Draco grip Ron's arm in fear before he asked, "What prefers the dark? Did you hear him say?"

Ron laughed and told Draco to have a little courage, to which Draco sullenly replied, "If only Gryffindor stupidity was contagious. Then I could be as careless as you."

Hagrid began to lead them through the trees. While the rest of the class hesitated, clearly nervous about this lesson, Harry, Blaise, and Millie set the example. Ron, teasing Draco again for his cowardice, grabbed him by the arm and followed close behind.

They reached a clearing where the trees grew so close they formed a thick canopy overhead. There was almost no snow on the ground. Hagrid stopped and dropped the cow carcass on the hard dirt, then turned to his students, beaming as if they were in for a treat.

"They'll be attracted ter the smell o' the meat," he explained, 'But it'll be good ter call 'em, so they know it's me."

He cupped his hands around his mouth and made a loud, screeching sound, like some bird of prey. Several students jumped in fright, though no one dared to laugh at the absurdity of their situation.

They waited for several minutes in complete silence, the stillness only broken by Hagrid's loud cries, which he repeated twice more. No one knew what they were waiting for, until Harry nudged Blaise's side. With a nod he directed his gaze toward a figure moving toward them through the shadows of the forest. Blaise glanced in the direction indicated, then turned back to Harry with a confused frown.

Harry didn't understand how he could miss the large creature. He'd seen the beast's eyes first. Blank, white, and shining as they were. But gradually its dragonish face loomed into view, followed by a black, skeletal body and great leathery wings. Harry was no longer surprised that Blaise couldn't see it. It was one of the horses that pulled the school carriages. The ones no one else but Harry could see.

Well, almost no one. Luna Lovegood had said she could see them. Neville too. Harry quickly glanced around his class. Sure enough, Neville was watching the progress of the creature's swishing tail as if he was hypnotized. To Harry's surprise, Nott, the Gryffindor seeker, was also staring at the beast with open distaste.

"Right, raise yer hands if yeh can see 'em," Hagrid said as another horse slowly strolled into the clearing.

"What are we supposed to see?" Ron inquired loudly. He hadn't noticed that Nott, standing by his side, had raised his hand reluctantly.

Hagrid pointed to the cow carcass. To Harry, it looked as though the creatures had started to feast. They had started to tear the meat apart with their alarmingly sharp teeth. He tried to picture how it must look to the terrified students now backing away. The sight of a dead cow slowing tearing strips of flesh from itself must have seemed rather odd.

"What is it?" squealed Parvati Patil, "What's doing it?"

"They're thestrals," Hagrid explained to the timid class.

"Oh!" gasped Lavender Brown, "I've heard of those! They're very unlucky!"

Hagrid shook his head with a patient smile and said, "That's jus' superstition. They're actually very clever n' useful! Now then, why is it that some of yeh can see 'em an' some can't?"

Hermione raised her hand promptly. "The only people who can see thestrals are those who have seen death."

"Well done, Miss Granger!" praised Hagrid, "Ten points to Gryffindor. Now then…"

But before Hagrid could continue his lesson, he was interrupted by a pert "hem, hem." Harry's stomach did a flop. He recognized that absurd little cough instantly. Hagrid was not discomposed by her sudden appearance, however. He greeted Umbridge with a broad smile, saying, "Hello, Professor! Glad yeh found us all righ'!"

"Did you receive the note I sent to your cabin this morning?" Umbridge called in the same loud, slow voice she had used when speaking to Hagrid previously. "The one informing you that I would be observing this lesson?"

"O' course!" Hagrid called back, just as slow and deliberate, as if he thought Umbridge was hard of hearing herself, "We're discussin' thestrals today!"

Unfortunately for Hagrid, mimicking Umbridge's speech patterns only made him look foolish. She frowned and made a note on her clipboard, dictating aloud, "appears… to have… difficulty… communicating…"

Hagrid frowned, clearly perturbed by his muttered comment, though he tried to resume his lesson with confidence.

"Um… Anyway, I was sayin' that thestrals are…"

"You are aware," Umbridge interrupted, "that the Ministry of Magic has classified thestrals as 'dangerous'?"

"Poppycock," Hagrid replied with a snort of amusement, "Tha's all misunderstandin'. Thestrals are no more dangerous n' unicorns if yeh know how ter tame 'em."

Umbridge appeared not to hear this response. She finished making another note on her clipboard, then said loudly to Hagrid, "Continue teaching as normal. I am going to walk," she paused to mime walking before she continued, "among the students and ask them questions."

She pointed to her mouth to indicate talking. Hagrid stared at her as if something were seriously wrong with her mind. Meanwhile, Crabbe and Goyle were stifling fits of laughter. Hagrid tried to continue his lesson as Umbridge began her interrogation of the students, though he was now a little flustered in his manner.

"Amazin' sense of direction, thestrals! Almost better n' an owl!"

"Do you ever have any difficulty understanding Hagrid?" Umbridge said loudly enough for the entire class to hear. She had stopped to speak with Pansy Parkinson. At first, Harry assumed Umbridge was referring to the content of Hagrid's lessons. He realized how wrong he was when Pansy, replying through tears of laughter, replied, "Actually, it's… difficult… it sounds… like grunting most of the time!"
Harry saw Millie reach for her wand, clearly prepared to hex Pansy on the spot. But doing so in front of Umbridge would surely have landed her in detention. Or worse, resulted in expulsion from Hogwarts. Thankfully, Lavender Brown saved her the trouble. Much to Harry's surprise, she suddenly exclaimed, "That's not true!"

She looked to Parvati, who nodded her head in agreement. "His lessons are very easy to follow if you have half a brain."

It wasn't the most glowing commendation, but Harry was satisfied with what he could get. Both Lavender and Parvati directed knowing glances at Harry after speaking up. He suspected that as Marauders, they defended Hagrid for his sake, and he smiled his thanks for their support.

His relief was short-lived. Umbridge had turned toward him with an indulgent smile. He had been dreading something like this since he'd had to beg for the reinstatement of the Slytherin Quidditch team. He had lied to Umbridge to stay on her good side, but that would all be in vain if she questioned him now. He would not lie about Hagrid to please her.

"You raised your hand when Hagrid asked if you could see thestrals, did you not?" she asked in her sickly sweet voice.

"Yes, professor," Harry confirmed, feeling it was safe to admit this much at least.

"What do you think of them?"

"Oh, they're great!" said Harry, expressing more enthusiasm than he really felt. Checking himself, he added with more sincerity, "I've only been able to see them since the start of term. I've been very curious to learn more about them…"

Umbridge stopped him before he could continue, muttering loudly as she wrote, "students… too… intimidated… to admit… they are… frightened…"

"No, that's not what I…" Harry started to argue, but Umbridge smiled again and patted him on the shoulder.

"It's quite alright, Mr. Potter," she said fondly, "I understand you perfectly."

She then turned to Hagrid and spoke in her loud, slow voice once more, "I believe I have what I need to complete my evaluation. You can expect my results in one week."

Harry was left feeling powerless and irate. Umbridge clearly suspected Hagrid of colluding with Dumbledore, but her behavior during his class was more malicious than it had been with Snape. She must have other reasons for targeting him so harshly.

Harry then recalled what Sirius had said about Umbridge's distaste for so-called "half-breeds." It was painfully obvious that she planned to make Hagrid out to be some dim-witted troll, just because his mother had been a giant!

Hermione and Neville shared his outrage. As they fell into step with Harry, Blaise, and Millie after class, Hermione immediately began to rail against Umbridge.

"She's a foul, lying, scheming excuse for a witch!" she seethed, "I can't believe her! Attacking Hagrid like that! But the thestrals were actually interesting, weren't they? The way some people can see them and others can't? I wish I could see them, too!"

"Do you?" Harry asked her quietly.

Hermione, instantly realizing the import of her statement, apologized with, "I didn't mean… What a stupid thing to say…"

"It's okay," Harry said quickly, anxious to avoid causing her any embarrassment, "I know what you meant. The thestrals are really interesting when you can observe them first-hand."

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief and said, "Precisely."

"But three in a class!" commented Blaise, referring to the number of students who had been able to see the beasts, "That seems rather high. Who'd you see die, Neville?"

Harry thought the question was rather tactless, but Neville didn't seem to mind. He was rather used to Blaise and his odd ways by now, and simply replied, "My granddad."

"Wonder who Nott saw die?" mused Millie.

Harry glanced over his shoulder. A few yards behind them, Nott walked back toward the castle with Draco and Ron. The three of them seemed to be in close consultation about their last class. For a moment, Nott met Harry's eye. He offered him a smile, then shrugged, as if he could guess that they too had been discussing who could see the thestrals. Harry didn't return the smile. There had been a fleeting second of recognition when Harry started into Nott's face. He reminded Harry of someone. Someone he couldn't quite recall… It unsettled him to be suddenly caught staring, and he turned away without any acknowledgement.

December arrived. With it came an increase in homework for the fifth year students. Millie grew more busy with her prefect duties as well. She had to patrol the hallways with Draco and supervise the decoration of the Great Hall for the holidays. The Marauder's meetings, out of necessity, were still on hold.

While Millie was off on another prefect assignment and Blaise toiled away at Flitwick's latest essay, Harry took advantage of the first break he had to head down to the kitchens. He found Dobby in the process of preparing a large tart for the evening feast, though the elf immediately stopped his work to greet Harry with a friendly handshake.

"Harry Potter!" he cried with extreme pleasure to see his old friend, "It is an honor, sir!"

"Told you to stop calling me sir, Dobby," Harry returned, though he couldn't suppress his grin. "My visit's long overdue."

"Winky will want to see you, too!" Dobby said before bustling off in search of the other house-elf.

Winky still seemed sad and quiet, though she appeared much improved since the last time Harry saw her. Her appearance was less shabby, and she seemed to be wearing newer clothing with less shame than before. She dropped into a low curtsey on approaching Harry, and promptly asked, "How are Mistress Zabini and young Master Blaise?"

Winky had spent a very short time in Mrs. Zabini's employ after being fired from her previous master… Owner, Harry corrected mentally. He had formed the opinion that house-elves were treated like nothing so much as slave labor, and he was glad to have been instrumental in Dobby's liberation.

It was fortunate, too, that Winky no longer served the Crouch family, though the poor elf had been so distraught to lose her place. He considered it a good sign that she recalled Blaise and his mother fondly, and eagerly engaged the two elves in conversation over their mutual acquaintance.

"Listen, Dobby," Harry said after filling him in on Blaise, Millie, and everything else he desired to know since Harry's last visit, "I came to see you because… I have a question…"

"Of course!" Dobby said, delighted to be of assistance to the wizard who had helped set him free. "What is it Harry Potter needs?"

"I was wondering… Are there any rooms or passages that aren't in use? I'm looking for a place to practice magic… Something out of the way, where I wouldn't be observed."

Dobby seemed uncertain, but Winky interposed, "The Come and Go Room…"

Dobby clapped his hands together, "Yes! Well done, Winky! The Come and Go Room!"

Harry was confused. "Sorry… The what now?"

"That's how we elves refer to it," Dobby said by way of explanation, "Though I have also heard it called the Room of Requirement."

"It is a room a person can only enter when they have real need of it," Winky explained in her quiet way, "Sometimes it is there. Other times not. But when it appears, it is always equipped with whatever the person needs."

"How big is it?" Harry asked, "Could it hold, say… Thirty or more people?"

Dobby eagerly nodded his head, "The room adjusts itself entirely to the seeker's needs, Harry Potter! If it is space you require, the Room of Requirement will accommodate."

"Do many people know about it?"

"Very few, sir… I mean, Harry! Among the elves, it is common enough. But most who stumble across it never find it again, for they do not know it was always there, waiting to be called into service."

To Harry, this sounded very promising. Not wanting to waste any more time, he asked Dobby if he could show him to the room and demonstrate how to get in. Dobby was obliging, and after kindly asking Winky to finish his tart for him, he led the way into the hall.

Harry was so eager to be off, it hadn't occurred to him to consult the Marauder's Map before leaving the kitchens. He was just about to follow Dobby down the passage to the castle's upper floors, when a voice called out behind him, "Harry?"

He nearly jumped out of his skin. Turning around, he saw Cedric Diggory walking toward him, a curious expression on his face. Harry cursed his own lack of foresight. He forgot that the entrance to the Hufflepuff common room was located near the kitchens.

Whatever errand Cedric had been going to perform, it was forgotten as he approached Harry, his gaze resting on the house-elf unsuccessfully attempting to hide himself under Harry's robes. There would be no escaping him now.

"Hey, Cedric," Harry said, attempting to sound as casual as possible. "Off to supervise the holiday decorating?"

"That's been done ages ago," Cedric replied, "What about you? What are you doing down here?"

"Fancied a snack," Harry lied, gesturing toward the portrait of a bowl of fruit that effectively hid the entrance to the kitchens. "Been studying, you know. Worked up an appetite."

Cedric raised an eyebrow doubtingly, though he allowed the comment to pass unnoticed as he said, "Well, it's a good thing I ran into you. Something I've been meaning to ask you about."

Harry looked at him in expectation. He thought he'd already answered all of Cedric's questions about the Triwizard Tournament, and yet he doubted that this was a question about their wand-making class.

"What's this I hear about you running an illegal study group?"

Harry was floored. This was not what he had expected, and he soon felt a certain sense of betrayal. Bringing in new members was one thing, but ratting him out to the Head Boy? He'd have to tell Millie to increase the scope of the curse she placed on their membership list.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Harry replied naturally, but Cedric wasn't buying it.

"Come off it," he said, "I know you've been sneaking about under Umbridge's nose, teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts yourself…"

"I'm not teaching!" Harry argued.

"That only means one of your friends is! So which is it? I'll bet it's Millicent. She's supposedly brilliant at jinxes."

Harry was surprised by Cedric's pertinacity. He began to worry that Cedric planned on telling a teacher, or worse, Umbridge herself. But then, to his complete stupefaction, Cedric announced, "I want in."

"... Sorry?"

"I said I want in! C'mon, Harry. It's my last year! I have NEWTs. And that woman isn't teaching us anything! I don't think I've learned a new spell all year, nor anything about defending myself against… Well, you know what's out there!"

Harry relented. After all, it was he who told Cedric the truth about Voldemort's return. It was no wonder he, like so many students, felt hindered by Umbridge's dogmatic teaching style. Sighing, Harry turned to Dobby.

"He's alright," Harry said to the elf. Then, to Cedric once more, he added, "Fine. We were just about to check out a new practice space. You can come along with us, if you really want to join. But I should warn you, we're not meeting again till next term."

Cedric grinned. "Then I'll have something to look forward to!"

Harry broke the news of inviting Cedric to join their meetings over dinner that evening. Blaise and Neville both seemed alarmed, but Millie and Hermione were surprisingly at ease.

"I've seen more of him than either of you thanks to these dumb prefect meetings," Millie said calmly, "He's not a snitch, Harry. I trust his intentions."

Hermione nodded her head in agreement, though she seemed distracted between taking bites of her shepherd's pie and composing a very long letter.

"Who're you writing to?" Harry asked when he could no longer contain his curiosity.

"Viktor," Hermione replied shortly.

Harry felt his face flush. He struggled to keep his voice casual as he asked, "You mean Krum? I didn't know you were still in contact with him…"

He was too embarrassed to ask about the content of her letter, but Neville had no reservations when it came to his closest friend. He boldly asked the question on Harry's mind, to which Hermione easily replied, "I'm just telling him what's been happening at Hogwarts this year."

The incident was still on Harry's mind as he and Blaise prepared for bed that evening.

"What do you suppose she sees in Krum?" he asked.

Blaise did not need clarification to know that Harry was referring to Hermione.

"You mean besides the fact that he's older, a famous international quidditch player, and has that dark, broody thing that girls like? No idea."

This was not the answer Harry wanted to hear, and his reply was harsh as he said, "Why don't you write to him, then, if you like him so much?"

"We've been over this, Harry. Not my type."

Harry sullenly climbed into bed, intent on never discussing the matter with Blaise again. He could wait until their holiday, when he would be seeing Sirius. Perhaps his godfather could give him some advice about girls… But Blaise cut into his musings, observing, "If you like her, why not ask her out?"

"You're being absurd," Harry said.

But he couldn't stop imagining what it would be like to ask Hermione on a date as he slowly drifted to sleep. Would she laugh at him? Think it was some kind of joke? But she'd kissed him before… Always on the cheek, sure. But that had to mean something, didn't it?

In Harry's dreams, he saw Hermione. She was standing with him in the Shrieking Shack, and she didn't look pleased.

"Viktor would never bring me to a shabby place like this," she sneered, "He always takes me someplace nice."

Blaise was standing at her side, shaking his head in disappointment.

"Is this the best you can do?" he asked with a pitiful stare, "Mate, maybe you'd better leave romance to me…"

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but all that came out was a long, drawn-out hiss…

The dream changed. Harry was gliding between shining metal bars across dark, cold stone. His body felt smooth, powerful, and flexible. He was lying flat on the floor, sliding along his belly. It was dark, yet he could see objects around him. At first, the corridor was empty, but then he saw a man. He was sitting on the floor, his chin drooping to his chest. Harry put out his tongue, tasting the man's scent on the air. He was asleep.

But then the man began to stir. A silvery cloak fell from his legs. He suddenly jumped to his feet. From his belt, he drew a wand.

Harry had no choice. He struck. Reaching high into the air, he bit three times, plunging his long fangs deep into the man's flesh.

The man screamed in pain, then fell silent. He slumped against the wall once more, deep in an unnatural sleep. Harry couldn't stay there, couldn't fulfill his mission. He slithered back down the corridor, ignoring the blood splattered all around him…

"HARRY!" screamed a voice in his ear.

He opened his eyes. His scar was burning. Every inch of his body was covered in a cold sweat. Blaise and Draco were both standing over him, looking frightened. Distantly, he heard the voice of either Crabbe or Goyle muttering, "The hell's wrong with him?"

Harry rolled onto his side and vomited over the edge of his mattress. Somewhere nearby, Draco was saying, "He's really ill. We need to call someone."

Harry agreed, but not that he was sick. They needed to tell someone about what he had seen. He reached for Draco, standing closest to the side of the bed where he had just been sick.

"Ron…" he panted, "Ron…"

"Weasley?" Draco asked, his face turning pale, "What about him?"

"An… accident…" Harry managed to gasp, "Need… Help… Blood… Everywhere…"

Draco looked really frightened now. He stated he was getting Snape, and fled the room.

Harry wasn't sure it was Snape he wanted, but under the circumstances, it was a good idea. Snape was in the Order. He would know who to contact. He would tell Dumbledore.

In Draco's absence, Blaise tried his best to soothe Harry. "Easy, mate. It was only a bad dream…"

"It wasn't a dream," Harry said, able at last to catch his breath, "I was there. I saw it happen…"

He thought to himself that it was more than that. He hadn't just been there. He had done it. But he couldn't bring himself to say this aloud. Crabbe and Goyle had continued muttering on their side of the dormitory, but Harry didn't care. The pain in his scar had finally started to ebb away, though now Harry found himself shaking uncontrollably.

"I don't understand. This is about Ron?" Blaise asked.

"No… His dad… Arthur," Harry explained.

Now Blaise looked really worried. He'd been getting along rather well with Mr. Weasley over the summer. He started to ask Harry what happened, but Harry shook his head.

"We need to find out where he is," Harry said, "There was a snake… huge… It… It bit him…"

He retched again. Blaise jumped back to avoid the mess.

Harry wasn't sure how much time had passed, but it seemed too long before Draco returned with Snape. Every second that ticked away was precious time needed to save Mr. Weasley.

"What is this? What's wrong with him?" Snape asked as he swept into the room. Harry had never been more pleased to see him.

"Mr. Weasley," he said, forcing himself to sit up, "He's been attacked. It's bad. I saw it happen."

Snape's thick black brows contracted over his hooked nose. "What do you mean, you saw it happen?"

"I was asleep, then I was there…"

"You mean you dreamed this?" Snape asked impatiently.

"NO!" Harry was angry now. He needed Snape to believe him, not to keep up this charade of hatred and mistrust. "I was having a dream at first, but this was different. It was real! I didn't imagine it! Mr. Weasley was asleep on the floor of a black corridor. There were no windows. Then a snake came and attacked him. He collapsed. We have to find out where he is and…"

"I believe you, Potter," Snape interrupted before adding, "Can you walk?"

"What?" Harry asked even as Snape grabbed him by the arm and pulled him from the bed. After instructing Blaise to grab Harry's dressing gown, he leaned close to Harry's ear and hissed, "We're going to see the headmaster."