George Weasley made a lunge for Crookshanks but missed; Scabbers streaked through twenty pairs of legs and shot beneath an old chest of drawers. Crookshanks skidded to a halt, crouched low on his bandy legs and started making furious swipes beneath the chest of drawers with his front paw.
Ron and Hermione hurried over; Hermione grabbed Crookshanks around the middle and heaved him away; Ron threw himself onto his stomach and, with great difficulty, pulled Scabbers out by the tail.
‘Look at him!’ he said furiously to Hermione, dangling Scabbers in front of her. ‘He’s skin and bone! You keep that cat away from him!’
‘Crookshanks doesn’t understand it’s wrong!’ said Hermione, her voice shaking. ‘All cats chase rats, Ron!’
‘There’s something funny about that animal!’ said Ron, who was trying to persuade a frantically wiggling Scabbers back into his pocket. ‘It heard me say that Scabbers was in my bag!’
‘Oh, what rubbish,’ said Hermione impatiently. ‘Crookshanks could smell him, Ron, how else d’you think –’
‘That cat’s got it in for Scabbers!’ said Ron, ignoring the people around him, who were starting to giggle. ‘And Scabbers was here first, and he’s ill!’
Ron marched through the common room and out of sight up the stairs to the boys’ dormitories.
*
Ron was still in a bad mood with Hermione next day. He barely talked to her all through Herbology, even though he, Harry and Hermione were working together on the same Puffapod.
‘How’s Scabbers?’ Hermione asked timidly, as they stripped fat pink pods from the plants and emptied the shining beans into a wooden pail.
‘He’s hiding at the bottom of my bed, shaking,’ said Ron angrily, missing the pail and scattering beans over the greenhouse floor.
‘Careful, Weasley, careful!’ cried Professor Sprout, as the beans burst into bloom before their very eyes.
They had Transfiguration next. Harry, who had resolved to ask Professor McGonagall after the lesson whether he could go into Hogsmeade with the rest, joined the queue outside the classroom, trying to decide how he was going to argue his case. He was distracted, however, by a disturbance at the front of the line.
Lavender Brown seemed to be crying. Parvati had her arm around her, and was explaining something to Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas, who were looking very serious.
‘What’s the matter, Lavender?’ said Hermione anxiously, as she, Harry and Ron went to join the group.
‘She got a letter from home this morning,’ Parvati whispered. ‘It’s her rabbit, Binky. He’s been killed by a fox.’
‘Oh,’ said Hermione. ‘I’m sorry, Lavender.’
‘I should have known!’ said Lavender tragically. ‘You know what day it is?’
‘Er –’
‘The sixteenth of October! “That thing you’re dreading, it will happen on the sixteenth of October!” Remember? She was right, she was right!’
The whole class was gathered around Lavender now. Seamus shook his head seriously. Hermione hesitated; then she said, ‘You – you were dreading Binky being killed by a fox?’
‘Well, not necessarily by a fox,’ said Lavender, looking up at Hermione with streaming eyes, ‘but I was obviously dreading him dying, wasn’t I?’
‘Oh,’ said Hermione. She paused again. Then –
‘Was Binky an old rabbit?’
‘N-no!’ sobbed Lavender. ‘H-he was only a baby!’
Parvati tightened her arm around Lavender’s shoulders.
‘But then, why would you dread him dying?’ said Hermione.
Parvati glared at her.
‘Well, look at it logically,’ said Hermione, turning to the rest of the group. ‘I mean, Binky didn’t even die today, did he, Lavender just got the news today –’ Lavender wailed loudly ‘– and she can’t have been dreading it, because it’s come as a real shock –’
‘Don’t mind Hermione, Lavender,’ said Ron loudly, ‘she doesn’t think other people’s pets matter very much.’
Professor McGonagall opened the classroom door at that moment, which was perhaps lucky; Hermione and Ron were looking daggers at each other, and when they got into class, they seated themselves either side of Harry, and didn’t talk to each other all lesson.
Harry still hadn’t decided what he was going to say to Professor McGonagall when the bell rang at the end of the lesson, but it was she who brought up the subject of Hogsmeade first.
‘One moment, please!’ she called, as the class made to leave. ‘As you’re all in my house, you should hand Hogsmeade permission forms to me before Hallowe’en. No form, no visiting the village, so don’t forget!’
Neville put up his hand.
‘Please, Professor, I – I think I’ve lost –’
‘Your grandmother sent yours to me directly, Longbottom,’ said Professor McGonagall. ‘She seemed to think it was safer. Well, that’s all, you may leave.’
‘Ask her now,’ Ron hissed at Harry.
‘Oh, but –’ Hermione began.
‘Go for it, Harry,’ said Ron stubbornly.
Harry waited for the rest of the class to disappear, then headed nervously for Professor McGonagall’s desk.
‘Yes, Potter?’
Harry took a deep breath.
‘Professor, my aunt and uncle – er – forgot to sign my form,’ he said.
Professor McGonagall looked over her square spectacles at him, but didn’t say anything.
‘So – er – d’you think it would be all right – I mean, will it be OK if I – if I go to Hogsmeade?’
Professor McGonagall looked down and began shuffling papers on her desk.
‘I’m afraid not, Potter,’ she said. ‘You heard what I said. No form, no visiting the village. That’s the rule.’
‘But – Professor, my aunt and uncle – you know, they’re Muggles, they don’t really understand about – about Hogwarts forms and stuff,’ Harry said, while Ron egged him on with vigorous nods. ‘If you said I could go –’
‘But I don’t say so,’ said Professor McGonagall, standing up and piling her papers neatly into a drawer. ‘The form clearly states that the parent or guardian must give permission.’ She turned to look at him, with an odd expression on her face. Was it pity? ‘I’m sorry, Potter, but that’s my final word. You had better hurry, or you’ll be late for your next lesson.’
*
There was nothing to be done. Ron called Professor McGonagall a lot of names that greatly annoyed Hermione; Hermione assumed an ‘all for the best’ expression that made Ron even angrier, and Harry had to endure everyone in the class talking loudly and happily about what they were going to do first, once they got into Hogsmeade.
‘There’s always the feast,’ said Ron, in an effort to cheer Harry up. ‘You know, the Hallowe’en feast, in the evening.’
‘Yeah,’ said Harry, gloomily, ‘great.’
The Hallowe’en feast was always good, but it would taste a lot better if he was coming to it after a day in Hogsmeade with everyone else. Nothing anyone said made him feel any better about being left behind. Dean Thomas, who was good with a quill, had offered to forge Uncle Vernon’s signature on the form, but as Harry had already told Professor McGonagall he hadn’t had it signed, that was no good. Ron half-heartedly suggested the Invisibility Cloak, but Hermione stamped on that one, reminding Ron what Dumbledore had told them about the Dementors being able to see through them. Percy had what were possibly the least helpful words of comfort.
‘They make a fuss about Hogsmeade, but I assure you, Harry, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be,’ he said seriously. ‘All right, the sweetshop’s rather good, but Zonko’s Joke Shop’s frankly dangerous, and yes, the Shrieking Shack’s always worth a visit, but really, Harry, apart from that, you’re not missing anything.’
*
On Hallowe’en morning, Harry awoke with the rest and went down to breakfast feeling thoroughly depressed, though doing his best to act normally.
&nbs
p; ‘We’ll bring you lots of sweets back from Honeydukes,’ said Hermione, looking desperately sorry for him.
‘Yeah, loads,’ said Ron. He and Hermione had finally forgotten their squabble about Crookshanks in the face of Harry’s disappointment.
‘Don’t worry about me,’ said Harry, in what he hoped was an offhand voice. ‘I’ll see you at the feast. Have a good time.’
He accompanied them to the Entrance Hall, where Filch, the caretaker, was standing inside the front doors, checking off names against a long list, peering suspiciously into every face, and making sure that no one was sneaking out who shouldn’t be going.
‘Staying here, Potter?’ shouted Malfoy, who was standing in line with Crabbe and Goyle. ‘Scared of passing the Dementors?’
Harry ignored him and made his solitary way up the marble staircase, through the deserted corridors, and back to Gryffindor Tower.
‘Password?’ said the Fat Lady, jerking out of a doze.
‘Fortuna Major,’ said Harry listlessly.
The portrait swung open and he climbed through the hole into the common room. It was full of chattering first- and second-years, and a few older students who had obviously visited Hogsmeade so often the novelty had worn off.
‘Harry! Harry! Hi, Harry!’
It was Colin Creevey, a second-year who was deeply in awe of Harry and never missed an opportunity to speak to him.
‘Aren’t you going to Hogsmeade, Harry? Why not? Hey –’ Colin looked eagerly around at his friends, ‘you can come and sit with us, if you like, Harry!’
‘Er – no, thanks, Colin,’ said Harry, who wasn’t in the mood to have a lot of people staring avidly at the scar on his forehead. ‘I – I’ve got to go to the library, got to get some work done.’
After that, he had no choice but to turn right around and head back out of the portrait hole again.
‘What was the point of waking me up?’ the Fat Lady called grumpily after him as he walked away.
Harry wandered dispiritedly towards the library, but halfway there he changed his mind; he didn’t feel like working. He turned around and came face to face with Filch, who had obviously just seen off the last of the Hogsmeade visitors.
‘What are you doing?’ Filch snarled suspiciously.
‘Nothing,’ said Harry truthfully.
‘Nothing!’ spat Filch, his jowls quivering unpleasantly. ‘A likely story! Sneaking around on your own, why aren’t you in Hogsmeade buying Stink Pellets and Belch Powder and Whizzing Worms like the rest of your nasty little friends?’
Harry shrugged.
‘Well, get back to your common room where you belong!’ snapped Filch, and he stood glaring until Harry had passed out of sight.
But Harry didn’t go back to the common room; he climbed a staircase, thinking vaguely of visiting the Owlery to see Hedwig, and was walking along another corridor when a voice from inside one of the rooms said, ‘Harry?’
Harry doubled back to see who had spoken and met Professor Lupin, looking around his office door.
‘What are you doing?’ said Lupin, in a very different voice from Filch. ‘Where are Ron and Hermione?’
‘Hogsmeade,’ said Harry, in a would-be casual voice.
‘Ah,’ said Lupin. He considered Harry for a moment. ‘Why don’t you come in? I’ve just taken delivery of a Grindylow for our next lesson.’
‘A what?’ said Harry.
He followed Lupin into his office. In the corner stood a very large tank of water. A sickly-green creature with sharp little horns had its face pressed against the glass, pulling faces and flexing its long, spindly fingers.
‘Water demon,’ said Lupin, surveying the Grindylow thoughtfully. ‘We shouldn’t have much difficulty with him, not after the Kappas. The trick is to break his grip. You notice the abnormally long fingers? Strong, but very brittle.’
The Grindylow bared its green teeth and then buried itself in a tangle of weed in a corner.
‘Cup of tea?’ Lupin said, looking around for his kettle. ‘I was just thinking of making one.’
‘All right,’ said Harry awkwardly.
Lupin tapped the kettle with his wand and a blast of steam issued suddenly from the spout.
‘Sit down,’ said Lupin, taking the lid off a dusty tin. ‘I’ve only got teabags, I’m afraid – but I daresay you’ve had enough of tea leaves?’
Harry looked at him. Lupin’s eyes were twinkling.
‘How did you know about that?’ Harry asked.
‘Professor McGonagall told me,’ said Lupin, passing Harry a chipped mug of tea. ‘You’re not worried, are you?’
‘No,’ said Harry.
He thought for a moment of telling Lupin about the dog he’d seen in Magnolia Crescent, but decided not to. He didn’t want Lupin to think he was a coward, especially since Lupin already seemed to think he couldn’t cope with a Boggart.
Something of Harry’s thoughts seemed to have shown on his face, because Lupin said, ‘Anything worrying you, Harry?’
‘No,’ Harry lied. He drank a bit of tea and watched the Grindylow brandishing a fist at him. ‘Yes,’ he said suddenly, putting his tea down on Lupin’s desk. ‘You know that day we fought the Boggart?’
‘Yes,’ said Lupin slowly.
‘Why didn’t you let me fight it?’ said Harry abruptly.
Lupin raised his eyebrows.
‘I would have thought that was obvious, Harry,’ he said, sounding surprised.
Harry, who had expected Lupin to deny that he’d done any such thing, was taken aback.
‘Why?’ he said again.
‘Well,’ said Lupin, frowning slightly, ‘I assumed that if the Boggart faced you, it would assume the shape of Lord Voldemort.’
Harry stared. Not only was this the last answer he’d expected, but Lupin had said Voldemort’s name. The only person Harry had ever heard say the name aloud (apart from himself) was Professor Dumbledore.
‘Clearly, I was wrong,’ said Lupin, still frowning at Harry. ‘But I didn’t think it a good idea for Lord Voldemort to materialise in the staff room. I imagined that people would panic.’
‘I did think of Voldemort first,’ said Harry honestly. ‘But then I – I remembered those Dementors.’
‘I see,’ said Lupin thoughtfully. ‘Well, well … I’m impressed.’ He smiled slightly at the look of surprise on Harry’s face. ‘That suggests that what you fear most of all is – fear. Very wise, Harry.’
Harry didn’t know what to say to that, so he drank some more tea.
‘So you’ve been thinking that I didn’t believe you capable of fighting the Boggart?’ said Lupin shrewdly.
‘Well … yeah,’ said Harry. He was suddenly feeling a lot happier. ‘Professor Lupin, you know the Dementors –’
He was interrupted by a knock on the door.
‘Come in,’ called Lupin.
The door opened, and in came Snape. He was carrying a goblet, which was smoking faintly, and stopped at the sight of Harry, his black eyes narrowing.
‘Ah, Severus,’ said Lupin, smiling. ‘Thanks very much. Could you leave it here on the desk for me?’
Snape set the smoking goblet down, his eyes wandering between Harry and Lupin.
‘I was just showing Harry my Grindylow,’ said Lupin pleasantly, pointing at the tank.
‘Fascinating,’ said Snape, without looking at it. ‘You should drink that directly, Lupin.’
‘Yes, yes, I will,’ said Lupin.
‘I made an entire cauldronful,’ Snape continued. ‘If you need more.’
‘I should probably take some again tomorrow. Thanks very much, Severus.’
‘Not at all,’ said Snape, but there was a look in his eye Harry didn’t like. He backed out of the room, unsmiling and watchful.
Harry looked curiously at the goblet. Lupin smiled.
‘Professor Snape has very kindly concocted a potion for me,’ he said. ‘I have never been much of a potion-brewer and this one is particularly complex.’ He
picked up the goblet and sniffed it. ‘Pity sugar makes it useless,’ he added, taking a sip and shuddering.
‘Why –?’ Harry began. Lupin looked at him and answered the unfinished question.
‘I’ve been feeling a bit off-colour,’ he said. ‘This potion is the only thing that helps. I am very lucky to be working alongside Professor Snape; there aren’t many wizards who are up to making it.’
Professor Lupin took another sip and Harry had a mad urge to knock the goblet out of his hands.
‘Professor Snape’s very interested in the Dark Arts,’ he blurted out.
‘Really?’ said Lupin, looking only mildly interested as he took another gulp of potion.
‘Some people reckon –’ Harry hesitated, then plunged recklessly on, ‘some people reckon he’d do anything to get the Defence Against the Dark Arts job.’
Lupin drained the goblet and pulled a face.
‘Disgusting,’ he said. ‘Well, Harry, I’d better get back to work. I’ll see you at the feast later.’
‘Right,’ said Harry, putting his empty teacup down.
The empty goblet was still smoking.
*
‘There you go,’ said Ron. ‘We got as much as we could carry.’
A shower of brilliantly coloured sweets fell into Harry’s lap. It was dusk, and Ron and Hermione had just turned up in the common room, pink-faced from the cold wind and looking as though they’d had the time of their lives.
‘Thanks,’ said Harry, picking up a packet of tiny black Pepper Imps. ‘What’s Hogsmeade like? Where did you go?’
By the sound of it – everywhere. Dervish and Banges, the wizarding equipment shop, Zonko’s Joke Shop, into the Three Broomsticks for foaming mugs of hot Butterbeer and many places besides.
‘The post office, Harry! About two hundred owls, all sitting on shelves, all colour-coded depending on how fast you want your letter to get there!’
‘Honeydukes have got a new kind of fudge, they were giving out free samples, there’s a bit, look –’
‘We think we saw an ogre, honestly, they get all sorts at the Three Broomsticks –’
‘Wish we could have brought you some Butterbeer, really warms you up –’
The Prisoner of Azkaban Page 13